“It is a libel on Nature,” says Dr. Ambrose Shepherd, “to declare that it never forgives. On the contrary, Nature is ever seeking to repair injuries and to forgive errors.”
Every surgeon knows that but for nature’s restoring tendencies his skill would be applied in vain. Illustrative demonstrations of these beneficent proclivities multiply daily. When an accident happens in which a limb is broken, what follows? With surgical assistance the fracture is set and the limb is bound up and left to rest for a time. Nature instantly, delicately, but powerfully and unerringly begins the beautiful and wonderful process of reparation. The cementing of the broken parts is mysteriously inaugurated. But, of course, much depends on a man’s previous life. If he has been a wise man, nature works rapidly; if a fool, more slowly; but nature always seeks to work in the direction of restoration. (Text.)
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RESTORING GOD’S IMAGE
Not long ago, a lady living in Hartford, Conn., bought at an auction in New York a painting begrimed with smoke and dirt. Her friends laughed at her for buying such a “worthless daub,” but she took the picture to a restorer of old paintings, who, after hours of patient labor in removing the dirt, brought to view a beautiful sixteenth century painting, representing a mother with her children. The painting is of almost priceless value. The penny they brought the Master was coined from base metal, but the image on it gave it value.
We are made in the image of God, and that makes us precious in His sight. The skin may be black or yellow, or brown or white—it matters not. Sin may have obscured the image, but we are Christ’s coins; He paid a great price for us, and seeks in every possible way to restore in us the image of Himself. (Text.)
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RESTRAINT
A traveler among the Alpine heights says:
We were at the foot of Mt. Blanc, in the village of Chamouni. A sad thing had happened the day before we reached the village. A young physician, of Boston, had determined to reach the heights of Mt. Blanc. He accomplished the feat, and the little village was illuminated in his honor; the flag was flying from the little hut on the mountain side—that all who have visited Chamouni well remember—that told of his victory. But after he had ascended and descended in safety, as far as the hut, he wanted then to be relieved from his guide; he wanted to be free from the rope, and he insisted that he could go alone. The guide remonstrated with him, told him it was not safe, but he was tired of the rope and declared he would be free of it. The guide had to yield. The young man had only gone a short distance when his foot slipt on the ice and he could not stop himself from sliding down the inclined icy steeps. The rope was gone so the guide could not hold him or pull him back. And out on a shelving piece of ice lay the dead body of the young physician, as it was pointed out to me. The bells had been rung, the village illuminated in honor of his success, but, alas, in a fatal moment he refused to be guided; he was tired of the rope.