I have known for a while, however, of a tract entitled “Instant Glory” that Octavius created as a reflection for the year 1867 that has contained within it the actual eulogy he spoke shortly after Hannah’s death. Though in the past I was never able to get a hold of this little tract, I was convinced that within it was some nugget of personal information about his wife that might help us today gain some insight into her life.

Now, with many thanks to Tanner Turley who is currently editing his soon to be released book on the homiletic of Winslow’s preaching, I now have a copy of this little edition and I have to say I was very happy with what lay inside.

The tract itself is divided into two sections. The first is a short sermon prepared by Octavius for his annual new years publication, but the second half is this eulogy to his wife. I have transcribed below this second section only so that we today may gain some heavenly benefit from the life of this godly woman, wife, mother, and helpmate.

I hope it will bless you.

Instant Glory

The writer shrinks from any express allusion to an event so personal and sacred to himself as that which the reader is aware suggested the subject of this address, and which now so affectingly and forcibly illustrates it. No other course, however, was open to him of meeting the numerous inquiries of distant friends, for whose sympathy he is sincerely grateful, and to whose wishes he would respectfully bow. The narrative is simple and brief.

On Monday morning, October the 8^th, the writer left home to fulfill a pulpit engagement in town. Mrs. Winslow, with some members of the family, accompanied him to the station. Arriving half an hour before the departure of the train, an opportunity was afforded for that quiet, unreserved intercourse so rarely permitted amid the incessant and absorbing claims and excitement of professional and public life. It seemed as if a lifetime of thought and feelings were crowded within the space of that fleeting half hour! It was a remarkable circumstance, and this it was which gave a character and a history to the entire scene, that the writer was at the time suffering from a depression of spirits in a way quite unusual, and to a degree almost overwhelming.

A “horror of great darkness” came over him, tinging, at the moment, with its somber hue every object upon which the mental eye rested. Even nature, painted with the brilliant hues of a warm autumnal sun, seemed to lose its beauty and its charm. He freely communicated his feelings to her who leant upon his arm, treading with him- alas! How unsuspected by either of us-the last stage of wedded life-remarking to her that the words of Paul, when parting from the Ephesian Elders, that most appropriately expressed what he then felt-“Behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there.” And now it was her mission to sympathize and comfort. And if ever, through a life of unswerving fidelity to duty and love, she rose to the loftiest height of that mission, it was then! From that moment- how fleeting and precious were those moments now!-a tide of the most spiritual and consolatory thoughts, enriched with some of the most appropriate promises and portions of God’s Word, flowed as a silvery stream from her lips. Her whole soul, animated to a degree, seemed moved with an inspiration from above. One of her daughters remarked that “she never saw her mamma appear so heavenly as then.” She dwelt with great earnestness upon the faithfulness of God, the rectitude of all His ways, the utter impossibility of any variation in His love, the knowledge that Jesus had of all his peoples need, and the power and readiness with which His heart was prepared to meet it. The train appeared in sight and the moment od separation came. Her last words uttered in a rapid but tender tone of subdued earnestness were “we must look up, and not down; the Lord is all sufficient and will do all things well, good bye.” And we parted.

Soothed in spirit and girt as with new strength, the writer fulfilled his engagement in town on Tuesday morning, the 9^th, selecting as the basis of his discourse 1Sam. 22:2, “And every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him, and he became a captain over them.” In illustrating the points of resemblance between David and Christ the true spiritual David, it was natural that prominence should be given to the idea of suffering as the school in which Christ, as the Captain of our salvation, was perfected in His work of obedience to the divine will, and equally perfected as the sympathizing High Priest of His Church, this suggesting another and a deeply consolatory thought that, if the discipline of suffering became the sinless Savior, how much more it became the sinful and imperfect sons of God whom he was bringing to glory; and that, though the pathway led through the furnace seven times heated, we should yet come forth sevenfold more compliant with the will of our heavenly Father, perfected in obedience, in holiness, and in every grace through suffering. While engaged in this service, she was passing down the valley with the Captain of her salvation at her side, Himself perfected by “the suffering of death”, skillfully and gently to lead her through its lone and solemn shadow safely and triumphantly up to glory.

