Spurgeon: September PM
* 09/27/PM
"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.