Fly into the bosom of Christ
for refuge and safety. J. R. Miller, Intimate Letters
on Personal Problems, 1914. Whoever humbles himself like
this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew
18, 4. It is very sweet just to nestle
down in the bosom of Christ, to be as a little child with
Him. Those who come otherwise do not
get near to Him, but the childlike always find a close place in
His heart. So the more like children we
can be, in our trust and in the simplicity of our faith, in humbleness
of disposition, in willingness to do His will and to learn of
Him, the nearer to Him shall we get, and the more shall we
enjoy of His love. Some years ago, as I was passing
along one of our streets one afternoon, I heard a fluttering
of birds over my head, and looking up, saw a little bird flying
wildly about in circles, chased by a hawk. The bird flew down
lower and lower, and then darted into my bosom, under my coat. I cannot quite express to you
the feeling which filled my heart at that moment. that a little
bird chased by an enemy had come to me for refuge, trusting me
in time of danger. I laid my hand over the bird,
which nestled as quietly and confidently under my coat as
a baby would in a mother's bosom. I carried the little thing along
for several blocks, until I thought the way was clear of danger,
and then let it out. It flew away into the air again,
but showed no fear of me. ever since that experience, I
have understood better what it is to fly into the bosom of Christ
for refuge and safety in time of danger or in time of distress. All this helps me to understand
better what it means to Jesus when we, hunted and chased by
enemies or suffering from weakness or pain, fly to Him and hide
ourselves in His love. That is all we need to do, just
to creep into the bosom of Christ and lie down there with no fear,
no anxiety, but with simple trust. The lines of Wesley's old hymn
have meant more ever since. Jesus, lover of my soul, Let
me to thy bosom fly, While the narrow waters roll, While the
tempest still is high. Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past, Safe into the haven guide, O
receive my soul at last. Of the refuge have I none, hangs
my helpless soul on thee, Leave, ah, leave me not alone, still
support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed,
all my help from thee I bring, Cover my defenceless head with
the shadow of thy wing.