December 31 Streams in the Desert

“Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.” (1 Samuel 7:12.)

THE word “hitherto” seems like a hand pointing in the direction of the past. Twenty years or seventy, and yet “hitherto hath the Lord helped us?” Through poverty, through wealth, through sickness, through health; at home, abroad, on the land, on the sea; in honor, in dishonor, in perplexity, in joy, in trial, in triumph, in prayer, in temptation—“hitherto hath the Lord helped!”

We delight to look down a long avenue of trees. It is delightful to gaze from one end of the long vista, a sort of verdant temple, with its branching pillars and its arches of leaves. Even so look down the long aisles of your years, at the green boughs of mercy overhead, and the strong pillars of lovingkindness and faithfulness which bear up your joys.

Are there no birds in yonder branches singing? Surely, there must be many, and they all sing of mercy received “hitherto.”

But the word also points forward. For when a man gets up to a certain mark, and writes “hitherto,” he is not yet at the end; there are still distances to be traversed. More trials, more joys; more temptations, more triumphs; more prayers, more answers; more toils, more strength; more fights, more victories; and then come sickness, old age, disease, death.

Is it over now? No! there is more yet—awakening in Jesus’ likeness, thrones, harps, songs, psalms, white raiment, the face of Jesus, the society of saints, the glory of God, the fullness of eternity, the infinity of bliss. Oh, be of good courage, believer, and with grateful confidence raise thy “Ebenezer,” for,

“He who hath helped thee hitherto

Will help thee all thy journey through.”

When read in Heaven’s light, how glorious and marvelous a prospect will thy “hitherto” unfold to thy grateful eye.

—C. H. Spurgeon.

The Alpine shepherds have a beautiful custom of ending the day by singing to one another an evening farewell. The air is so crystalline that the song will carry long distances. As the dusk begins to fall, they gather their flocks and begin to lead them down the mountain paths, singing, “Hitherto hath the Lord helped us. Let us praise His name!”

And at last with a sweet courtesy, they sing to one another the friendly farewell: “Goodnight! Goodnight!” The words are taken up by the echoes, and from side to side the song goes reverberating sweetly and softly until the music dies away in the distance.

So let us call out to one another through the darkness, till the gloom becomes vocal with many voices, encouraging the pilgrim host. Let the echoes gather till a very storm of Hallelujahs break in thundering waves around the sapphire throne, and then as the morning breaks we shall find ourselves at the margin of the sea of glass, crying, with the redeemed host, “Blessing and honor and glory be unto him that sitteth on the throne and to the Lamb forever and ever!”

“This my song through endless ages,

Jesus led me all the way.”

“and again they said, hallelujah!” (Rev. 19:3, R. V.)^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 375–376). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 30 Streams in the Desert

“Peter was kept in prison: but prayer (instant and earnest prayer) was made for him.” (Acts 12:5, margin.)

PETER was in prison awaiting his execution. The Church had neither human power nor influence to save him. There was no earthly help, but there was help to be obtained by the way of Heaven. They gave themselves to fervent, importunate prayer. God sent His angel, who aroused Peter from sleep and led him out through the first and second wards of the prison; and when they came to the iron gate, it opened to them of its own accord, and Peter was free.

There may be some iron gate in your life that has blocked your way. Like a caged bird you have often beaten against the bars, but instead of helping, you have only had to fall back tired, exhausted and sore at heart. There is a secret for you to learn, and that is believing prayer; and when you come to the iron gate, it will open of its own accord. How much wasted energy and sore disappointment will be saved if you will learn to pray as did the Church in the upper room! Insurmountable difficulties will disappear; adverse circumstances will prove favorable if you learn to pray, not with your own faith but with the faith of God (Mark 11:22, margin). Souls in prison have been waiting for years for the gate to open; loved ones out of Christ, bound by Satan, will be set free when you pray till you definitely believe God.—C. H. P.

Emergencies call for intense prayer. When the man becomes the, prayer nothing can resist its touch. Elijah on Carmel, bowed down on the ground, with his face between his knees, that was prayer—the man himself. No words are mentioned. Prayer can be too tense for words. The man’s whole being was in touch with God, and was set with God against the powers of evil. They couldn’t withstand such praying. There’s more of this embodied praying needed.—The Bent-knee Time.

“Groanings which cannot be uttered are often prayers which cannot be refused.”—C. H. Spurgeon.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 374–375). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 29 Streams in the Desert

“Arise … for we have seen the land, and behold, it is very good; and are ye still? Be not slothful to go, and enter to possess the land: for God hath given it into your hands; a place where there is no want of anything that is in the earth.” (Judges 18:9, 10.)

