Sweet Primrose

I see the green leaves of a plant most dear to all who love the woods in spring. It is now nestling under a hedge upon a shelving bank, just above a trickling stream.

I ask why it does not bloom, and it whispers to me that it will bloom by-and-by.

But, sweet primrose, why not put forth thy lovely flower at once, and gladden us with thy beauty?

She answers, ‘I am waiting for him.’

For whom dost thou tarry, thou herald of spring?

She meekly answers, ‘I am waiting for my lord, the sun.’

Dost thou not need other friends and helpers?

‘Nay,’ saith she, ‘the coming of my lord will be enough, and when he putteth forth his strength I shall put on my beauty.’

But wilt thou not need soft, pearly drops of dew to glisten on thy leaves? Are not thy blossoms most fair to gaze upon when all around you keep time and tune therewith, when the violet and harebell are in thy company, when the buds are swelling and the green-winged linnet sings?

To which she replies, ‘He will bring them, he will bring them all.’

But art thou not afraid of the killing frosts, and the dreary snowstorms?

‘He will chase them all away,’ says the little plant: ‘I shall be safe enough when he brings on the spring.’

Believer, you are that plant and Jesus is your sun. He will bring you healing beneath His wings, and joy in the light of His countenance.

— ‘My Restorer’ - Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol. 19 p.723-730 (C.H. Spurgeon)

My Restorer

He restoreth my soul.

— Psalm 23:3 (KJV)

—-
I am here this morning to say concerning my Lord, ‘He restoreth my soul.’ He has not cast me off, or left me to myself, or abandoned me to my own devices, but in love to my soul He has plucked my feet out of the net, drawn me up from the horrible pit, and set my feet upon the rock of His immutable love.

To leave His sheep to perish is not like our Savior; the heart refuses credence to such an idea, it so unlike Him. My witness is that ‘He restoreth my soul.’ He has done this so often that He may well be described as always doing it. The psalmist puts it in the present tense, as if the Lord were in the habit of doing so, and were even at this moment in the act of restoring his soul.

Truly I must confess that I wander, and He restores me. Child of God, as numerous as your sins have been, so numerous have His restorations been. After a hundred times erring, you might have provoked Him to say, ‘He is given unto his idols, let him alone; my Spirit shall no longer strive with him.’ But no, He turns His hand again upon you, and once more leads you in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. The mother forgets not her suckling, though it is often fretful and peevish; she still has compassion upon the son of her womb: even thus is it with Jesus.

We are too deeply graven on the palms of His hands to be at last left to die; we have cost Him too dear for Him to relinquish us. Having restored our soul a hundred times, He still restores it. It is the way of Him; it is the habit of His love.

. . .

For His name’s sake He doth restore our souls when we wander from His way. Strange are the means He uses. Sometimes it is a rod most heavy, at other times a love-call sweetly fascinating. Singular are the modes of dealing with His people; He will break them in pieces and crush them beneath His feet, apparently in hot displeasure, but all with the view of making them sick of sin and eager after Himself. He will rend them as a lion rends his prey, and this not to destroy, but to save them. Is it not written, ‘I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal?’ Often by dispensations of terror He leads us into ways of grace, and frequently that which appears to be our utter destruction ends in our complete restoration, according to His grace.

— ‘My Restorer’ - Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol. 19 pg. 723-730 (C.H. Spurgeon)

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O, beloved!

Isn’t this the truth?! As many times as we turn from Him momentarily and forget His goodness and begin to crumble, He reclaims and restores our souls, yes? (gentle)

He is faithful to us, even when we are falling apart, flailing about like a small child in her father’s arms. We are mad or dissatisfied with something; we want something we can’t have (yet); we think we know how to do it ‘all by ourselves’ and see His intervention as an intrusion rather than a help, don’t we, beloved? At times?

Our souls…they are so fragile. They feel like they’re breaking, or at least floundering, many times a day. They feel lost, afraid, confused. They know they are missing something, looking for something - but sometimes they forget what, Who.

How we need Him to restore us, beloved! And not just once or twice, but over and over and over again, day by day, moment by moment! We need Him! We can’t do any of this on our own, sweet one.

And how great is His Love for us, yes, beloved?! (amazed) He has every right and reason to reject us, to lose His patience with us, to give up on us…and yet, He continues to deal with us gently, even as He breaks us. And as He molds us into something new, something greater, something, someone more like Him!

Please, beloved! Please, let us dwell Together in this incredible grace, this incredible Love! He chooses to restore us! Our souls, even here and now, can know His peace and joy! He fills us! He remakes us! He takes the old and brings new in its place! What hope, beloved! What hope we have in our Beloved King, the One who Restores!

We trust in Him Together, now and always.

There Is A Land

There is a land where beauty cannot fade,
Nor sorrow dim the eye;
Where true love shall not droop nor be dismayed,
And none shall ever die!
Where is that land, O where?
For I would hasten there!
Tell me, I fain would go,
For I am wearied with a heavy woe!
The beautiful have left me all alone:
The true, the tender, from my path are gone!
O, guide me with thy hand,
If thou dost know the land,
For I am burdened with oppressive care,
And I am weak and fearful with despair!
Where is it? tell me where?
Thou that art kind and gentle, tell me where?

Friend, thou must trust in Him who trod before
The desolate paths of life;
Must bear in meekness, as He meekly bore,
Sorrow, and pain, and strife!
Think how the Son of God
These thorny path hath trod;
Think how He longed to go,
Yet tarried out for thee the appointed woe:
Think of His weariness in places dim,
When no man comforted or cared for Him!
Think of the blood-like sweat
With which His brow was wet,
Yet how He prayed, unaided and alone,
In that great agony, ‘Thy will be done!’
Friend, do not thou despair,
Christ from His heaven of heavens
Will hear thy prayer!

— From the German of Uhland (1804)

Help Our Unbelief

Father, when o’er our trembling hearts
Doubts shadows gathering brood,
When faith in Thee almost departs,
And gloomiest fears intrude,
Forsake us not, O God of grace,
But send those fears relief;
Grant us again to see Thy face;
Lord, help our unbelief.

When sorrow comes, and joys are flown,
And fondest hopes lie dead,
And blessings, long esteemed our own,
Are now forever fled, —
When the bright promise of our spring
Is but a withered leaf, —
Lord, to Thy truths still let us cling;
Help Thou our unbelief.

And when the powers of nature fail
Upon the couch of pain,
Nor love nor friendship can avail
The spirit to detain,
Then, Father, be our closing eyes
Undimmed by tears of grief;
And if a trembling doubt arise,
Help Thou our unbelief.

— Rev. S.G. Bulfinch

—-

Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, ‘I believe; help my unbelief!’

— Mark 9:24 (ESV)

Fellowship In Suffering

That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings.

— Philippians 3:10 (KJV)

—-

Humbly while my soul doth prove
Sweetest joys of pardoning love,
Still, my Savior, doth it yearn
Love’s deep mystery to learn,
In the shadow of Thy cross
Counting earthly gain but loss,
Breathing still its fervent plea
For a closer life with Thee,
By that high and holy thing,
Fellowship in suffering.

O my Lord, the Crucified!
Who for love of me hast died,
Mould me by Thy living breath
To the likeness of Thy death;
While the thorns Thy brows entwine,
Let no flower-wreath rest on mine.
In Thy hands the cruel nail,
Blood-sweat on Thy forehead pale;
Clasp me to Thy wounded side,
O my Lord the Crucified!

Hands, love-clasped through charmed hours,
Feet that press the bruised flowers,
Is there aught for you to dare
That ye may His signet bear?
In this easy, painless life,
Free from struggle, care, and strife,
Ever on my doubting breast
Lies the shadow of unrest;
This no path that Jesus trod;
Can the smooth way lead to God?

But when chastening stripes descend,
Welcoming as friend doth friend,
Thy dear tokens, Lord, I know,
And to Thee unerring go;
Blessed tears flow warm and free,
Thou dost love me — even me.
Pomp and ease, and praise of men,
All are loathed and scorned then,
Since my Lord, my Love, hath died,
Mocked and scourged and crucified.

By the agony and pain
Of the torture-striken brain,
By the riches of Thy love,
Let not suffering barren prove;
Pledge and emblem ‘t would remain
Of the dark and sullen pain,
Where nor love nor good doth live,
And the blessed word ‘forgive’
Comes not with its subtle art,
Softening, healing, any heart.

In the little islet Time
Of Eternity sublime,
Standing on the flopping brink,
Let me of Thy chalice drink,
Be baptized with Thy baptism,
And be crowned with Thy love-chrism;
Slain with Thee in darkest hour,
Feel Thy resurrection power,
Till where Thou art I may be,
Perfected, dear Lord, with Thee!

— Christian Mirror

Seeking Preciousness

The things we ask for are precious, but we do not realize their preciousness until we have sought them earnestly.

— C.H. Spurgeon

Always, And For All Things

Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

— Ephesians 5:20 (KJV)

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The difficult point is to give thanks to Him for the bitter things, for the disguised blessings, for the love tokens that come to us from Him in black envelopes, for those benefits which travel to us via crucis, by way of the cross, which are generally the most heavily laden wagons that ever come from our Father’s country. We are to give thanks for the dark things, the cutting things, the things which plague and vex us, and disquiet our spirits, for these are among the ‘all things’ for which we ought to praise and bless God.

Doubtless, if our eyes were opened, like those of Elijah’s servant, we should see our trials to be amongst our choicest treasures. If we exercise the far-seeing eye of faith and not the dim eyes of sense, we shall discover that nothing can be more fatal to us than to be without affliction, and that nothing is more beneficial to us than to be tried as with fire. Therefore we will glory in tribulations also; we will bless and magnify the name of the Lord that He leads us through the wilderness that He may prove us, and that He may fit us for dwelling by-and-by in the promised land.

. . .

The day will come, when we shall fulfill our text in the widest sense, for then we shall give thanks to God, at the winding up of the drama, of human history, for everything that has happened, from the fall even to the destruction of the wicked. We may not be able to do so now. Our eye sees the gigantic evil, and does not see the over-ruling good which, like a boundless sea rolls over all: the dreadful mysteries of evil make us tremble as we think of them; but the day may come when, with the Lord Jesus, we may not only bless God for electing love, but may even say, ‘I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent.’

The day may come when even the darkest side of the divine decrees, and the profoundest depths of the divine action, shall cause us to adore with gratitude, and when even that which can least be understood in providence, shall no longer be the subject of awe-struck wonder, but of unspeakable delight. We shall trace the line of perfection along the course of the divine decrees and workings, and though the way of the Lord may have seemed to us to be inscrutable, we shall then adore Him for that wondrous display of all His attributes— His justice, His love, His truth, His faithfulness, His omnipotence — which shall blaze forth with tenfold splendor.

In heaven we shall give thanks to God always for all things, without exception, and throughout eternity we shall magnify His holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Let us do it as best we can today, God’s Spirit helping us.

— ‘Always, and For All Things’ - The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol. 19 pg. 66-68 (C.H. Spurgeon)

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Beloved? (gentle) I know today was a hard day for you, and that’s ok. (tender) Hard days, they tell us that something isn’t right - with us, with the world. Hard days cause us to recognize our immense dissatisfaction and need, and point us to the only One who can satisfy and provide for us perfectly, do you know? (gentle) So hard days are nothing to be ashamed of or regret, please?

When you have a hard day, you never need fear that you’re ‘dragging me down’ or ‘not being strong for me’ or any such nonsense, beloved. (gentle) When you are having a hard day, I want to know. Because I want to know you, my beloved! And because it’s my delight to walk beside you in and through anything and everything here, in this pilgrim land, beloved - just as you do with and for me, yes?

Do you see what these words of Spurgeon and of Scripture are trying to tell us, beloved? We are to give thanks for All Things, my sweet one! Even - perhaps, especially - those things which come to us by way of the cross. The cross always looks like death, beloved, but what follows always is Life! Beautiful, glorious, everlasting Life!

Our eyes just can’t see that clearly much of the time, beloved. We’re stuck in the blackness, the dark, scary, silent tomb…but do you see how that isn’t the end of the Story, beloved? (gentle) Love and Life are always the end of every story He writes!

We don’t understand now, beloved, but we will, some Day! We will see how every tear, every ache, every longing was His wooing and His weaving - His priceless gift to us, beloved! It will be so! I have faith! Please have faith with me? May we trust His words Together, please? May we practice, Together, giving thanks in all things? I would like to learn that with you, beloved, alongside you. I think it would please Him so.

We will do our best then, my sweet one, to honor and worship and adore Him in this way, day by day, moment by moment, until we are - at last! - Home, Together, forever!!! What a blessed Day that will be, yes?! (excited) Soon and very Soon, beloved! He is coming for us! All praise and thanks be unto our Good King, now and always - come what may!

Thou Art Beloved

Let peace be thine first, because thou art ‘greatly beloved.’ Whatever is happening or not happening, thou are greatly beloved. The Lord loved thee or ever the earth was, He redeemed thee with the blood of His own Son, He hath called thee into fellowship with Jesus—Peace! thou art beloved, does not that give you peace? ‘Hush, my babe,’ says the mother, ‘lie still and slumber,’ and the sweetest hush in all her lullaby is the mention of her own love. So, dear child of God, be still, be calm, thou art beloved of heaven.

