May, 28th. Evening reading:
“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.”
Lamentations 3:21
Memory is frequently the bond slave
of despondency. Dispairing minds
call to remembrance every dark foreboding in the past, and dilate
upon every gloomy feature in the present; thus memory, clothed in
sackcloth, presents to the mind a cup of mingled gall and
wormwood.
There is, however, no necessity for this. Wisdom can readily
transform
memory into an angel of comfort. That same recollection which in
its
left hand brings so many gloomy omens, may be trained to bear in
its
right a wealth of hopeful signs. She need not wear a crown of
iron,
she may encircle her brow with a fillet of gold, all spangled with
stars. Thus it was in Jeremiah’s experience: in the previous verse
memory had brought him to deep
humiliation of soul: “My soul hath them still in remembrance, and
is humbled in me;” and now this same memory restored him
to life and comfort. “This I recall to my mind, therefore have I
hope.” Like a two-edged sword, his memory first killed his
pride with one
edge, and then slew his despair with the other. As a general
principle,
if we would exercise our memories more wisely, we might, in our
very
darkest distress, strike a match which would instantaneously
kindle
the lamp of comfort. There is no need for God to create a new
thing
upon the earth in order to restore believers to joy; if they would
prayerfully rake the ashes of the past, they would find light for
the present; and if they would turn to the book of truth and the
throne
of grace, their candle would soon shine as aforetime. Be it ours
to
remember the lovingkindness of the Lord, and to rehearse his deeds
of grace. Let us open the volume of recollection which is so
richly
illuminated with memorials of mercy, and we shall soon be happy.
Thus
memory may be, as Coleridge calls it, “the bosom-spring of joy,”
and when the Divine Comforter bends it to his service, it
may be
chief among earthly comforters.
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