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				THE JOY OF THE LORD. 
				
"The joy of the Lord is your strength." Neh. viii:10.
				 
There is no more pointed difference between Christianity and all other religions
than the element of joyfulness.
 
The natural countenance of heathenism is gloomy, and often profoundly sad.
The true expression of a consecrated face is radiance and gladness. True,
this is not always realized as it ought to be, but when the Holy Spirit shines
in the consecrated heart, the face will reflect its glory, and, like Stephen's,
be often like the face of an angel. The reporter of a weekly paper once remarked
as he described the services of one of our happy conventions, "one thing
that characterized all the faces was their wondrous joyousness." Surely this
ought to be ever true! Look at those two sisters, born of one mother, rocked
in one cradle, educated in one school, yet parted now by a distance far greater
than leagues can measure. The younger sister is rich, prosperous, admired
by a wide circle of friends, loved by every member of her family, and indulged
in every gratification that social position or ample wealth can procure.
The other is poor; her life is a struggle with circumstances, her time is
crowded with toil and care; her dearest friends often misunderstand her religious
attitude, and rudely blame her for the very things which are the highest
services and sacrifices of her love. And yet her face shines with a deep,
transparent joy, compared with which the other is dull and tame. The daughter
of wealth and prosperity has got so used to her surroundings that they are
no more to her than the humble circumstances of the other are to her. External
luxuries have palled her appetite long ago, and no deeper springs have opened
in her empty heart. Look at her when circumstances change! She has no other
resources. Bereavement and death find her without consolation, and when she
loses earth she loses all she had, and the parting is the more terrible in
proportion to the pleasure of the possession. But the other has an inner
source of peace and happiness that external vicissitudes cannot affect. Her
trials throw her more wholly upon that hidden source of joy, and when all
else is overshadowed with darkness, you may often see her face, as it were
the face of an angel, and when sobs and tears are heard on every side, around
her dying couch, her voice is melodious with praise and her face is shining
with the reflected glory of the everlasting day.
 
Why should it not be so? "God is Light and in Him is no darkness at all."
The blessed God must be the source of blessedness. His Beloved Son, our Pattern
and our Saviour, is the Prince of Peace, and the Royal Bridegroom, whom God
"hath anointed with the oil of gladness above His fellows," and surely His
salvation should be a glad salvation; His touch should bring joy and sunshine,
and they who follow Him should be true to His own ideal of that happy company
who "shall come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy; they shall obtain
joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." As we look over
the earth we find that God has put beauty and gladness wherever He can. He
has made us to be happy, and He has sent redemption to restore and consummate
our joy, and so His great salvation is inseparably linked with a rejoicing
spirit. True, it can stoop to sorrow; it will enter the saddest home and
the darkest midnight, but it cannot dwell with gloom. It must banish sorrow
as well as sin, and live in the light of joy.
 
And so we must give up trying to combine religion and melancholy, for Christ
will have none but a happy people. Even old Judaism robed itself in bridal
garments whenever it could and went forth with songs of rejoicing. Under
the Mosaic law there was a constant succession of feasts, and the whole nation
was required every little while to go on a great religious picnic to keep
them from settling down into selfishness and melancholy. And in the closing
festival of the sacred year they were required to spend an entire week in
the most romantic and picturesque religious rejoicings, dwelling in rustic
booths and uniting in festal services and sacred songs and ceremonies, which
must have formed a grand and impressive spectacle of national rejoicing.
 
It was this Feast of Tabernacles that Nehemiah and the people were now observing,
yet, like some of us, they had come with long faces, and thought it becoming
to celebrate the occasion by a few appropriate tears, as they thought of
the desolations of Zion which had just been removed and restored. But Nehemiah
told them that it was no time for mourning, simply because it was a holy
day, and holiness and tears did not go well together; that the sorrows were
past, and therefore there was no cause for mourning any longer, but this
was a day for gladness and praise, and the spirit of praise was necessary
in order even to their own preparation and strength for the tasks in which
they were engaged; "for the joy of the Lord," he declares, "is your
strength."
 
