Chapter 15
Thanksgiving Versus Complaining
“In everything give thanks,
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
Thanksgiving or complaining—these words express two
contrastive attitudes of the souls of God’s children in regard to His dealings
with them; and they are more powerful than we are inclined to believe in
furthering or frustrating His purposes of comfort and peace toward us. The soul
that gives thanks can find comfort in everything; the soul that complains can
find comfort in nothing.
God’s command is “In everything give thanks”; and the
command is emphasized by the declaration, “for this is the will of God in Christ
Jesus concerning you.” It is an actual positive command; and if we want to obey
God, we have simply got to give thanks in everything. There is no getting around
it.
But a great many Christians have never realized this;
and, although they may be familiar with the command, they have always looked
upon it as a sort of counsel of perfection to which mere flesh and blood could
never be expected to attain. And they, unconsciously to themselves perhaps,
change the wording of the passage to make it say “be resigned” instead of “give
thanks,” and “in a few things” instead of “in everything,” and they leave out
altogether the words, “for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning
you.”
If brought face to face with the actual wording of the
command, such Christians will say, “Oh, but it is an impossible command. If
everything came direct from God, one might do it perhaps, but most things come
through human sources, and often are the result of sin, and it would not be
possible to give thanks for these.” To this I answer that it is true we cannot
always give thanks for the things themselves, but we can always give thanks for
God’s love and care in the things. He may not have ordered them, but He is in
them somewhere, and He is in them to compel, even the most grievous, to work
together for our good.
The “second causes” of the wrong may be full of malice
and wickedness, but faith never sees second causes. It sees only the hand of God
behind the second causes. They are all under His control, and not one of them
can touch us except with His knowledge and permission. The thing itself that
happens cannot perhaps be said to be the will of God, but by the time its
effects reach us they have become God’s will for us, and must be accepted as
from His hands.
The story of Joseph is an illustration of this. Nothing
could have seemed more entirely an act of sin, nor more utterly contrary to the
will of God than his being sold to the Ishmaelites by his wicked brethren; and
it would not have seemed possible for Joseph, when he was being carried off into
slavery in Egypt, to give thanks. And yet, if he had known the end from the
beginning, he would have been filled with thanksgiving. The fact of his having
been sold into slavery was the direct doorway to the greatest triumphs and
blessings of his life. And, at the end, Joseph himself could say to his wicked
brethren: “As for you, ye thought evil against me, but God meant it unto good.”
To the eye of sense it was Joseph’s wicked brethren who had sent him into Egypt,
but Joseph, looking at it with the eye of faith, said, “God did send me.”
We can all remember, I think, similar instances in our
own lives when God has made the wrath of man to praise Him, and has caused even
the hardest trails to work together for our greatest good. I recollect once in
my own life when a trial was brought upon me by another person, at which I was
filled with bitter rebellion and could not see in it from beginning to end
anything to be thankful for. But, as it was in the case of Joseph, that very
trial worked out for me the richest blessings and the greatest triumphs of my
whole life; and in the end I was filled with thanksgiving for the very things
that had caused me such bitter rebellion before. If only I had had faith enough
to give thanks at first, how much sorrow would have been spared me.
But I am afraid that the greatest heights to which most
Christians in their shortsightedness seem able to rise is to strive after
resignation to things they cannot alter, and to seek for patience to endure
them. And the result is that thanksgiving is almost an unknown exercise among
the children of God; and, instead of giving thanks in everything, many of them
hardly give thanks in anything. If the truth were told, Christians as a body
must be acknowledged to be but a thankless set. It is considered in the world a
very discourteous thing for one man to receive benefits from another man and
fail to thank him, and I cannot see why it is not just as discourteous a thing
not to thank God. And yet we find people who would not for the world omit an
immediate note of thanks upon the reception of any gift, however trifling, from
a human friend, but who have never given God real thanks for any one of the
innumerable benefits He has been showering upon them all their long lives.
Moreover, I am afraid a great many not only fail to give
thanks, but they do exactly the opposite, and allow themselves instead to
complain and murmur about God’s dealings with them. Instead of looking out for
His goodness, they seem to delight in picking out His shortcomings, and think
they show a spirit of discernment in criticizing His laws and His ways. We are
told that “when the people complained, it displeased the Lord”; but we are
tempted to think that our special complaining, because it is spiritual
complaining, cannot displease Him since it is a pious sort of complaining, and
is a sign of greater zeal on our part, and of deeper spiritual insight than is
possessed by the ordinary Christian.
