Our Little Ones in Paradise, compiled by Rev. Samuel Cutler
Chapter 1: Hidden Purposes
Why has God thus dealt with me? is often the sad inquiry of the parental heart when a darling child is removed by death.
At such an hour there is sometimes, even in the mind of the Christian, a feeling of distrust whether all things are wisely ordered, and a disposition to murmur at what he calls the dark and mysterious providence which has brought desolation to his fireside. There is a struggle between distrust and faith. In the day of calamity the spirit is overwhelmed, the soul refuses to be comforted, and in deep depression, with the Psalmist, the mourner asks, ” Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies ?” So Satan tempts us in seasons of affliction, in our hour of bereavement. Sharp is the conflict when God removes our idols. Painful is the struggle if our will is not brought into sweet conformity to God’s will. Such was the experience of the Psalmist, such has been the experience of multitudes, who, when the angel of death has severed the dearest ties or trouble in any of its varied forms has brought desolation to the family, have turned away from God as the only source of consolation, and in their sorrow forgotten, his tender mercies and loving-kindnesses in all the way by which he has led them.
Why hast thou thus dealt with me ? is a question which, in view of the fact the ways or plans of God are hidden from us, is one which cannot be fully answered now. And yet, though clouds and darkness hide his throne—though his path is in the mighty waters, and his footsteps are unknown, by the eye of faith we may learn enough from revelation and from history, from his dealings with Israel as his covenant people, and with the nations and people who cast him off, to know that he cloth not willingly nor unnecessarily afflict or grieve the children of men; and that all his plans are designed, and will ultimately be seen to promote his own glory as a righteous and loving God, and the highest good of his people. We shall see, as we cannot now, why he chastens those he loves, and how death is made the minister of life.
Death has ever been the terror as it is the conqueror of the natural man. Come when and where it may, though in its least revolting aspect, to take back to God the spirit of- unconscious infancy, or of opening childhood, parental and filial sympathies shrink from fellowship with the dreaded messenger. Even in the hope which nature dictates, and the assurance which revelation brings to us that God removes the bud or the blossom, to unfold, and to bring forth fruit in a better clime—that the infant mind will go on progressively in its redeemed likeness to its Saviour—still, in the hour of trial, faith is weak, sense prevails, and the plaintive, sometimes the agonizing cry goes forth, “O my Father, why hast thou thus dealt with me?”
If this little book shall be so blessed of God as to lead some among the tens of thousands of weeping fathers and mothers, of brothers and sisters, to look beyond the grave and to realize that the babe or the little child still lives, that the loving Saviour has taken it in his arms, carries it in his bosom, provides for all its wants as no earthly friend could do, that it is for ever safe from all danger, and from “the second death;” and that in its removal God is calling them to be ready to meet their children in glory; with thankfulness will the compiler give praise to Him for the conception and execution of the design. s. c.
WHOLLY RESIGNED.
Christ leads us through no darker rooms
That he went through before:
He that into God’s kingdom comes
Must enter by this door.
Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet
Thy blessed face to see;
For if thy word on earth be sweet,
What will thy glory be!
Then shall I end my sad complaints
And weary, sinful days,
And join with the triumphant saints
That sing Jehovah’s praise.
My knowledge of that life is small,
The eye of faith is dim,
But ’tis enough that Christ knows all,
And I shall be with him.
THE QUIET, HOPING HEART.
Whate’er my God ordains is right,
His will is ever just;
Howe’er he order now my cause,
I will be still and trust.
He is my God;
Though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall,
Wherefore to him I leave it all.
Whate’er my God ordains is right,
Though I the cup must drink,
That bitter seems to my faint heart,
I will not fear nor shrink;
Fears pass away
With dawn of day,
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,
And pain and sorrow shall depart.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
My Light, my Life is he,
Who cannot will me aught but good;
I trust him utterly;
For well I know,
In joy or woe,
We soon shall see as sunlight clear
How faithful was our Guardian here.
Whate’er my God ordains is right:
Here will I take my stand;
Though sorrow, need, or death make earth
For me a desert land,
My Father’s care
Is round me there;
He holds me that I shall not fall,
And so to him I leave it all.
Samuel Rodigast, 1675.
PATIENT TRUST
Let us be patient, God has taken from us
The earthly treasures upon which we leaned,
That from the fleeting things which lie around us
Our clinging hearts should be for ever weaned.
Let us be thankful, if in this affliction
No grave is opened for the loving heart;
And while we bend beneath our Father’s eludings,
We yet can mourn ” each family apart.”
These earthly walls must shortly be dismantled,
These earthly tents be struck by angel hands;
But to be built up on a sure foundation,
There where our Father’s mansion ever stands.
There shall we meet, parent and child, and clearer
That earthly love which makes half heaven of home;
There shall we find our treasures all awaiting,
Where change and death and parting never come.
THY WILL BE DONE
To do, or not to do—to have
Or not to have—I leave to Thee;
To be, or not to be, I leave—
Thy only will be done to me.
All my requests are lost in one:
Father, thy only will be done!
Suffice that for the season past
Myself in things divine I sought,
For comforts cried with eager haste,
And murmured when I”found them not:
I leave it now to Thee alone;
Father, thy only will be done!
[This is the second in a series of posts (first) on the death of little ones, born and unborn.]
