Morning “Happy art thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord!”
/ Deuteronomy 33:29
He who affirms that Christianity makes men miserable, is himself an utter
stranger to it. It were strange indeed, if it made us wretched, for see to
what a position it exalts us! It makes us sons of God. Suppose you that God
will give all the happiness to his enemies, and reserve all the mourning for
his own family? Shall his foes have mirth and joy, and shall his home-born
children inherit sorrow and wretchedness? Shall the sinner, who has no part in
Christ, call himself rich in happiness, and shall we go mourning as if we were
penniless beggars? No, we will rejoice in the Lord always, and glory in our
inheritance, for we “have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear;
but we have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.”
The rod of chastisement must rest upon us in our measure, but it worketh for
us the comfortable fruits of righteousness; and therefore by the aid of the
divine Comforter, we, the “people saved of the Lord,” will joy in the God of
our salvation. We are married unto Christ; and shall our great Bridegroom
permit his spouse to linger in constant grief? Our hearts are knit unto him:
we are his members, and though for awhile we may suffer as our Head once
suffered, yet we are even now blessed with heavenly blessings in him. We have
the earnest of our inheritance in the comforts of the Spirit, which are
neither few nor small. Inheritors of joy forever, we have foretastes of our
portion. There are streaks of the light of joy to herald our eternal
sunrising. Our riches are beyond the sea; our city with firm foundations lies
on the other side the river; gleams of glory from the spirit-world cheer our
hearts, and urge us onward. Truly is it said of us, “Happy art thou, O Israel;
who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord?”
Evening “My Beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.” / Song of Solomon 5:4
Knocking was not enough, for my heart was too full of sleep, too cold and
ungrateful to arise and open the door, but the touch of his effectual grace
has made my soul bestir itself. Oh, the longsuffering of my Beloved, to tarry
when he found himself shut out, and me asleep upon the bed of sloth! Oh, the
greatness of his patience, to knock and knock again, and to add his voice to
his knockings, beseeching me to open to him! How could I have refused him!
Base heart, blush and be confounded! But what greatest kindness of all is
this, that he becomes his own porter and unbars the door himself. Thrice
blessed is the hand which condescends to lift the latch and turn the key. Now
I see that nothing but my Lord’s own power can save such a naughty mass of
wickedness as I am; ordinances fail, even the gospel has no effect upon me,
till his hand is stretched out. Now, also, I perceive that his hand is good
where all else is unsuccessful, he can open when nothing else will. Blessed be
his name, I feel his gracious presence even now. Well may my bowels move for
him, when I think of all that he has suffered for me, and of my ungenerous
return. I have allowed my affections to wander. I have set up rivals. I have
grieved him. Sweetest and dearest of all beloveds, I have treated thee as an
unfaithful wife treats her husband. Oh, my cruel sins, my cruel self. What can
I do? Tears are a poor show of my repentance, my whole heart boils with
indignation at myself. Wretch that I am, to treat my Lord, my All in All, my
exceeding great joy, as though he were a stranger. Jesus, thou forgivest
freely, but this is not enough, prevent my unfaithfulness in the future. Kiss
away these tears, and then purge my heart and bind it with sevenfold cords to
thyself, never to wander more.
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