— ‘The Man Greatly Beloved’ - The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit pg. 10 (C.H. Spurgeon)

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O, beloved!

Do you know? You are greatly beloved.

Please don’t forget. Every precious word spoken, every thing created, every action, every divine ordination, is His sovereign purpose in making this known to you.

Every chastisement, every act of grace, every work of mercy, everything is sanctioned by God for His glory and our good.

So, beloved…do you see? We are safe.

Please, do not fear, my child. Be at peace. We are loved with an everlasting, steadfast Love.

All is well.

A Love Of Faith

’Tis when love can only be in part,
Not fully seen or known,
That blossoms swell like bosoms soft,
Upon the vine He grows.

Soaked in sunshine, gentle rain;
Wind-blown, yet sure and true.
The longing only serves them well —
Anticipation of All Things New!

Sweeter still is the tender flower
Who clings to the life-giving Vine;
Not knowing what the season holds,
But trusting and sublime.

No greater love is there than this,
That waits, seeks not its own;
But surrenders every petal and leaf,
Lies humbled, entwined, near His throne.

In faith, we relinquish doubts and fears,
Give Time a chance to work;
To grow this dim little vine to full,
‘Til eyes see in vivid color.

For once that Great Day shall arrive,
When the harvest of Love is secured,
He will give us to each with such joy:
‘Well done, my child — you have endured!’

Uni❤

O, feeble, pathetic soul –
Love-sick – taking its toll.
Thirsty, achy, sorrowful, sad;
Searching, grasping – heart gone, mad.

Wanting, hoping, longing to be
Adored, cherished, known – free.
Alone, desperate, trying;
Heart: cold – sighing.

Rejected, discouraged, confused;
Mind, body, soul – bruised.
Desire: gone awry;
Spirit, pondering: defy?

✿

Then! – Lovely: She –
Beauty: came to me;
Such like He!
Already, not yet — Intimacy.

Love: revealed — posed;
At last, bone of my bones;
Flesh of my flesh!
O, Lord! this gift…for me? ‘Yes!’

Astounded, dumbfounded, dazed;
Bewildered, I, amazed!
Perfect likeness, in every way;
He – still – molding us: clay.

☁

However…ashamed, I confess;
’Tis joy, at times – feels…less.
Dark moments, bliss stolen –
Lies of jealousy, spoken.

Tears, heartache, shame –
O, Lord — why? Such pain!
When least expected,
A feeling creeps in: dejected.

Peace, oft’ times sought, in vain;
Once again – I – cannot claim.
Tenderly, each prickly agitation,
Reminds me of His gift: salvation.

❤

Uni❤ – Together: already, not yet.
Trusting, waiting – no fear, no fret.
O, beloved — let us rejoice!
May we be: one voice!

Love: with a capital ‘L’ revealed –
I, once sick, now: healed!
Still — desperate for Love;
He provides gifts, from above.

Please, beloved – may I be?
Obsequious, sacrificial, adoring;
Prostrate, servile, toadying;
Uni❤ – all of me, forever: giving.

⁂

Come, beloved —
Come away with me.
Together: may we be.

The Pale Bell Of The Heath

There is a little flower of exquisite delicacy, which springs up among the heath and rough grass, in uncultivated spots.

Its form is that of a single bell closely resembling the Canterbury bell of our gardens, and its texture transparently fine.

The stem, perhaps, rises two inches from the ground, and there in the attitude of a snow-drop, depends this soft, little cup, dissimilar in many respects from the well-known blue-bell of the heaths, and wearing the grey tint of its kindred autumnal sky, rather than the sprightly azure of summer.

The aspect of this wild flower is so infantile, so fragile, so ethereal, that we wonder to recognize it among the hardy heather and the rugged grasses where it usually dwells.

We see it in our path one day; the next it is gone, leaving no perceptible vacancy among its thickly spread neighbors, except to the eye of those who marked its lovely form unfolding to the bleak winds, and anticipated how short a sojourn such a thing of gossamer would make on such a clime.

— ‘Chapters on Flowers’ pg. 185 (Charlotte Elizabeth)

Overwhelmed By Your Grace

O Lord, I bless You, not only for Your pardon of those sins I have committed, but also for Your goodness in preserving me from those many thousands of other sins I was prone to fall into.

