Psalms 77:6. I call to remembrance my song in the night:
"How I used to sing like the nightingale, with the thorn at my breast, I call that to remembrance." But we cannot always sing old songs. Old experiences may have but little fire in their ashes, though often in their ashes live their wonted fires.
Psalms 77:6. I commune with mine own, heart:
A very proper thing to do; but not much comfort generally comes of it. It is like stirring water that is already muddy; the more you stir it, the more muddy it becomes.
Psalms 77:6. And my spirit made diligent search.
When a man can deal with himself like this, his trouble will not last long. God save me from a dumb sorrow, sorrow that cannot think, and cannot judge, and cannot weigh itself!
Now listen to the psalmist’s questions. Does doubt question your faith? Then let faith question your doubts. Here is a catechism for a desponding heart. I commend it to you who are in trouble. Put your soul through its paces, ask these questions.
Psalms 77:6. I call to remembrance my song in the night:
"How I used to sing like the nightingale, with the thorn at my breast, I call that to remembrance." But we cannot always sing old songs. Old experiences may have but little fire in their ashes, though often in their ashes live their wonted fires.
Psalms 77:6. I commune with mine own, heart:
A very proper thing to do; but not much comfort generally comes of it. It is like stirring water that is already muddy; the more you stir it, the more muddy it becomes.
Psalms 77:6. And my spirit made diligent search.
When a man can deal with himself like this, his trouble will not last long. God save me from a dumb sorrow, sorrow that cannot think, and cannot judge, and cannot weigh itself!
Now listen to the psalmist’s questions. Does doubt question your faith? Then let faith question your doubts. Here is a catechism for a desponding heart. I commend it to you who are in trouble. Put your soul through its paces, ask these questions.