February 1 — Evening

Come, dear readers, let each one of us speak for himself of the wonderful love, not of Jonathan, but of Jesus. We will not relate what we have been told, but the things which we have tasted and handled-of the love of Christ. Your love to me, O Jesus, was wonderful when I was a stranger wandering far from You, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind. Your love restrained me from committing the sin which is to death, and withheld me from self-destruction. Your love held back the axe when Justice said, "Cut it down! why cumbers it the ground?" Your love drew me into the wilderness, stripped me there, and made me feel the guilt of my sin, and the burden of mine iniquity. Your love spoke thus comfortably to me when, I was sore dismayed-"Come to Me, and I will give you rest." Oh, how matchless Your love when, in a moment, You didst wash my sins away, and make my polluted soul, which was crimson with the blood of my nativity, and black with the grime of my transgressions, to be white as the driven snow, and pure as the finest wool. How You didst commend Your love when You didst whisper in my ears, "I am your and you art Mine." Kind were those accents when You saidst, "The Father Himself lovs you." And sweet the moments, passing sweet, when You declaredst to me "the love of the Spirit." Never shall my soul forget those chambers of fellowship where You has unveiled Thyself to me. Had Moses his cleft in the rock, where he saw the train, the back parts of his God? We, too, have had our clefts in the rock, where we have seen the full splendours of the Godhead in the person of Christ. Did David remember the tracks of the wild goat, the land of Jordan and the Hermonites? We, too, can remember spots to memory dear, equal to these in blessedness. Precious Lord Jesus, give us a fresh draught of Your wondrous love to begin the month with. Amen.