But complaining is always alike, whether it is on the
temporal or the spiritual plane. It always has in it the element of
fault-finding. Webster says to complain means to make a charge or an accusation.
It is not merely disliking the thing we have to bear, but it contains the
element of finding fault with the agency that lies behind it. And if we will
carefully examine the true inwardness of our complainings, I think we shall
generally find they are founded on a subtle fault-finding with God. We secretly
feel as if He were to blame somehow; and, almost unconsciously to ourselves, we
make mental charges against Him.
On the other hand, thanksgiving always involves praise
of the giver. Have you ever noticed how much we are urged in the Bible to
“praise the Lord”? It seemed to be almost the principal part of the worship of
the Israelites. “Praise ye the Lord, for the Lord is good: sing praises to his
name, for it is pleasant.” This is the continual refrain of everything all
through the Bible. I believe, if we should count up, we would find that there
are more commands given and more examples set for the giving of thanks “always
for all things” than for the doing or the leaving undone of anything else.
It is very evident from the whole teaching of Scripture
that the Lord loves to be thanked and praised just as much as we like it. I am
sure that it gives Him real downright pleasure, just as it does us; and that our
failure to thank Him for His “good and perfect gifts” wounds His loving heart,
just as our hearts are wounded when our loved ones fail to appreciate the
benefits we have so enjoyed bestowing upon them. What a joy it is to us to
receive from our friends an acknowledgment of their thanksgiving for our gifts,
and is it no likely that it is a joy to the Lord also?
When the apostle is exhorting the Ephesian Christians to
be “followers of God as dear children,” one of the exhortations he gives in
connection with being filled with the Spirit is this: “Giving thanks always for
all things unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
“Always for all things” is a very sweeping expression, and it is impossible to
suppose it can be whittled down to mean only the few and scanty thanks, which
seem all that many Christians manage to give. It must mean, I am sure, that
there can be nothing in our lives which has not in it somewhere a cause for
thanksgiving, and that, no mater who or what may be the channel to convey it,
everything contains for us a hidden blessing from God.
The apostle tells us that “every creature of God is
good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving.” But it is
very hard for us to believe things are good when they do not look so. Often the
things God sends into our lives look like curses instead of blessings; and those
who have no eyes that can see below surfaces judge by the outward seemings only
and never see the blessed realities beneath.
How many “good and perfect gifts” we must have had
during our lives, which we have looked upon only as curses, and for which we
have never returned one thought of thanks! And for how many gifts also, which we
have even acknowledged to be good, have we thanked ourselves, or our friends, or
our circumstances, without once looking behind the earthly givers to thank the
heavenly Giver, from whom in reality they all come! It is as if we should thank
the messengers who bring us our friends’ gifts, but should never send any word
of thanks to our friends themselves.
But, even when we realize that things come directly from
God, we find it very hard to give thanks for what hurts us. Do we not, however,
all know what it is to thank a skillful physician for his treatment of our
diseases, even though that treatment may have been very severe. And surely we
should no less give thanks to our divine Physician, when He is obliged to give
us bitter medicine to cure our spiritual diseases, or to perform a painful
operation to rid us of something that harms.
But instead of thanking Him we complain against Him;
although we generally direct our complaints, not against the divine Physician
himself who has ordered our medicine, but against the “bottle” in which He has
sent it. This “bottle” is usually some human being, whose unkindness or
carelessness, or neglect, or cruelty has caused our suffering; but who has been
after all only the instrumentality or “second cause” that God has used for our
healing.
Good common sense tells us that it would be folly to
rail against the bottles in which the medicines, prescribed by our earthy
physicians, come to us; and it is equal folly to rail against the “second
causes” that are meant to teach us the lessons our souls need to learn.
