Then Job answered and said,…
People who have not had trials themselves cannot give comfort to others. They may talk very beautifully, and they may give you a good deal of poetic sentiment; but while poetry is perfume that smells sweet, it makes a very poor salve. If you have a grave in a pathway, and somebody comes and covers it all over with flowers, it is a grave yet. Those who have not had grief themselves know not the mystery of a broken heart. They know not the meaning of childlessness, and the having no one to put to bed at night, or the standing in a room where every book, and picture, and door is full of memories — the doormat where she sat — the cup out of which she drank — the place where she stood at the door and clapped her hands — the odd figures she scribbled — the blocks she built into a house. Ah, no! you must have trouble yourself before you can comfort trouble in others.
(T. De Witt Talmage.)
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