“众圣之王啊，你的方法义哉，诚哉。”(启示录十五章3节)
在患难中经历顶深的司布真师母说：
有一天的晚上，我独自坐在椅子上休息；虽然室中很光亮，但是我心灵中有一层黑暗罩着，使我不能看见什么。我也不觉得主的手搀住我，我好似滑跌在伤痛中。我忧忧愁愁地自问说：
“为什么我的神如此待他的孩子呢？为什么他一直把锐利的痛苦加给我呢？为什么他应许缠绵的软弱来拦阻我去事奉他呢？”
这些烦恼的问题立刻得到了答复；顶希奇，答复我的是一个特异的声音；用不着翻译的人，神在我心中轻轻地替我解释。
室内寂静了好久，我忽然听见一声清幽悦耳的乐音，很像窗下知更雀的歌声。
这是什么声音？决不会是知更雀在那里唱歌，因为这是寒冷的晚上。
又是一声。这次我才发现：原来是壁炉中一根橡树枝，正被猛烈的火焰焚烧着，从裂口中发出那个好听的音乐来！
此时，我发生了一些感想：当这根树枝嫩绿青翠的时侯，许多歌鸟游歇其上，唱出美丽的调儿来，它就把那些歌声收集起来，含蓄在里面。后来它渐渐老了，树枝渐渐硬了；那声音便永久被封住在里面了，直到猛烈的火焰烧毁了它的坚硬，久囚的音乐才被释放。啊，照样，神用痛苦的火焰燃烧我们，原是要从我们久寂的心中抽出赞美的歌声来，叫我们的神得着荣耀！就在此时，我得了安慰。
恐怕我们中间有几个很像这根树枝——老，冷，硬，麻木；我们不会发出赞美的声音来，如果没有火的催逼。
如果苦难的火焰会叫无情的冷心得到温暖，愿炉中的火焰较前加旺“七倍”！——选
They sang the song of Moses the servant of God and the song of the Lamb: “Great and astounding are your deeds, Lord God, the All-Powerful! Just and true are your ways, King over the nations! (Rev 15:3)
The following incident is related by Mrs. Charles Spurgeon, who was a great sufferer for more than a quarter of a century:
“At the close of a dark and gloomy day, I lay resting on my couch as the deeper night drew on; and though all was bright within my cozy room, some of the external darkness seemed to have entered into my soul and obscured its spiritual vision. Vainly I tried to see the Hand which I knew held mine, and guided my fog-enveloped feet along a steep and slippery path of suffering. In sorrow of heart I asked,
“’Why does my Lord thus deal with His child? Why does He so often send sharp and bitter pain to visit me? Why does He permit lingering weakness to hinder the sweet service I long to render to His poor servants?’
“These fretful questions were quickly answered, and through a strange language; no interpreter was needed save the conscious whisper of my heart.
“For a while silence reigned in the little room, broken only by the crackling of the oak log burning in the fireplace. Suddenly I heard a sweet, soft sound, a little, clear, musical note, like the tender trill of a robin beneath my window.
“’What can it be? surely no bird can be singing out there at this time of the year and night.’
“Again came the faint, plaintive notes, so sweet, so melodious, yet mysterious enough to provoke our wonder. My friend exclaimed,
“’It comes from the log on the fire!’ The fire was letting loose the imprisoned music from the old oak’s inmost heart!
“Perchance he had garnered up this song in the days when all was well with him, when birds twittered merrily on his branches, and the soft sunlight flecked his tender leaves with gold. But he had grown old since then, and hardened; ring after ring of knotty growth had sealed up the long-forgotten melody, until the fierce tongues of the flames came to consume his callousness, and the vehement heart of the fire wrung from him at once a song and a sacrifice. ’Ah,’ thought I, ’when the fire of affliction draws songs of praise from us, then indeed we are purified, and our God is glorified!’
“Perhaps some of us are like this old oak log, cold, hard, insensible; we should give forth no melodious sounds, were it not for the fire which kindles around us, and releases notes of trust in Him, and cheerful compliance with His will.
“’As I mused the fire burned,’ and my soul found sweet comfort in the parable so strangely set forth before me.
“Singing in the fire! Yes, God helping us, if that is the only way to get harmony out of these hard apathetic hearts, let the furnace be heated seven times hotter than before.”
