Courage, brother, courage, sister; there is rest for the weary; there is eternal rest for the beloved of the Lord, and when thou shalt arrive in heaven, how little, how utterly insignificant thy toil will seem, even if it shall have lasted threescore years and ten. You are pained much; even now pain shoots through your body; you do not often know what it is to have an easy hour, and you half murmur, “Why am I thus? Why did God deal so hardly with me?” Think of heaven, where the inhabitants shall no more say, “I am sick;” where there are no groans to mingle with the songs that warble from immortal tongues. Courage, tried one, Oh it will soon be over; it is but a pin’s prick or a moment’s pang, and then eternal glory. Be of good cheer, and let not thy patience fail thee. And so thou hast been slandered. On thy face, for Christ’s dear name, shame and reproach have been cast, and thou art ready to give up. Come, man, look before thee! Canst thou not hear the acclamations of the angels as the conquerors receive one by one their eternal crowns?
What! wilt thou not fight when there is so much to be won? Must thou be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease? Thou must fight if thou wouldst reign. Gird up the loins of thy mind and have respect to the recompense of reward. In the light of heaven, the shame of earth will seem to be less than nothing and vanity.
From a sermon entitled "Last Things," delivered December 31, 1865. Image by Prakhar Amba under Creative Commons License.
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