XII.

AFTER A DEFEAT.

Let not this thing discourage thee, for various is the event of war.--2 _Kings_ xi. 25.

The cheery words You have for me, O Lord and Leader, when downcast and troubled I come to tell You of another reverse to our arms! Truly Your ways are not our ways. With us results are everything. A general may do his best, take every precaution, be skilful in preparation, and brave in action. Yet repeated mishaps will beget mistrust, and he will find himself superseded in command. It must be so. But it is not Your way with us.

I have not done my best. I have been careless in preparation, and weak and cowardly in action. Yet You have nothing but encouragement for me after a rout. No reproach, no withdrawal of confidence: “Fight like a good soldier; and if sometimes thou fall through frailty, rise up again with greater strength than before, confiding in My more abundant grace”.[47] At my first call for help reinforcements are sent to the front, not _less_, by reason of my unfaithfulness, but _more_, because of my need. And if I am superseded in command, it is only by Your coming Yourself on to the field, and so strengthening my hands, that all must give way before us.

I am sorry, O my Chief, for the dishonour to Your name and the loss to Your cause through my fault. But I do not despond. I may fail in everything else, but in trust I will never fail. If I am overthrown seventy-seven times in the day, I will return to the charge as often, my resolution the same, my confidence the same as at first. These perpetual beginnings are painful, weary work, but Your patience, Lord, will never fail: neither shall my goodwill. I know that the struggle itself brings You glory. I know that if I keep up the struggle to the end, You will meet me when the time of trial is over with the welcome word: “_Well done!_”

Fearful of self, with sore temptation pressing, I hasten, God of armies, unto Thee, My every power, my every sense confessing Its insufficiency. Taught by the past there is no help in me, I cast myself on Thee.

This is not hard. But false in face of Heaven, To turn with trusting heart again to Thee, Not once, not twice, but seventy times seven, In brave humility: When smarting self would hide its misery, To cast myself on Thee--

Lord, _this is hard_. Thine eye alone can measure The weary pain of each relapse to me: Yet fraught with grace, all stored with hidden treasure, Is my infirmity; Strongest of pleas, the creature’s frailty, That casts it upon Thee.

[47] Imit. of Christ, iii. 6.