CheerfulnessGod loveth a cheerful giver — 2 Cor. 9:7.
Not merely as respects money matters, as generally applied, is this true, but in respect to all of our little offerings and sacrifices to Him and for His cause. If we would be pleasing to the Lord and grow in His favor and in nearness to Him, we must bring our hearts more and more into the condition that He approves, that He loves, namely, heartiness, cheerfulness, promptness in every service we may render. The trouble with many Christians is that they have not thoroughly learned what a great privilege we of this Gospel Age enjoy, in being permitted to present our little sacrifices and self-denials to the Lord, under the assurance that our imperfect works shall be acceptable through Christ to God—Z '02, 42 (R 2950). God is constantly giving all His creatures the things appropriate to their being. Especially is He continually giving to His consecrated ones grace, mercy and Truth. Nor does He bestow His gifts stintingly or grudgingly. "He giveth liberally and upbraideth not." God is a cheerful as well as a liberal Giver. And He desires His people to be like Him in this respect as well as in others. "Freely ye have received; freely give" is a statement expressive of the Lord's ideal for us. We are not only to give money but also time, talents, knowledge, love, influence, reputation—in a word, our all. We should be so grateful and appreciative and joyous for God's gifts, so sympathetic of others' needs, so happy to give and to see others blessed, and so delighted that cheerful giving gains God's special love, that we should delight to give—P '33, 163. Parallel passages: Psa. 16:6; 36:8; 37:7, 16; 40:8; Prov. 3:13-18; 14:14; 15:13, 15, 30; 16:8; 17:1, 22; 30:8; Eccles. 9:7-9; Isa. 12:3; John 15:11; 16:20-24; Rom. 5:2; 12:12; 2 Cor. 7:4; 8:2; 12:10; 1 Pet. 1:8; 4:12, 13; Phil. 4:4; 1 Thes. 5:16; Heb. 10:34; Jas. 1:2; 5:13; 1 John 1:4. Hymns: 27, 38, 57, 94, 100, 179, 237. Poems of Dawn, 163: He That Scattereth Increaseth. Tower Reading: Z '10, 142 (R 4603). Questions: Have I been cheerful this week? Amid what circumstances? Why? What helped or hindered? What resulted? |
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HE THAT SCATTERETH INCREASETH
IS thy cruse of comfort failing?
Rise and share it with another,
And through all the years of famine
It shall serve thee and thy brother.
Love Divine will fill thy storehouse,
Or thy handful still renew;
Scanty fare for one will often
Make a royal feast for two.
For the heart grows rich in giving;
All its wealth is living grain;
Seeds which mildew in the garner,
Scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear thy brother's burden;
God will bear both it and thee.
Numb and weary on the mountains,
Wouldst thou sleep amid the snow?
Chafe that frozen form beside thee,
And together both shall glow.
Art thou stricken in life's battle?
Many wounded round thee moan;
Lavish on their wounds thy balsams,
And that balm shall heal thine own.
Is thy heart a well left empty?
None but God its void can fill;
Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain
Can its ceaseless longings still.
Is thy heart a living power?
Self-entwined, its strength sinks low;
It can only live in loving,
And by serving love will grow.
IS thy cruse of comfort failing?
Rise and share it with another,
And through all the years of famine
It shall serve thee and thy brother.
Love Divine will fill thy storehouse,
Or thy handful still renew;
Scanty fare for one will often
Make a royal feast for two.
For the heart grows rich in giving;
All its wealth is living grain;
Seeds which mildew in the garner,
Scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear thy brother's burden;
God will bear both it and thee.
Numb and weary on the mountains,
Wouldst thou sleep amid the snow?
Chafe that frozen form beside thee,
And together both shall glow.
Art thou stricken in life's battle?
Many wounded round thee moan;
Lavish on their wounds thy balsams,
And that balm shall heal thine own.
Is thy heart a well left empty?
None but God its void can fill;
Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain
Can its ceaseless longings still.
Is thy heart a living power?
Self-entwined, its strength sinks low;
It can only live in loving,
And by serving love will grow.