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A heart without gratitude is like a grate filled with fuel unlighted, and the room all the colder because of the unfulfilled promise of glow and warmth. A grateful heart is one in which the fire of holy love is kindled. Let those who have received favours and feel their obligation either to God or man, give some expression of it. The world is filled with illustrations of the propriety of such acknowledgments. You must have observed how in great campaigns it is customary for commanders to make honourable mention of those who have distinguished themselves by successful valour — not for the purpose of ministering to the soldier's pride or flattering his vanity, but for awarding him a tribute founded in justice and truth. It is right that the soldier who has stood upon the bloody front of battle and vindicated his valour and patriotism should receive the grateful acknowledgment of the country he has served. The leader of brave men is not content with thinking well of the prowess of those who have done nobly; he proclaims it as something due to those who have struggled and triumphed. In kind words from such a source there is both inspiration and reward. There was something pathetic in the appeal which a little boy made to his father, when he cried, "I often do wrong, I know, and then you scold me and I deserve it; but, father, sometimes I do my best to do right! Won't you let me know when I do please you?" Let the discriminating parent, pleased with the child's progress in any right direction — "say so." So, too, there are parents who have to wait long for the recognition of their devotion to their children — a devotion which gathers into itself the prayers, the anguish, the sacrifices of body, soul, and spirit. An old Virginia minister said lately, "Men of my profession see much of the tragic side of life. I have seen men die in battle, have seen children die, but no death ever seemed so pathetic to me as the death of an aged mother in my church. The children gathered around her bedside. The oldest son took her in his arms. He said, 'You have been a good mother to us.' That was not much to say, was it? It was much to her, who had never heard anything like it. A flush came ever her pallid face, and with husky voice she whispered, 'My son, you never said so before!'" The text directs our thought and affection to what we owe to the very Father of mercies. "His mercy endureth for ever." How illimitably broad is the field which is thus opened before us — the field of the Divine mercy! It is like the field of creation. In that field the telescope cannot pierce to depths of space where shining worlds do not declare the glory of God — nor can the microscope search out a point which is not still bright with evidences of His handiwork. The eye of sense looks out and everywhere goodness and mercy rise before it, until the horizon shuts down and bounds the vision. And then the eye of faith opens, and new fields, measureless and glorious, meet its gaze, until, in its turn, its powers fail. Yes, its powers fail, but the field has not failed; onward it stretches, illimitably, and over it the redeemed shall range with every new delight to all eternity. God's mercy is from everlasting, and so the treasures of memory will ever be increasing; it is to everlasting, and so the anticipations of hope can never be diminished.

(M. D. Hoge, D.D.)

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KJV: Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy;

WEB: Let the redeemed by Yahweh say so, whom he has redeemed from the hand of the adversary,