  
    This is true of us also, even in connection with the ordinary duties of daily
    life. How much one can do when the heart is light and free, and how long
    and heavy the easiest task when it is irksome! That mother can toil half
    the night, that father can sweat all the day, for the joy of knowing that
    it is for the child of his love. Listen to the words of the sailors as they
    heave their heavy loads into the hold of yonder vessel with their ringing
    chorus sometimes of two syllables; but if it is only Ho-Hay, they sing it
    and they sing it in unison, and the great packages seem like feathers in
    their hands. Look at the soldiers as they march over the long tramp of many
    miles! But the beat of the drum or the chorus of their battle songs lighten
    up all the toil of the way.
 Quaint old John Bunyan puts it happily when he tells us how he wrote the
    Pilgrim's Progress in his old Bedford dungeon. "So I was had home to prison,"
    he goes on to say, "and I sat me down and wrote and wrote, because joy did
    make me write." The old dungeon with its stinted rays of light, its clumsy
    table, its wooden stool, its pallet of straw, was heaven to him because the
    joy of the pilgrim and the pilgrim's home and the pilgrim's story were bursting
    in his happy heart. Oh, how we need this joy amid the plod and the drudgery
    of the one hundred and forty-four hours of every week, in the factory, in
    the shop, over the counter, in the kitchen, at the desk, on the street, on
    the farm, and we may add, in what are often the harder places of public life,
    and the weary monotony of publicity, and the great heartless noisy world!
    But, thank God! circumstances will make little difference where the everlasting
    springs are bursting from the deep well of His joy in the heart.
 
 The joy of the Lord is our strength for
    life's burdens,
 And gives to each duty a heavenly zest;
 It will set to sweet music the task of
    the toiler;
 And soften the couch of the laborer's
    rest.
 
 David has beautifully expressed this blending of common life with heavenly
    gladness in one of the Psalms, where he says, "Thy statutes have been my
    songs in the house of my pilgrimage." Statutes are just precepts of daily
    duty, and David enjoyed them by setting them to music and translating them
    to ceaseless praise. This, in a word, is the meaning of the one hundred and
    nineteenth Psalm. It is all about duty, and yet it is the most exquisitely
    constructed in the Hebrew Psalter. As it has been well said, it is duty set
    to music.
 
 This is the way to make duty easy and acceptable to God. I have known a servant
    girl whose life was intolerable, and whose mistress was regarded as a petty
    tyrant, become so happy in the same home and with the same woman after she
    received the baptism of the Holy Spirit that she would not have exchanged
    her place for any other, and her mistress actually came to her to ask what
    had happened, and became an earnest inquirer through her beautiful
    transformation.
 
 Beloved, let us take the joy of the Lord into the dark places and the hard
    places and the low places, and the dusty, grimy streets and lanes of life!
    Let us plant the flowers around the little cottage as well as the great mansion!
    Let us have the song of the birds along the wayside, and even in the night,
    as well as in the gilded cage of the drawing-room and in the broad sunshine
    of the day! Let us rejoice in the light evermore and go through the pathways
    of common life so filled with the Spirit that like men intoxicated with the
    wine of heaven, we shall be heard "speaking to ourselves in psalms and hymns
    and spiritual songs, singing with grace in our hearts to the Lord," and then
    it shall be true, "Whatsoever we do in word or deed," we shall "do all in
    the name of the Lord Jesus giving thanks unto God by Him."
 
    The joy of the Lord is our strength for the trials of life. There are two
    ways of bearing a trial; the one is the spirit of stoical endurance, and
    the other through the counteracting forces of a holy and victorious joy.
    It was thus that Christ endured the cross for the joy that was set before
    Him, and then He could despise the shame and not even allow the smell of
    fire to remain upon His garments. We read in the first chapter of Colossians
    the prayer of the apostle for a company of saints who had already reached
    such a measure of holiness that they were made partakers of the inheritance
    of the saints in light; but there was something higher and better for them,
    namely, that they should be "strengthened according to His glorious power
    unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness." "Patience" to endure
    the trials that come from the hand of God, and "longsuffering" to endure
    those which come from men, and both to be endured with real joyfulness. In
    fact, there is nothing to endure when the heart is full of joy. It lifts
    us wholly above the trial, and we do not realize that we are being afflicted
    or wronged. The blessedness of true self-sacrifice is in being so filled
    with God that we will not have any sacrifice. What luxury of grace it is
    thus to be lifted above all that could even try the heart! The rocks are
    not taken from the bottom of the stream, but the blessed tides rise so high
    that the ships sail far above them in the current of God's great joy. And
    so the apostle explains his self-sacrifices for the Philippians, "Though
    I be offered on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice
    with you all."
 The Hebrew Christians were congratulated that they had been enabled to take
    "joyfully the spoiling of their goods." This is not a very common experience.
    Some good women lose their sanctification over a set of smashed dishes by
    a careless servant, or the spilling of coffee over the new tablecloth or
    dress, or the spots on the little dresses of heedless children; and some
    men get very angry over the mistakes or failures of employees or servants
    that injure their business or lose large sums of money.
 