On her return from the station on Monday morning, Mrs Winslow called at the depot of the Religious Tract Society, and made a selection of some of its publications suitable for her “mothers class” which she had met weekly for upwards of nine years from her removal to Bath; and with whom, in the afternoon of that day, she closed for ever her labors for Jesus on earth. The temporal and spiritual blessing of which she had been the instrument to that humble circle, assembling in an obscure apartment beneath the sanctuary week after week for years, eternity alone will fully reveal. Many a neglected home has been made more home like, and many a dreary hearth has burnt more brightly through her thoughtful and kind agency. But more blessed far than this-many a happy death bed has testified, and many a hidden gem decking her brow in eternity will witness, that, her quiet, unobtrusive service for Christ and for souls in this lowly sphere of Christian labor was not in vain in the Lord. The most touching spectacle at her funeral was the presence of many of her poor, clad in simple mourning, and grouped in tears and lamentations around her grave.

She spent the last evening of her life in the drawing room, in the bosom of her family, cheerful and happy. Towards its close she retired to her own room, and penned a few lines to him from whom she had parted in the morning. From the sacred interest which always attaches to a document of this kind, and, as reflecting the religious tone of mind and feeling which dictated it, as on the eve of eternity, the writer ventures to offer a short extract. It may be proper to simply premise that the approaching Conference of the Evangelical Alliance at Bath, together with a powerful work of grace then transpiring at Weston-super-Mare, had moved to its depths her spiritual and prayerful feelings, and had incited her to ardent longings that the “arm of the Lord” might be made bare in our midst. She was most earnest that much prayer should precede the meetings of the Conference, importunate in her suggestion that the committee, in its preliminary arrangements, should include an especial devotional service on its behalf. This “burden of the Lord” lay with oppressive weight upon her mind; and the writer has reason to believe was, in her private devotions, transferred again to Him in the holy fervency of prayer. What relation this lowly incident may have had with the remarkably successful and happy result of the Conference, who can tell? Certain, that her sudden departure on the eve of its assembling, and her interment on the day of its opening, invested with a tone of subdued and hallowed feelings its introductory proceedings; and elicited on the part of the council, as from the meeting, a graceful and touching expression of Christian affection and sympathy. The following is the extract. How firm the confidence in God which it breathes. How simple her faith in the power of prayer. How earnest her spirit for the increase of the Savior’s kingdom and glory! May it be a word in season to him that is weary.

Monday Evening

….”I am quite sure that the Lord is determined to draw His dear people to a sole reliance upon Himself in this matter (the Conference), as well as in everything else. He has said, “Thus saith the Lord God, I will yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them.” Oh, that the Lord may awaken in us a deep spirit of wrestling prayer! Captain _________ told me that the work at Weston was the result of a few dear believers meeting together in prayer for the blessing which the Lord alone could give. He has graciously heard, and sent the answer. Let us wait upon Him for the heavenly blessing, and we too shall not be disappointed. There is indeed deep need of it! The Lord bless and comfort you, strengthen your hands and confirm your feeble knees; for though the vision tarry, it shall surely come. The Lord will fulfill the promise upon which He has caused us to hope. May he be near to you tomorrow, and enable you nobly to testify for a despised Jesus. May He anoint you for His great work, and bless you richly; for “they that water others, shall be watered themselves.”    “H.A.R.”

When this letter was delivered in town, she had entered the realms of glory, and was in the immediate presence of her Lord, like Him breathing words of love and blessing as she went up into heaven.

She arose on Tuesday morning, the 9^th, with some degree of pain in the head, but with much animated solemnity of mind and warm glow of sweet affection. To one of the domestics engaged in her room she spoke with tender earnestness about her soul, taking her by the hand and exhorting her to discharge her duties as unto the Lord, in all things striving to live for eternity, and then most emphatically remarked, “We must all try and live lovingly together, not knowing how soon we shall be called to part.” The maid retired from the room in tears.

After making her family arrangements for the day, she descended to the parlour and sat down to her work. By her side were found several of the tracts she had purchased the previous day, one of which bore the almost prophetic title, “Homeward Bound”! Soon after twelve o’clock one of her daughters entered the room and found that her mamma had apparently fainted. Alas! It was incipient apoplexy. She was partially insensible. Medical aid was in immediate attendance, and hopes were cherished that she would rally. A second seizure, however, quickly succeeded, and then all hope was gone. All that the highest skill could suggest, or the fondest affection apply, failed to retain a spirit for which the Lord had need, and for whose flight to glory attendant angels waited. One ray, and one only, of mental consciousness for a moment trembled upon the dark cloud. She raised her hand and looked intelligently and earnestly upon her wedding ring, and then the portal of glory opened upon all of heaven, and tranquility and peacefully her ransomed spirit was caught up to meet the Lord.

