"I was brought low, and he helped me." - Psalm 116:6
It is blessed sometimes that the streams of creature comforts should be
dry, in order to compel us to go to the fountain head. When the
fig-tree doth not blossom and the field yields no meat, then a covenant
God is precious to fly to. My soul, say, was not that assault of Satan
sanctified, when it brought Jesus thereby to thy rescue? Was not that
cross sweetly timed, when it tended to wean thee from the world? And
wouldest thou have been without that sickness, when Jesus sat up by
thee, soothed thee in thy languor, and made all thy bed in thy
sickness? Well was it for me that I was brought low, or I should never
have known, in a thousand instances, the help of my God. Oh then, my
soul, like Paul, learn to glory in thy infirmities, that the power of
Jesus may rest upon thee.
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