The Lord my Comfort
In my childhood days, often, tormented by fear, I had fled at night to my parents to seek refuge from the eternal Judge. Sometimes I was actually sleep walking. At other times, again, I was fully awake. Trembling, I would run from my room next to the coach house, casting quick nervous glances round me. Pushing aside the dogs who licked my hands I would race across the yard, past the oak trees, through the flower garden to stand crying at my motherís bedside.
Mother tried to comfort me in her rough way, but without knowing, really, hot to do it because the same anguish was burning in her own heart.
When I grew older and could read, my father would say tersely, 'Take the Bible and read a Psalm.'
Then I sat, in front of the big Bible, the hush of midnight upon the whole house, and read, by the flickering light of the candle, 'Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, o Lord. Lord hear my voice...' Somehow, I was able to read only the Penitential Psalms.
The words of Scripture soothed and comforted me deeply each time. At length a pleasing feeling of peace would flood through my soul again, and, relieved, I would be able to lie down on the hard sofa. The next morning I would try to recapture that happy feeling of assurance and, failing to find it, would gloomily conclude that once more I had 'fallen from grace.'
In later years I often raced on my wild bay horse in a dangerous gallop across the mountains. Gripped by deadly fear I would shout in the face of the roaring thunder storm those awful words:
'Eternity, thou thundrous word,
through heart and soul thou piercing sword,
beginning without ending.
Eternity, time without stride,
where do I turn, where do I bide?
Oh, anguish unrelenting
my terrified heart is grieved
and to my mouth my tongue it cleaves.'
When rain, hail and thunder had swept past me, a feeling of gentle relaxation would come over me. Once again I would feel near to God. But each time the feeling would quickly fade again giving place once more to the conviction that I had again 'fallen from grace.'
At last the deliverer came, but many stricken years had to be endured because i did not know Him as Saviour. It was as He had promised, when the Truth had made me free I knew myself to be 'born of water and of the Spirit...' Since then there is no greater pleasure than to lead others to the place where they, too, experience that which is the privilege of every child of God.
Some of those experiences must now be recorded. In the high ranges of God's wondrous acts these are peaks far loftier and more glorious than any of those countless ones involving such temporal concerns as provision and healing.