Convalescence IF I Ets Pleasures and its Trials F you have ever known, in times past, the trials of returning to health and life, it cannot be wondered at, that you shrink from the thought. To some persons the trial is great indeed. You may, at some past time in your life, have had some serious illness, which threatened to take the life of your body from you. You may have been told that recovery was impossible, and that a few short hours would "end the strife." It may be that you heard the announcement with a very thankful heart, that you did not fear to die; and that you had long looked for the welcome summons. Hour after hour passed away, still you were here on earth, to the surprise of your medical attendant, and of all your friends. It seemed to them that you could not struggle through it—you felt that you were putting off your armour; that soon all temptations would be ended-all possibility of sinning left be hind, and that you should soon "be for ever with the Lord."1 But it pleased Him to call you back to live here longer. The crisis passed; you were told that you would now recover your bodily health. Alas for you! You had taken leave of friends; had done, as you thought, with earth and its allurements, and must you return to that "waste howling wilderness?" You find it a much harder thing to be content to live, than to be content and willing to die. "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.' O take me where I would be; let me go to Thee; let me cease from sin; O let me be at rest for ever!" That first severe conflict has ended; you feel that God is love, and say, “Thy will be done.” Then comes the first glow of returning health; the feelings of joy and exhilaration that it brings, at least for a few hours or minutes of the day; for the exhaustion and consequent depression must be felt also. The delight, too, of the passing away of pain, of the return of independence, and of the pleasure of doing something more for yourself each day. Above all the congratulations, and exceeding love and kindness of friends. You did not think that they cared so much for you; that your life and your love were so important to them; you seem the one object of all your friends, and you feel that the delight your recovery has given them, and the new knowledge you have received of their love, was 11 Thess. iv. 17. 2 Deut. xxxii. 10 3 Matt. xxvi. 39. worth any suffering, and that you have not obtained it at too great a price. But your trial is not ended yet; these pleasant feelings, this first glow of returning health, must pass away; in exchange, you will have exceeding weariness and languor, which will induce great depression of spirits, a train of nervous and most distressing feelings will arise out of your weakness, and this again will tell upon your mind. Instead of the pleasure of finding that each day you can do more, for sometime it will seem to you either that you can do less each day, or that you are stationary. You will seem to grow weaker in mind and body ; you fancy that friends are less loving and considerate than they were at first. You forget, that though for the time of anxiety, when they thought that they should have you but for a few days, their usual occupations were laid aside, and their thoughts centred in you; it could not always be so. must now be content to have that scattered through your life, which was gathered up into a short space; to receive, almost unconsciously, the gentle shower of love from hour to hour, instead of the full tide which flowed so delightfully upon you. Alas for you! You must return to the bustle and flutter of life again; all the temptations which used to assault you, will return now; you will have the bitter trial of finding that you are just as open to them as before, with, it seems to you, less strength to meet them. You thought that in sickness you had lost your susceptibility to them: they did not assail you S You |