Many are molded upon this type. They have the sensitiveness of a gift,
and the nervous organism of a gazelle. They love the shallows, with
their carpet of silver sand, rather than the strong billows that test a
man’s endurance. For them it is enough to run with footmen; they have no
desire to contend
with horses. They love the land of peace in which
they are secure, and have no heart for the swelling of Jordan. Yet such,
like Jeremiah, may play an heroic part on the world’s stage, if only
they will let God lay down the iron of his might along the lines of
their natural weakness. His strength is only made perfect in weakness.
It is to those who have no might that he increaseth strength. Happy is
the soul that can look up from its utter helplessness and say with
Jeremiah, “O Lord, my strength in the day of affliction;” or with Micah,
in yet earlier times, “Truly I am full of power by the Spirit of the
Lord, and of judgment, and of might, to declare unto Jacob his
transgression, and to Israel his sin.
F. B. Meyer
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