WORDS are mighty, words are living;
Serpents with their venomous stings,
Or bright angels, crowding round us,
With Heaven’s light upon their wings;
Every word has its own spirit,
True or false that never dies;
Every word man’s lips have uttered
Echoes in God’s skies.
Adelaide A. Procter
THERE is a persecution sharper than that of the axe. There is an iron that goes into the heart deeper than the knife. Cruel sneers, and sarcasms, and pitiless judgments, and cold-hearted calumnies—these are persecution. There is the tyrant of the nursery, and the playground, and the domestic circle, as well as of the judgment-hall. “Better were it,” said the Redeemer, “for that man if a millstone had been hung about his neck.” Did you ever do that? Did you ever pour bitterness into a heart that God was training, by a cold laugh, or a sneer, or a galling suspicion?—Into a sister’s heart, or a friend’s, or even a stranger’s? Remember, when you sent them, as Job’s friends sent him, to pour out their griefs alone before their Father, your name went up to the Avenger’s ears, mingled with the cries of His own elect.
Frederick W. Robertson
HE will never truly repent the shadow he has cast on another’s life who has not first agonized over the blackness of His own.
R. W. Barbour