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In one of the great floods in the West, when the river broadened till it spread over the whole valley, and when trees and fences and crops and buildings were swept away, some men in a boat found among the drift and wreckage, in the middle of the wide stream, borne along in the wild torrent, a baby’s cradle floating. They made their way to it, and there in the cradle, warmly wrapped up in its blankets; lay the baby, sleeping as sweetly as ever it had slept in the mother’s arms.
So in all this wild turbulence, amid its enmities, its temptations, its trials and sorrows, its wants and dangers, its strifes and conflicts, every child of God may be kept in perfect peace. Wherever he is, whatever his circumstances, he is really lying on the bosom of Jesus.