Sufferings are Gods hurricanes

Blast from the past…


An old harper dotes on his harp.  How he fondles and caresses it, as a child resting on his bosom ! His life is bound up in it.  But, see him tuning it.  He grasps it firmly, strikes a chord with a sharp, quick blow; and while it quivers as if in pain, he leans over intently to catch the first note that rises.  The note, as he feared, is false and harsh.  He strains the chord with the torturing thumb-screw; and though it seems ready to snap with the tension, he strikes it again, bending down to listen softly as before, till at length you see a smile on his face as the first true tone trembles upwards.

So it may be that God is dealing with you.  Loving you better than any harper loves his harp.  He finds you a mass of jarring discords.  He wrings your heartstrings…

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