ARISE! Then there is something definite for us to do. Nothing is ours unless we take it. “The children of Joseph, Manasseh and Ephraim, took their inheritance.” (Joshua 16:4.) “The house of Jacob shall possess their possessions.” (Obad. 17.) “The upright shall have good things in possession.”

We need to have appropriating faith in regard to God’s promises. We must make God’s Word our own personal possession. A child was asked once what appropriating faith was, and the answer was, “It is taking a pencil and underscoring all the me’s and mine’s and my’s in the Bible.”

Take any word you please that He has spoken and say, “That word is my word.” Put your finger on this promise and say, “It is mine.” How much of the Word has been endorsed and receipted and said “It is done.” How many promises can you subscribe and say, “Fulfilled to me.”

“Son, thou art ever with Me, and all that I have is thine.” Don’t let your inheritance go by default.

“When faith goes to market it always takes a basket.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 373–374). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 28 Streams in the Desert

“Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.”

(Phil. 4:4.)

“Sing a little song of trust,

O my heart!

Sing it just because you must,

As leaves start;

As flowers push their way through dust;

Sing, my heart, because you must.

“Wait not for an eager throng—

Bird on bird;

’Tis the solitary song

That is heard.

Every voice at dawn will start,

Be a nightingale, my heart!

“Sing across the winter snow,

Pierce the cloud;

Sing when mists are drooping low—

Clear and loud;

But sing sweetest in the dark;

He who slumbers not will hark.”

“An’ when He hears yo’ sing, He bends down wid a smile on His kin’ face an’ listens mighty keerful, an’ He says, ’Sing on, chile, I hears, an’ I’s comin’ down to deliber yo’: I’ll tote dat load fer yo’; jest lean hawd on Me and de road will get smoother bime by.’ ”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (p. 373). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 27 Streams in the Desert

“His soul entered into iron.” (Psalm 105:18.)

TURN, that about and render it in our language, and it reads thus, “Iron entered his soul.” Is there not a truth in this? That sorrow and privation, the yoke borne in the youth, the soul’s enforced restraint, are all conducive to an iron tenacity and strength of purpose, and endurance or fortitude, which are the indispensable foundation and framework of a noble character.

Do not flinch from suffering; bear it silently, patiently, resignedly; and be sure that it is God’s way of infusing iron into your spiritual life. The world wants iron dukes, iron battalions, iron sinews, and thews of steel. God wants iron saints; and since there is no way of imparting iron to the moral nature but by letting people suffer, He lets them suffer.

Are the best years of your life slipping away in enforced monotony? Are you beset by opposition, misunderstanding, and scorn, as the thick undergrowth besets the passage of the woodsman pioneer? Then take heart; the time is not wasted; God is only putting you through the iron regimen. The iron crown of suffering precedes the golden crown of glory. And iron is entering into your soul to make it strong and brave.

—F. B. Meyer.

“But you will not mind the roughness nor the steepness of the way,

Nor the chill, unrested morning, nor the searness of the day;

And you will not take a turning to the left or the right,

But go straight ahead, nor tremble at the coming of the night,

For the road leads home.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 372–373). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 26 Streams in the Desert

“Sit ye here while I go and pray yonder.” (Matt. 26:36.)

IT is a hard thing to be kept in the background at a time of crisis. In the Garden of Gethsemane eight of the eleven disciples were left to do nothing. Jesus went to the front to pray; Peter, James and John went to the middle to watch; the rest sat down in the rear to wait. Methinks that party in the rear must have murmured. They were in the garden, but that was all; they had no share in the cultivation of its flowers. It was a time of crisis, a time of storm and stress; and yet they were not suffered to work.

You and I have often felt that experience, that disappointment. There has arisen, mayhap a great opportunity for Christian service. Some are sent to the front; some are sent to the middle. But we are made to lie down in the rear. Perhaps sickness has come; perhaps poverty has come; perhaps obloquy has come; in any case we are hindered and we feel sore. We do not see why we should be excluded from a part in the Christian life. It seems like an unjust thing that, seeing we have been allowed to enter the garden, no path should be assigned to us there.

Be still, my soul, it is not as thou deemest! Thou art not excluded from a part of the Christian life. Thinkest thou that the garden of the Lord has only a place for those who walk and for those who stand! Nay, it has a spot consecrated to those who are compelled to sit. There are three voices in a verb—active, passive and neuter. So, too, there are three voices in Christ’s verb “to live.” There are the active, watching souls, who go to the front, and struggle till the breaking of the day. There are the passive, watching souls, who stand in the middle, and report to others the progress of the fight. But there are also the neuter souls—those who can neither fight, nor be spectators of the fight, but have simply to lie down.