“No earthly clinging-

No lingering gaze-

No strife at parting-

No sore amaze;

Bur sweetly, gently,

She pass’d away!

From the world’s dim twilight

To endless day.”

It was only of the closing scene that the writer ventured to speak. And yet, in concluding his brief sketch, he may be permitted to refer to one or two facts in her history glorifying to the divine and sovereign grace to which we ascribe all that she was.

Her conversion to Christ was remarkable. At an early age, and in the midst of a ball given by her father on her introduction into society, the Holy Spirit convinced her of the emptiness and vanity of the world, and of her deep need as a sinner of something more real to make her holy and happy. Overcome by her feelings, she seized a favourable moment and retired from the gay scene. And while the music was floating and the dance was swimming and the joyous laughter rang merrily throughout the hall, robed in her ball dress she was in her room-a lovely girl with the sunshine of but eighteen bright summers upon her youthful brow, prostrate in prayer and tears before God! What a spectacle for angels! How sovereign the grace of God! How marvelous His ways, and past finding out! She returned to the festive pageant a changed and new creature!

Thus early began, and thus early and forever closed, her connection with the gay world. That world never lost one more fitted by nature to enjoy and adorn it, than when on that memorable night she bade it a solemn and lasting adieu. In youth surprisingly lovely, as, in later life, imperial in matronly beauty; elegant in her tastes, pure and simple in her mind, gentle and winning in her address, she was in every way eminently qualified to lend a grace and charm to its most brilliant and cultivated circles. But she “chose” the “better part.” She tasted the world’s cup of joy and found it wanting, then turned away and sought in true religion, nobler, more satisfying and enduring bliss. That night she gave her heart to God. That night, in all the radiant brightness, in all the dewy freshness, in all the sweet fragrance, and in all the budding hopes of her youth, she consecrated her whole being to Christ. A few months later, she confessed the Saviour before the world, and by a public profession of faith, united herself with the Church of God; often, in after years, referring to the deep, almost ecstatic, emotion with which she joined on that interesting and solemn occasion in the well known hymn-

“Jesus! And shall it ever be,

A mortal man ashamed of Thee?

Ashamed of Thee whom angels praise,

Whose glories shine through endless days.”

Did she ever regret the choice she made? Never, to life’s last and latest hour! From that memorable night until the moment that Jesus said to her, “Come up hither”, religion’s ways were to her ways of pleasantness, and all its paths were paths of peace. Thou lover and follower of the world! Sighing and thirsting for more than its poor, delusive joys can ever give! Turn from its shrine, its phantoms and dreams, and learn from her example to seek true happiness in Christ. Make her choice your choice, let her God be your God, her companions your companions, her life early devoted to the Saviour the model of yours; and, as she died so you will die, in the blessed and assured hope of spending your eternity in heaven, “ever with the Lord.”

Henceforth, until its close, suddenly and in its prime, her life in all its relations, duties, and trials, was the Lord’s, regulated and hallowed by the holy principles of the divine religion she professed. As a mother, she was devoted, affectionate, and self denying; as a minister’s wife, sympathizing and helpful, often supplying a wanting link in pastoral service; as a friend, loving, gentle, and true. And yet, none were more acutely sensible of the many infirmities inseparable from a sinful nature, or the countless short comings attaching to a nature but partially sanctified by grace, than she. The writer speaks as before God, and speaks it to His glory, that he never knew a saint cherish more profound views of personal unworthiness, or more gratefully acknowledge indebtedness to divine grace. And yet her love to the Saviour was deep and ardent; it was more than a sentiment, it was a passion which swept her whole being onward in unreserved obedience to God, and in simple, quiet service for Christ.

It is with diffidence remarked that her social intercourse was a sweet example. She always shrank from making a mere formal, idle call. And when urged sometimes simply to leave a card of inquiry or remembrance, she would remark, “Oh, it looks so worldly!” She never paid a visit without gently introducing the subject uppermost in her mind and dearest in her heart; the all momentous subject of vital religion. Her conversation was a sweet savor of Christ in every place. And many now testify that that hallowed savor still lingers; and it will continue so to linger in undecaying power long after the place that knew her knows her no more. The perfume of Jesus’ name never dies. The alabaster box which breathed it may be broken, the beautiful vase which contained it may be destroyed, but the holy fragrance lives forever! Referring to her social life, it is but just to remark that it was almost entirely restricted to her visits among the sick and afflicted, and to her labours of love among the poor. But few were acquainted with these her shaded and quiet walks of usefulness. Her Christian work, like the glow worm of night, shone the most luminous when no eyes but those of heaven were upon it.

