The Scripture Club of Valley Rest; or, Sketches of Everybody's Neighbours — John Shaqi
The Scripture Club of Valley Rest; or, Sketches of Everybody's NeighboursHabberton, John
Religion
The Scripture Club of Valley Rest; or, Sketches of Everybody's Neighbours
Habberton, John
Bible -- Study and teaching -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted," read Deacon
Bates. "Brother Prymm, will you open the discussion of this beatitude?"
"There is none other more precious to the earthly nature," said Mr.
Prymm, "and yet the passage proves the comprehensiveness peculiar to
inspired words. Sin and perplexity are the lot of all mortals, and they
bring trouble with them; but the single sorrow which raises man up to
God, and brings God down to man, is mourning. It may be done from sinful
causes--upon earth--but whatever the cause, the act itself shows us how
near God is to us, and what are his sentiments usward. He knows from the
greatness and purity of his own nature how intense this sentiment may
be, and his sympathy shows itself so tenderly in no other way as by this
promise, that he will come to his children and comfort them when they
are in sorrow. What an evidence of the need of a God does this promise
afford! Where else can we turn for true comfort when in trouble?
Earthly friends lack that knowledge of us from which alone true sympathy
can come; the pleasure of the flesh can give us nothing better than
temporary forgetfulness; but the divine sympathy is perfect in its
knowledge, timely and appropriate in its expression, and incalculable in
its force and endurance."
"I am glad to offer my weak testimony in support of the remarks of
Brother Prymm," said Builder Stott, who came next in the order of
rotation. "I have had my sad experiences in this world,--all of you have
had yours, I suppose,--but it seems to me that mine have been peculiar.
I've trusted men and been swindled by them. I've been abused for things
that I never thought of doing. I've lost dear ones that left places that
have never been filled and never can be, and I have found no one whose
words could be more than a mockery--one that wasn't intended, of course,
but that hurt just as badly as if it had. It has been only when on my
knees, or praying silently as I walked the street, that I found a
sympathizing friend. There can be no doubt in _me_ about what that
passage means--I know all about it by blessed experience."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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