"Choose for us, Lord, nor let our weak preferring Cheat us of good Thou hast for us designed. Choose for us, Lord; Thy wisdom is unerring, And we are fools and blind." With the reader this may seem mere theory; he may feel that it cannot explain all the seemingly unfathomable mystery of suffering in the lives of many of the redeemed, the real children of God. Let the reader consider two things: first, that as a juror, he would not form a judgment till all the evidence had been placed before the jury. God's purpose in each case, and what God actually accomplishes in each case, in the development of character,--these have not yet been placed before the jury; but, backed up by many fulfilled prophecies, by the character of Jesus Christ, by His resurrection, by what He has accomplished in the world, we have God's solemn assurance that _He will yet place this evidence before the jury_. Second, let the reader remember that with God character counts more than comfort. What father would prefer his son to be a brutal, ignorant pugilist, enjoying food and drink, physical life,--to a useful, noble, highly educated, refined, learned son who could "listen in the orange groves of Verona to the sweet vows of Juliet, or to the blind bard's harp as he strikes the chords but seldom struck harmonious with the morning stars, or to the music of the spheres as they hymn His praises around their Creator's throne"? Far more than the earthly father would choose the latter for his son, does the Heavenly Father value the soul and its development above that of the body. Could God's redeemed people only learn that perfection of character comes only through suffering, that as certain as God is true, a blessing will come from every sorrow, every burden, every affliction, every pang, every heartache! "The ills we see-- The mystery of sorrow deep and long, The dark enigmas of permitted wrong, Have all one key-- This strange, sad world is but our Father's school; All chance and change His love shall grandly overrule." Rarely has the author been stirred, thrilled, as he was while listening to an audience of a thousand colored people of the South sing the following hymn. Some of them had been slaves; many were poor; many uneducated; some Greek scholars; some were destitute; some were half-invalids; some were aged and infirm; but few had the comforts of life; all were heavy burden-bearers. White people from New York and Texas, from Mississippi and Kansas, were moved to tears, as that audience sang with such rhythm, such cadence, such pathos, such sweetness, such soul-power, as only they can sing:-- "We are tossed and driven On the restless sea of time, Sombre skies and howling tempest Oft succeed the bright sunshine. In that land of perfect day When the mists have rolled away, We will understand it better by and by.