Religious Rheumatism

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE ICY HAND OF GOD He giveth snow like wool; he scattereth the hoar frost like ashes; he casteth forth his ice like morsels. Psalm 147:16. The beautiful snow is a delightful theme for contemplation in the torrid days of August, and the picture of snow-covered Matterhorn the choicest art. But about the latter part of March we are willing to make a voluntary assignment of all our interest in every piece of such poetry or art to any one who wishes it. The succession of the seasons, as we know it in the temperate zone, is probably the most pleasing arrangement the Lord ever gave to man. Yet, like children with their toys, we often grow weary of the very thing we longed for most. Of nothing do we grow weary more quickly than of winter. Frozen pipes and frozen hydrants, frozen pavements and frozen roads soon freeze our enthusiasm. And when the time comes to hand zero weather over to the southern hemisphere we do it with the same relief that the sheriff of one state feels when he hands a desperado over to the sheriff of another. But in the text I discover that the hand of God is in the frost and the snow and the ice and so itcannot be an unmitigated evil, if it be an evil at all. As the cotton picker picks the cotton from his basket and throws it into the gin, God gives the snow; as the husband scatters ashes in the mire, so He scattereth hoar frost; as the wife throws out the crumbs for the birds in winter, the hand of God casts forth the ice. The picture is homely but the text is striking in its language and clear in its message. It tells us as soon as we read it that the hand of God is in nature. There was a time when this was undisputed. In primitive ages every phenomenon of nature had its particular god. The thunderbolt had its god, the harvest and the sea had t...