“I was sure at last that I was going to be happy, and God is not willing. From my youth up he has ay laid upon me the rod of correction. I wish that I had never been born!”
“My poor lad! but you are not meaning it.” And Nanna put her arms around his neck and wept with him. For some minutes he let her do so, for he was comforted by her sympathy; but at last he stood up, passed his hand across his eyes, and said as bravely as he could:
“You are right, Nanna. If you feel in this way, I dare not force your conscience. But I must go away until I get over the sore disappointment.”
“Where will you go to, David?”
“Who can tell? The countries in which I may have to earn and eat my bread I know not. But if I was seeing you every day, I might get to feel hard at God.”
“No, no! He fashioned us, David, and he knows what falls and sore hurts we must get before we learn to step sure and safe.”
“In the end it may all be right. I know not. But this I know: pain and cold and hunger and weariness and loneliness I have borne with a prayer and a tight mouth, and I have never said before that I thought him cruel hard.”
“His ways are not cruel, my dear love; they are only past our finding out. The eternal which makes for righteousness cannot be cruel. And if we could see God with our eyes, and hear him with our ears, and understand him with our reason, what grace would there be in believing in him? Did not the minister say last Sabbath that our life was hid with Christ in God, and that therefore God must first be pierced ere we could be hurt or prejudiced? Then let us take what comfort we can in each other’s affection, David, and just try and believe that God’s ways are the very best of all ways for us.”
“Sometime–perhaps–”
“And don’t leave me, David. I can bear all things if you are near to help and comfort me.”