She was a diligent and even a critical reader of the Bible. It formed a marked and instructive feature of her Christianity. The prophecies of Scripture especially engaged her thoughtful and prayerful study. Her acquaintance with prophetical truth was surprising, far beyond the ordinary standard. She read fulfilled prophecy in the light of past history, and she interpreted present history in the light of unfulfilled prophecy. It was to her a lamp shining in a dark place. Her prophetical views were sober and practical, their influence upon herself distinguished by a strong intellectual development, deep spirituality of mind, and singular heavenliness of life. The coming of the Lord, and the illustrious events synchronizing with, and clustering around, this great central fact of prophecy, formed an especial feature of her study, and was the “blessed hope” that imparted a deep  toned solemnity to the present and gilded with brightness all her future.

More need not be said. She walked in close fellowship with God, labored zealously for her fellow beings, was entwined in the affections of all who knew her, lived in patient waiting for Jesus, and died a penitent and believing sinner, trusting alone to the blood and righteousness of her divine Redeemer, “looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.” She is gone! “Nothing in her life became her like the leaving it.” Who does not envy such “an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ?”

Again we sadly exclaim, She is gone! Earth has one saint less, and heaven one angel more. Standing before the throne, she has received the welcome and the diadem of her Saviour, and is resting that once aching head, and yet deeper aching heart, upon the bosom of her Lord.

Instant death to her was Instant Glory.

She is not here. She is risen.

She is not here-her ransomed soul

Dwells in no vaulted tomb;

Its race was run-it spurn’d control,

And sprang to reach the heavenly goal

Ere death had cast its gloom.

Before one tear was wept below,

Joy fill’d the courts above;

No parting pang was she to know,

God took her from a world of woe

To His own world of love.

Widely heaven’s gates their portals throw,

Swiftly she pass’d to rest,

Eye hath not seen what met her view,

As on the seraph’s wing she flew

To lean on Jesus’ breast.

The joys that to her soul belong,

No human thought can share,

Ear hath not heard the rapturous song,

And wondrous harping of the throng

That hail’d her advent there.

The mortal shroud alone waits here

To clothe that soul again;

When all the dead in Christ appear,

When perfect love has cast out fear,

When Jesus comes to reign.

This casket shall be glorious, when

The Saviour’s voice shall call;

But the dear life, the precious gem

Set in the Royal Diadem,

Now crowns Him Lord of all.

Now, the faith that receives Christ is the most direct, simple, and saving exercise of this marvelous grace, and the most lovely and precious exhibition of this fruit. To believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, is everything to the soul. An eternity of bliss is involved in it. Believe in Christ, and the treasures of heaven are swept into your bosom. Believe in Christ, and a present salvation is yours. Believe in Christ, and the hope of glory dawns upon your soul. Believe in Christ, and you are linked with the bliss of eternity.

You have nothing to do, only to BELIEVE. Away with conditions–away with reasonings–away with questionings–and immediately, simply, only BELIEVE that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and you are SAVED! It is when faith in Christ is simple that it is strong; when its hand is empty that it is full; when it comes in its deepest poverty that it is rich; and when it is the most weak in created dependencies that it is the strongest in God. See, then, that you bear this fruit of righteousness, and so evidence your new creation. Have faith in God–in His word of promise, in His infinite power, in His immutable faithfulness.

Take Him at His word, and though He slays you, yet trust in Him. Be your faith that before whose far-seeing eye the present pales, the future brightens; which diminishes the present things of trial, and suffering, and need, and magnifies the future things of happiness, fruition, and glory. Be your faith that which purifies the heart, which works by love, which walks humbly with God, which lies securely and peacefully at anchor upon the promise in the storm, which reposes quietly in the very bosom of Him whose chastening hand has smitten you. O glorious fruit of righteousness! Lord, let Your sun warm, let Your springs water, let Your hand prune my soul, that I may be filled with this precious fruit of faith, to the greater honor and glory of Your holy name!

