And perhaps it is partly our own fault, because we have pampered,
flattered, and indulged them too much. Ah! and just as often the
reverse is true--the child whom in our hearts we called Jabez; the
slow, dull child so hard to teach, so unresponsive, or perhaps so
wilful and obstinate that we never thought or spoke of him save with
secret fears and misgivings--the child who was always to be a burden
and a cross to us, develops by-and-by in beautiful and unexpected ways,
grows into moral strength and religious grace, becomes honourable in
the sight of all men, and saves our old age from going down with sorrow
to the grave. The golden harvest of our lives grows not where we look
for it, but often in the neglected places where God bids it grow.
Where our pride built its palace of content we find emptiness and
shame, and that which we almost cursed God for sending us becomes our
crown of rejoicing. She called his name Jabez, my sorrow, and lo! he
became her very consolation, most honourable of all.


II.

Faith wins the battle of life against many odds.


Yes! this is indeed a romance of faith--faith overcoming the world.
This child or youth starts out with all things against him. He is
likely to grow up into an Ishmaelite if he grows up at all. He starts
with an ill-starred name--a name that spells misfortune. He starts
without his mother's blessing and without a glimmer of hope to cheer
him; no father to give him a helping hand by the way--without
endowment, fortune, family, or friends. What chance can there be in
the race for one so heavily handicapped? Failure is written on his