When the children of Israel found themselves wandering
in the wilderness, they “murmured against Moses and Aaron,” and complained that
they had brought them forth into the wilderness to kill them with hunger. But in
reality their complaining was against God, for it was really He who had brought
them there, and not Moses and Aaron, who were only the “second causes.” And the
psalmist in recounting the story afterward called this murmuring against Moses
and Aaron a “speaking against God.” Divine history takes no account of second
causes, but goes directly to the real cause behind them.
We may settle it, therefore, that all complaining is at
the bottom “speaking against God,” whether we are conscious of it or not. We may
think, as the Israelites did, that our discomforts and deprivations have come
from human hands only, and may therefore feel at liberty to “murmur against” the
second causes which have, we may think, brought about our trials. But God is the
great Cause behind all second causes. The second causes are only the
instrumentalities that He uses; and when we murmur against these, we are really
murmuring, not against the instrumentalities, but against God Himself. Second
causes are powerless to act, except by God’s permission; and what He permits
becomes really His arranging. The psalmist tells us that when the Lord heard the
complainings of His people “He was wroth,” and His anger came up against them
“because they believed not in God, and trusted not in his salvation.” And, at
the bottom, all complainings mean just this, that we do not believe in God, and
do not trust in His salvation.
The psalmist says: “I will praise the name of God with a
song, and magnify him with thanksgiving. This also shall please the Lord better
than an ox or bullock that hath horns and hoofs.” A great many people seem quite
ready and willing to offer up an “ox or a bullock,” or some great sacrifice to
the Lord, but never seem to have realized that a little genuine praise and
thanksgiving offered to Him now and then would “please him better” than all
their great sacrifices made in His cause.
As I said before, the Bible is full of this thought from
beginning to end. Over and over it is called a “sacrifice of thanksgiving,”
showing that it is as really an act of religious worship, as is any other
religious act. In fact, the “sacrifice of thanksgiving” was one of the regular
sacrifices ordained by God in the Book of Leviticus. “Oh that men would praise
the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!
And let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works
with rejoicing.” By Him, therefore, let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God
continually, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name.
It is such an easy thing to offer the “sacrifice of
thanksgiving,” that one would suppose everybody would be keen to do it. But
somehow the contrary seems to be the case; and if the prayers of Christians were
all to be noted down for any one single day, I fear it would be found that with
them, as it was with the ten lepers who had been cleansed, nine out of every ten
had offered no genuine thanks at all. Our Lord Himself was grieved at these
ungrateful lepers, and said: “Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the
nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this
stranger.” Will He have to ask the same question regarding any of us? We have
often, it may be, wondered at the ingratitude of those nine cleansed lepers; but
what about our own ingratitude? Do we not continually pass by blessings
innumerable without notice, and instead fix our eyes on what we feel to be our
trials and our losses, and think and talk about these, until our whole horizon
is filled with them, and we almost begin to think we have no blessings at
all?
We can judge of how this must grieve the Lord by our own
feelings. A child who complains about the provision the parent has made wounds
that parent’s heart often beyond words. Some people are always complaining,
nothing ever pleases them, and no kindness seems ever to be appreciated. We know
how uncomfortable the society of such people makes us; and we know, on the
contrary, how life is brightened by the presence of one who never complains, but
who finds something to be pleased with in all that comes. I believe far more
misery than we imagine is caused in human hearts by the grumblings of those they
love; and I believe also that woundings we never dream of, are given to the
heart of our Father in Heaven by the continual murmuring of His children.
How often is it despairingly said of fretful,
complaining spirits upon whom every care and attention has been lavished, “Will
nothing ever satisfy them?” And how often must God turn away, grieved by our
complainings, when His love has been lavished upon us in untold blessings. I
have sometimes thought that if we could but realize this, we would check our
inordinate grief over even the trials that come from the death of those we love,
and would try, for His dear sake, to be cheerful and content even in our lonely
and bereft condition.
I remember hearing of a dear girl who was obliged to
undergo a serious and very painful treatment for some disease, and the doctors
had dreaded the thought of her groans and outcries. But to their amazement not
even a moan escaped her lips, and all the time she smiled at her father who was
present, and uttered only words of love and tenderness. The doctors could not
understand it, and when the worst was over one of them asked how it could have
been. “Ah,” she said, “I knew how much my father loved me, and I knew how he
would suffer if he saw that I suffered, so I tried to hide my suffering; and I
smiled to make him think I did not mind.”