 Sir Isaac Newton once lost all the calculations of twenty-five years by the
    burning of a lot of papers through the carelessness of a little dog, and
    the world remembers him with more admiration than for all his discoveries
    because he simply answered, "Poor thing! You little know the mischief you
    have done."
 
 The joy of the Lord always counts on something better than we lose, and remembers
    that there is one above who is the great Recompenser and Restorer, and will
    give a thousand times more by-and-by for one victory of patience and love
    than all the world is worth to-day.
 
 Yes, the joy of the Lord is our strength
    for life's trials,
 And lifts the crushed heart above sorrow
    and care,
 Like the nightingale's song, it can sing
    in the darkness,
 And rejoice when the fig tree is withered
    and bare.
 
    The joy of the Lord is our strength for temptation. "Count it all joy," James
    says, "when ye fall into divers temptations." One reason for this is because
    it is the best way to meet them. The devil always gets the best of a melancholy
    soul. Despondency will always bring surrender. Satan is so little used to
    joy in his own home that a happy face always scares him away. Amalek got
    hold of the hindmost of Israel's camp, the discouraged ones who were dragging
    behind and fretting about the hot weather and the hard road they had to travel.
    Such people always find the way harder before they get through. The fiery
    serpents, which were the devil's scouts, stung the murmuring multitudes,
    and it was an upward look to the brazen serpent that healed them. Jehoshaphat's
    armies marched to battle and victory with shouts of faith and songs of praise,
    and so still the joy of the Lord is the best equipment for the great conflict.
    But the apostle also means, no doubt, that temptation is no cause for
    despondency, but rather a great opportunity of spiritual progress. It is
    the proving of our armor and an evident token that the devil sees something
    in us worth trying to steal, and we may be very sure where the army of the
    enemy is encamped there the army of the Lord is also near. "The trying of
    our faith worketh patience, and let patience have her perfect work." Let
    us go through all the discipline and learn all that it has to teach us, and
    "when we are tried we shall receive the crown of life which the Lord has
    promised to them that love Him."
 Let us then go forth into the conflicts which await us without a fear or
    cloud, and when we cannot feel the joy, but "are in heaviness through manifold
    temptations," let us "count it all joy," and say, "I will rejoice in the
    Lord, and I will be joyful in my God."
 
 The joy of the Lord is our strength for
    temptation,
 And counts it the testing of patience
    and grace;
 It marches to battle with shouts of
    salvation,
 And rides o'er its foes in the chariots
    of praise.
 
    The joy of the Lord is our strength for the body. "A merry heart doeth good
    like a medicine." This is the divine prescription for a weak body. And so
    on the other hand, despondency and depression of spirits are the cause of
    nervousness, head-ache, heart-break, and low physical vitality. A word of
    cheer and an impulse of hope and gladness will often break the power of
    disease.
 I remember a dying man whom I visited in the earliest years of my ministry,
    who was given up by his physicians and pronounced in a dying condition, so
    that they gave up the case and expected his death during the night. But as
    I visited him, as I supposed, for the last time, and tenderly led him to
    the Saviour, and as he accepted the gospel and became filled with the peace
    of God and the joy of salvation, there came upon him such a baptism of glory
    and such an inspiration of the very rapture of heaven, that he kept us for
    hours beside his bed as he shouted and sung, what we all believed to be the
    beginning of the songs of heaven, and we bade him farewell long after midnight,
    fully expecting that our next meeting would be above. But so mighty was the
    uplift in that soul that his body, unconsciously to himself, threw off the
    power of disease, and the next morning he was convalescent, to the amazement
    of his physicians, and in a few days entirely well. I knew nothing, at that
    time, of Divine Healing, but simply witnessed with astonishment and delight,
    the Divine joy to heal disease. Many a time since have I seen the healing
    and the gladness of Jesus come together to the soul and body, and the night
    of weeping turned into a morning of joy. Many a time have I seen the
    darkly-clouded and diseased brain lighted up with the joy of the Lord, and
    saved from insanity by a baptism of holy gladness.
 
