March 14He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city — Prov. 16:32.
While anger, in the nature of hatred, malice, strife, envy, should be put away by all who are seeking to be copies of God's dear Son, anger in the sense of righteous indignation against wrong-doing, sin in its various forms, is proper; and although it should be used with great moderation, backed by love, there are circumstances in which it would be wrong not to have righteous anger and use it—Z '96, 279 (R 2068). The reason why those slow to anger are better than the mighty is that love and sympathy prompt them to make allowances for the weaknesses of others, which the mighty are indisposed to do; and the reason why he that rules his spirit is greater than he that takes a city is that trying to dislodge Satan, the world and the flesh from their fortress in his heart requires greater perseverance, strategy and valor than that of him who takes a city. Such self-rule is a real conquest—P '35, 31, 32. Parallel passages: Prov. 25:28; 1 Cor. 13:4, 7; 2 Cor. 6:4-6; Gal. 5:22, 23; Eph. 4:1, 2, 26, 31, 32; Col. 1:11; 3:12, 13; 1 Tim. 1:16; 2 Tim. 3:10; 4:2; 1 Sam. 10:27; 24:1-15; Matt. 27:12-14; 1 Cor. 9:25, 27; Titus 2:2. Hymns: 13, 44, 1, 244, 179, 274, 99. Poems of Dawn, 133: Steadfast, Immovable. Tower Reading: Z '15, 59 (R 5635). Questions: Was I long-suffering and self-controlling this week? In what circumstances? What helped or hindered therein? What were the effects? |
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STEADFAST, IMMOVABLE
TO play through life a perfect part,
Unnoticed and unknown;
To seek no rest in any heart
Save only God's alone;
In little things to own no will,
To have no share in great,
To find the labor ready still,
And for the crown to wait;
Upon the brow to bear no trace
Of more than common care;
To write no secret in the face
For men to read it there;
The daily cross to clasp and bless
With such familiar zeal
As hides from all that not the less
Its daily weight you feel;
In toils that praise will never pay
To see your life go past;
To meet in every coming day
Twin sister of the last;
To hear of high, heroic things,
And yield them reverence due,
But feel life's daily offerings
Are far more fit for you;
To woo no secret, soft disguise,
To which self-love is prone;
Unnoticed by all other eyes,
Unworthy in your own;
To yield with such a happy art
That no one thinks you care,
Yet say to your poor bleeding heart,
How little you can bear;—
Oh! 'tis a pathway rough to choose,
A struggle hard to share,
For human pride would still refuse
The nameless trials there;
But since we know the gate is low
That leads to heavenly bliss,
What higher grace could God bestow
Than such a life as this!
TO play through life a perfect part,
Unnoticed and unknown;
To seek no rest in any heart
Save only God's alone;
In little things to own no will,
To have no share in great,
To find the labor ready still,
And for the crown to wait;
Upon the brow to bear no trace
Of more than common care;
To write no secret in the face
For men to read it there;
The daily cross to clasp and bless
With such familiar zeal
As hides from all that not the less
Its daily weight you feel;
In toils that praise will never pay
To see your life go past;
To meet in every coming day
Twin sister of the last;
To hear of high, heroic things,
And yield them reverence due,
But feel life's daily offerings
Are far more fit for you;
To woo no secret, soft disguise,
To which self-love is prone;
Unnoticed by all other eyes,
Unworthy in your own;
To yield with such a happy art
That no one thinks you care,
Yet say to your poor bleeding heart,
How little you can bear;—
Oh! 'tis a pathway rough to choose,
A struggle hard to share,
For human pride would still refuse
The nameless trials there;
But since we know the gate is low
That leads to heavenly bliss,
What higher grace could God bestow
Than such a life as this!
