Evening, September 27
Go To Morning Reading
“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.