Spurgeon: March AM
* 03/20/AM
"My beloved."
--Song of Solomon 2:8
This was a golden name which the ancient Church in her most
joyous moments was wont to give to the Anointed of the Lord.
When the time of the singing of birds was come, and the voice of
the turtle was heard in her land, her love-note was sweeter
than either, as she sang, " My beloved is mine and I am His: He
feedeth among the lilies." Ever in her song of songs doth she
call Him by that delightful name, "My beloved!" Even in the long
winter, when idolatry had withered the garden of the Lord, her
prophets found space to lay aside the burden of the Lord for a
little season, and to say, as Esaias did, "Now will I sing to my
well-beloved a song of my beloved touching His vineyard." Though
the saints had never seen His face, though as yet He was not
made flesh, nor had dwelt among us, nor had man beheld His
glory, yet He was the consolation of Israel, the hope and joy of
all the chosen, the "beloved" of all those who were upright
before the Most High. We, in the summer days of the Church, are
also wont to speak of Christ as the best beloved of our soul,
and to feel that He is very precious, the "chiefest among ten
thousand, and the altogether lovely." So true is it that the
Church loves Jesus, and claims Him as her beloved, that the
apostle dares to defy the whole universe to separate her from
the love of Christ, and declares that neither persecutions,
distress, affliction, peril, or the sword have been able to do
it; nay, he joyously boasts, "In all these things we are more
than conquerors through Him that loved us."
O that we knew more of Thee, Thou ever precious one!
My sole possession is Thy love;
In earth beneath, or heaven above,
I have no other store;
And though with fervent suit I pray,
And importune Thee day by day,
I ask Thee nothing more.