Draw yet nearer, O, my soul! with thy most fervent love. Here is matter for it to work upon, something worth thy loving. O see what beauty presents itself! Is not all the beauty in the world united here? Is not all other beauty but deformity? Dost thou now need to be persuaded to love? Here is a feast for thine eyes and all the powers of thy soul; dost thou need entreaties to feed upon it? Canst thou love a little shining earth, a walking piece of clay? And canst thou not love that God, that Christ, that glory, which are so truly and unmeasurably lovely? Thou canst love thy friend because he loves thee; and is the love of a friend like the love of Christ? Their weeping or bleeding for thee does not ease thee, not stay the course of thy tears or blood; but the tears and blood that fell from thy Lord have a sovereign, healing virtue. O my soul! If love deserves and should beget love, what incomprehensible love is here before thee! Pour out all the store of thy affections here, and all is too little—O that it were more! O that it were many thousand times more! Let him be first served that served the first. Let him have the first born and strength of thy soul, who parted with strength, and life and love for thee.
O my soul! dost thou love for excellency? Yonder is the region of light; this is the land of darkness. Yonder twinkling stars, that shining moon and radiant sun, are all but lanterns, hung out of thy Father’s house, to light thee while thou walkest in this dark world. But how little dost thou know the glory and blessedness that are within.
Dost thou love for suitableness? What person more suitable than Christ—his god-head and humanity, his fullness and freeness, his willingness and constancy, all proclaim him thy most suitable friend. What state more suitable to thy misery than mercy, or to thy sin and pollution than honor and perfection? What place more suitable to thee than heaven? Does this world agree with thy desires? Hast thou not had a sufficient trial of it, or dost thou love for interest and near relation? Where hast thou better interest than in heaven, or nearer relation than there?
Dost thou love for acquaintance and familiarity? Though thine eyes have never seen thy Lord, yet thou hast heard his voice, received his benefits, and lived in his bosom. He taught thee to know thyself and him; he opened thee that first window, through which thou sawest into heaven. Hast thou forgotten since thy heart was careless and he awakened it; hard, and he softened it; stubborn, and he made it yield; at peace, and he troubled it; whole, and he broke it; and broken, till he healed it again? Hast thou forgotten the times when he found thee in tears; when he heard thy secret sighs and groans, and left all to come and comfort thee?…
Methinks I hear him still saying to me, “Poor sinner, though thou hast dealt unkindly with me, and cast me off, yet I will not do so by thee; though thou hast set light by me and all my mercies, yet they and myself are thine. What wouldst thou have that I can give thee? And what dost thou want that I can not give thee? If anything I have will give thee pleasure, thou shalt have it. Wouldst thou have pardon? I freely forgive thee all the debt. Wouldst thou have grace and peace? Thou shalt have both. Wouldst thou have myself? Behold I am thine, thy friend, thy Lord, thy brother, husband and head. Wouldst thou have the Father? I will bring thee to him, and thou shalt have him, in and by me.” These were my Lord’s reviving words.
If bounty and compassion be an attractive of love, how immeasurably, then, am I bound to love him! All the mercies that have filled up my life, all the places that ever I abode in, all the societies and persons I have been conversant with, all my employments and relations, every condition I have been in, and every change I have passed through, all tell me that the fountain is overflowing goodness. Lord, what a sum of love am I indebted to thee! And how does my debt continually increase! How should I love again for so much love? But shall I dare to think of requiting thee, or of recompensing all thy love with mine? Will my mite requite thee for thy golden mines, my faint wishes for thy constant bounty; mine, which is nothing, or not mine, for thine, which is infinite and thine own? Shall I dare to contend in love with thee, or set my borrowed languid spark against the sun of love?
No, Lord, I yield; I am overcome. O blessed conquest. Go on victoriously and still prevail, and triumph in thy love. The captive of love shall proclaim thy victory; when thou leadest me in triumph from earth to heaven, from death to life, from the tribunal to the throne! myself, and all that see it, shall acknowledge thou hast prevailed, and all shall say, “Behold how he loved him.”—From Baxter’s “Saint’s Rest,” abridged by Fawcett.