WISH not, dear friends, my pain away—
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
With God, in all my griefs, to stay,
Nor from His loved correction start.
ALL is well as long as the sun shines and the fair breath of heaven gently wafts into our own purposes. But if you will try the excellency and feel the work of faith, place the man in a persecution; let him ride in a storm; let his bones be broken with sorrow and his eyelids be loosened with sickness; let his bread be dipped in tears and all the daughters of music be brought low; let God commence a quarrel against him, and be bitter in the accents of His anger or His discipline: then God tries your faith. Can you, then, trust His goodness, and believe Him to be a Father, when you groan under His rod? Can you rely upon all the strange propositions of Scripture, and be content to perish if they be not true? Can you receive comfort in the discourses of death and heaven, of immortality and the resurrection, of the death of Christ, and conforming to His sufferings?
TO have suffered, nay, to suffer, sets a keen edge on what remains of the agreeable. This is a great truth, and has to be learned in the fire.
Robert Louis Stevenson