Religion in Sickness

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 17, 1864

Religion in Sickness.

In few events of life does religion exhibit itself in a more impressive manner than in sickness. The sick-bed as a means of grace is salutary, and it is frequently the case that the Christian is there blessed with unusual religious enjoyment. He there tastes the sweetness of the Saviour's promise, "I will not leave you comfortless." He is there brought to a state of submission to the will of the Chastener, and his feelings are molded by him. His pride is humbled, his errors are corrected, and his wrong desires subdued. His circumstances and condition naturally center his thoughts on heavenly things, and frequently prompt him to heavenly communion, and his mind becomes heavenly. Seasons of spiritual refreshing, such as he has not enjoyed before, and such as he has not previously been prepared to receive, come to him. Notwithstanding his physical suffering, it is sweet to linger by his side.

When one that holds communion with the skies Has filled his urn where those pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings, Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, And tells us whence his treasures are supplied.

"I feel," said Felicia Hemans during severe illness, "as if I were sitting with Mary at the feet of my Redeemer, hearing the music of his voice, and learning of him to be meek and lowly."

"What?" said Joseph Alleine, when, after long suffering, he had hopelessly lost the use of his limbs, "is God my Father, Jesus Christ my Saviour, the Spirit my friend, and comforter, and sanctifier, and Heaven my inheritance, and shall I not be content without limbs and health? Through grace I am fully satisfied with my Father's good pleasure. . . . My interest in God is all my joy."

"Truly," wrote Samuel Pearce during protracted illness, "I have proved that God is faithful; and most cheerfully would I take double the affliction for one-half the joy and sweetness that have attended it."

"I am extremely weak," he wrote to Dr. Ryland, "and now that warm weather which I came into Devon to seek, I dread as much as the cold, because it excites the fever. I am happy, however, in the Lord. I have not a wish to live or die, but as he pleases."

"The sick-bed is a Bethel to me," he said to a friend; "it is none other than the house of God, and the gate of Heaven. I can scarcely express the pleasures that I have enjoyed in this affliction. It scarcely can be called an affliction, it is so counterbalanced with joy."

"As a man who, during the day, descends into a deep pit, sees the friendly stars of heaven, invisible to others," wrote Rev. Henry Mowes during a lingering indisposition, following a period of terrible physical distress, "so, when God allowed me to fall into the depths of suffering and woe, I saw, through the dense darkness around me, the bright star of the Father's eternal mercy in Christ our Saviour shining over me. And this star was my polar star, never setting, but ever growing brighter. . . . Oh! it is a high and holy joy to be with our Saviour even in Gethsemane, to bear with him a crown of thorns, and in such an hour, strengthened by him, to say, 'The disciple is not above his Master.' . . . To follow him in bright days, and to sun ourselves in his love and glory, is sweet indeed; but in days of sorrow to see him near, to prove his faithfulness, is a precious addition to the happiness of communion with him; there the bond is drawn yet nearer, there the heart presses yet closer to him, there the soul lays herself down at his feet with fuller love and trust."

Dr. Watts expresses his feelings during a painful illness in the following beautiful and characteristic lines:

*Yet, gracious God, amidst these storms of nature, Thine eyes behold a sweet and sacred calm Reign through the realms of conscience. All within Lies peaceful, all composed. 'Tis wondrous grace Keeps off thy terrors from this humble bosom, Though stained with sins and follies, yet serene In penitential peace and cheerful hope, Sprinkled and guarded with atoning blood. Thy vital smiles, amidst this desolation, Break out in happy moments with bright radiance, Cleaving the gloom;—the fair celestial light Softens and gilds the horrors of the storm, And richest cordials to the heart conveys.*

"Oh! glorious solace of immense distress, A conscience and a God. A friend at home, And better friend on high. This is my rock Against infernal arrows. Rise, my soul, Put on thy courage. Here's the living spring Of joys divinely sweet and ever new, A peaceful conscience and a smiling Heaven."

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee." Isa. xxvi. 3. In "perfect peace!" Every pulse may throb with pain, but serenity broods in the soul. The limbs, like those of Alleine, may become useless and burdensome—a living rack of torture—while the mind enjoys the freedom of an atmosphere of heavenly pleasure and peace. For every trial the Christian has a heritage of comfort, and in every event of life, he has a mission to perform. In weakness it is his to show the power of God.