“The wind that blows can never kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east; it bloweth west;
The tender leaves have little rest;
But any wind that blows is best.
The tree God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads wider boughs, for God’s good will
Meets all its wants.”
One of the problems of true living is to pass through the experiences of life without being hurt by them. We are often admonished concerning the seriousness of dying but it is really a far more serious matter to live than to die. When one has lived well, dying is easy; but life is always hard. It never ceases to mean toil, struggle, self abnegation, resistance to wrong, earnest effort. Many people are hurt, too, in these experiences. They do not pass through them victoriously. They are wounded in life’s battles. They are crushed by its burdens. Its antagonisms wound and scar them. They lose something of the sweetness and gentleness of their heart in its hard struggles. Its harsh and rude experiences leave their spirit embittered. Its sorrows break the music of their joy.
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