If every morning in a simple prayer,—in those fifteen minutes' meditation (which only seem hard when we do [pg 076] not practise it),—we opened our hearts to God, as we open our windows to the sun and air, God would fill it with that calm, sweet joy which elevates the soul, prevents it feeling the weight of troubles, and makes it overflow with benevolence.
But joy does not mean levity, witty sayings, or repartee ... it is habitual serenity.
Through a clear atmosphere we can always see the sky; it seems so light and full of elasticity.
A serene sky is always pure ... clouds may pass across it, but they do not stain it.
So it is with the heart that early in the morning opens to receive God's Peace.
XXXVII.
"You are never out of temper," was once said to a woman well known to be much tried at home; "is [pg 077] it that you do not feel the injustice, the annoyances?"—"I feel them as much as you do," she replied; "but they do not hurt me."—"You have, then, some special balm?"—"Yes; for the vexations caused by people, I have affection; for those of circumstances, I have prayer; and over every wound that bleeds, I murmur the words, 'Thy Will be done.'"