From Grace To Glory

“Yes, He is altogether lovely! This is my Beloved, and this is my Friend!” Song of Songs 5:16

O what a Savior is Jesus Christ! He is the chief among ten thousand! Look at His sinless, yet real humanity — without a single taint, yet sympathizing with us in all our various conditions — our afflictions — our temptations — our infirmities — our griefs. Now that He is in glory, He is still cherishing a brother’s heart, bending down His ear to our petitions — ever standing near to catch our sighs, to dry our tears, to provide for our needs, to guide us by His counsel, and afterwards to receive us to glory!

O what a Savior is Jesus Christ! When He is known — all other beings are eclipsed.

When His beauty is seen — all other beauty fades.

When His love is felt — He becomes supremely enthroned in the affections.

To know Him more, becomes the one desire of the renewed mind; and to make Him more known, is the one aim of the Christian life.

O what a Savior is Jesus Christ!

Christ’s Sympathy To Weary Pilgrims

“Jesus wept.” John 11:35

These are among the most wonderful words recorded in the Bible. They mark the most exquisitely tender, touching, and expressive incident in His whole life. “Jesus wept” — wept from emotion, wept from sympathy. Is there a more consolatory, soothing view of Christ’s love than this? It is a compassionate, sympathizing, weeping love!

The sympathy of Jesus never wearies or slumbers, it never chills or forgets.

It entwines with our every cross.

It attaches to our every burden.

It frosts with sparkling light, each dark cloud.

It is not the vapid sentiment of fiction, nor the morbid sympathy of romance. It is a divine-human reality. It is the sympathetic love of the Incarnate God!

Let your faith, then, repose with confidence on the reality of Christ’s sympathy with your grief. Oh how sacred and precious are the tears of divine love — the tears of Jesus! Soothed and sustained by such a sympathy as Christ’s, we may well drink meekly the bitter cup which our Father mingles. We can well afford to be severed from all other sympathy, and weep out our sorrow in lonely places — with Jesus sympathizing with us by the couch of languor, by the bed of darkness, and at the grave of buried love.

O afflicted one, tempest-tossed and not comforted, do not refuse this cup of consolation which the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, would give you — the sympathy of your Lord and Savior, your Friend and Brother in the time of your calamity. Yield yourself to its irresistible power, and it will draw you submissively to His feet, and hush to rest your sobbing heart upon His bosom!

Christ’s Sympathy To weary Pilgrims

We cannot keep our eye too exclusively or too intently fixed on Jesus. All salvation is in Him. All salvation proceedsfrom Him. All salvation leads to Him. And for the assurance and comfort of our salvation, we are to repose believingly and entirely on Him. Christ must be all! Christ the beginning — Christ the center — and Christ the end.

Oh sweet truth to you who are sensible of your poverty, vileness, and insufficiency, and of the ten thousand flaws and failures of which, perhaps, no one is cognizant but God and your own soul! Oh, to turn and rest in Christ — a full Christ — a loving Christ — a tender Christ, whose heart’s love never chills, from whose eye darts no reproof, from whose lips breathes no sentence of condemnation!

Christ must be all!

Christs Sympathy To Weary Pilgrims

You send the Bible to the ignorant and destitute, you carry it to every cottage and waft it to every country, and thanks to God that you do so. But to what extent is it studied in your churches, read in your families, taught to your children? There is no surer evidence of living without God in the world than living without intimate communion with the Bible. Who that does not mean to remain in impenetrable obduracy, who that does not form the deliberate resolve to close every avenue to the divine influence, that is not prepared to plunge the dagger of the second death into his own bosom; can live in the neglect of these Scriptures of God? And if you believe them, and understand them, will you refuse them the submission of your heart and your everlasting obedience? Do you accredit the stupendous truths contained in this volume, and shall they awaken no deep interest, and urge you to no solemn preparation for your last account?

There is not one among those who will not prove a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. What can we add more to this searching, solemn appeal to you who are living in a wilful neglect of that Book which tells you of life in this world, and out of which you will be judged in the world which is to come?

Disbelieve, or neglect the Word of God, and you reject the only chart to eternity.

The Precious Things of God

The end has finally come.

I admit I didn’t think I’d ever see it when I started the Morning and Evening Thought posts every day (sort of), but alas, we’ve finally arrived at the end of this two year journey.

It’s been quite a ride spanning quite bit of time not only going through these two books, but my own personal life as well.

I’ve had some seasons where I simply was not able to make the posts available daily, but I did try as much as I could to make them every day. Some things were out of my hands, but by God’s good grace we have arrived.

I want to thank all of you who subscribed to the Morning and Evening Thoughts devotionals and for sticking with me throughout it all. Your kind comments and encouragements have meant so much to me and have left me very humbled indeed. I am only so happy as to have been used to reach out to you all in your lives with Winslow’s work and hope that you have been encouraged and strengthened in your faith.

My goal from day one here has been to spread the word about Winslow and his writing, but I have come to realize now after these two years that my most precious reward for all my work has been to bring a good word to those in need in your times of need. That is my greatest thing I take away with me.

Since the Morning and Evening Thoughts books are now complete, there will be no more “daily” posts here from those two books. I will, however, continue to make posts here on a regular basis from Winslow’s body of work, so don’t write the Archive off just yet!

If you have been subscribing to the Morning and Evening Thoughts only, than I encourage you to also subscribe to the regular blog feed here as well.

What’s more, I have been very busy behind the scenes collecting more and more data about Winslow that I will be posting here as time permits and I have even been compiling a book of chapters from Winslow’s works that are very near and dear to my heart concerning the subjects he wrote most prolifically… suffering and trial. I hope to self publish that book soon and will keep everyone informed as I make progress.

So again, thanks be to God to you all and for the life and work of our dear Octavius.

This is just what God loves—an open, ingenuous confession of sin. Searching and knowing, though He does, all hearts, He yet delights in the honest and minute acknowledgment of sin from His backsliding child. Language cannot be too humiliating; the detail cannot be too minute. Mark the stress He has laid upon this duty, and the blessing He has annexed to it. Thus He spoke to the children of Israel, that wandering, backsliding, rebellious people—”If they shall confess their iniquity, and the iniquity of their fathers, with their trespass which they trespassed against me, and that also they have walked contrary unto me; and that I also have walked contrary unto them, and have brought them into the land of their enemies; if then their uncircumcised hearts be humbled, and they then accept of the punishment of their iniquity; then will I remember my covenant with Jacob, and also my covenant with Isaac, and also my covenant with Abraham will I remember; and I will remember the land.”

Truly may we exclaim, “Who is a God like unto You, that pardons iniquity, and passes by the transgression of the remnant of His heritage! He retains not His anger forever, because He delights in mercy.” And how did the heart of God melt with pity and compassion when He heard the audible relentings of His Ephraim! “I have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself thus: You have chastised me and I was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke: turn me, and I shall be turned; for You are the Lord my God.” And what was the answer of God? “Is Ephraim my dear son? is he a pleasant child? for since I spoke against him, I do earnestly remember him still; therefore my affections are troubled for him: I will surely have mercy upon him, says the Lord.” Nor is the promise of pardon annexed to confession of sin unfolded with less clearness and consolatoriness in the New Testament writings. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” How full, then, the blessing, how rich the consolation connected with an honest, heart-broken confession of sin! How easy, and how simple too, this method of return to God! “Only acknowledge your iniquity.”

It is but a confession of sin over the head of Jesus, the great sacrifice for sin. Oh, what is this that God says? “Only acknowledge your iniquity!” Is this all He requires of His poor wandering child? This is all! “Then,” may the poor soul exclaim, “Lord, I come to You. I am a backslider, a wanderer, a prodigal. I have strayed from You like a lost sheep. My love has waxed cold, my steps have slackened in the path of holy obedience, my mind has yielded to the corrupting, deadening influence of the world, and my affections have wandered in quest of other and earthly objects of delight. But, behold, I come unto You. Do You invite me? Do You stretch out Your hand? Do You bid me approach You? Do You say, ‘Only acknowledge your iniquity?’ Then, Lord, I come; in the name of Your dear Son, I come; restore unto me the joy of your salvation.’”

Thus confessing sin over the head of Jesus, until the heart has nothing more to confess but the sin of its confession—for, beloved reader, our very confession of sin needs to be confessed over, our very tears need to be wept over, and our very prayers need to be prayed over, so defaced with sin is all that we do—the soul, thus emptied and unburdened, is prepared to receive anew the seal of a Father’s forgiving love.