 It is true there is a deeper cause and a diviner power than the mere natural
    influence of joy. Incurable disease can only yield to the actual touch of
    Divine omnipotence, but joy is the channel through which the healing waters
    flow, and the overflow of the life of Christ in both soul and body. If you
    would live above your physical conditions, if you would renew your strength
    continually and "mount up on wings as eagles, and run and not be weary, and
    walk and not faint," if you would carry in your veins the exhilaration and
    zest of unwearied youth and freshness, if you would know, even here, in all
    its fullness, the foretaste of the resurrection life in your body, if you
    would be armed against the devil's shafts of infirmity and pain, and throw
    off his arrows upon your body as the heated iron repels the water which will
    not lie upon it, then, beloved, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I
    say, Rejoice."
 
 To return to our figure-the humblest housewife knows that water cannot rest
    upon a red-hot stove-cover, but leaps and dances over it in consternation,
    and flies off in explosions of helpless effervescence. So the devil will
    try in vain to pour cold water upon your life and work, and even your frame,
    if you keep ever in the white heat of heavenly joy.
 
    The joy of the Lord is our strength for service and testimony. It makes all
    our work easy and delightful. It gives a perpetual spring in the hardest
    fields of Christian service. It goes with the city missionary and the all-night
    worker in the dives and slums, and takes away the natural shrinking from
    the degraded and unclean, the horror of filth and vermin, the fear of violent
    and wicked men and all the repulsiveness and hideousness of the surrounding
    scenes; and it makes the work, that naturally would be revolting, a perfect
    fascination, and enables the consecrated heart to say, "None of these things
    move me, neither count I my life dear unto me that I may finish my course
    with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify
    of the gospel of the grace of God."
 Not only does it give a constraining motive to our service, but it also gives
    it a divine effectiveness and power. It illuminates the face with the light
    of heaven, and melts the heart with accents of tenderness and love. It gives
    our words a weight and winning power which men cannot gainsay. They know
    that we possess a secret to which they are strangers, and our gladness awakens
    their longing to share our joy. A shining face and radiant spirit are worth
    a ton of logic, rhetoric and elocution. A poor, crippled saint, standing
    up in a meeting and telling what God hath done for her soul, with a face
    divinely beautiful in all its homeliness, will bring more souls to Christ
    than the eloquence of a dozen college graduates without the joy of the
    Lord.
 
 A scholarly minister once gave a course of lectures on the "Evidences of
    Christianity," for the special purpose of convincing and converting a wealthy
    and influential sceptic in his congregation. The gentleman attended his lectures
    and was converted, and a few days after the minister ventured to ask him
    which of the lectures it was that impressed him decisively. "The lectures!"
    answered the gentleman, "my dear sir, I don't even remember the subjects
    of your lectures, and I cannot say that they had any decisive influence upon
    my mind. I was converted by the testimony of a dear old colored woman who
    attended those services, and who, as she hobbled up the steps close to me,
    with her glad face, as bright. as heaven, used to say, 'My blessed Jesus!
    my blessed Jesus!' and turning to me would ask, 'Do you love my blessed Jesus?'
    and that, sir, was my evidence of Christianity."
 
 Bless the Lord! we can all shine like that, "burning," as well as "shining"
    lights, and setting hearts aglow with the contagion of our joy. The world
    is looking for happiness, and if it find the secret in a genuine form, will
    try to get it. Charles Finney tells us how the good deacons used to ask him
    in prayer-meeting, when he attended it in his ungodly days, if he did not
    want them to pray for him. "No," he said, "I should be very sorry to have
    you pray for me. For, in the first place, if I were converted through your
    prayers I should be as miserable as you are; and in the next place, I do
    not believe that your prayers would have any power to bring about my conversion,
    and I suspect that you yourselves would be a good deal surprised if they
    had, for you have been praying in the same melancholy way ever since I came
    to this town, for a revival, and I can see by your tones and your faces that
    you have no idea that it is ever coming. When I am converted I want a religion
    that will make me happy, and a God who will do what I ask Him."
 
