Phineas F. Bresee - A Prince In Israel - Media Sabda Org

There is a place to me more dear
Than native vale or mountain;
A place for which affection's tear
Springs grateful from its fountain.
'Tis not where kindred souls abound
Though that were almost heaven;
But where I first my Saviour found
And felt my sins forgiven.
"But better than that, is to know Him now in the fulness of His love.
Nativity
"Greater even than to be 'born again,' is to be born at all. To be born is the setting up of new
forces, pushing off on the boundless sea of being an immortal soul. To have been created, to be alive,
is the most wonderful of all facts. No wonder the German poet said, 'To me also has come the
measureless glory of being alive.' Scarcely any thought comes to me with such unutterable meaning
as: I am a living being in the eternities of God. In connection with this there comes to me, from the
lips of God, bringing unspeakable joy, 'I have made and I will bear.' I am not left to find my destiny
in this boundless sea; but He bears me up with the certainties of His revelations and the riches of His
grace.
"A good livery team and two hours of drive, bring us to the place. No vestige of house, or mark
that any house had ever been; but here it is, surrounded by these hills, covered by these skies. Right
here is the place where, sixty-eight years ago, I opened my eyes to the light, and God laid me upon
the bosom of a mother who never ceased to love and care for me. Five years ago in a real translation,
God took her to Himself, but I am sure that her love still abides.
"When one year old, my parents moved to what was the real home of my childhood, nearly three
miles away. Thither we go.
Childhood
"The gentleman and his wife could not have been more courteous. The house was thrown open
to us, and we were conducted to everything reminiscent. From here the first things in memory rise.
Occurrences come up distinctly from the time I was one year old, through childhood. Here is the
same beech-tree under whose shade I rested; the same flowing spring, from whence the water still
flows; the two great twin rocks upon which my sister and myself played. But the house was most
replete with memories. I asked to see the chambers, and was conducted thither. I went directly to the
little room which was mine own. There in one corner was my bed. How vividly I remember, when
my mother used to put me to bed, and then knelt by the bed and prayed. The echo of her voice is still
in my soul, and the touch of her vanished hand still on my brow.