In “Marble Faun,” Miriam, the brokenhearted singer, puts into a burst of song the pent-up grief of her soul. This was better, surely, than if she had let forth a wild shriek of pain.

It is nobler to sing a victorious song in time of trial than to lie crushed in grief. Songs bless the world more than wails. It is better for our own heart, too, to put our sorrows and pains into songs. “We shall conquer by song.”

“Our minister is a skylark Christian,” boasted one of his people. Fine bird! It sings morning, noon, and evening; sings as it springs from the flowery sod; sings when the ground is white with snow. What a song, too!—a shower of melody and infinite sweetness—with no undertone of pain.

If we could only realize the full truth and blessedness of our faith we should continually go up and down singing, until one fine day we would go up singing—up, up, beyond the sun—and come down no more, lost in the eternal light!

Help me to make of all my sorrows music for the world!

Turn your troubles into treasure, Turn your sorrows into song; Then all men will know the measure, In which you to Christ belong.

When they see your bright behavior Under provocation great, They may ask what mighty Savior Can impart that happy state.

Paul and Silas in the prison, With their feet fast in the stocks, Praised their glorious Lord, arisen, Till the earthquake rent the rocks.

There was none to join their singing, So the earthquake roared “Amen!” And glad chains fell down a-ringing, As their voices rang again!

Oh, then sing with us His praises When there seems least cause to praise; Faith the sweetest anthem raises When the darkness hides God’s ways;

He brings forth His “new creation” Only there where ends “the old.” Let us praise Him for salvation, When all feels most dead and cold.

My soul, keep up thy singing, Turn thy sorrows into song.

ARTHUR S. BOOTH-CLIBBORN

Let every sigh be changed into a Hallelujah! OTTO STOCKMAYER

“None might enter into the king’s gate clothed with sackcloth” (Esther 4:2 KJV).

This confidence of the man of God is tantamount to a promise, for that which faith is persuaded of is the purpose of God. The prophet had to traverse the deep places of poverty and famine, but he went down hill without slipping, for the Lord gave him standing. By and by he was called to the high places of the hills of conflict; and he was no more afraid to go up than to go down.

See! The Lord lent him strength. Nay, Jehovah Himself was his strength. Think of that: the almighty God Himself becomes our strength!

Note that the Lord also gave him surefootedness. The hinds leap over rock and crag, never missing their footholds. Our Lord will give us grace to follow the most difficult paths of duty without a stumble. He can fit our foot for the crags so that we shall be at home where apart from God we should perish.

One of these days we shall be called to higher places still. Up yonder we shall climb, even to the mount of God, the high places where the shining ones are gathered. Oh, what feet are the feet of faith, by which, following the hind of the morning, we shall ascend into the hill of the Lord!