on of this truth. Jesus was called to heal a
woman who lay sick of a great fever. One of the Gospels describes the
cure in these striking words: "He touched her hand, and the fever left
her; and she arose and ministered unto them." We readily understand
this record in its primary reference to the physical cure that was
wrought by our Lord. We know, of course, that the woman could not
minister to others while the fever was on her. When sore sickness
comes, the busiest, fullest hands must drop their tasks. No matter how
important the work is, how essential it may appear, it must be laid
down when painful illness seizes us. We must be healed of our fever
before we can minister.

But there are other fevers besides those which burn in men's bodies.
There are heart-fevers which may rage within us, even when our bodies
are in perfect health. We find people with feverish spirits--unhappy,
discontented, fretted, worried, perhaps insubmissive and rebellious.
Or they may be in a fever of fear or dread. These inward fevers are
worse evils than mere bodily illness. It is better in sickness to have
our heart's fever depart, even though we must longer keep our pain,
than to recover our physical health, meanwhile keeping our fretfulness
and impatience uncured.

We cannot minister while heart-fever of any kind is on us. We may go
on with our work, but we cannot do it well, and there will be little
blessing in it. Discontent hinders any life's usefulness. Jesus loved
Martha, and accepted her service because he knew she loved him; but he
plainly told her that her feverishness was not beautiful, and that it
detracted from the worth and the full acceptableness of the good work
she did; and he pointed her to Mary's quiet peace as a better way of
living and serving. Anxiety of any kind unfits us in some degree for
work. It is only when Christ comes and lays his hand upon our heart,
and cures its fever, that we are ready for ministering in his name in
the most efficient way.

There is a little story of a busy woman's life which illustrates this
lesson. She was the mother of a large family, and, being in plain
circumstances, was required to do her own work. Sometimes, in the
multiplicity of her tasks and cares, she lost the sweetness of her
peace, and, like Martha, became troubled and worried with her much
serving. One morning she had been unusually hurried, and things had
not gone smoothly. She had breakfast to get for he