Blessed are they that mourn: For they shall be comforted.
“Is it raining little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither thee
‘Twill shine again.
The sky is very black, ‘tis true,
But just behind it shines the blue.”
The house of sorrow is a strange place to look for joy. Mourners are the last people the world would call blessed or happy. Men in their quest for happiness would not think of looking for it in the shadows of grief. Yet Jesus said, “Blessed are they that mourn.”
There are many who mourn. Few are the homes in which there is not some grief. Not all sorrows hang crape on the door or wear a badge of grief. Threre are secret troubles, and tears are shed where no eye sees them fall.
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