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In a lovely Swill valley there is a cascade which is caught by the swift winds as it pours over the edge of the rock, and scattered so that the falling stream is lost for the time, and only a wreath of whirling spray is seen in the air. But farther down the valley the stream gathers itself back again, and pours along in full current, in quiet peace, as if it had never been so rudely smitten by the wind. Even the blast that scatters it for a time, and seems to destroy it altogether, really makes it all the lovelier as it whirls its crystal drops into the air. At no other point in all its course is the stream so beautiful.
There are Christian lives that seem to be utterly destroyed by some great and sore trial; but beyond the sorrow they move on again in calmer, fuller strength, not destroyed, not a particle of their real life wasted. And in the trial itself, through the grace of Christ, their character shines out in richer lustre and rarer splendor than ever in the days when their hearts were fullest of joy and gladness.