To joy each torturing grief.
Turn, turn to Him, ’mid sorrows wild,
When terrors overwhelm,
Remembering, like the fearless child,
Our Father’s at the helm.
Merry’s Life and Adventures.
CHAPTER XIII.
Sick-room incidents and reflections.
In my last chapter I concluded the story which Raymond told me, and which I entitled the “School of Misfortune.” At the time, I supposed he only related it for my amusement, but I have since believed that he had a farther design; which was, to show me that wealth, used to puff up the heart with pride, is a source of positive evil; and that poverty, sickness, misfortune, humiliation—provided they make the heart tender toward mankind, and open new springs of sympathy in the soul—are like kind and gentle schoolmasters, teaching us the true art of happiness. I believe now, that Raymond intended to impress this great lesson on my heart, as well because it is useful to all, as because he probably foresaw approaching events, in relation to my own circumstances, which might make it specially needful to me.
There is nothing which more shows the advantages of civilization, than the care and kindness bestowed upon the sick, among Christian nations. With savages, the sick person is usually left to himself, where, like a wild beast, he must await, in solitude, the result of his disease. There is little sympathy offered to him—there is no kind hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow; no watchful friend at his bedside to supply every want, and alleviate, as far as may be, every pain. Sickness with the savage is solitary and desolate; with Christians, though it has its pains, it has its alleviations. I suffered much during the period of my confinement, as well from my broken limb as the fever that raged in my veins. After this was past, I also suffered from excessive languor.