Can any of us do this for our heavenly Father?
Job was a great complainer; and we may perhaps think, as
we read his story, that if ever anyone had good cause for complaining, he had.
His circumstances seemed to be full of hopeless misery. “My soul is weary of my
life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of
my soul. I will say unto God, Do not condemn me; show me wherefore thou
contendest with me. Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress, that thou
shouldest despise the work of thine hands?”
We can hardly wonder at Job’s complaint. And yet could
he but have seen the divine side of all his troubles, he would have known that
they were permitted in the tenderest love, and were to bring him a revelation of
God such as he could have had by no other means. Could he have seen that this
was to be the outcome he would not have uttered a single complaint, but would
have given triumphant thanks for the trials which were to bring him such a
glorious fruition. And could we but see, in our heaviest trials, the end from
the beginning, I am sure that thanksgiving would take the place of complaining
in every case.
The children of Israel were always complaining about
something. They complained because they had no water; and when water was
supplied they complained that it was bitter to their taste. And we likewise
complain because the spiritual water we have to drink seems bitter to our taste.
Our souls are athirst, and we do not like the supply that seems to be provided.
Our experiences do not quench our thirst, our religious exercises seem dull and
unsatisfying; we feel ourselves to be in a dry and thirsty land where no water
is. We have turned from the “Fountain of living waters,” and then we complain
because the cisterns we have hewed out for ourselves hold no water.
The Israelites complained about their food. They had so
little confidence in God that they were afraid they would die of starvation; and
then when the heavenly manna was provided they complained again because they
“loathed such light food.” And we also complain about our spiritual food. Like
the Israelites, we have so little confidence in God that we are always afraid we
shall die of spiritual starvation. We complain because our preacher does not
feed us, or because our religious privileges are very scanty, or because we are
not supplied with the same spiritual fare as others are, who seem to us more
highly favored; and we covet their circumstances or their experiences. We have
asked God to feed us, and then our souls “loathe” the food He gives, and we
think it is too “light” to sustain or strengthen us. We have asked for bread,
and we complain that He has given a stone.
But, if we only knew it, the provision our divine Master
has made of spiritual drink and spiritual food is just that which is best for
us, and is that for which we would be the most thankful if we knew. The amazing
thing is that we cannot believe now, without waiting for the end, that the
Shepherd knows what pasture is best for His sheep. Surely if we did, our hearts
would be filled with thanksgiving and our mouths with praise even in the
wilderness.
Jonah was a wonderful illustration of this. His prayer
of thanksgiving out of the “belly of hell” is a tremendous lesson. “I have cried
by reason of mine affliction unto the Lord, and he heard me; out of the belly of
hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice. For thou hadst cast me into the deep,
in the midst of the sea: and the floods compassed me about; all thy billows and
thy waves passed over me ... But I will sacrifice unto thee with a voice of
thanksgiving; I will pay that I have vowed. Salvation is of the Lord.”
No depth of misery, not even the “belly of hell,” is too
great for the sacrifice of thanksgiving. We cannot, it is true, give thanks for
the misery, but we can give thanks to the Lord in the misery, just as Jonah did.
No matter what our trouble, the Lord is in it somewhere; and, of course, being
there, He is there to help and bless us. Therefore, when our “souls faint within
us” because of our troubles, we have only to remember this, and to thank Him for
His presence and His love.
It is not because things are good that we are to thank
the Lord, but because He is good. We are not wise enough to judge as to things,
whether they are really, in their essence, joys or sorrows. But we always know
that the Lord is good, and that His goodness makes it absolutely certain that
everything He provides or permits must be good; and must therefore be something
for which we would be heartily thankful, if only we could see it with His
eyes.
In a little tract called “Mrs. Pickett’s Missionary
Box,” a poor woman, who had never done anything but complain all her life long,
and who, consequently, had got to thinking that she had no benefits for which to
give thanks, received a missionary box with the words written on it: “What shall
I render unto the Lord for all His benefits toward me?” And she was asked by her
niece, who believed in being thankful, to put a penny into the box for every
benefit she could discover in her life. I will let her tell her own story.
