“I WILL GIVE
YOU REST.”
BY L.K.
Oh! the hours of
suffering! No pillow was soft enough to bear the throbbing head. The heart was
weary and could not rest, while the feverish hands could not find that which
was cool enough to clasp. Tortured with pain, she said, “reading to me.” As
though an angel turned the leaf, the precious words came forth like stars on a
dark night, “Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.” Who was the “Me” who
dared to promise so much, when the “whole head was sick and the whole heart was
faint”? The lips moved no, but out upon the blessed invitation went the spirit
of the sufferer, and gently as a mother clasps her sleeping babe, so
gently di the Promiser reveal Himself unto His “little one.” No need to read on
and on, for the sweet words, “I will give you rest,” were all she knew. The
eyes which had so vainly traced each figure on the wall closed, and a look of
peace, born of trust, stole over the pale face; the feverish hands,
clasped softly, as in prayer, and the watcher whispered, “she sleeps” True to
His promise, the dear Father had given “rest.” Oh! You who toss on sick beds, trust
him! At morn or at midnight you will find Him watching to “give you rest.”