 Beloved, the Lord save us from religious melancholia, and send us out to
    work for Him with shining faces, victorious accents and hearts overflowing
    with contagious joy. Then, like Stephen, we will be able to look into the
    faces of our enemies and confound them by our very countenances, and force
    the world to "take knowledge of us that we have been with Jesus."
 
 "Let the joy of the Lord be the strength
    of our service,
 As it speaks in our faces and accents
    of love,
 As it wins the sad world to the fullness
    of Jesus,
 And draws hungry hearts His salvation
    to prove."
 
II. The secret of this joy.
 
  
    It springs from the assurance of salvation. It is the joy of salvation. Its
    happy song is,
 "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,
 Oh, what a rapture of glory Divine!
 Heir of salvation, purchased of God,
 Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
 
 This is my story, this is my song,
 Praising my Saviour all the day long."
 
 If you would know it you must accept His promise with full assurance of faith,
    and rest upon His word without a wavering or a doubt.
 
    It is the joy of the Holy Ghost. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy."
    It is not indigenous to earthly soil; it is a plant of heavenly birth. It
    belongs to the kingdom of God, which is "righteousness, and peace and joy
    in the Holy Ghost." To know it we must receive the baptism of the Pentecostal
    Spirit in full surrender and simple faith. It is the characteristic of all
    who receive this baptism that they know the joy of the Lord, and until we
    do receive this eternal fountain in our heart, all our attempts at joy are
    but surface wells ; they are waters often defiled and their bottom often
    dry. This is the great Artesian stream, the "well of water" Jesus gives
    "springing up unto everlasting life."
    It is the joy of faith. "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace
    in believing." There is indeed a deep delight when God has answered prayer,
    and the joy of fulfillment and possession overflows with thankfulness, but
    there is a more thrilling joy when the heart first commits itself to His
    naked promise, and standing on His simple word in the face of natural
    improbability, or even seeming impossibility, declares, "though the fig-tree
    shall not blossom nor fruit be in the vines, yet will I rejoice in the Lord
    and joy in the God of my salvation." If you are doubting God you need not
    wonder that your joy is intermittent. The witness of the Spirit always follows
    the act of trust. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed
    on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee," but it is just as true, "Surely, if
    ye will not believe, ye shall not be established."
    The joy of the Lord is sustained by His word and nourished by His "exceeding
    great and precious promises." "I rejoice in Thy Word," exclaims the Psalmist,
    "as one that findeth great spoil." Oh, the rich delight of beholding in the
    light of the Holy Spirit, the heavenly landscape of truth open before the
    spiritual vision, like some land of promise shining in the glory of the sunlight,
    the whole Bible seeming like the vision Moses saw from Pisgah's top! We have
    found great spoil, and it is all our own. "We have received the Spirit that
    we may know the things that are freely given us of God," and we can truly
    say like the same Psalmist again, "Thy testimonies are the joy and rejoicing
    of my heart." How sweet the voice in which the Spirit speaks the promises
    to the sorrowing heart and makes this precious word a living voice from our
    Beloved!
 Dear friends, do you know the joy that lies hidden in these neglected pages,
    the honey that you might drink from this garden of the Lord, these blossoms
    of truth and promise? Oh, take your Bibles as the living love-letters of
    His heart to you, and ask Him to speak it to you in joy and faith and spiritual
    illumination, as the sweet manna of your spirit's life and the honey out
    of the Rock of Ages!
 
    It is the joy of prayer. Its element is the closet, and its source the
    Mercy-seat. No prayerless life can be a happy one. "They that wait upon the
    Lord shall mount up on wings as eagles." "Ask and ye shall receive, that
    your joy may be full."
 "This is the place where Jesus sheds
 The oil of gladness on our heads;
 The place than all besides more sweet,
 It is the blood-bought Mercy-seat."
 
    It is the joy of meekness and love. "For the meek shall increase their joy
    in the Lord," and the loving spirit ever finds that "it is more blessed to
    give than to receive." Selfishness is misery, love is life and joy. The gentle,
    lowly, chastened spirit shall find all the flowers in bloom and the waters
    flowing in the valleys of humility. The unselfish heart shall never fail
    to prove the promise true, "If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and
    satisfy the afflicted soul, the Lord shall satisfy thy soul in drought, and
    thou shalt be like a watered garden and a spring of water whose waters fail
    not."
 Beloved, do you know the gladness which comes from yielding to the will of
    God, or bearing patiently the wrong, from being silent under the word of
    reproach, from returning good for evil, from the word that comforts the sorrowing
    heart, from the cup of cold water to another given, from the sacrifice of
    your own indulgence that the saving may be given to Him? Oh, then it is that
    all the bells of joy are heard softly ringing, and the Master whispers to
    the hearts that tremble with its gladness, "ye did it unto me."
 
