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此後,我看見四位天使站在地的四角,執掌地上四方的風,叫風不吹在地上、海上,和樹上。 1 After this I saw four angels standing at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds of the earth to prevent any wind from blowing on the land or on the sea or on any tree.
我又看見另有一位天使,從日出之地上來,拿著永生神的印。他就向那得著權柄能傷害地和海的四位天使大聲喊著說: 2 Then I saw another angel coming up from the east, having the seal of the living God. He called out in a loud voice to the four angels who had been given power to harm the land and the sea:
此後,我觀看,見有許多的人,沒有人能數過來,是從各國、各族、各民、各方來的,站在寶座和羔羊面前,身穿白衣,手拿棕樹枝, 9 After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.
眾天使都站在寶座和眾長老並四活物的周圍,在寶座前,面伏於地,敬拜神, 11 All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God,
說:阿們!頌讚、榮耀、智慧、感謝、尊貴、權柄、大力都歸與我們的神,直到永永遠遠。阿們! 12 saying:「Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!」
我對他說:「我主,你知道。」他向我說:「這些人是從大患難中出來的,曾用羔羊的血把衣裳洗白淨了。 14 I answered, 「Sir, you know.」 And he said, 「These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
所以,他們在神寶座前,晝夜在他殿中事奉他。坐寶座的要用帳幕覆庇他們。 15 Therefore,「they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.
因為寶座中的羔羊必牧養他們,領他們到生命水的泉源;神也必擦去他們一切的眼淚。」 17 For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.」
June 15 "For God hath made me fruitful in the land of my affliction." (Gen. 41:52.) THE summer showers are falling. The poet stands by the window watching them. They are beating and buffeting the earth with their fierce downpour. But the poet sees in his imaginings more than the showers which are falling before his eyes. He sees myriads of lovely flowers which shall be soon breaking forth from the watered earth, filling it with matchless beauty and fragrance. And so he sings: "It isn't raining rain for me, it's raining daffodils; In every dimpling drop I see wild flowers upon the hills. A cloud of gray engulfs the day, and overwhelms the town; It isn't raining rain for me: it's raining roses down." Perchance some one of God's chastened children is even now saying, "O God, it is raining hard for me tonight. "Testings are raining upon me which seem beyond my power to endure. Disappointments are raining fast, to the utter defeat of all my chosen plans. Bereavements are raining into my life which are making my shrinking heart quiver in its intensity of suffering. The rain of affliction is surely beating down upon my soul these days." Withal, friend, you are mistaken. It isn't raining rain for you. It's raining blessing. for, if you will but believe your Father's Word, under that beating rain are springing up spiritual flowers of such fragrance and beauty as never before grew in that stormless, unchastened life of yours. You indeed see the rain. But do you see also the flowers? You are pained by the testings. But God sees the sweet flower of faith which is upspringing in your life under those very trials. You shrink from the suffering. But God sees the tender compassion for other sufferers which is finding birth in your soul. Your heart winces under the sore bereavement. But God sees the deepening and enriching which that sorrow has brought to you. It isn't raining afflictions for you. It is raining tenderness, love, compassion, patience, and a thousand other flowers and fruits of the blessed Spirit, which are bringing into your life such a spiritual enrichment as all the fullness of worldly prosperity and ease was never able to beget in your innermost soul. ─J. M. McC. SONGS ACROSS THE STORM "A harp stood in the moveless air, Where showers of sunshine washed a thousand fragrant blooms; A traveler bowed with loads of care, Essayed from morning till the dusk of evening gloom. To thrum sweet sounds from the songless strings; The pilgrim strives in vain with each unanswering chord, Until the tempest's thunder sings, And, moving on the storm, the fingers of the Lord A wondrous melody awakes; And though the battling winds their soldier deeds perform, Their trumpet-sound brave music makes, While God's assuring voice sings love across the storm."