COMFORT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2801, 20 November 1907, Page 72

COMFORT.

What pictures pass before the eyes at the mere sound of the word! Warm, cc«y firesides, following days of cheerless toil, of buffeting storms, or cold, dank drizzles. Bright faces and cheery words, soft slippers awaiting tired feet, and a low restful chair ; the perfume of violets stealing with subtle fragrance to the senses. Or, to reverse the season of the year, cool, shaded rooms after toil, and dust, and heat, breezy draperies, and fresh green leaves, breath of roses or honeysuckle, and the white sheen of pure lilies. Each individual has hia or her own idea of comfort, and what to the poor man might seem all that could be desired of it to his richer brother might seem the veriest privation; while whafc the rich man deemed comfort to the poor might prove only bewilderment. Yet doe - the fulfilment of the idea in each case embody essentially the 6ame things — soothing, cheer, strengthening to the spirit. In order to fully appreciate the blessing of comfort we must feel the need of it, and it must suit our need. The poet Burns in his " Cottar's Saturday Night " sketches for us a picture of lowliest comfort, yet, seemingly, for those in the enjoyment of it, all-satisfying. You will, I am sure, allow me the quotation. It is in the mntlia.--toQa.uc of the- j2-oet_i— =

November chill blows loud wi' angry stigh; The shortening winter day draws near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The blackening trains o' crows to their repose ; The toilworn cottar frae his labour goes: This night his weekly moil is at an end. Collects his spades, his mattocks, and Ilia hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary o'er the moor his course doss

homeward wend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree, The expectant wee things toddlin' stacher I through To meet their dad wi' fleatherin' noise and glee.

His wee bit ingle blinkin' bormily, His clean hestrthstane, his thrifty wine's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does &' his weary, carking cares beguile. And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. Simplest, homeliest comforts everyone, comforts which many would scorn to call by that sweet name, yet in fullest measure entitled to it, seeing that they fulfil in every detail the mission of comfort, and what, depth of luxuriant ease could do more! Resting the weary limbs, beguiling him of the care that is thornier far than toil, making him forget for a time the hardness, the disappointment, the chafing that may have been in the day's labour, satisfying his heart-hunger for presence of wife and children, and strengthening his spirit for the toil of "1 .another day to come! It is, then, within ' the power of all in charge of a horne — wives, mothers, or, sisters, housekeepers, to bring to the lives of others the comforts that have 6uch influence upon their work and life. It may seem a small thing to lay aside some favourite occupation in order to give a room a more cosy, comfortable appearance before tired workers come in from storm of wind and rain, from sloppy streets or muddy fields, or it may be just from the e±ceeding weariness of the day's toil — almost a foolish thing to trouble over the making of some especially appetising dish for those hungry, as well as tired, ones, because you know the day has been an especially trying one : but it is not, be sure, dear comrade. We are so constituted that the body has power to weigh down the spirit, even as a bright, brave, cheerful spirit will at times uphold the fainting flesh, and if you, at the cost of self-denial, by one effort help to ease the burden of another, or, better, get them to bear it, you have, surely done a good deed and an important one. Punctuality, tact, and avoidance of fuss and fluster, above all a kindly cheerfulness, make for comfort, and aid all around us in the putting forth of their best efforts. So many housewives, wishful enough for the comfort of the .home, - with energy, capability, endurance, make certain seasons of the yeai a trial to every inmate of the house (it has ceased for the time to be a home), with the exception of themselves miserable, by an incessant whirr of bustle and commotion of things turned upside down and inside out — comfortless meals, fretted, worriedlooking faces, routing of rest, tension of nerves : thus is accomplished what they are pleased to term their " spring-clean-ing," and all this when the violets are whispering low and sweet of comfort wooing us to stoop low down beneath the leafless hedgerows, and tenderly stir their broad, green leaves till they reveal their purple flowers ; when the daffodils are nodding glad acknowledgments to all , who pause a moment to give thanks for their gold beauty ; when the little snowflakes or bells are trembling on their tiny stems, — and they do not last so very ■. long. Avoid, then, all discomfort in j your aim after comfort, not in " springcleaning" alone, but in all the ordering of your home, lest it cease to be worthy of that name, unworthy of the song, " Home, home, sweet, sweet, home," and becomes merely a house, and yourself but a machine for keeping order.

But I must say a word as to the more spiritual- office of comfort. The great necessary uplifting part it plays in our lives, a part quite away from any physical lightening of our load, and reaching us only through our inner senses. Have any of you felt aa though steeped in weariness? — a weariness that drags your spirit down almost to the brink of despair, that seems actually to rob your very limbs of their wonted strength, a weariness that can only result from sore discouragement following after failure, — or, shall we say, seeming failure, because it so often proves so ? — in some earnest, persevering effort of the hands, of the brain, or of the heart: a, weariness it is that covers all our sky with leaden grey and makes further effort seem vain, because we have tried — oh, so faithfully — and yet only find that we " have laboured in vain, and spent our strength for nought." And while this grey pall of weariness lay upon you a letter fiom some dear friend has come to you, every line gleaming with just the recognition, the cheer, and the encouragement yon need. Or perhaps dear hands have touched you, and sympathy, understanding sympathy, has passed from them to you with healing swift and 6ure, till y^p have felt that all is not in vain, your prayers, your work, your .hopes. Then, friend, you have drunk deeply of comfort's strength-giving draught Do not forget to pa3s on the cup : none can give comfort like those who have themselves stood in bitter need of it, and received it, in whatever form. Have you been bowed low down beneath • a sense of wrong done — perhaps even inadvertently — yet the knowledge has stolen much joy from your life, then have you obtained sweet forgiveness? If you have, comfort entered your eoul that day. Entered it with etill a softer, 6weeter balm if you have yourself forgiven wrong, fully, tenderly, for in that hour your heart was freed from a bitterness that marred its peace. When some deep bereavement lays desolate your lifo, may there be some friend whose heartfelt sympathy may soothe though it niters no words, understanding that yours is a ftouou; too tLuk. 1.00 bruieiiifi for

words to touch. God in mercy gives such sorrows into the hand of Time — Time reveals much, teaches much, soothes much, and then we wait the revealing of all dark and painful things with patience learned in that hard time.

There is one solid comfort which lies within the reach of all of us. With ourselves alone its attainment rests, and though it may cost much self-denial, much rigid exercise of patience, perseverance, it is worth it all. It is simply this :to have let no opportunity slip during a"v the day of doing for another a kind and helpful action, of speaking a word of appreciation, of encouragement, where it way help and cheer, or it may be by but tho silent -handclasp of sincere sympathy, of having done, in each detail of every duty, our very best; then have we a comfort of which neither want of appreciation nor yet censure can rob us, for it ha 6 its source within. The effort to bring comfort to the lives of others ever results in comfort to our own hearts, for it is one of the things increased by the outpouring: Is thy cruse of comfort wasting? Rise ancl share it with another, And thxough all the years of famine it shall serve thee and thy brother. Sow broadcast your grains of comfort, and they shall return to you an hundredfold.

One last comfort I shall mention— but it is the one that enfolds our lives as with a garment of strength, makes is possible to bear trials even when beset with thorns and deep darkness. It lies in the knowledge that all our way is guarded by an omnipotent love; that that love can only work us good, even though it may be leading us " by a way that- we know not," and a way from which both flesh and spirit shrinks, yet lighted for us step by step by such words of comfort as these: — "As thy days so shall thy strength be." "What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee," " When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee."