March 1

Morning

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. — Song 4:16

Anything is better than the dead calm of indifference. Our souls may wisely desire the cold north wind of trouble—if that alone can be sanctified to the drawing forth of the perfume of our graces. We should not shrink from the most wintry blast that ever blew upon plants of grace. Did not the spouse in this verse humbly submit herself to the reproofs of her Beloved; only entreating Him to send forth His grace in some form, and making no stipulation as to the peculiar manner in which it should come? Did she not, like ourselves, become so utterly weary of deadness and unholy calm—that she sighed for any visitation which would motivate her to action?

Yet she desires the warm south wind of comfort, too—the smiles of divine love, the joy of the Redeemer’s presence; these are often mightily effectual to arouse our sluggish life. She desires either one or the other, or both—so that she may but be able to delight her Beloved with the spices of her garden. She cannot endure to be unprofitable, nor can we.

How cheering a thought—that Jesus can find comfort in our poor feeble graces. Can it be? It seems far too good to be true. Well may we court trials or even death itself—if we shall thereby be aided to make glad Immanuel’s heart. O that our heart were crushed to atoms, if only by such bruising, could our sweet Lord Jesus could be glorified. Graces unexercised are as sweet perfumes slumbering in the cups of the flowers. The wisdom of the great Gardener overrules diverse and opposite causes to produce the one desired result, and makes both affliction and consolation draw forth the grateful fragrances of faith, love, patience, hope, resignation, joy, and the other fair flowers of the garden. May we know by sweet experience, what this means!

Evening

He is precious. — 1 Pet 2:7

As all the rivers run into the sea—so all delights center in our Beloved. The glances of His eyes outshine the sun! The beauties of His face are fairer than the choicest flowers! No fragrance is like the breath of His mouth. Gems of the mine, and pearls from the sea—are worthless things when measured by His preciousness.

Peter tells us that Jesus is precious but he did not and could not tell us how precious—nor could any of us compute the value of God’s unspeakable gift! Words cannot set forth the preciousness of the Lord Jesus to His people—nor fully tell how essential He is to their satisfaction and happiness. Believer, have you not found in the midst of plenty—a great famine if your Lord has been absent? The sun was shining but Christ had hidden Himself and all the world was black to you; or it was night, and since the bright and morning star was gone, no other star could yield you so much as a ray of light. What a howling wilderness is this world—without our Lord! If once He hides Himself from us, the flowers of our garden are withered; our pleasant fruits decay; the birds suspend their songs, and a tempest overturns our hopes.

All earth’s candles cannot make daylight—if the Sun of Righteousness is eclipsed. He is the soul of our soul, the light of our light, the life of our life. Dear reader, what would you do in the world without Him, when you wake up and look forward to the day’s battle? What would you do at night, when you come home jaded and weary—if there were no door of fellowship between you and Christ? Blessed be His name, He will not allow us to try our lot without Him, for Jesus never forsakes His own. Yet, let the thought of what life would be without Him, enhance His preciousness.