When that experience comes to thee, remember, thou are not shunted. Remember it is Christ that says, “Sit ye here.” Thy spot in the garden has also been, consecrated. It has a special name. It is not “the place of wrestling,” nor “the place of watching,” but “the place of waiting.” There are lives that come into this world neither to do great work nor to bear great burdens, but simply to be; they are the neuter verbs. They are the flowers of the garden which have had no active mission. They have wreathed no chaplet; they have graced no table; they have escaped the eye of Peter and James and John. But they have gladdened the sight of Jesus. By their mere perfume, by their mere beauty, they have brought Him joy; by the very preservation of their loveliness in the valley they have lifted the Master’s heart. Thou needst not murmur shouldst thou be one of these flowers!—Selected.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 371–372). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 25 Streams in the Desert

“His name shall be called Emmanuel. …God with us.” (Matt. 1:23.) “The Prince of Peace.” (Isa. 9:6.)

“There’s a song in the air!

There’s a star in the sky!

There’s a mother’s deep prayer,

And a baby’s low cry!

And the star rains its fire

While the beautiful sing,

For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King.”

A FEW years ago a striking Christmas card was published, with the title, “If Christ had not come.” It was founded upon our Saviour’s words, “If I had not come.” The card represented a clergyman falling into a short sleep in his study on Christmas morning and dreaming of a world into which Jesus had never come.

In his dream he found himself looking through his home, but there were no little stockings in the chimney corner, no Christmas bells or wreaths of holly, and no Christ to comfort, gladden and save. He walked out on the public street, but there was no church with its spire pointing to Heaven. He came back and sat down in his library, but every book about the Saviour had disappeared.

A ring at the door-bell, and a messenger asked him to visit a poor dying mother. He hastened with the weeping child and as he reached the home he sat down and said, “I have something here that will comfort you.” He opened his Bible to look for a familiar promise, but it ended at Malachi, and there was no gospel and no promise of hope and salvation, and he could only bow his head and weep with her in bitter despair.

Two days afterward he stood beside her coffin and conducted the funeral service, but there was no message of consolation, no word of a glorious resurrection, no open Heaven, but only “dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” and one long eternal farewell. He realized at length that “He had not come,” and burst into tears and bitter weeping in his sorrowful dream.

Suddenly he woke with a start, and a great shout of joy and praise burst from his lips as he heard his choir singing in his church close by:

“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,

O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;

Come and behold Him, born the King of Angels,

O come let us adore Him, Christ, the Lord.”

Let us be glad and rejoice today, because “He has come.” And let us remember the annunciation of the angel, “Behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10, 11.)

“He comes to make His blessing flow,

Far as the curse is found.”

May our hearts go out to the people in heathen lands who have no blessed Christmas day. “Go your way, eat the fat, drink the sweet, and SEND PORTIONS TO THEM FOR WHOM NOTHING IS PREPARED.” (Neh. 8:10.)^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 369–371). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 24 Streams in the Desert

“And Isaac went out to meditate in the fields at eventide.” (Gen. 24:63.)

WE should be better Christians if we were more alone; we should do more if we attempted less, and spent more time in retirement, and quiet waiting upon God. The world is too much with us; we are afflicted with the idea that we are doing nothing unless we are fussily running to and fro; we do not believe in “the calm retreat, the silent shade.” As a people, we are of a very practical turn of mind; “we believe,” as someone has said, “in having all our irons in the fire, and consider the time not spent between the anvil and the fire as lost, or much the same as lost.” Yet no time is more profitably spent than that which is set apart for quiet musing, for talking with God, for looking up to Heaven. We cannot have too many of these open spaces in life, hours in which the soul is left accessible to any sweet thought or influence it may please God to send.

“Reverie,” it has been said, “is the Sunday of the mind.” Let us often in these days give our mind a “Sunday,” in which it will do no manner of work but simply lie still, and look upward, and spread itself out before the Lord like Gideon’s fleece, to be soaked and moistened with the dews of Heaven. Let there be intervals when we shall do nothing, think nothing, plan nothing, but just lay ourselves on the green lap of nature and “rest awhile.”

