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Nature teaches that to every season of trouble and overthrow there comes resurrection. In the deepest January of the year there is a nerve that runs forward to June. Life is never extinguished. That which seems to be death reaches forward and touches that which is vital.

I. NATIONS SEEM TO HAVE THEIR PERIODS LIKE THE YEAR. Neither in civilization nor in Christian elements do they seem to mount up with steady growth. They move, rather, as it were in spirals. They often return as if falling back, and yet their progress, on the whole, is onward.

II. DEEP CONVULSIONS AND EMBARRASSMENTS OF ALL INDUSTRIAL PURSUITS ARE WONT TO GO ALONG WITH NATIONAL TRIALS. So it has been with us. To all those whose wheels of enterprise are blocked; to all those whose past growths are withering; to all whose roots are locked in the icy soil; to all whose leaves are touched by the frost of disappointment — to them I say, the winter is past; the time of the singing of birds has come. Wait a little; some more snows may fall, and there may be some more frosts; but the time of the singing of birds has come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our affairs.

III. THERE ARE THE SAME EXPERIENCES IN FAMILIES AS IN NATIONS AND INDUSTRIAL COMMUNITIES. There are some families that seem compelled to go to the promised land, as the Israelites did, through a desert. There are many that, having experienced long years of toil and suffering, come out only at last. But there are many that, having been prospered and happy, lapse into a state of want and trouble. The streams that swelled with prosperity, swell no more; the birds that sang of prosperity sing no more. They come from wealth and comfort into distress and poverty. But are there no spring-like days that come upon the winter of troubles in the household? Is it all blast, all blight, all burying? Is there nothing but pale, white, enwrapping snow? Are there no birds that ever fly athwart the sky of the bereaved family? Is there an utter absence of everything like comfort and cheer? Blessed be God, even though trouble may abide, joy comes too.

IV. THE SAME IS EMINENTLY TRUE OF INDIVIDUALS. They know not why things have gone against them. If you were to hear some men's experience, you would think that they grow as the white pine grows, with straight grain, and easily split — for I notice that all that grow easy split easy. But there are some that grow as the mahogany grows, with veneering knots, and all quirls and contortions of grain. That is the best timber of the forest which has the most knots. Everybody seeks it, because, being hard to grow, it is hard to wear out. And when knots have been sawn and polished, how beautiful they are! There are those who have fought the fight of great trouble in sickness. Not all the soldiers of God are in the battle-field. There are those there who are strong-backed, whose muscles are like brawn, whose bones are like flint, and whose faces, for zeal, are like the face of January, and for enthusiasm are like the face of July. But these are not God s only soldiers, nor his strongest soldiers. Some of God's most heroic soldiers are the bedridden. If sickness be God's will, even so. His will be done, not mine. The time of the singing of birds has come to such a heart. To such a heart spring has come, and summer is not far off.

V. THERE ARE APPLICATIONS INNUMERABLE TO SPIRITUAL CONDITIONS. Many of you have cast your leaves. You have seen November, and gone wading through the cold winter of backsliding. But March has come round to you. A little bird began to sing right in your family. Before you thought of such a thing, you heard the singing of birds. It was your daughter that sung; or, it was the little child of your next-door neighbour. There is beginning to be a warmth in your heart. You are beginning to think of your declining days. You are beginning to yearn for the old love. You are beginning to say, "Is it not time for the winter to be gone, and for the spring to have come in my heart?" The time, oh! backsliding Christians; oh, wandering professor of religion; oh! child of God, beloved of Him, and yet forgetful of your Father and your Saviour — the time of the singing of birds has come to you. Rise up and rejoice!

VI. WE ARE ALL OF US GOING THROUGH LIFE AS A KIND OF WINTER. We are as we go towards age, dropping our hair, and losing, one by one, our senses. We are drifting towards autumn. Then come the vacuous days of the winter of seeming uselessness — declines which men dread. How many hate age! This is the winter of human life, to be sure: but just beyond is the rising of that bright immortal spring where the birds of heaven sing, and which, when it has once begun, shall never be followed by winter, and shall never be visited by storms. We are all of us drawing near to the sweet spring of resurrection.

(H. W. Beecher.)

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KJV: My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

WEB: My beloved spoke, and said to me, "Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.