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並且造男造女。在他們被造的日子,神賜福給他們,稱他們為人。〉 2 He created them male and female and blessed them. And when they were created, he called them 「man.」 5:2 Hebrew ((Adam))
給他起名叫挪亞,說:這個兒子必為我們的操作和手中的勞苦安慰我們;這操作勞苦是因為耶和華咒詛地。 29 He named him Noah 5:29 ((Noah)) sounds like the Hebrew for ((comfort.)) and said, 「He will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the LORD has cursed.」
November 11 "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass." (Psalm 72:6) AMOS speaks of the king's mowings. Our King has many scythes, and is perpetually mowing His lawns. The musical tinkle of the whetstone on the scythe portends the cutting down of myriads of green blades, daisies and other flowers. Beautiful as they were in the morning, within an hour or two they lie in long, faded rows. Thus in human life we make a brave show, before the scythe of pain, the shears of disappointment, the sickle of death. There is no method of obtaining a velvety lawn but by repeated mowings; and there is no way of developing tenderness, evenness, sympathy, but by the passing of God's scythes. How constantly the Word of God compares man to grass, and His glory to its flower! But when grass is mown, and all the tender shoots are bleeding, and desolation reigns where flowers were bursting, it is the most acceptable time for showers of rain falling soft and warm. O soul, thou hast been mown! Time after time the King has come to thee with His sharp scythe. Do not dread the scythe-it is sure to be followed by the shower. -F. B. Meyer. "When across the heart deep waves of sorrow Break, as on a dry and barren shore; When hope glistens with no bright tomorrow, And the storm seems sweeping evermore; "When the cup of every earthly gladness Bears no taste of the life-giving stream; And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness,, Fade and die as in some fitful dream, "Who shall hush the weary spirit's chiding? Who the aching void within shall fill? Who shall whisper of a peace abiding, And each surging billow calmly still? "Only He whose wounded heart was broken With the bitter cross and thorny crown; Whose dear love glad words of joy had spoken, Who His life for us laid meekly down. "Blessed Healer, all our burdens lighten; Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we pray! Keep us near Thee till the morn shall brighten, And all the mists and shadows flee away!"