Kindness to the Erring by Eliza H. Morton

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 12, 1911

Kindness to the Erring

By Eliza H. Morton

ELIZA H. MORTON

In these last days when Satan is working with all power to engulf souls in ruin, it behooves every one of us who has named the name of Christ to remember his own special weakness. We are not all constituted alike, and the open transgression in others, which in our eyes is almost unpardonable, may in the sight of the Lord be less heinous than an undeveloped evil which we cherish secretly.

“While we should not look upon sin ‘with the least degree of allowance,’ yet for the sinner we should feel deep sorrow, and seek by every means in our power to help him to overcome. The harsh, scolding tone of rebuke only tends to irritate; but the kind, gentle word may be sent home by the Spirit of God and enable the weak one to look heavenward, whence cometh strength. O to be kind, just to be kind! How much it means! No wrapping around ourselves of our own robe of righteousness, no isolating ourselves from those who we think have done wrong, will ever help them to do better, but will surely tend to make our own lives more selfish and narrow. Our advances may be met with coldness, our kindness be unappreciated, and all our efforts appear to be unavailing; but if performed in love, they will react upon our own hearts, making them more sympathetic and more open to the influences of God’s Holy Spirit; and we know that,—

“Snowy wings of peace shall cover All the errors of to-day When the weary watch is over, And the mists have rolled away.”

The spirit of criticism unmingled with encouraging words may be cultivated to such an extent as to crush out every noble impulse, every tender feeling. Robertson says: “Nothing chills the heart like universal distrust. Nothing freezes the genial current of the soul so much as doubts of human nature.”

What refreshing dew is to the flower, kindness is to the heart. Earnest, calm, and gentle words are better than a stony silence. We are all “tending to that quiet country where the voice of praise and the voice of blame are alike unheard,” and it is well to deal gently, for earth’s restless dream will soon be over, life’s labor ended, and in the great tribunal we shall cry, “Deal gently with us, O our God.”

Portland, Maine.