Memory is frequently the
bond slave of despondency. Dispairing minds call to remembrance every dark
foreboding in the past, and dilate upon every gloomy feature in the present;
thus memory, clothed in sackcloth, presents to the mind a cup of mingled gall
and wormwood. There is, however, no necessity for this. Wisdom can readily
transform memory into an angel of comfort. That same recollection which in its
left hand brings so many gloomy omens, may be trained to bear in its right a
wealth of hopeful signs. She need not wear a crown of iron, she may encircle her
brow with a fillet of gold, all spangled with stars. Thus it was in Jeremiah’s
experience: in the previous verse memory had brought him to deep humiliation of
soul: “My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me;” and now
this same memory restored him to life and comfort. “This I recall to my mind,
therefore have I hope.” Like a two-edged sword, his memory first killed his
pride with one edge, and then slew his despair with the other. As a general
principle, if we would exercise our memories more wisely, we might, in our very
darkest distress, strike a match which would instantaneously kindle the lamp of
comfort. There is no need for God to create a new thing upon the earth in order
to restore believers to joy; if they would prayerfully rake the ashes of the
past, they would find light for the present; and if they would turn to the book
of truth and the throne of grace, their candle would soon shine as aforetime.
Be it ours to remember the lovingkindness of the Lord, and to rehearse his deeds
of grace. Let us open the volume of recollection which is so richly illuminated
with memorials of mercy, and we shall soon be happy. Thus memory may be, as
Coleridge calls it, “the bosom-spring of joy,” and when the Divine Comforter
bends it to his service, it may be chief among earthly comforters.
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