在患难中经历顶深的司布真师母说：
有一天的晚上，我独自坐在椅子上休息；虽然室中很光亮，但是我心灵中有一层黑暗罩着，使我不能看见什么。我也不觉得主的手搀住我，我好似滑跌在伤痛中。我忧忧愁愁地自问说：
“为什么我的神如此待他的孩子呢？为什么他一直把锐利的痛苦加给我呢？为什么他应许缠绵的软弱来拦阻我去事奉他呢？”
这些烦恼的问题立刻得到了答复；顶希奇，答复我的是一个特异的声音；用不着翻译的人，神在我心中轻轻地替我解释。
室内寂静了好久，我忽然听见一声清幽悦耳的乐音，很像窗下知更雀的歌声。
这是什么声音？决不会是知更雀在那里唱歌，因为这是寒冷的晚上。
又是一声。这次我才发现：原来是壁炉中一根橡树枝，正被猛烈的火焰焚烧着，从裂口中发出那个好听的音乐来！
此时，我发生了一些感想：当这根树枝嫩绿青翠的时侯，许多歌鸟游歇其上，唱出美丽的调儿来，它就把那些歌声收集起来，含蓄在里面。后来它渐渐老了，树枝渐渐硬了；那声音便永久被封住在里面了，直到猛烈的火焰烧毁了它的坚硬，久囚的音乐才被释放。啊，照样，神用痛苦的火焰燃烧我们，原是要从我们久寂的心中抽出赞美的歌声来，叫我们的神得着荣耀！就在此时，我得了安慰。
恐怕我们中间有几个很像这根树枝——老，冷，硬，麻木；我们不会发出赞美的声音来，如果没有火的催逼。
如果苦难的火焰会叫无情的冷心得到温暖，愿炉中的火焰较前加旺“七倍”！——选
They sang the song of Moses the servant of God and the song of the Lamb: “Great and astounding are your deeds, Lord God, the All-Powerful! Just and true are your ways, King over the nations! (Rev 15:3)
The following incident is related by Mrs. Charles Spurgeon, who was a great sufferer for more than a quarter of a century:
“At the close of a dark and gloomy day, I lay resting on my couch as the deeper night drew on; and though all was bright within my cozy room, some of the external darkness seemed to have entered into my soul and obscured its spiritual vision. Vainly I tried to see the Hand which I knew held mine, and guided my fog-enveloped feet along a steep and slippery path of suffering. In sorrow of heart I asked,
“’Why does my Lord thus deal with His child? Why does He so often send sharp and bitter pain to visit me? Why does He permit lingering weakness to hinder the sweet service I long to render to His poor servants?’
“These fretful questions were quickly answered, and through a strange language; no interpreter was needed save the conscious whisper of my heart.
“For a while silence reigned in the little room, broken only by the crackling of the oak log burning in the fireplace. Suddenly I heard a sweet, soft sound, a little, clear, musical note, like the tender trill of a robin beneath my window.
“’What can it be? surely no bird can be singing out there at this time of the year and night.’
“Again came the faint, plaintive notes, so sweet, so melodious, yet mysterious enough to provoke our wonder. My friend exclaimed,
“’It comes from the log on the fire!’ The fire was letting loose the imprisoned music from the old oak’s inmost heart!
“Perchance he had garnered up this song in the days when all was well with him, when birds twittered merrily on his branches, and the soft sunlight flecked his tender leaves with gold. But he had grown old since then, and hardened; ring after ring of knotty growth had sealed up the long-forgotten melody, until the fierce tongues of the flames came to consume his callousness, and the vehement heart of the fire wrung from him at once a song and a sacrifice. ’Ah,’ thought I, ’when the fire of affliction draws songs of praise from us, then indeed we are purified, and our God is glorified!’
“Perhaps some of us are like this old oak log, cold, hard, insensible; we should give forth no melodious sounds, were it not for the fire which kindles around us, and releases notes of trust in Him, and cheerful compliance with His will.
“’As I mused the fire burned,’ and my soul found sweet comfort in the parable so strangely set forth before me.
“Singing in the fire! Yes, God helping us, if that is the only way to get harmony out of these hard apathetic hearts, let the furnace be heated seven times hotter than before.”