For, note this—it is not always May. The glow will pass, the sunlight die, the flowers will fade, the bird-songs sink into silence. And, if you have not profited by that gleam of heaven which opened upon your soul, you are certain to have lost by it, especially when such a warmth, such a light, broke, by God’s grace, through the dull sky of a cold and worldly life. If any message from God have warmed your bare heart into leaf and bloom, beware how you let the golden opportunity remain unemployed. Beware lest the east winds return, and nip and scatter the frail petals ere the germ of some good fruit be formed. Life is ever offering to us Sybilline books, and very often we have at last to give as much effort in old age, for the attaining of a poor service to God, as we should have given, long ago, for a full, rich, hearty, life-long serving Him. Late or early, however, employ the excitements, the May-warmths of the soul. “Excitement has its uses; impression has its value. Ye that have been impressed, beware how you let those impressions die away. Die they must: we cannot live in excitement for ever; but beware of their leaving behind them nothing except a languid, jaded heart. If God gives you the excitements of religion, breaking in upon your monotony, take care. There is no restoring of elasticity to the spring that has been over-bent. Let impression pass on at once to action.”
The warning was obvious; somewhat less so, perhaps, the encouragement. Still, this violet is to be found if we part the brambles, and seek it among its leaves. The May feeling is delicious—is, indeed, a foretaste of heaven, when hard things seem easy to us, and the face of duty is scarce distinguishable from that of pleasure. Prayer is sweet, sweet indeed, when it is easy to pray; praise is delicious when it seems almost the spontaneous growth of the heart. It is pleasanter to speak a painful word, to perform a painful duty, in those moods when the uplifted heart almost exults at having it to do. It is nothing to deny ourselves when some gleam of heaven has so exalted us that the world and the flesh and the devil have nothing to offer which can turn us from the ecstatic contemplation of Christ, and the Home whither He has gone to prepare. But is prayer more acceptable, is praise more beautiful in God’s sight when the heart is all in flower, or when it is Winterly indeed, but exceeding sorrowful at this, and sadly trying to gather for God a snowdrop out of its Wintry beds? Is it more acceptable in God’s sight to speak a true word when the heart is braced and strong, and the effort small, or still to speak it when the heart is shrinking and weak, and the effort great? Is the deed of love or of justice or of self-denial noblest when most easy or when most difficult to be done?
Ah, well, God knows; and He sends the May-days, and He permits the dull days and the bitter winds. Let us serve Him through both, and then all will be well. No doubt we ought always to have a May-day in our heart for this service. And yet, perhaps, indeed almost surely, He does not mean this to be so in this life of discipline. Here it must not be always easy and delicious to serve Him. Here we must serve Him through cold and warm weather, through calm and storm, up the hill Difficulty, as well as in the quiet valley.
Religious feelings are very variable; but rarely, comparatively, a May-day comes: the flowers are few, and the sky closed, almost generally. Let us, then, use diligently the warm blossom-time, when it is with us, but let us not be dismayed when it passes from the soul. Perhaps the best words we say are those that seemed to us the worst, and the teaching that sank most into the heart was that which we thought weakest and most inadequate; thus may God be pleased, while He deigns to use us and to accept our work, yet to keep us humble. Perhaps the service that was so hard to render, and in which we had so to fight against listlessness and wandering thoughts, may, if still earnest, prevail or please more—who knows?—than that which seemed to fly up at once full-fledged to heaven’s gates. If, though limping, we still hobble on with all our might, we may be really making as much progress as when we seemed to be skimming the ground; for God gives both the wings and the crutches. Of course I am not supposing that the hindrances to love and service arise from want of watchfulness, that let the world creep in, or want of prayer for the Help which alone is sufficient for us. But, generally, we must make up our mind to have more days of weary toiling through the desert sands than of refreshments at “Elim, with its palms and wells”; only, when the rare refreshment comes, it should have braced us for the toilsome march, when we must leave the pleasant spot behind, and labour toilsomely on again. And, if May-days of the soul come but seldom now, and it is oftener difficult than easy to serve God now, fear not, fail not, my Brother or Sister. Rejoice that God gives thee something not easy to do for Him, and think of a time, beyond this brief life, when it will be ever natural and instinctive to love and serve God, when it will be “always May.”
SUMMER DAYS.
