8. Thou tellest my wanderings. Every
step which the fugitive had taken when pursued by his enemies was not only
observed but thought worthy of counting and recording. We perhaps are so
confused after a long course of trouble, that we hardly know where we have or
where we have not been; but the Father remembers all in detail, for he has
counted them over as people count their gold, for even the trial of our faith
is precious in his sight. Put thou my tears into thy bottle. His sorrows
were so many that there would need a great wine-skin to hold them all. He
trusts that the Lord will be so considerate of his tears as to store them up as
men do the juice of the vine, and he hopes that the place of storage will be a
special one—thy bottle, not a bottle. Are they not inthy book? Yes, they are recorded there, but let not only the record but the
grief itself be present to thee. Look on my griefs as real things, for these
move the heart more than a mere account, however exact.
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