“I am learning never to be disappointed, but to praise,” Arnot of Central Africa wrote in his journal long ago… I think it must hurt the tender love of our Father when we press for reasons for His dealings with us, as though He were not Love, as though not He but another chose our inheritance for us, and as though what He chose to allow could be less than the very best and dearest that Love Eternal had to give.
… Amy Carmichael (1867-1951), Rose from Brier [1933], London: SPCK, 1950, p. 116
