May 11For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter — Psa. 44:22.
We are to remember that we have but one sacrifice; that it is to be rendered to the Lord day by day in the improvement of every opportunity, as it comes to us, to serve Him and His. We are to remember that while it consists of many little sacrifices, some of them too small to mention or even to consider, nevertheless it will require all of these to complete the one sacrifice which we made at the beginning of our induction into His family. When we gave our wills, we gave our all; and any holding back in any of the little affairs of life—any refusal to sacrifice that which we think would please the Lord—is a keeping back of that much of what we have devoted to Him—Z '03, 408 (R 3265). From loyalty to the Lord's Person, Character, Word and Cause, faithful followers of Christ have been persecuted throughout the Gospel Age. Their lives have been counted of as little value as the life of a sheep, and they have been as unfeelingly slaughtered. However, as Jehovah had pleasure in the sacrificial death of Him who was slain as the Lamb of God, so the Lord has pleasure in the sacrificial death that the faithful endure for His sake; for "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints" (Psa. 116:15)—P '33, 79. Parallel passages: Rom. 8:35, 36; Matt. 5:10-12, 44; 10:16-18, 21, 22, 26, 28; 20:22, 23; 23:34, 35; Luke 21:12-19; John 15:18, 19; 16:1, 2; 1 Cor. 4:9-13; 15:30-32; 2 Cor. 4:8-12; John 12:23-26; 2 Thes. 1:4; 2 Tim. 2:9-12; Heb. 10:32-34; 13:12, 13; 1 Pet. 3:14-17. Hymns: 146, 134, 150, 25, 93, 279, 326. Poems of Dawn, 176: Sometimes I Almost Wonder. Tower Reading: Z '13, 37 (R 5172). Questions: Have I this week suffered persecution? How? Why? With what effects? |
|
SOMETIMES I ALMOST WONDER
SOMETIMES I almost wonder if my Lord doth
really know
About the many little things that wound my poor
heart so.
I can but wonder if He knows the anguish of my
soul,
When tempests beat upon my head, and surging
billows roll;
I wonder if He hears at night my weary, longing
sighs,
I wonder if He sees the tears that tremble in mine
eyes!
I wonder if my burdens weigh upon His tender
heart,
And in my many sorrows, if His great love shares a part!
* * *
Ah! no, I will not wonder, I will silence every
fear,
I've read that "in His bottle He doth treasure up
each tear;"
I know that He who heeds the smallest sparrow when
it falls,
Will surely, surely hearken when His own child
feebly calls;
I know that He who stilled the waves on Galilee's
dark sea,
Will bid the storms of life, "Be still," that rudely
threaten me.
Ah! no, I do not wonder, I am sure my Lord doth
know
About the many, many things that wound my poor
heart so!
SOMETIMES I almost wonder if my Lord doth
really know
About the many little things that wound my poor
heart so.
I can but wonder if He knows the anguish of my
soul,
When tempests beat upon my head, and surging
billows roll;
I wonder if He hears at night my weary, longing
sighs,
I wonder if He sees the tears that tremble in mine
eyes!
I wonder if my burdens weigh upon His tender
heart,
And in my many sorrows, if His great love shares a part!
* * *
Ah! no, I will not wonder, I will silence every
fear,
I've read that "in His bottle He doth treasure up
each tear;"
I know that He who heeds the smallest sparrow when
it falls,
Will surely, surely hearken when His own child
feebly calls;
I know that He who stilled the waves on Galilee's
dark sea,
Will bid the storms of life, "Be still," that rudely
threaten me.
Ah! no, I do not wonder, I am sure my Lord doth
know
About the many, many things that wound my poor
heart so!
