Morbid, sullen, panic-stricken',

Back to THOUGHTS FOR THE QUIET HOUR

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"He will not break the bruised reed; He will not
quench the smoking flax." Matthew 12:20

See the Prophet Elijah, so recently a hero of heroes, 
confronting, unabashed, the savage yells of Ahab's 
myrmidons and the crowd of Baal priests, now seated, 
with moping countenance, under the desert juniper-tree
or amid the rocks of Horeb—away from duty; morbid,
sullen, panic-stricken; oblivious of the encouragements 
of Carmel and the miracles of Cherith—indulging in the 
ungrateful soliloquy—"It is enough; take away my life; 
God has forgotten me; I am no better than my fathers."

Does Jehovah take him at his word? Does He leave or 
commission the desert whirlwind to extinguish the 
expiring flame of former consecration? No! "What are 
you doing here, Elijah? Go, anoint Jehu; go, anoint 
Hazael. Back to your appointed work and labour. I will 
yet make you a burning and shining light in Israel."