The color is draining from the grasses. Among the trees, the greens are yielding to the yellows, reds and autumnal browns. Leaves are falling to the ground and the valley is quiet as most of the birds have left. The land prepares to slumber for a season.
Walking in the cool sunshine, I ponder the falling asleep in Christ Jesus of a beloved sister. She had stirred the hearts and voices of many through the use of her musical talents wisely blended with her spiritual perception. How we shall miss her!
I have walked but a mile from home to reach this refuge of natural parkland -a place of rest away from the noise of the city. Our sister’s journey, too, was relatively short. Now she rests and quietly waits, undisturbed.
Fifteen long years have passed since our voices joined together in praise to our Creator. Yet memories of our conversation on that occasion are fondly rekindled in my memory as if it were yesterday. Such is the paradox of our measure of time. If we are in pain of mind or body, a nighttime can seem interminable. Yet “our years come to an end like a sigh…they are soon gone, and we fly away” (Psa. 90:9,10 RSV, as all quotes).
Not all the birds have flown south seeking warmer climes. A few remain and their singing brings consolation. As I walk, I remember with thankfulness that, at this very hour, my wife is singing for the enjoyment of a group of elderly folk.
For every one of us the time comes when, in the words of hymn 321:
“The day thou gayest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at thy behest…,”
and yet “The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away,”
for “…hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.”
For centuries, Moses has rested in the quiet place. Yet still we hear his voice, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psa. 90:12). We join the parade of saints who, through the centuries, have echoed his plea, “Return, 0 LORD! How long? Have pity on thy servants!” (v.13).
Early frosts have taken many of the flowers. Sheltered among the trees, a few still blossom in delicate beauty. Assuredly, they remind me that springtime will return bringing its wondrous profusion of color and fragrance. This garden of God will be filled again with flocks of beautiful birds joining together to praise Him in perfect harmony.
“And the ransomed of the LORD shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
They shall obtain joy and gladness
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away” (Isa. 35:10).
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One