NOVEMBER 28

 

When he giveth quietness, who then can make trouble?—Job 34: 29.

 

Who but He, the "God of all comfort," can give quietness in the midst of tumults which rise upon the soul like sudden storms upon the sea? Like ocean mariners in peril, we cry unto Him, and He brings us to the desired haven—blessed haven—of quietness and peace in God. What is the cry which brings this answer of peace? It is not a prayer that all occasion for disturbance shall be removed, for it is not always the Divine will to bring peace to the human spirit in that way; it is not always the best way. But there is a cry which never fails to bring the quietness in which none can "make trouble." It is a prayer for sweet, trustful, loving acquiescence in the will of God.

 

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Elihu, like Job's three other disputants, lacked Divine inspiration, which Job had. Nevertheless, there is much wisdom found in Elihu's address, a wisdom that proves  him, a contemporary with Abraham, to have been far removed from a monkey, a wisdom that evolutionists have not yet attained. While the statement of our text is not inspired, it is nevertheless a true saying; for God does give a peace to His own that others cannot overthrow. This peace flows from a full faith in, and a heart's harmony with Him, His character, Plan and works, such as the world does not know, nor can bestow, nor take away. His own, by blessed experience, realize this. Secure in His Oath-bound promise, in the High-Priestly work of Jesus and in the possession of the holy Spirit, they arise above the troubles of the present and thus enjoy the peace of God that passes all understanding, guarding their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus unto eternal life with Him.

 

Parallel passages: Isa. 26: 3; Rom. 8: 31; Phil. 4: 7; Psa. 1: 1, 2; 4: 8; 25: 12, 13; 29: 11; 85: 8; 119: 165; Luke 1: 79; 2: 14; John 14: 27; 16: 33; Rom. 2: 10; 5: 1; 8: 6.

 

Questions: What have been the week's experiences in line with this text? How were they met? What helped or hindered therein? In what did they result?

 

MORTALLY WOUNDED

 

I LAY me down to sleep,

With little thought or care

Whether my waking find

Me here—or there!

 

A bowing, burdened head,

Only too glad to rest,

 Unquestioning upon

A loving breast.

 

I am not eager, bold,

Nor strong—all that is past!

I'm willing not to do,

At last, at last!

 

My half-day's work is done,

And this is all my part:

To give a patient God

My patient heart;

 

And grasp His banner still,

Though all its blue be dim;

These stripes, no less than stars,

Lead after Him.

 

Weak, weary and uncrowned,

I yet to bear am strong;

Content not e'en to cry,

"How long! How long!"

 

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