Charles H. Spurgeon on Psalms 103:4

Tender mercies. I do not know that I can do better than tell you a little incident that took place in my native town of Stirling. Workmen were blasting the castle rock, near where it abuts upon a walk that lies open to the street. The train was laid and lit, and an explosion was momentarily expected. Suddenly trotting round the great wall of the cliff, came a little child going straight to where the match burned. The men shouted —(it was mercy) —and by their very terror in shouting, alarmed and bewildered the poor little thing. By this time the mother also had come round: in a moment saw the danger; opened wide her arms, and cried from her very heart, "Come to me, my darling, " —(that was tender mercy) —and instantly, with eager pattering feet, and little arms opened to her arms, and tear-filled eyes answering to her eyes —the little thing ran back and away, and stopped not until she was clasped in her mother's bosom —wealth of sunny hair loosened on it, and lips coral red pressed to mother's pallid lip of fear —as the motherly heart gave way to tears, in the thought of so imperilled an escape: for it was barely by a second, as the roar of the shattered rock told. Alexander B. Grosart, in "The Pastor and Helper of Joy, "1865.