    It is the joy of service and especially of winning souls. All true work is
    a natural delight, but work for God in the true spirit and in the power of
    the Holy Ghost, is the very partnership of His joy, whose meat and drink
    it was to do the will of Him that sent Him and to finish His work. If you
    would have a life lifted above a thousand temptations and petty cares be
    busy for your Master, and let each moment see
 "Some work of love begun,
 Some deed of kindness done,
 Some wanderer sought and won,
 Something for thee."
 
 We cannot convey the Living Water to another heart without being watered
    ourselves on the way. There is no joy more exquisite than the joy of leading
    a soul to Christ. It is like the mother's strange, instinctive rapture over
    her newborn babe. The other day a precious friend passed through the gates
    a few moments after her babe was born, but in the hour of her agony her very
    first word was, "How is my babe?" It was the first thrill of that strange
    delight which is the very touch of the love which the Holy Ghost will give
    us for the souls He permits us to win for Christ. It is, indeed, a spiritual,
    motherhood, and it has all the joy and all the pain of a mother's love.
 
 Beloved, do you know the ecstasy of feeling the new life of an immortal spirit
    sweeping through your very veins, as, kneeling by the side of one just born
    to die no more, you place it, as a newborn babe in the bosom of your Saviour?
    You may know this joy, and every Christian ought to know it a hundred-fold.
    It is the joy of angels, setting all the harps of heaven ringing, and surely
    it were strange if it were not the higher joy of ransomed saints.
 
    It is the joy of the faithful servant. There is a sense even here, in which
    as often as we are true to God and faithful to the call of duty and opportunity,
    His Spirit gives us a present reward and a baptism of joy, and whispers to
    the faithful heart, "Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter thou into
    the joy of thy Lord."
    It is the joy of hope. "We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." It is the
    reflected light of the coming Sunrise and the Millennial Day. Except the
    death and resurrection of Jesus and the baptism of the Holy Ghost, there
    is nothing that sheds within the heart a diviner gladness, and on the brow
    a holier light, than the blessed hope of the Lord's Coming. It is, indeed,
    "a light in the dark place," the very Morning Star that presages the Rising
    Sun. Then let us in this blessed hope "lift up our heads, for our redemption
    draweth nigh."
    And finally, it is the joy of Christ Himself within us. "These things have
    I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you and that your joy might
    be full." This is the deepest secret of spiritual joy; it is the indwelling
    Christ Himself rejoicing in the heart as He rejoiced on earth even in the
    darkest hour of His life, and as now, in heaven, He realizes the fulfillment
    of His own Messianic words in the sixteenth psalm: "Therefore my heart is
    glad and my glory rejoiceth; my flesh also shall rest in hope. For Thou wilt
    not leave my soul among the dead, nor suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption.
    Thou wilt show me the path of life; in Thy presence there is fullness of
    joy, and at Thy right hand are pleasures for evermore." In the fullness of
    joy He is reigning now, and its tides are swelling and rising to the same
    level in every heart in which He dwells.
 Walking along the ocean beach hundreds of feet from the shore you may dig
    a little hole in the dry sand, and it will fill with water. Underneath the
    sand the waters flow and fill the pool to the level of their source. And
    so the life that is hid with Christ in God is in constant contact with the
    fountain of life, and though the world may not always see the overflow, yet
    the heart's depths are ever filling, and we only need to make room, and lo!
    the empty void, whether great or small, is full to the measure of the fullness
    of God. This, beloved, is why we beseech you to receive the indwelling Christ.
    He is the source of the River of the Water of Life that flows from the Throne
    of God and the Lamb, and those whose hearts are His temple can sing, no matter
    how the tempests rage and the fig-tree withers,
 
 "God is the Treasure of my soul,
 The source of lasting joy;
 A joy which time cannot impair,
 Nor death itself destroy."
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