“ ‘Great benefits I have!’ says I, standing with my arms
akimbo, an’ lookin’ that box all over. ‘Guess the heathen won’t get much out of
me at that rate.’ an’ I jest made up my mind I would keep count, jest to show
myself how little I did have. ‘Them few pennies won’t break me,’ I thought, and
I really seemed to kinder enjoy thinkin’ over the hard times I had.
“Well, the box sat there all that week, an’ I used to
say it must be kinder lonesome with nothin’ in it; for not a penny went into it
until next missionary meetin’ day. I was sittin’ on the back steps gettin’ a
breath of fresh air, when Mary came home, an’ sat down alongside o’ me an’ began
to tell me about the meetin’, an’ it was all about Injy an’ the widders there,
poor creturs, an’ they bein’ abused, an’ starved, an’ not let to think for
themselves—you know all about it better’n I do!—an’ before I thought I up an’
said-
“ ‘Well, if I be a widder, I’m thankful I’m where I kin
earn my own livin’, an’ no thanks to nobody, an’ no one to interfere!’
“Then Mary, she laughed an’ said there was my fust
benefit. Well, that sorter tickled me, for I thought a woman must be pretty hard
up for benefits when she had to go clear off to Injy to find them, an’ I dropped
in one penny, an’ it rattled round a few days without any company. I used to
shake it every time I passed the shelf, an’ the thought of them poor things in
Injy kep’ a comin’ up before me, an’ I really was glad when I got a new boarder
for me best room, an’ felt as if I’d oughter put in another. An’ next meetin’,
Mary she told me about China, an’ I thought about that till I put in another
because I warn’t a Chinese. An’ all the while I felt kinder proud of how little
there was in that box. Then one day, when I got a chance to turn a little penny
sellin’ eggs, which I warn’t in the habit of, Mary brought the box in, where I
was countin’ of my money, and says-
“ ‘A penny for your benefit, Aunt Mirandy.’
“An’ I says, ‘This ain’t the Lord’s benefit.’
“An’ she answered, ‘If ‘tain’t His, whose is it?’ An’
she begun to hum over somethin’ out of one of the poetry books that she was
always a readin’ of-
‘God’s grace is the only grace, And all grace is the
grace of God.’
“Well, I dropped in my penny, an’ them words kep’
ringin’ in my ears, till I couldn’t help puttin’ more to it, on account of some
other things I never thought of callin’ the Lord’s benefits before. An’ by that
time, what with Mary’s tellin’ me about them meetin’s, an’ me most always
findin’ somethin’ to put in a penny for, to be thankful that I warn’t it, an’
what with gettin’ interested about it all, and sorter searchin’ round a little
now and then to think of somethin’ or other to put a penny in for, there really
come to be quite a few pennies in the box, an’ it didn’t ralle near so much when
I shook it.”
There is a psalm which I call our Benefit Psalm. It is
Psalm 103, and it recounts some of the benefits the Lord has bestowed upon us,
and urges us not to forget them. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all
his benefit.” Our dear sister’s Benefit Box had taught her something of the
meaning of this psalm. All her life she had been forgetting the benefits the
Lord had bestowed upon her, but now she was beginning to remember them.
Have we begun to remember ours?
If during the past year we had kept count of those
benefits for which we had actually given thanks, how many pennies, I wonder,
would our boxes have contained?
We sometimes sing at mission meetings a hymn of
thanksgiving, with the chorus, “Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.” And sometimes I have wondered
whether any of us who were singing it so heartily had ever kept the slightest
record of our blessings, or even in fact knew that we had any.
For the trouble is that very often God’s gifts come to
us wrapped up in such rough coverings that we are tempted to reject them as
worthless; or the messengers who bring them come in the guise of enemies, and we
want to shut the door against them, and not give them entrance. But we lose far
more than we know when we reject even the most unlikely.
Evil is only the slave of good,
And sorrow the servant of joy:
And the soul is mad that refuses
food
From the meanest in God’s
employ.
We are commanded to enter into His gates with
thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise, and I am convinced that the
giving of thanks is the key that opens these gates more quicky than anything
else. Try it, dear reader. The next time you feel dead, cold, and low-spirited
begin to praise and thank the Lord. Enumerate to yourself the benefits He has
bestowed upon you, thank Him heartily for each one, and see if your spirits do
not begin to rise, and your heart get warmed up.
