March 31
The Very Thought of Thee
In the Hour of Silence"Rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonour for the Name."—Acts 5:41 (R.V.).
THEY rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the Name—the ineffable Name, the Name which is above every name. And well they might.
For what is the Name?
It is Saviour. And if by His ignominy and sorrow and cruel death Jesus has gained for me the new day and the love of God and the hope of glory, shall I not count it a privilege to bear any trial for His dear sake? Sharp things are sweet when they are endured for Him, and biting winds are soft, and burdens are light.
It is Advocate. And if He is pleading at the Father's right hand for me—pleading persuasively and powerfully, while I pass through the floods on foot, what shall I fear? With such a Friend before the throne, the surging and swelling waters, "to the palate bitter and to the stomach cold," will not overwhelm my soul.
It is Brother. And if, unseen, He is by my side in the furnace seven times heated, whispering His good cheer, holding me by my hand, of what shall I be afraid? The fires will not kindle upon me. "There is no malice in this burning coal." Not a hair of my head will be so much as singed by the flame.
It is King. And if, in His tender and gentle authority, He has decided that I need the heaviness of the hammer and the sharpness of the chisel, shall I not say and sing, "Even so, dear Lord; for the more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows"? The discipline is welcome that conforms me to His likeness.
Yes, truly, they that know Thy Name will put their trust in Thee.
April.
DEWS OF APRIL: AN ECHO
I SING of a Baby,
His peer is not seen,
Like dews of April
That water the green.
Like dews of April
That bring forth the flower,
Sweetly came Jesus
To His Mother's bower.
Sweeter than roses
Opening in May,
Rosy Child Jesus
In the manger lay.
Like dews of April
His tears fell down,
Little Child Jesus
Sans robe or crown.
When they had set Him
On a Tree high,
Sweet airs of April
Filled earth and sky.
Like dews of April
Bringing forth fruit,
Fell His sweet blood then
On our parched root.
Like dews of April
He came from the dead,
Saw the white angels
At His foot and head.
O Thou dear Jesus,
Set us to weep,
Like dews of April
That break earth's long sleep!
KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON.