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The Mind Of Jesus by John Ross Macduff


|But committed himself to Him that judgeth righteously.| -- 1 Peter, ii.23.

With what perfect and entire confidingness did Jesus commit Himself to his Heavenly Father's guidance! He loved to call Him, |My Father!| There was music in that name, which enabled Him to face the most trying hour, and to drink the most bitter cup. The scoffing taunt arose at the scene of crucifixion: |He trusted in God that He would deliver Him, let Him deliver Him!| It failed to shake, for one moment, His unswerving confidence, even when the sensible tokens of the Divine presence were withdrawn; the realized consciousness of God's abiding love sustained Him still: |My God! my God!|

How many a perplexity should we save ourselves by thus implicitly |committing ourselves,| as He did, to God! In seasons of darkness and trouble -- when our way is shut up with thorns, to lift the confiding eye of faith to Him, and say, |I am oppressed, undertake for me!| How blessed to feel that He directs all that befalls us; that no contingencies can frustrate His plans; that the way he leads us is not only a |right way,| but, with all its briers and thorns -- its tears and trials -- it is the right way!

The result of such an habitual staying ourselves on the Lord will be a deep, abiding peace; any ripple will only be on the surface -- no more. It is the bosom of the ocean alone which the storm ruffles; all beneath is a serene, settled calm. So |Thou wilt keep him, oh God, in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee!|

|The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.| I shall be content alike with what He appoints or withholds. I can not wrong that love with one shadow of suspicion! I have His own plighted promise of unchanging faithfulness, that |all things work together for good to them that love Him!| Often there are earthly sorrows hard to bear; -- the unkind accusation, when it was least merited or expected; the estrangement of tried and trusted friends, the failure of cherished hopes, favorite schemes broken up, plans of usefulness demolished, the gourd breeding its own worm and withering. |Commit thy cause and thy way to God!| We little know what tenderness there is in the blast of the rough wind; what |needs be| are folded under the wings of the storm! |All is well,| because all is from Him. |Events are God's,| says Rutherford; |let Him sit at His own helm, that moderateth all.|

Christian! look back on your checkered path. How wondrously has He threaded you through the mazy way -- disappointing your fears, realizing your hopes! Are evils looming through the mists of the future? Do not anticipate the trials of to-morrow, to aggravate those of to-day. Leave the morrow with Him, who has promised, by |casting all your care on Him, to care for you.| No affliction will be sent greater than you can bear. His voice will be heard stealing from the bosom of the threatening cloud, |Be still, and know that I am God!|

|My Father!| With such a word, you can stretch out your neck for any yoke; as with Israel of old, He will make those very waves that may now be so threatening, a fenced wall on every side! |Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him.| |In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths!|


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