Wayside Thoughts:—Working and Waiting.
By Mary Ann Davis
In the humble home of poverty, among a toil-worn and oppressed people, dwelt, in early childhood, one whose name shines forth from the sacred page with a luster all undimmed by the flight of ages. The wisest of sages, the most gifted of poets, the purest and most devoted of leaders, he alone, of all the human family, was admitted to the very presence of the Infinite One, and held converse with him as friend with friend. Only as a child was Moses taught the worship of Jehovah; at the early age of twelve years we see him separated from his father's house and exposed to all the allurements of an idolatrous court. Of noble form and figure, of talents rare, doubtless improved by all the advantages royalty could bestow, he stands forth, in the vigor of manhood, mighty in word and deed, and, as he leads the armies of Egypt out to battle, is regarded by the nation as their future king. Yet even here, in the full blaze of worldly prosperity and glory, he retains his integrity. Refusing to join that people in their heathen worship, he still reveres the God of his fathers; and it is revealed to him that he is to be the deliverer of his brethren from the house of bondage. Methinks his mind is filled with stirring thoughts of leading them forth, in warfare, against their oppressors; and boldly striking a signal blow, he confidently expects to see them rise, with one impulse, and rally around his standard. But no; God's time has not yet come—and Moses flees for his life to escape the wrath of an offended king. A lonely exile, he finds a home in the desert with the holy priest of Midian and, in that secluded spot, clad in a shepherd's humble garb, he leads the flocks of Jethro forty long years, while his suffering people still groan beneath the oppressor's yoke. How slowly those tardy years must have passed away; and oft, no doubt, he questioned, “Why all this delay? this weary waiting?” Ah! God's ways are not as our ways. He who sees the end from the beginning, knows best the training needed to fit that chosen servant for his high and holy mission; and, when the appointed time has come, the voice of the Eternal assigns the life-work for which he has been so unconsciously preparing. On the self-same day, says the record, at the very time determined in his immutable counsels, the hosts of Israel go forth. As we look, with mingled awe and wonder, upon his long forbearance with that murmuring, rebellious people, how often we forget the years of waiting, when the eager spirit, curbed and disappointed, gained, in tending the flocks in the desert, just the experience needed to fit him to lead God's people as a tender, patient shepherd. May we not learn a lesson from his life? Few are called to such a destiny; yet to every one who would gain the meed of true success must come the lesson of unwearied labor, of patient waiting, and steady, earnest aim. To every person are intrusted talents of inestimable worth—all the soul's wealth of affection, all mental endowments and physical powers, are the material from which by patient toil each may fashion the implements for his own life-work in the world. Not to ourselves alone is this great work intrusted. The Master-builder himself appoints our discipline, and we can work in harmony with him, or, by neglecting it, and idly loitering, we can mar the precious trust by careless, random strokes. Still the work goes on. Each day, as it comes, finds our characters developing for good or ill; and it may be ours, by faithfully discharging little duties, perhaps in a humble station, to learn lessons which in God's own time may fit us for wider fields and greater usefulness. Perchance this process may seem wearisome, for oftentimes the period required for the formation of right character is long, the process painful, yet the end to be obtained is worthy of strong effort and great sacrifice. No one may deem the discipline of his own powers or the acquirement of rich stores of knowledge, the object of his life; all these but fit him to become a laborer in the great harvest-field—for he who shuts up in his own bosom the treasures of wisdom, who rejoices in the sunlight of truth without seeking to impart it to his fellows, is little better than the miser, who revels alone in the abundance of his well-filled granaries while multitudes are starving around him. Nay, as the bread of everlasting life is of infinitely greater value than the meat which perishes, so the guilt of one must far surpass that of the other. Not so did the Great Teacher. His lessons of wisdom fell by the wayside like the seed of flowers, which, springing up, should bless the wanderer with their fragrance and beauty. Every heart was gladdened by his presence, while men listened to his words and, wondering, cried, “Never spake man like this man.” How many lessons of sacrifice cluster around his name who gave even his own life a ransom for the world! He has bidden all earth's children work in his vineyard. Never did the world need earnest laborers more than now. Those who have gone before us have done well their part. A great cloud of witnesses who, loving not their lives unto death, by faith, labored, endured, suffered, and are now waiting to share with us, if we, too, persevere, the reward of their labors. Never did such motives for earnestness and zeal exist, since man lost his Eden home, and the plan of salvation was devised, as now, when a few, fleeting years shall bring the consummation of all things spoken by the holy prophets since the world began. Let us, then, be up and doing, that when the King in his beauty shall come to earth again, some humble place may be assigned us with those who have turned many to righteousness and shine as the stars forever and ever.