XVI.

PRIVILEGED.

My lots are in Thy hands.--_Psa._ xxx. 15.

Suppose, my God, You had told us that as we know the worth of our soul, You were going to trust us with the choice of the means by which its salvation is to be worked out; You were going to put before us riches and poverty, sickness and health, success and failure, a long life and a short one, and we might take which seemed best for us. Should we be content? Should we not say, if we were wise: “My God, do not trust this to me. I shall choose, I know I shall, what I like, not what is best for me.”

And suppose You were to tell us there were souls to whom You would not entrust such a decision. Either they were too weak, or You were so anxious to save them that You had left the choice of means, not to themselves, but to those who love them better than they love themselves, and who would choose for them more wisely--to their guardian angel, to their patron saint, even to the Seat of Wisdom herself--and if we wished You would let us be one of those favoured souls. Should we be content then? Or should we say: “My God, forgive me for being mistrustful still. I know my guardian angel and my holy patrons, and most of all my Mother Mary, love me dearly and would do their best for me.” But their wisdom after all is not infinite. They might make a mistake, and that mistake might mean the loss of _everything_ to me. I cannot afford any risk here. My soul is my only one; I must save it whatever happens. I dare not keep it in my own hands, and I dare not trust it even to the highest and holiest and wisest of those around Your throne.

And suppose once again You were to say to us: “There are a few, a very few, whose salvation is so dear to Me that I will trust the choice of means to no one. I will plan and arrange all Myself. Nothing shall happen to them but what has been foreseen and prepared from all eternity by My Infinite Wisdom and Goodness. No one shall touch them; no joy nor sorrow shall come in their way--no, nor a hair of their head fall to the ground without My knowledge and permission.” Should we not cry out: “My God--I hardly dare to ask it; but, oh, that I might be one of that happy chosen few, for surely they are safe!”

You check me by a warning: “These souls will not have all their own way in life. Their road will sometimes be hard and rugged. They will see things prosper in the hands of others and fail in theirs. They will be hardly used by those around them--misjudged, set aside, unjustly treated; life to many of them will be uphill work.” Do I draw back now, or do I cry out again: “No matter that, oh, no matter that at all! What will they care when they know Your arm is round them as they go uphill; Your hand sends the cross and the failure and the pain! No, my God, that does not frighten me. Let me only be one of those whose lot is altogether in Your hands, and I will fear nothing; I will complain of nothing; nay, I will be grateful for all that comes to me. I will kiss Your hand even when You strike me. I shall feel peaceful and happy always in the thought that it is the wisdom of my God that orders all for me, and the love of my heavenly Father that provides everything to help me. Let me be one of those chosen ones, and You will see how I value my privilege, how I prize whatever You send.”

* * * * *

_Suppose_--I have been saying. But this is no supposition. I am that privileged one whose life in its minutest details is Your ordering and Your care. How can I complain, my God! How can I be mistrustful or even anxious--“My lots are in Thy hands”.