Time so spent is not lost time. The fisherman cannot be said to be losing time when he is mending his nets, nor the mower when he takes a few minutes to sharpen his scythe at the top of the ridge. City men cannot do better than follow the example of Isaac, and, as often as they can, get away from the fret and fever of life into fields. Wearied with the heat and din, the noise and bustle, communion with nature is very grateful; it will have a calming, healing influence. A walk through the fields, a saunter by the seashore or across the daisy-sprinkled meadows, will purge your life from sordidness, and make the heart beat with new joy and hope.

“The little cares that fretted me,

I lost them yesterday,

…………

Out in the fields with God.”

Christmas Eve

bells across the snow

O Christmas, merry Christmas,

Is it really come again,

With its memories and greetings,

With its joy and with its pain!

There’s a minor in the carol

And a shadow in the light,

And a spray of cypress twining

With the holly wreath tonight.

And the hush is never broken

By laughter light and low,

As we listen in the starlight

To the “bells across the snow.”

O Christmas, merry Christmas,

’Tis not so very long

Since other voices blended

With the carol and the song!

If we could but hear them singing,

As they are singing now,

If we could but see the radiance

Of the crown on each dear brow,

There would be no sigh to smother,

No hidden tear to flow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the “bells across the snow.”

O Christmas, merry Christmas,

This never more can be;

We cannot bring again the days

Of our unshadowed glee,

But Christmas, happy Christmas,

Sweet herald, of good will,

With holy songs of glory

Brings holy gladness still.

For peace and hope may brighten,

And patient love may glow,

As we listen in the starlight

To the “bells across the snow.”

—Frances Ridley Havergal.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 367–369). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 23 Streams in the Desert

“The journey is too great for thee.” (1 King 19:7)

AND what did God do with His tired servant? Gave him something good to eat, and put him to sleep. Elijah had done splendid work, and had run alongside of the chariot in his excitement, and it had been too much for his physical strength, and the reaction had come on, and he was depressed. The physical needed to be cared for. What many people want is sleep, and the physical ailment attended to. There are grand men and women who get where Elijah was—under the juniper tree! and it comes very soothingly to such to hear the words of the Master: “The journey is too great for thee, and I am going to refresh you.” Let us not confound physical weariness with spiritual weakness.

“I’m too tired to trust and too tired to pray,

Said one, as the over-taxed strength gave way.

The one conscious thought by my mind possessed,

Is, oh, could I just drop it all and rest.

“Will God forgive me, do you suppose,

If I go right to sleep as a baby goes,

Without an asking if I may,

Without ever trying to trust and pray?

“Will God forgive you? why think, dear heart,

When language to you was an unknown art,

Did a mother deny you, needed rest,

Or refuse to pillow your head on her breast?

“Did she let you want when you could not ask?

Did she set her child an unequal task?

Or did she cradle you in her arms,

And then guard your slumber against alarms?

“Ah, how quick was her mother love to see,

The unconscious yearnings of infancy.

When you’ve grown too tired to trust and pray,

When over-wrought nature has quite given way:

“Then just drop it all, and give up to rest,

As you used to do on a mother’s breast,

He knows all about it—the dear Lord knows,

So just go to sleep as a baby goes;

“Without even asking if you may,

God knows when His child is too tired to pray.

He judges not solely by uttered prayer,

He knows when the yearnings of love are there.

“He knows you do pray, He knows you do trust,

And He knows, too, the limits of poor weak dust.

Oh, the wonderful sympathy of Christ,

For His chosen ones in that midnight tryst,

“When He bade them sleep and take their rest,

While on Him the guilt of the whole world pressed—

You’ve given your life up to Him to keep,

Then don’t be afraid to go right to sleep.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 366–367). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 22 Streams in the Desert

“Lo, a horror of great darkness fell upon him.” (Gen. 15:12.)

THE sun at last went down, and the swift, eastern night cast its heavy veil over the scene. Worn out with the mental conflict, the watchings, and the exertions of the day, Abraham fell into a deep sleep, and in that sleep his soul was oppressed with a dense and dreadful darkness, such as almost stifled him, and lay like a night mare upon his heart. Do you understand something of the horror of that darkness? When some terrible sorrow which seems so hard to reconcile with perfect love, crushes down upon the soul, wringing from it all its peaceful rest in the pitifulness of God, and launching it on a sea unlit by a ray of hope; when unkindness, and cruelty maltreat the trusting heart, till it begins to doubt whether there be a God overhead who can see and still permit—these know something of the “horror of great darkness.” It is thus that human life is made up; brightness and gloom; shadow and sun; long tracks of cloud, succeeded by brilliant glints of light, and amid all Divine justice is working out its own schemes, affecting others equally with the individual soul which seems the subject of special discipline. O ye who are filled with the horror of great darkness because of God’s dealings with mankind, learn to trust that infallible wisdom, which is co-assessor with immutable justice; and know that He who passed through the horror of the darkness of Calvary, with the cry of forsakenness, is ready to bear you company through the valley of the shadow of death till you see the sun shining upon its further side. Let us, by our Fore-runner, send forward our anchor, Hope, within the veil that parts us from the unseen; where it will grapple in ground and will not yield, but hold until the day dawns, and we follow it into the haven guaranteed to us by God’s immutable counsel.

