Morning   “The evening and the morning were the first day.”    Genesis 1:5

Was it so even in the beginning? Did light and darkness divide the realm of time

in the first day? Then little wonder is it if I have also changes in my

circumstances from the sunshine of prosperity to the midnight of adversity. It

will not always be the blaze of noon even in my soul concerns, I must expect at

seasons to mourn the absence of my former joys, and seek my Beloved in the

night. Nor am I alone in this, for all the Lord’s beloved ones have had to sing

the mingled song of judgment and of mercy, of trial and deliverance, of mourning

and of delight. It is one of the arrangements of Divine providence that day and

night shall not cease either in the spiritual or natural creation till

we reach the land of which it is written, “there is no night there.” What our

heavenly Father ordains is wise and good.

What, then, my soul, is it best for thee to do? Learn first to be content with

this divine order, and be willing, with Job, to receive evil from the hand of

the Lord as well as good. Study next, to make the outgoings of the morning and

the evening to rejoice. Praise the Lord for the sun of joy when it rises, and

for the gloom of evening as it falls. There is beauty both in sunrise and

sunset; sing of it, and glorify the Lord. Like the nightingale, pour forth thy

notes at all hours. Believe that the night is as useful as the day. The dews of

grace fall heavily in the night of sorrow. The stars of promise shine forth

gloriously amid the darkness of grief. Continue thy service under all

changes. If in the day thy watchword be labour, at night exchange it for watch.

Every hour has its duty, do thou continue in thy calling as the Lord’s servant

until he shall suddenly appear in his glory. My soul, thine evening of old age

and death is drawing near; dread it not, for it is part of the day; and the Lord

has said, “I will cover him all the day long.”

 

Evening   “He will make her wilderness like Eden.”   Isaiah 51:3

Methinks, I see in vision a howling wilderness, a great and terrible desert,

like to the Sahara. I perceive nothing in it to relieve the eye, all around I am

wearied with a vision of hot and arid sand, strewn with ten thousand bleaching

skeletons of wretched men who have expired in anguish, having lost their way in

the pitiless waste. What an appalling sight! How horrible! a sea of sand without

a bound, and without an oasis, a cheerless graveyard for a race forlorn! But

behold and wonder! Upon a sudden, upspringing from the scorching sand I see a

plant of renown; and as it grows it buds, the bud expands–it is a rose, and at

its side a lily bows its modest head; and, miracle of miracles! as

the fragrance of those flowers is diffused the wilderness is transformed into a

fruitful field, and all around it blossoms exceedingly, the glory of Lebanon is

given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon. Call it not Sahara, call it

Paradise. Speak not of it any longer as the valley of deathshade, for where the

skeletons lay bleaching in the sun, behold a resurrection is proclaimed, and up

spring the dead, a mighty army, full of life immortal. Jesus is that plant of

renown, and his presence makes all things new. Nor is the wonder less in each

individual’s salvation. Yonder I behold you, dear reader, cast out, an infant,

unswathed, unwashed, defiled with your own blood, left to be

food for beasts of prey. But lo, a jewel has been thrown into your bosom by a

divine hand, and for its sake you have been pitied and tended by divine

providence, you are washed and cleansed from your defilement, you are adopted

into heaven’s family, the fair seal of love is upon your forehead, and the ring

of faithfulness is on your hand–you are now a prince unto God, though once an

orphan, cast away. O prize exceedingly the matchless power and grace which

changes deserts into gardens, and makes the barren heart to sing for joy.