Whichever way the wind doth blow,
Some heart is glad to have it so;
Then blow it east or blow it west,
The wind that blows, that wind is best.
My little craft sails not alone;
A thousand fleets from every zone
Are out upon a thousand seas;
And what for me were favouring breeze
Might dash another, with the shock
Of doom, upon some hidden rock.
And so I do not dare to pray
For winds to waft me on my way,
But leave it to a Higher Will
To stay or speed me; trusting still
That all is well, and sure that He
Who launched my bark will sail with me
Through storm and calm, and will not fail,
Whatever breezes may prevail,
To bring me, every peril past,
Within his sheltering port at last.
In the ancient heather religions there were deities for times and places. The gods were local. In passing through countries the traveler would find himself passing from under the jurisdiction and protection of one deity today to the sway and shelter of another tomorrow. But where the one true God is known and worshipped we have no such perplexity in finding divine care. We do not have to change gods as we pass from place to place. Our God is the God of the mountains and of the valleys, of the land and of the sea, of the day and of the night. He is the God of all nations, and wherever we journey, to the remotest parts of the world, we are always in his kingdom. We never can get away from beneath the shadow of the wings of Jehovah. There is something wonderfully comforting in this truth of the universality of God and his care.
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