—F. B. Meyer.

The disciples thought that that angry sea separated them from Jesus. Nay, some of them thought worse than that; they thought that the trouble that had come upon them was a sign that Jesus had forgotten all about them, and did not care for them. Oh, dear friend, that is when troubles have a sting, when the devil whispers, “God has forgotten you; God has forsaken you”; when your unbelieving heart cries as Gideon cried, “If the Lord be with us, why then is all this befallen us?” The evil has come upon you to bring the Lord nearer to you. The evil has not come upon you to separate you from Jesus, but to make you cling to Him more faithfully, more tenaciously, more simply.—F. S. Webster, M. A.

Never should we so abandon ourselves to God as when He seems to have abandoned us. Let us enjoy light and consolation when it is His pleasure to give it to us, but let us not attach ourselves to His gifts, but to Himself; and when He plunges us into the night of pure faith, let us still press on through the agonizing darkness.

Oh, for faith that brings the triumph

When defeat seems strangely near!

Oh, for faith that brings the triumph

Into victory’s ringing cheer—

Faith triumphant; knowing not defeat or fear.

—Herbert Booth.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 365–366). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 21 Streams in the Desert

“To him will I give the land that he hath trodden upon … because he hath wholly followed the Lord.” (Deut. 1:36.)

EVERY hard duty that lies in your path, that you would rather not do, that it will cost you pain and struggle or sore effort to do, has a blessing in it. Not to do it, at whatever cost, is to miss the blessing.

Every hard piece of road on which you see the Master’s shoe-prints and along which He bids you follow Him, surely leads to blessing, which you cannot get if you cannot go over the steep, thorny path.

Every point of battle to which you come, where you must draw your sword and fight the enemy, has a possible victory which will prove a rich blessing to your life. Every heavy load that you are called to lift hides in itself some strange secret of strength.—J. R. Miller.

“I cannot do it alone;

The waves run fast and high,

And the fogs close all around,

The light goes out in the sky;

But I know that we two

Shall win in the end,

Jesus and I.

“Coward and wayward and weak,

I change with the changing sky;

Today so eager and bright,

Tomorrow too weak to try;

But He never gives in,

So we two shall win,

Jesus and I.

“I could not guide it myself,

My boat on life’s wild sea;

There’s One who sits by my side,

Who pulls and steers with me.

And I know that we two

Shall safe enter port,

Jesus and I.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 364–365). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 20 Streams in the Desert

“Yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me.” (John 16:32.)

IT need not be said that to carry out conviction into action is a costly sacrifice. It may make necessary renunciations and separations which leave one to feel a strange sense both of deprivation and loneliness. But he who will fly, as an eagle does, into the higher levels where cloudless day abides, and live in the sunshine of God, must be content to live a comparatively lonely life.

No bird is so solitary as the eagle. Eagles never fly in flocks; one, or at most two, ever being seen at once. But the life that is lived unto God, however it forfeits human companionships, knows Divine fellowship.

God seeks eagle-men. No man ever comes into a realization of the best things of God, who does not, upon the Godward side of his life, learn to walk alone with God. We find Abraham alone in Horeb upon the heights, but Lot, dwelling in Sodom. Moses, skilled in all the wisdom of Egypt must go forty years into the desert alone with God. Paul, who was filled with Greek learning and had also sat at the feet of Gamaliel, must go into Arabia and learn the desert life with God. Let God isolate us. I do not mean the isolation of a monastery. In this isolating experience He develops an independence of faith and life so that the soul needs no longer the constant help, prayer, faith or attention of his neighbor. Such assistance and inspiration from the other members are necessary and have their place in the Christian’s development, but there comes a time when they act as a direct hindrance to the individual’s faith and welfare. God knows how to change the circumstances in order to give us an isolating experience. We yield to God and He takes us through something, and when it is over, those about us, who are no less loved than before, are no longer depended upon. We realize that He has wrought some things in us, and that the wings of our souls have learned to beat the upper air.

