More thoughts on suffering

My Auntie M (the same one who sent the friendship note), after reading my recent blog entries sent me a couple of quotes. Thanks Auntie M!

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn. I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but not once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory. Thou divine Love, whose human path has been perfected through sufferings, teach me the glory of my cross, teach me the value of my thorn.
--George Matheson

Here's a hymn written by George Matheson, who was blind.

O Love that wil not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee.
I give Thee back the life I owe,
that in Thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee.
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
that in Thy sunshine's blaze its day may fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee.
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
and feel the promise is not vain that morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee.
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
and from the ground there blossoms red life that shall endless be.

And another song from the same author

Make me a captive, Lord, and then I shall be free.
Force me to render up my sword, and I shall conqueror be.
I sink in life’s alarms when by myself I stand;
Imprison me within Thine arms, and strong shall be my hand.

My heart is weak and poor until it master find;
It has no spring of action sure, it varies with the wind.
It cannot freely move till Thou has wrought its chain;
Enslave it with Thy matchless love, and deathless it shall reign.

My power is faint and low till I have learned to serve;
It lacks the needed fire to glow, it lacks the breeze to nerve.
It cannot drive the world until itself be driven;
Its flag can only be unfurled when Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

My will is not my own till Thou hast made it Thine;
If it would reach a monarch’s throne, it must its crown resign.
It only stands unbent amid the clashing strife,
When on Thy bosom it has leant, and found in Thee its life.