And there is my share in the life of the nation. “Ye seed of Abraham His servant, ye children of Jacob His chosen.” There are hands that stretch out to me from past days, laden with bequests of privilege and freedom. Our feet “stand in a large place,” and the place was cleared by the fidelity and the courage of the men of old. I have countless blessings that were bought with blood. The red marks of sacrifice are over all my daily ways. Let me not take the inheritance and overlook the blood marks, and stride about as though it were nought but common ground. Mercies abound on every hand! “Count your blessings!”
JANUARY The Seventh
A JOURNAL OF MERCIES
Nehemiah ix. 6-11.
HOU hast performed Thy words: for Thou art righteous.” Frances Ridley Havergal kept a journal of mercies. She had a record book, and she crowded it with her remembrances of God’s goodness. She was always on the look-out for tokens of the Lord’s grace and bounty, and she found them everywhere. Everywhere she had communion with a covenant-keeping God. The Bible became to her more and more the history of her own life and experience. Promise after promise told the story of her own triumphs. She appropriated the goodness of God, and she set her own seal to the testimony that God is true.
Many a complaining life would be changed into music and song by a journal of mercies. Many a fear can be dispersed by a ready remembrance. Memory can be made the handmaid of hope. Yesterday’s blessing can kindle the courage of to-day. That is the purposed ministry of “the days that have been.” We are to harness the strength of their experiences to the tasks and burdens of to-day; and in the remembrance of God’s providences we shall march through our difficulties with singing.