We must dare to be alone. Jacob must be left alone if the Angel of God is to whisper in his ear the mystic name of Shiloh; Daniel must be left alone if he is to see celestial visions; John must be banished to Patmos if he is deeply to take and firmly to keep “the print of heaven.”

He trod the wine-press alone. Are we prepared for a “splendid isolation” rather than fail Him?^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 363–364). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 19 Streams in the Desert

“It shall turn to you for a testimony.” (Luke 21:13.)

LIFE is a steep climb, and it does the heart good to have somebody “call back” and cheerily beckon us on up the high hill. We are all climbers together, and we must help one another. This mountain climbing is serious business, but glorious. It takes strength and steady step to find the summits. The outlook widens with the altitude. If anyone among us has found anything worth while, we ought to “call back.”

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back—

’Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;

And if, perchance, Faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low,

Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.

Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;

Call back, and say He kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;

That, when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,

He bore you up and held you where the very air was still.

Oh, friend, call back, and tell me for I cannot see your face;

They say it glows with triumph, and your feet bound in the race;

But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim,

And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.

But if you’ll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,

And if you’ll say He saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky—

If you have gone a little way ahead, oh, friend, call back—

’Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track.

—Selected.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 362–363). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 18 Streams in the Desert

“In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” (Rom. 8:37.)

THE Gospel is so arranged and the gift of God go great that you may take the very enemies that fight you and the forces that are arrayed against you and make them steps up to the very gates of heaven and into the presence of God.

Like the eagle, who sits on a crag and watches the sky as it is filling with blackness, and the forked lightnings are playing up and down, and he is sitting perfectly still, turning one eye and then the other toward the storm. But he never moves until he begins to feel the burst of the breeze and knows that the hurricane has struck him; with a scream, he swings his breast to the storm, and uses the storm to go up to the sky; away he goes, borne upward upon it.

That is what God wants of every one of His children, to be more than conqueror, turning the storm-cloud into a chariot. You know when one army is more than conqueror it is likely to drive the other from the field, to get all the ammunition, the food and supplies, and to take possession of the whole. That is just what our text means. There are spoils to be taken!

Beloved, have you got them? When you went into that terrible valley of suffering did you come out of it with spoils? When that injury struck you and you thought everything was gone, did you so trust in God that you came out richer than you went in? To be more than conqueror is to take the spoils from the enemy and appropriate them to yourself. What he had arranged for your overthrow, take and appropriate for yourself.

When Dr. Moon, of Brighton, England, was stricken with blindness, he said: “Lord, I accept this talent of blindness from Thee. Help me to use it for Thy glory that at Thy coming Thou mayest receive Thine own with usury.” Then God enabled him to invent the Moon Alphabet for the blind, by which thousands of blind people were enabled to read the Word of God, and many of them were gloriously saved.—Selected.

God did not take away Paul’s thorn; He did better—He mastered that thorn, and made it Paul’s servant. The ministry of thorns has often been a greater ministry to man than the ministry of thrones.—Selected.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 361–362). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 17 Streams in the Desert

“And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is he that calleth you who also will do it.” (1 Thess. 5:23, 24.)

MANY years since I saw that “without holiness no man shall see the Lord.” I began by following after it and inciting all with whom I had intercourse to do the same. Ten years after, God gave me a clearer view than I ever had before of the way to obtain it; namely, by faith in the Son of God. And immediately I declared to all, “We are saved from sin, we are made holy by faith.” This I testified in private, in public, and in print, and God confirmed it by a thousand witnesses. I have continued to declare this for above thirty years, and God has continued to confirm my work.—John Wesley in 1771.

“I knew Jesus, and He was very precious to my soul; but I found something in me that would not keep sweet and patient and kind. I did what I could to keep it down, but it was there. I besought Jesus to do something for me, and, when I gave Him my will, He came to my heart, and took out all that would not be sweet, all that would not be kind, all that would not be patient, and then HE shut the door.”—George Fox.

My whole heart has not one single grain, this moment, of thirst after approbation. I feel alone with God; He fills the void; I have not one wish, one will, one desire, but in Him; He hath set my feet in a large room. I have wondered and stood amazed that God should make a conquest of all within me by love.—Lady Huntington.

“All at once I felt as though a hand—not feeble, but omnipotent; not of wrath, but of love—was laid on my brow. I felt it not outwardly but inwardly. It seemed to press upon my whole being, and to diffuse all through me a holy, sin-consuming energy. As it passed downward, my heart as well as my head was conscious of the presence of this soul-cleansing energy, under the influence of which I fell to the floor, and in the joyful surprise of the moment, cried out in a loud voice. Still the hand of power wrought without and within; and wherever it moved, it seemed to leave the glorious influence of the Saviour’s image. For a few minutes the deep ocean of God’s love swallowed me up; all its waves and billows rolled over me.”—Bishop Hamline.

