There is a story of a woman who had had many sorrows: parents, husband, children, wealth, all were gone. In her great grief she prayed for death, but death did not come. She would not take up any of her wonted work for Christ.

One night she had a dream: she thought she had gone to heaven. She saw her husband and ran to him with eager joy, expecting a glad welcome. But, strange to say, no answering joy shone on his face—only surprise and displeasure. “How did you come here?” he asked. “They did not say that you were to be sent for today; I did not expect you for a long time yet.”

With a bitter cry she turned from him to seek her parents. But instead of the tender love for which her heart was longing, she met from them only the same amazement and the same surprised questions.

“I’ll go to my Savior,” she cried. “He will welcome me if no one else does.” When she saw Christ, there was infinite love in His look, but His words throbbed with sorrow as He said: “Child, child, who is doing your work down there?” At last she understood; she had no right yet to be in heaven; her work was not finished; she had fled away from her duty.

This is one of the dangers of sorrow: that in our grief for those who are gone we lose our interest in those who are living, and slacken our zeal in the work which is allotted to us. However great our bereavements, we may not drop our tasks until the Master calls us away. J. R. MILLER

Finish thy work, the time is short; The sun is in the west, The night is coming down; till then Think not of rest.

Rest? Finish thy work, then rest; Till then, rest never.

The rest prepared for thee by God Is rest for ever.

Finish thy work, then sit thee down On some celestial hill, And of heaven’s everlasting bliss Take thou thy fill.

Finish thy work, then go in peace, Life’s battle fought and won; Hear from the throne the Master’s voice, “Well done! Well done!”

Finish Thy work, then take the harp, Give praise to God above; Sing a new song of mighty joy And endless love!

Take not your rest too soon, else you will never enter into your real rest. It is not here on this plank amid the billows, but yonder on that shore. GEORGE BOWEN

Nothing ever happens but once in this world. What I do now I do once and forever. It is over, it is gone with a still eternity of solemn meaning.

My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry here, and watch with me.

And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.

And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.

Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none.

I looked on my right hand, and behold, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul.

He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

It is a night to be much observed unto the Lord for bringing them out from the land of Egypt.

The Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread: and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.

He . . . kneeled down, and prayed. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

It was the preparation of the passover, and about the sixth hour: . . . they took Jesus, and led him away, . . . into a place called . . . Golgotha: where they crucified him.

Christ our passover is sacrificed for us: therefore let us keep the feast.