By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned—
Matt. 12: 37.
All our words are taken by the Lord as an index of our hearts. If our words are rebellious, or disloyal, or frivolous, or flippant, or unkind, unthankful, unholy or impure, the heart is judged accordingly, on the principle that "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." That as imperfect beings we may always be perfect in word and deed is not possible. Despite our best endeavors we shall sometimes err in word as well as in deed, yet the perfect mastery of our words and ways is the thing to be sought by vigilant and faithful effort.
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Words are an index of one's thoughts, except in the case of the hypocritical. Words rightly spoken, and conveying proper thoughts, win the approval of those who judge rightly, as words illy spoken, and conveying wrong thoughts, rightly merit the censure of the honest-hearted. If our hearts and heads are right, our words must be right; and if our hearts and heads are wrong, our words will be wrong.
Parallel passages: Matt. 12: 22-37; Psa. 10: 7, 8; 12: 3, 4; 34: 13; 41: 5-9; 50: 23; 52: 2-4; 64: 2-5; 77: 12; 102: 8; 119: 13, 27, 46, 54, 172; 145: 5-7, 11, 12; 140: 3, 11; Prov. 10: 11, 19-21, 31, 32; 12: 5, 6, 13, 17-19; 15: 1, 4, 28; 18: 8, 21, 23; 26: 20-23, 28; Matt. 5: 22, 37; Eph. 4: 25; Jas. 1: 26; 3: 5-10.
Questions: Of what character have my words of this week been? How? Why? In what circumstances and with what results were they uttered?
"AND THERE WAS A GREAT CALM"
AS the green waves bear on their crest
The foam, and ever shoreward come,
So, moving surely to our rest,
Slowly we all like bits of foam
Come drifting home.
He whom we loved has reached the shore
In peace; and all the billows vast—
The stormy waves of life that bore
Him on—have ceased their strife at last.
The storm is past!
We thought, because the waves of life
Were high and rough, the end would be
'Mid scenes of tumult and of strife,
As mighty billows of the sea
Break loud and free.
But there was calm instead! The waves
Of life were stilled, and up the strand
Slipped noiselessly, as ocean laves
In quietness the silver sand,
An ending grand!
How sweet to know his weary life
At last to rest and quiet wore!
Oh, may we all, through peace or strife,
Be gathered on that silver shore
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