九月七日
經(jīng)文: 海上有憂愁，不得平靜旬渠。（耶利米書四十九：23）
我們不知道此刻在海上會(huì)有什么令人擔(dān)憂的事情俱萍。我們安坐在自己的家中，在遠(yuǎn)處的大海上告丢，現(xiàn)在可能正有一風(fēng)暴殘酷地襲擊船只枪蘑，要?dú)缫恍┤说纳Ｕ?qǐng)聽在甲板上死亡的咆哮岖免！當(dāng)波濤好像破城槌般擊打著船只岳颇，請(qǐng)看船身是如何戰(zhàn)栗！可憐的颅湘、濕透的话侧、疲乏的人啊，上帝能助你闯参！我的祈禱上達(dá)于海洋陸地之主瞻鹏，祂將平靜風(fēng)浪，領(lǐng)你進(jìn)入久盼的避風(fēng)港鹿寨！在祈禱以外新博，我應(yīng)作更多的事。我應(yīng)該為那些經(jīng)常冒險(xiǎn)的壯漢作些有益的事脚草。那狂暴的海洋經(jīng)常吞噬水手赫悄，海上死亡的憂愁在寡婦孤兒的哀泣中回蕩著。許多母親和妻子的眼中所流的是海洋的咸淚玩讳。毫無惻隱之心的巨浪啊，你已吞噬了婦人的愛和家庭的支柱嚼贡。當(dāng)海交出其中的死人熏纯，從地底深處復(fù)活的人是不計(jì)其數(shù)的！海上的憂愁將持續(xù)至那個(gè)時(shí)刻粤策。好像對(duì)著地土的憂患表同情樟澜，海洋永遠(yuǎn)拍擊著無際的海岸，像海鳥般悲鳴叮盘。她以煩躁空洞之響聲轟隆著秩贰，以喧囂之不滿譫語著，以兇暴之怒氣顛簸著柔吼，或與成萬喃喃細(xì)語的卵石爭鬧著毒费。這不是我們安息之處，洶涌澎湃的巨浪也如此告訴我們愈魏。有一地是沒有海洋的觅玻，我們的臉堅(jiān)定地朝向那地想际。我們要往主告訴我們的地方去。到那時(shí)溪厘，我們將憂傷交托給主胡本，祂是那位行走在海面上的主。祂為自己的百姓在海洋深處開出一條路來畸悬。
Evening, September 7
Scripture: “There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet.”(Jeremiah 49:23)
Little know we what sorrow may be upon the sea at this moment. We are safe in our quiet chamber, but far away on the salt sea the hurricane may be cruelly seeking for the lives of men. Hear how the death fiends howl among the cordage; how every timber starts as the waves beat like battering rams upon the vessel! God help you, poor drenched and wearied ones! My prayer goes up to the great Lord of sea and land, that he will make the storm a calm, and bring you to your desired haven! Nor ought I to offer prayer alone, I should try to benefit those hardy men who risk their lives so constantly. Have I ever done anything for them? What can I do? How often does the boisterous sea swallow up the mariner! Thousands of corpses lie where pearls lie deep. There is death-sorrow on the sea, which is echoed in the long wail of widows and orphans. The salt of the sea is in many eyes of mothers and wives. Remorseless billows, ye have devoured the love of women, and the stay of households. What a resurrection shall there be from the caverns of the deep when the sea gives up her dead! Till then there will be sorrow on the sea. As if in sympathy with the woes of earth, the sea is for ever fretting along a thousand shores, wailing with a sorrowful cry like her own birds, booming with a hollow crash of unrest, raving with uproarious discontent, chafing with hoarse wrath, or jangling with the voices of ten thousand murmuring pebbles. The roar of the sea may be joyous to a rejoicing spirit, but to the son of sorrow the wide, wide ocean is even more forlorn than the wide, wide world. This is not our rest, and the restless billows tell us so. There is a land where there is no more sea—our faces are steadfastly set towards it; we are going to the place of which the Lord hath spoken. Till then, we cast our sorrows on the Lord who trod the sea of old, and who maketh a way for his people through the depths thereof.
