One sultry summer day a youthful pilgrim sat by the roadside, weary and
dispirited, saying, "I cannot see why I was ordered to tarry beside this
hard, unsightly rock, after journeying as many days as I have. Something
better should have been given me to rest upon after walking so far. If it
were only beside some shady tree, I could wait the appearance of the
guide. My lot is hard indeed. I do not see any pilgrim here. Others are
probably resting beneath green trees and by running brooks. I will look
at my directions once more;" and she drew the paper from her girdle and
read slowly these words: "Tarry at the rock, and do not go on till the
guide appears to conduct you to your journey's end." She folded and
replaced the paper with a sigh, while the murmur still went on: "It's
very hard, when beyond I see beautiful green trees, whose long branches
would shelter me from the burning sun. How thirsty I am, too! My bread is
no longer sweet, for want of water. Oh, that I could search for a spring!
I am sure I could find one if permitted to go on my journey. If the rock
was not so hard I could pillow my head upon it. Ah me! I have been so
often told that the guide had great wisdom, and knew what was good and
best for us pilgrims; but this surely looks very dark."
Here weariness overcame the pilgrim, and involuntarily she laid her
head upon the rock; when, lo! a sudden spring was touched, and the
waters leaped, pure and sparkling, from the hard, unsightly spot. This
was the guide's provision for his pilgrim. It was no longer mystical why
he had ordered her to tarry there.
When she had drank, and the parched throat was cool and the whole
being refreshed, the guide appeared rounding a gentle curve of the road,
and bade her follow him through a dense forest which lay between the
rock and the journey's end. The steps of the pilgrim now were more
firm, for trust was begotten within her, and the light of hope gleamed
on her brow--as it will at last upon us all, when the waters have gushed
from the bare rocks which lie in the pathways of our lives.
At last we shall learn that our Father, the great Guide, leads us where
flow living waters, and that he never forsakes us in time of need.
IV.
FAITH.
"Children," said a faithful father, one day, to his sons and daughters,
"I have a journey to take which will keep me many days, perhaps weeks,
from you; and as we have no power over conditions,--such as storms,
sickness, or any of the so-called accidents of life,--I may be detained
long beyond my appointed time of absence. I trust, however, that you will
each have confidence in me; and, should illness to myself or others
detain me, that you will all trust and wait."
"We will, father!" shouted a chorus of voices, which was music to his
ears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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