Refuge in Christ
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Dear friend,
I am glad to have your letter this morning and to know that you are now settled in your new home and are coming to feel comfortable and at home there. I wish it were Philadelphia instead of New York where you are staying, that I might see you now and then and do what little I could do to give you cheer and encouragement.
As it is, however, I assure you of loving remembrance.
It is very sweet just to nestle down in the bosom of Christ, to be a little child with him. That is what he says Christians are to be. Those who come otherwise do not get near to him — but the little children always find a close place in his heart. So the more like children we can be in our trust and in the simplicity of our faith, in humbleness of disposition, in willingness to do his will and to learn of him — the nearer to him shall we get and the more shall we enjoy of his love.
Some years ago, as I was passing along one of our streets one afternoon, I heard a fluttering of birds over my head and, looking up, saw a little bird flying wildly about in circles, chased by a hawk. The bird flew down lower and lower and presently darted into my bosom, under my coat. I cannot express to you quite the feeling which filled my heart at that moment, that a little bird, chased by an enemy, had come to me for refuge, trusting me in time of danger.
I laid my hand over the bird, which nestled as quietly and confidently under my coat as a baby would in a mother's bosom. I carried the little thing along for several blocks until I thought the way was clear of danger, and then let it out.
It flew away into the air again, but showed no fear of me. Ever since that experience, I have understood better what it is to fly into the bosom of Christ for refuge and for safety in time of danger, or in time of distress. The lines of Wesley's old hymn have meant more ever since:
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh, receive my soul at last.
Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of Thy wing."
Nothing gives me more joy than when people come to me in distress, in anxiety, in trouble, or in helplessness, seeking for counsel, for friendship, for shelter, for help. Many people have come very much as the bird came that afternoon. All this helps me to understand better what it means to Jesus Christ when we, hunted and chased by enemies, or suffering from weakness or pain, fly to him and hide ourselves in his love.
That is what I am sure you have learned to do — just to creep into the bosom of Christ, and lie down there, with no fear, no anxiety, but with simple trust. "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you: because he trusts in you."
I am glad that the One hundred and twenty-first Psalm has meant more to you since you read it the day you went to New York. I take the liberty of sending you a copy of my booklet on this Psalm — "Unto the Hills." It may help to fix some of the thoughts of the Psalm still more firmly in your memory.
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