Sweet patience, come:
Not from a low and earthly source, —
Waiting, till things shall have their course, —
Not as accepting present pain
On hope of some hereafter gain, —
Not in a dull and sullen calm, —
But as a breath of heavenly balm,
Bidding my weary heart submit
To bear whatever God sees fit:
Sweet Patience, come. – Hymns of The Church Militant
Sometimes we use a necessary patience to call attention to ourselves. We grumble and grown like my knees after a workout. We act as if our patience deserves a reward. When we do, our patience is hardly the virtue Suzy’s mother used to talk about.
Patience, when practiced correctly, endues us with content of mind and evenness of temper. Disappointments are not crosses, all anxious thoughts are disarmed of their sting. The eyes of the patient fixedly wait on the inward power of God’s providence.
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