When God uproots the gourd he gives us something better, and "our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." If Paul could call his calamities "light," surely we may; for what are our trials when compared with his? Behold what a crushing load he carried! "In labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep, in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness." Oh what a life! How could he call all these afflictions light? Placed in the balance with the exceeding weight of glory, they seemed as naught. The afflictions were but for a moment; the glory was eternal. "Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all. He keepeth all his bones: not one of them is broken. Evil shall slay the wicked: and they that hate the righteous shall be desolate. The Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants; and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate." Then "wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thy heart: wait, I say, on the Lord." And let your meditation be sweet when you consider Him who smites the gourd in order that he may lead you to the shadow of the great Rock. "When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." [Illustration] [Illustration] VI. _The Compassion._ "My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I remember his compassion_ for the multitude. It was a beautiful thought to compile a record of loving and heroic deeds, of all lands and ages, and to entitle it, "A Book of Golden Deeds." Florence Nightingale, whose picture adorns the opening page, stands forth a fit exponent of the spirit of love that prompted these recorded acts. The record of Christ's life may truly be called "A Book of Golden Deeds;" and that blessed name, which is above every name, becomes the symbol of "whatsoever things are lovely and of good report." The works which mark his earthly career are wonderful beyond compare, and the crowning act of this life of perfect self-abnegation is the greatest mystery of love.