If I could repent to the highest degree, or achieve the holiness of men and angels, it could not make up the damage sin has made upon me.

Who was more plunged into sin than I? Whose diseases were greater than mine? It may be that thousands and thousands of other souls are now taking their place in hell, for less and fewer sins than I have committed.

I do not call upon You to repeal any threat or nullify Your Word. I do not ask You to become unjust. But Your wisdom has found out a way that I may be pardoned and You May be satisfied.

Your overflowing goodness overcomes me. If only I had the hearts of all men and angels to praise You. Amen.

— Anthony Burgess

Together: Sharing Abundance

For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

— 2 Corinthians 1:5

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There is a perfect balance in this. God in His providence operates the scales; on one side He puts His people’s trials, and on the other He puts their consolations. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of consolation in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trials is full, you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy. When the dark clouds gather, the light is more brightly revealed to us. When night falls and the storm is brewing, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to His crew. It is a blessed thing that when we are most downcast, then we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our hearts — He finds it full — He begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man is, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often happiest in our troubles is this — then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: When the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But when our shelter is removed, then we want our God; when the house is purged of idols, then we are compelled to honor the Lord. “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!” There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains, no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. They bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, do not fret over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies.

— Morning and Evening (February 12th - Morning), C. H. Spurgeon

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O, beloved!

Do you see? What grace!? What mercy!? My! O, my heart! I am amazed and overcome by awe and wonder in considering our Lord’s blessed dealings with us! I only see dimly now, through these eyes of faith, some little bits of the glory that is wrapped up in this truth…but some Day!…

Some Day, beloved, we will see Him as He is, beloved! Some Day, in the fullness of Time, we’ll see fully ALL of His marvelous, loving acts of grace, mercy, and goodness towards us!

O, beloved! (gentle) Let us persevere by faith. Let us ask — let us cry out to Him moment by moment in reverent awe and wonder — let us continually trust in His sovereign will. Aye, gladly!

He is good.

All is well.

Peace be with you.

The Soul That Loves God Finds Him Everywhere

O Thou, by long experience tried,
Near whom no grief can long abide;
My Love! how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment!

All scenes alike engaging prove
To souls impressed with sacred Love!
Where’er they dwell, they dwell in Thee;
In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.

To me remains nor place nor Time!
My country is in every clime;
I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since God is there.

While place we seek, or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But, with a God to guide our way,
’Tis equal joy to go or stay.

Could I be cast where Thou art not
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.

My country, Lord, art Thou alone;
Nor other can I claim or own;
The point where all my wishes meet;
My law, my love; life’s only sweet!

I hold by nothing here below;
Appoint my journey, and I go;
Though pierced by scorn, oppressed by
I feel Thee good, feel nought beside.

No frowns of men can hurtful prove
To souls on fire with heavenly Love!
Though men and devils both condemn,
No gloomy days arise from them.

Ah, then! to His embrace repair;
My soul, thou art no stranger there;
There Love divine shall be thy guard,
And peace and safety thy reward.

— William Cowper

I Wrestle With Sin

You are my Lord and God, and I will serve You.

I have chosen You as my inheritance forever, and I will wait for Your salvation.

Hear the sighing of Your prisoner, and deliver Your captive. My heart is with You.

I pray that sin would no longer reign in my mortal body. I want nothing more to do with the throne of iniquity. Untie the chains, loosen the cuffs, and bring my soul out of prison.

Search me, Lord, and know my heart. Prove me, and know my thoughts. Is there any way of wickedness in me? Do I willingly go after sin’s commandments? Do I harbor iniquity in my heart?

It is true: My heart wars against You. It riots and rebels against You.

But do I resign myself to it? Is it a pleasure to me? Am I at peace with it?

Lord, You know. I cannot rid myself of the iniquity in my heart, I cannot do the things I would, I cannot pray as I would. I cannot listen as I would — nor think, nor speak, nor live as I would.

Wherever I go, sin goes with me. Where I stay, it stays. If I sit still, there it is with me. If I run from it, it follows me. I cannot rest, I cannot work, I cannot do anything — sin is always hounding me.

And yet, blessed be Your name, this I do: I fight against it. I wrestle with it, though it often takes me down. I do not trust it, though it flatters me. I do not love it, though it feeds me.

My heart is with You, Lord. I am following after You. I groan and I struggle in pain, waiting for Your redemption. Until I die, I will not give up.

I will die fighting. I will die hoping. I will die praying.

Save me, Lord. Do not delay, my God.

Amen.

— Richard Alleine