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「我為你們起的憤恨，原是神那樣的憤恨。」（聖經哥林多後書十一章 2 節）
一個善奏古琴的琴師，何等寵愛他的古琴呢！他把它懷抱在胸中，撫它、親它、偎它！他和它相依為命。可是，你看他怎樣調整弦音。他把它緊緊握住，用力地在弦上撥一下；弦立刻震顫，好似驚痛之下的戰慄；他側耳細聽，覺得弦音粗浮，還未準確。於是他把弦絞緊；彈撥再三，直等到它能發出柔和準確的聲音來。他臉上才露出笑容，點頭滿意。
親愛的，其實神也是如此對待你。祂愛你遠勝琴師愛琴，祂發現你的聲音不和諧。祂把你緊緊抓住，用力撥你的心弦；祂側耳細聽，豈知你所發的聲音仍是咒詛和怨言；祂只得絞緊你的心弦，再撥，再彈，直等到你的聲音是讚美、感謝，和「不要成就我的意思，只要成就你的意思」（聖經路加福音廿二章 42 節）── 神所最喜聽的音樂。── 選
“I am jealous over you with God’s own jealousy.” (2 Cor. 11:2.) (Weymouth.)
How an old harper dotes on his harp! How he fondles and caresses it, as a child resting on his bosom! His life is bound up in it. But, see him tuning it. He grasps it firmly, strikes a chord with a sharp, quick blow; and while it quivers as if in pain, he leans over intently to catch the first note that rises. The note, as he feared, is false and harsh. He strains the chord with the torturing thumb-screw; and though it seems ready to snap with the tension, he strikes it again, bending down to listen softly as before, till at length you see a smile on his face as the first true tone trembles upward.
So it may be that God is dealing with you. Loving you better than any harper loves his harp, He finds you a mass of jarring discords. He wrings your heartstrings with some torturing anguish; He bends over you tenderly, striking and listening; and, hearing only a harsh murmur, strikes you again, while His heart bleeds for you, anxiously waiting for that strain-“Not my will, but thine be done”-which is melody sweet to His ear as angels’ songs. Nor will He cease to strike until your chastened soul shall blend with all the pure and infinite harmonies of His own being. --- Selected.
“Oh, the sweetness that dwells in a harp of many strings, While each, all vocal with love in a tuneful harmony ring! But, oh, the wail and the discord, when one and another is rent, Tensionless, broken and lost, from the cherished instrument.
“For rapture of love is linked with the pain or fear of loss, And the hand that takes the crown, must ache with many a cross; Yet he who hath never a conflict, hath never a victor’s palm, And only the toilers know the sweetness of rest and calm.
“Only between the storms can the Alpine traveller know Transcendent glory of clearness, marvels of gleam and glow; Had he the brightness unbroken of cloudless summer days, This had been dimmed by the dust and the veil of a brooding haze.
“Who would dare the choice, neither or both to know, The finest quiver of joy or the agony thrill of woe! Never the exquisite pain, then never the exquisite bliss, For the heart that is dull to that can never be strung to this.”
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