MAGGIE A. STROUD by Maggie A. Stroud

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 29, 1868

MAGGIE A. STROUD

By Maggie A. Stroud

From Sr. Stroud.

DEAR BRETHREN AND SISTERS: Those of you who were privileged to attend the Wright camp-meeting should not soon forget it, nor let the live coal there received from the altar, go out in blackness and darkness. If we go back our cry will soon be, “The door of mercy is closed, and we are not saved.” Bitter the thought to those who have once tasted that “the Lord is good.” May none of us ever realize this dark picture, but evermore do our duty, that we may walk into the green pastures, beside the still waters, unto the river of life, whose streams shall make glad the city of God. Oh! how sweet it will be to be there.

My sister attended the camp-meeting at Wright. On her return she told me much she had heard, especially what Bro. White said, how the bare possibility of his being lost wrung the cry from him, “O, my God, shall I be lost?” I was deeply affected. The words of sinking Peter came from the recess of my heart, “Lord, save, or I perish.” One night I retired to rest, but could not sleep. I tossed from side to side till long past midnight. My burden seemed almost greater than I could bear, when the comforting words came to my relief, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he will sustain thee.” These words gave such comfort that the burden rolled off, and I felt a sweet peace. I arose the next morning with a prayer in my heart that the Lord would bless my “going forth and coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” Since then I have tried hard to fight the good fight of faith, in the strength of him who has promised, “As thy day so shall thy strength be.” A few weeks after this, I was prostrated with lung fever three weeks; but, through a merciful Providence I am still spared, for what purpose is not for me to know, but I trust I shall not be an idle servant in the Lord’s vineyard. When I recall the many mercies that have followed me all my life long, and all my past unworthiness, I think of the pitiful words of the vine dresser. And who that reads it in the light it should be, will not feel touched with its plaintiveness. “What could have been done to my vineyard that I have not done in it? wherefore, when I looked for grapes, brought it forth wild grapes.” Oh! the tender compassion and long-suffering of a merciful and redeeming God. Sure enough, what more could he have done for erring mortals than has been done? “While we were yet sinners Christ died for us.” He was wounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

“This blood is for thy ransom paid, I die that thou mayest live.”

Could we ask more than this? What does he wish in return for such boundless love? Simply a humble, obedient, and contrite heart; and yet how few of us will give him this humble pittance. O, Lamb of God, was ever love like thine? “Perfect love casteth out fear.”

“This perfect love is joy, is joy complete, I feel it mine, I feel it mine; Its streams are holy, holy, pure, and sweet, They are all divine, all divine. It comes in floods, it fills my soul; Like wave on wave its billows roll, Oh! yes, its power o’erwhelms the whole, In my soul, in my soul.”

MAGGIE A. STROUD

Stephenson Co., Ill.