III
Suppose!
It is a Song of Suppositions!
'Suppose the fig tree shall not blossom!'
'Suppose the vine shall bear no fruit!'
'Suppose the labor of the olive shall fail!'
'Suppose the fields shall yield no corn!'
'Suppose the flock shall be cut off from the fold!'
'Suppose there shall be no herd in the stalls!'
'Suppose! Suppose! Suppose!'
I very well remember a conversation I once had at Mosgiel with old Jeanie McNab. Jeanie subsisted on a mixed diet of smiles and songs.
'But, supposing, Jeanie----' I began one day.
'Now don't you have anything to do with supposings,' she exclaimed. 'I know them all. "Suppose I should lose my money!" "Suppose I should lose my health!" And all the rest. When those supposings come knocking at your heart, you just slam the door, and bolt it, and don't let any of them in!'
It was excellent advice; yet the prophet acted on a diametrically opposite principle. When the supposings came knocking at his door, he cried 'Come in!' and in they came!
'Suppose the figs are barren!'
'Suppose the vines wither!'
'Suppose the olive fail!'
'Suppose the corn perish!'
'Suppose the sheep starve!'
'Suppose the cattle die!'
The prophet invites them all to come in. They jostle each other as they throng his little room. He hears all that they have to say, and then he answers them.
'Whence came all these things?' he demands. 'Whence came the figs and the vines and the olives, the corn and the flocks and the herds?' And, having asked this question, he himself proceeds to answer it.
'HE gave them!' he cries triumphantly, 'HE gave them! And if they perish, as you suppose, He can as easily replace them! Therefore will I rejoice in the Lord and will joy in the God of my salvation! It is a small thing to lose the gifts as long as you possess the Giver; the supreme tragedy lies in losing the Giver and retaining only the gifts!'
There is no record as to what the preacher said that Sunday morning at Twickenham; but some such thoughts as these must have been suggested to the eager minds of the Pethericks as they listened so attentively. 'The words took hold upon me mightily!' the father confessed, in a letter to a friend, long afterwards.