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TH

LIB. ARY

157615

A TOR LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.

1899.

LONDON:

GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.

To the

Sick and Suffering

this Volume is dedicated

in the affectionate desire

that the

helpless days and wearisome nights

appointed to them

may be soothed and brightened

by the

Songs of Faith.

FOR THE

SICK AND SUFFERING.

THE heart knoweth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." These touching words apply both to the greater and also to the lesser and more frequent trials of life. We never fully understand how heavily even daily and common griefs press upon the hearts of others, nor how keenly troubles may be felt by them which we should think easy to bear. Nor are we always ready to admit, what is yet most true, that of each of these sorrows, a far greater portion is hidden from our view, than that which lies open before us. And if this be so in ordinary measures of pain or sorrow, much more must it be, in those instances of acute suffering, or deep affliction which sometimes occur. The isolation of spirit, expressed in this remarkable passage, is certain then to make itself felt, even amidst all the tender sympathy of those who best love the sufferer, and the unlooked-for kindnesses which so often spring up around him in the hour of his distress. No other can read the secrets of his

inner life, nor measure his capacities for sorrow. It may be that the outward aspect of his trial gives but the faintest indication of its real power; but even when it is plainly seen to be one of the most grievous which can afflict man, the bitterness of his anguish can be tasted by no other; we are divided from him by the necessary condition of our separate existence, and though we too bear about with us the incommunicable joys and sorrows which belong to our own individual being, we do not and cannot know how deeply the iron is entering into his soul. When we are grieved at his griefs, and do most truly feel for and with him, there is still very much in which we cannot share, the heaviness that clouds many long hours of every day; the burthen of the night-watches; the protracted aching of the heart; much that is too deeply felt to be told, and can be fully known only to God.

None should be more ready to confess that their acquaintance with the peculiarities of others' sufferings is limited and imperfect, than those who address the sick and afflicted. It were grievous, did we seem to them intrusive, insensible to the sacredness of affliction, or yet unprepared to offer that true sympathy which, with all its imperfections, is most soothing, which they may well claim, and which we have known too much of suffering ourselves to withhold.

If we would trace the history of suffering, we must first look back to its origin.

We know that as our unfallen nature was created

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