Sometimes it may be that you feel too disheartened to
pray; then try giving thanks instead; and, before you know it, you will find
yourself “glad” in the multitude of His loving-kindnesses and His tender
mercies.
One of my friends told me that her little boy one night
flatly refused to say his prayers. He said there was not a single thing in all
the world he wanted, and he did not see what was the good of asking for things
that he did not want. A happy thought came to his mother as she said, “Well,
Charlie, suppose then we give thanks for all the things you have got.” The idea
pleased the child, and he very willingly knelt down and began to give thanks. He
thanked God for his marbles, and for a new top that had just been given him, and
for his strong legs that could run so fast, and that he was not blind like a
little boy he knew, and for his kind father and mother, and for his nice bed,
and for one after another of his blessings, until the list grew so long that at
last he said he believed he would never get done. And when finally they rose
from their knees, he said to his mother, with his face shining with happiness,
“Oh, Mother, I never knew before how perfectly splendid God is!” And I believe,
if we sometimes followed the example of this little boy, we too would find out,
as never before, the goodness of our God.
It is very striking to notice how much thanksgiving had
to do with the building of the Temple. When they had collected the treasures for
the Temple. When they had collected the treasures for the Temple, David gave
thanks to the Lord for enabling them to do it. When the Temple was finished,
they gave thanks again. And then a wonderful thing happened, for it came to pass
as the trumpeters and singers were as one to make one sound to be heard in
praising and thanking the Lord ... that then the house was filled with a cloud,
even the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister by
reason of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of God. When
the people praised and gave thanks, then the house was filled with the glory of
the Lord. And we may be sure that the reason our hearts are not oftener filled
with the “glory of the Lord” is because we do not often enough make our voices
to be heard in praising and thanking Him.
If the giving of thanks is the way to open the gates of
the Lord, complaining on the other hand closes these gates. Jude quotes a
prophecy of Enoch’s concerning murmurers: “The Lord cometh,” he says, “to
execute judgment upon all, and to convince all that are ungodly among them ...
of all their hard speeches which ungodly sinners have spoken against him. These
are murmurers, complainers, walking after their own lusts.”
People who are “murmurers” and “complainers” make in
their complainings more “hard speeches” against the Lord than they would like to
own, or than they will care at the last day to face. And it is not to be
wondered that the judgment of God, instead of the “glory of God,” is the
result.
I wish I had room to quote all the passages in the Bible
about giving thanks and praises to the Lord. It is safe to say that there are
hundreds and hundreds of them; and it is an amazing thing how they can have been
so persistently ignored. I beg of you to read the last seven psalms, and see
what you think. They are simply full to overflowing with a list of the things
for which the psalmist calls upon us to give thanks; all of them are things
relating to the character and the ways of God, which we dare not dispute. They
are not for the most part private blessings of our own, but are the common
blessings that belong to all humanity, and that contain within themselves every
private blessing we can possibly need. But they are blessings which we
continually forget, because we take them for granted, hardly noticing their
existence, and never give thanks for them.
But the psalmist knew how to count his many blessings
and name them one by one, and he would have us to do likewise. Try it, dear
reader, and you will indeed be surprised to see what the Lord has done. Go over
these psalms verse by verse, and blessing by blessing, and see if, like the
little boy of our story, you are not made to confess that you never knew before
“how perfectly splendid God is.”
The last verse of the Book of Psalms, taken in
connection with the vision of John in the Book of Revelation, is very
significant. The psalmist says, “Let everything that hath breath praise the
Lord.” And in the Book of Revelation, John, who declares himself to be our
brother and our companion in tribulation, tells us that he heard this being
done. “And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the
earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying,
Blessing, and honor, and glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever.”
The time for universal praise is sure to come some day.
Let us begin to do our part now.
I heard once of a discontented, complaining man who, to
the great surprise of his friends, became bright, and happy, and full of
thanksgiving. After watching him for a little while, and being convinced that
the change was permanent, they asked him what had happened. “Oh,” he replied, “I
have changed my residence. I used to live in Grumbling Lane, but now I have
moved into Thanksgiving Square, and I find that I am so rich in blessings that I
am always happy.”
Shall we each one make this move now?