Holiness—as I then wrote down some of my contemplations on it—appeared to me to be of a sweet, calm, pleasant, charming, serene nature, which brought an inexpressible purity, brightness, peacefulness, ravishment to the soul; in other words, that it made the soul like a field or garden of God, with all manner of pleasant fruits and flowers, all delightful and undisturbed, enjoying a sweet calm and the gentle vivifying beams of the sun.—Jonathan Edwards.

“Love’s resistless current sweeping

All the regions deep within;

Thought and wish and senses keeping

Now, and every instant clean:

Full salvation! Full salvation!

From the guilt and power of sin.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 360–361). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 16 Streams in the Desert

“And there was Anna, a prophetess … which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day.” (Luke 2:36, 37.)

NO doubt by praying we learn to pray, and the more we Pray the oftener we can pray, and the better we can I pray. He who prays in fits and starts is never likely to attain to that effectual, fervent prayer which availeth much.

Great power in prayer is within our reach, but we must go to work to obtain it. Let us never imagine that Abraham could have interceded so successfully for Sodom if he had not been all his lifetime in the practice of communion with God.

Jacob’s all-night at Peniel was not the first occasion upon which he had met his God. We may even look upon our Lord’s most choice and wonderful prayer with his disciples before His Passion as the flower and fruit of His many nights of devotion, and of His often rising up a great while before day to pray.

If a man dreams that he can become mighty in prayer just as he pleases, he labors under a great mistake. The prayer of Elias which shut up heaven and afterwards opened its floodgates, was one of long series of mighty prevailings with God. Oh, that Christian men would remember this! Perseverance in prayer is necessary to prevalence in prayer.

Those great intercessors, who are not so often mentioned as they ought to be in connection with confessors and martyrs, were nevertheless the grandest benefactors of the Church; but it was only by abiding at the mercy-seat that they attained to be such channels of mercy to men. We must pray to pray, and continue in prayer that our prayers may continue.

—C. H. Spurgeon.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 359–360). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 14 Streams in the Desert

“His disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray … and he said unto them, When ye pray, say, … Thy kingdom come.” (Luke 11:1, 2.)

WHEN they said, “Teach us to pray,” the Master lifted His eyes and swept the far horizon of God. He gathered up the ultimate dream of the Eternal, and, rounding the sum of everything God intends to do in the life of man, He packed it all into these three terse pregnant phrases and said, “When you pray, pray after this manner.”

What a contrast between this and much praying we have heard. When we follow the devices of our own hearts, how runs it? “O Lord bless me, then My family, My church, My city, My country,” and away on the far fringe as we close up, there is a prayer for the extension of His Kingdom throughout the wide parish of the world.

The Master begins where we leave off. The world first, my personal needs second, is the order of this prayer. Only after my prayer has crossed every continent and every far-flung island of the sea, after it has taken in the last man in the last backward race, after it has covered the entire wish and purpose of God for the world, only then am I taught to ask for a piece of bread for myself.

When Jesus gave His all, Himself for us and to us in the holy extravagance of the Cross, is it too much if He asks us to do the same thing? No man or woman amounts to anything in the kingdom, no soul ever touches even the edge of the zone of power, until this lesson is learned that Christ’s business is the supreme concern of life and that all personal considerations, however dear or important, are tributary thereto.—Dr. Francis.

When Robert Moffat, the veteran African missionary and explorer, was asked once to write in a young lady’s album, he penned these lines:

“My album is a savage breast,

Where tempests brood and shadows rest,

Without one ray of light;

To write the name of Jesus there,

And see that savage bow in prayer,

And point to worlds more bright and fair,

This is my soul’s delight.”

“And His Kingdom shall have no frontier.” (Luke 1:33, the old Moravian version.)

The missionary enterprise is not the Church’s afterthought; it is Christ’s forethought.—Henry van Dyke.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 357–358). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 13 Streams in the Desert

“I will give thee the treasures of darkness.” (Isa. 45:3.)

IN the famous lace shops of Brussels, there are certain rooms devoted to the spinning of the finest and most delicate patterns. These rooms are altogether darkened, save for a light from one very small window, which falls directly upon the pattern. There is only one spinner in the room, and he sits where the narrow stream of light falls upon the threads of his weaving. “Thus,” we are told by the guide, “do we secure our choicest products. Lace is always more delicately and beautifully woven when the worker himself is in the dark and only his pattern is in the light.”

