When my soul is weary and in need of balm,
I find consolation reading the 23rd Psalm.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."
"He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul."
Abraham, Moses, King David and Christ, our Lord, each, when in need of direct communion with God, would hide themselves away to some wild place on a wind-swept mountain.
There are times when I too rebel at present-day formalities. Then I would fain steal away--to be alone with Gad for a while.
I get a longing to just walk, walk, walk. I long to tread on God's grassy carpet. I want to see the wild flowers blooming the smell their sweet fragrance on the the evening air. I yearn to hear the wind rustling among the leaves while I enjoy the feel of good earth beneath my feet. I want to wade in the little brooklet and be lulled by its sweet murmur.
I long to throw me down on the mossy knoll and watch the fleecy white clouds drift lazily along, and imagine all sort of scenes and pictures among them, scenes of angels in celestial flight or of sheep grazing on a thousand hills.
I want to watch the wild things as they prepare for the on-coming night--the birds, the ants and the bees.
I want to breathe a prayer of reverence during the peaceful calm of the sunset hour, and behold the great Artist as he daubs a bit of brilliance here and there among the tiny cloudlets that have gathered to pay their respects to the passing king of the day.
I want to see the twilight steal gently over the countryside and let the mantle of night envelope me while the soothing gurgle of the stream blends with the silvery tinkle of sheep bells in the cool evening.
I wish to hear the last note of the mockers carol before they go to sleep. I which to hear the fist waking chirrup of the cricket, and the preluding notes of the wippor-will's song as it harmonizes with the anvil chorus of the mossy green frogs.
I want to whisper 'hello' to the first star as it timidly peeks through to twinkle and wink more boldly as the night ages.
I will welcome the new moon when it is borning over the eastern hills, and bathe in its silvery beam while I reflect on the recent day.
Then I will search out the crevasses of my soul to ascertain whether or not I have been worthy of the blessing that God hath showered on me this day past.
--Charles E. Myers--