Should the humiliating truth force itself upon you, my dear reader—”I am not as I once was; my soul has lost ground—my spirituality of mind has decayed—I have lost the fervor of my first love—I have slackened in the heavenly race—Jesus is not as He once was, the joy of my day, the song of my night—and my walk with God is no longer so tender, loving, and filial, as it was,”—then honestly and humbly confess it before God. To be humbled as we should be, we must know ourselves; there must be no disguising of our true condition from ourselves, nor from God; there must be no framing of excuses for our declensions: the wound must be probed, the disease must be known, and its most aggravating symptoms brought to view.

Ascertain, then, the true state of your affection towards God; bring your love to Him to the touchstone of truth; see how far it has declined, and thus you will be prepared to trace out and to crucify the cause of your declension in love. Where love declines, there must be a cause; and, when ascertained, it must be immediately removed. Love to God is a tender flower; it is a sensitive plant, soon and easily crushed; perpetual vigilance is needed to preserve it in a healthy, growing state. The world’s heat will wither it, the coldness of formal profession will often nip it: a thousand influences, all foreign to its nature and hostile to its growth, are leagued against it; the soil in which it is placed is not genial to it. “In the flesh there dwells no good thing;” whatever of holiness is in the believer, whatever breathing after Divine conformity, whatever soaring of the affections towards God, is from God himself, and is there as the result of sovereign grace. “That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.”

What sleepless vigilance, then, and what perpetual culture are needed, to preserve the bloom and the fragrance, and to nourish the growth, of this celestial plant. Search out and remove the cause of the decay of this precious grace of the Spirit; rest not until it is discovered and brought to light: should it prove to be the world, come out from it, and be you separate, and touch not the unclean thing; or the power of indwelling sin, seek its immediate crucifixion by the cross of Jesus. Does the creature steal your heart from Christ, and deaden your love to God?—resign it at God’s bidding; He asks the surrender of your heart, and has promised to be better to you than all creature love. All the tenderness, the deep affection, the acute sympathy, the true fidelity, that you ever did find or enjoy in the creature, dwells in God, your covenant God and Father, in an infinite degree. He makes the creature all it is to you. Possessing God in Christ, you can desire no more—you can have no more. If He asks the surrender of the creature, cheerfully resign it; and let God be all in all to you.

In the person and work of Christ the holiness of God is revealed with equal power and luster. It is only through this medium that we possess the most clear and perfect demonstration of this divine and awful perfection. Where was there ever such a demonstration of God’s infinite hatred of sin, and His fixed and solemn determination to punish it, as is seen in the cross of Christ? Put your shoes from off your feet; draw near, and contemplate this “great sight.” Who was the sufferer? God’s only-begotten and well-beloved Son! His own Son!

In addition to the infinitely tender love of the Father, there was the clear knowledge of the truth, that He, who was enduring the severest infliction of His wrath, was innocent, guiltless, righteous—that He, Himself, had never broken His law, had never opposed His authority, had never run counter to His will; but had always done those things which pleased Him. At whose hands did He suffer? From devils? from men? They were but the agents; the moving cause was God Himself. “It pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief.” His own Father unsheathed the sword: He inflicted the blow: He kindled the fierce flame: He prepared the bitter cup. “Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, says the Lord of hosts: smite the shepherd.” “The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?” “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And what were the nature and degree of His sufferings? Imagine, if we can, what must have been the outpouring of God’s wrath upon the whole church for all the sins of that church, through eternity! Can you compute the amount of her transgressions? can you conceive the degree of her punishment? can you measure the duration of her woe? Impossible!

Then, who can tell what Jesus endured, when standing in the place and as the Surety of His church, in the solemn hour of atonement, and in the day of God’s fierce anger? Never had God so manifested before, and never will He so manifest again, His essential holiness—His spotless purity—the inconceivable heinousness of sin—His utter hatred of it—and His solemn purpose to punish it with the severest inflictions of His wrath; never did this glorious perfection of His being blaze out in such overwhelming glory, as on that dark day, and in the cross of the incarnate God. Had He emptied the vials of His wrath full upon the world, sweeping it before the fury of His anger, and consigning it to deserved and eternal punishment, it would not have presented to the universe so vivid, so impressive, and so awful a demonstration of the nature and glory of His holiness, of His infinite abhorrence of sin, and the necessity why He should punish it, as He has presented in the humiliation, sufferings, and death of His beloved Son. What new and ineffably transcendent views of infinite holiness must have sprung up in the pure minds even of the spirits in glory, as, bending from their thrones, they fixed their astonished gaze upon the cross of the suffering Son of God!