ll evil to every man that treads it. "All
things work together for good to those who love God." No weapon formed
against them can prosper. That is the bond, signed, sealed, and
delivered by the President of the whole universe. What is the use of
your fretting, O child of God, about food? "Behold the fowls of the
air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns;
yet your heavenly Father feedeth them." And will He take care of the
sparrow, will He take care of the hawk, and let you die? What is the
use of your fretting about clothes? "Consider the lilies of the field.
Shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" What is the
use worrying for fear something will happen to your home? "He blesseth
the habitation of the just." What is the use of your fretting lest you
will be overcome of temptations? "God is faithful, who will not suffer
you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation
also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."

O this King's highway! Trees of life on either side, bending over
until their branches interlock and drop midway their fruit and shade.
Houses of entertainment on either side the road for poor pilgrims.
Tables spread with a feast of good things, and walls adorned with
apples of gold in pictures of silver. I start out on this King's
highway, and I find a harper, and I say: "What is your name?" The
harper makes no response, but leaves me to guess, as, with his eyes
toward heaven and his hand upon the trembling strings this tune comes
rippling on the air: "The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom
shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be
afraid?" I go a little further on the same road and meet a trumpeter
of heaven, and I say: "Haven't you got some music for a tired
pilgrim?" And wiping his lip and taking a long breath, he puts his
mouth to the trumpet and pours forth this strain: "They shall hunger
no more, neither shall they thirst any more, neither shall the sun
light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst of the
throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall
wipe away all tears from their eyes." I go a little distance further
on the same road, and I meet a maiden of Israel. She has no harp, but
she has cymbals. They look as if they had rusted from sea-spray; and I
say to the maiden of Israel: "Have you no song for a tired pilgrim?"
And like the clang of victors' s