May it not be the same with us in our weaving? Sometimes it is very dark. We cannot understand what we are doing. We do not see the web we are weaving. We are not able to discover any beauty, any possible good in our experience. Yet if we are faithful and fail not and faint not, we shall some day know that the most exquisite work of all our life was done in those days when it was so dark.

If you are in the deep shadows because of some strange, mysterious providence, do not be afraid. Simply go on in faith and love, never doubting. God is watching, and He will bring good and beauty out of all your pain and tears.—J. R. Miller.

The shuttles of His purpose move

To carry out His own design;

Seek not too soon to disapprove

His work, nor yet assign

Dark motives, when, with silent tread,

You view some sombre fold;

For lo, within each darker thread

There twines a thread of gold.

Spin cheerfully,

Not tearfully,

He knows the way you plod;

Spin carefully,

Spin prayerfully,

But leave the thread with God.

—Canadian Home Journal.^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 356–357). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 12 Streams in the Desert

“The last drops of my sacrifice are falling; my time to go has come. I have fought in the good fight; I have kept the faith.” (2 Tim. 4:6, 7.)

AS soldiers show their scars and talk of battles when they come at last to spend their old age in the country at home, so shall we in the dear land to which we are hastening, speak of the goodness and faithfulness of God who brought us through all the trials of the way. I would not like to stand in the white-robed host and hear it said, “These are they that came out of great tribulation, all except one.”

Would you like to be there and see yourself pointed at as the one saint who never knew a sorrow? Oh, no! for you would be an alien in the midst of the sacred brotherhood. We will be content to share the battle, for we shall soon wear the crown and wave the palm.—C. H. Spurgeon.

“Where were you wounded?” asked the surgeon of a soldier at Lookout Mountain. “Almost at the top,” he answered. He forgot even his gaping wound—he only remembered that he had won the heights. So let us go forth to higher endeavors for Christ and never rest till we can shout from the very top, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.”

“Finish thy work, then rest,

Till then rest never;

The rest for thee by God

Is rest forever.”

“God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars.”

Of an old hero the minstrel sang—

“With his Yemen sword for aid;

Ornament it carried none,

But the notches on the blade.”

What nobler decoration of honor can any godly man seek after than his scars of service, his losses for the crown, his reproaches for Christ’s sake, his being worn out in his Master’s service!^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 355–356). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.

December 11 Streams in the Desert

“Ye servants of the Lord, which by night stand in the house of the Lord. The Lord that made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion.” (Psalm 134:1, 3.)

STRANGE time for adoration, you say, to stand in God’s house by night, to worship in the depth of sorrow—it is indeed an arduous thing. Yes, and therein lies the blessing; it is the test of perfect faith. If I would know the love of my friend I must see what it can do in the winter. So with the Divine love. It is easy for me to worship in the summer sunshine when the melodies of life are in the air and the fruits of life are on the tree. But let the song of the bird cease and the fruit of the tree fall, and will my heart still go on to sing? Will I stand in God’s house by night? Will I love Him in His own night? Will I watch with Him even one hour in His Gethsemane? Will I help to bear His cross up the dolorous way? Will I stand beside Him in His dying moments with Mary and the beloved disciple? Will I be able with Nicodemus to take up the dead Christ? Then is my worship complete and my blessing glorious. My love has come to Him in His humiliation. My faith has found Him in His lowliness. My heart has recognized His majesty through His mean disguise, and I know at last that I desire not the gift but the Giver. When I can stand in His house by night I have accepted Him for Himself alone.—George Matheson.

“My goal is God Himself, not joy, nor peace,

Nor even blessing, but Himself, my God;

’Tis His to lead me there, not mine, but His—

‘At any cost, dear Lord, by any road!’

“So faith bounds forward to its goal in God,

And love can trust her Lord to lead her there;

Upheld by Him, my soul is following hard

Till God hath full fulfilled my deepest prayer.

“No matter if the way be sometimes dark,

No matter though the cost be ofttimes great,

He knoweth how I best shall reach the mark,

The way that leads to Him must needs be straight.

“One thing I know, I cannot say Him nay;

One thing I do, I press towards my Lord;

My God my glory here, from day to day,

And in the glory there my Great Reward.”^[1]

 

^[1] Cowman, L. B. (1925). Streams in the Desert (pp. 354–355). Los Angeles, CA: The Oriental Missionary Society.