p. 5 | Kind Friends by M. J. Cottrell

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 5, 1866

Kind Friends.

By M. J. Cottrell

WHAT a treasure they are! Did you ever think of it? Blessing you daily with cheerful smiles, loving words, little acts of kindness; giving you sympathy when sorrow casts its dark shadows over your pathway, and wise counsel when you seem hedged in with perplexities. You are surrounded with such friends. Have you ever thought of it? Have you ever thanked God for thus blessing you? for giving you these precious friends? Don't sit down and count your enemies, and think over how this and that one have wronged you. It may be that you were first in the wrong—but count your friends, if you can. Perhaps they have given you what seemed rather harsh rebuke, or reproof, well, what are friends good for, if they suffer us to rush into danger, without giving even a word of caution? Do you remember the incident of the two men who were painting some beautiful pictures where they had to stand on a scaffolding many feet high. One of them in viewing the painting which he had nearly completed, was so lost to all around him in admiration of his work, that unconsciously he had walked backward to the very edge of the platform, his companion saw his danger, another step and he would be dashed to pieces on the pavement, far, far beneath. As quick as thought he seized a wet brush and threw it against the painting; the man sprang toward his ruined picture, and thus was saved.

Was his companion an enemy because he thus ruined the grand painting which had cost so many hours of toil? No, for he did it to save the life of the painter. In like manner, our friends may at times frustrate some grand scheme of ours, to save us from danger, which we, in the fervor of delight or ambition, see not. Let us try to remember this, and let us seek to God for meekness to bear reproof, to listen to, and heed advice. It is no easy thing to acknowledge ourselves in the wrong: human nature stands up for dear self, and says, I think I know as well as any one else. But let us bear in mind that those who tell us of our faults, are our real, true friends.

I glance back over my life-path, and I see many friends, some gave me words of flattery, which pleased me for the moment, but it failed, died away, and was lost;—and those friends where are they? Echo answers, Where? Others gave me words of kind reproof, told me of faults which I saw not; and at times gave words of encouragement. I thank God for those friends. Those of them who are still treading the rugged paths of life are among my dearest friends, some sleep the sleep that knows no dreaming, but I hope to meet them when they gain that "Eternal rest, delightful home." Oh, we cannot too dearly prize our friends, and the kindest, the best, the most loving of all our friends will soon come to take us away from this dark earth, to dwell forever with Him in mansions of eternal light. We love the society of our friends, and what pleasure it will be to dwell forever with them, and above all, with that dearest Friend, in those realms of bright glory, where the weary, sorrow-stricken ones, the toiling, care-worn pilgrims, will rest that sweet, eternal rest.

M. J. Cottrell. Rochester, N. Y.