Thy mournful cry cometh back without an answer, and space alone hears thy groan. Ah! The battle-field of sin has one kind visitor; it is not abandoned to the vultures of remorse and despair. I hear footsteps approaching; they are the gentle footsteps of Jehovah.
With a heart full of mercy, he is hasting to his repenting child. In his hands there are no thunders, in his eyes no anger, on his lips no threatening.
See how he bows himself over the mangled heart! Hear how he speaks! “Come, now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”
And if the patient dreads to look in the face of the mighty being who addresses him, the same loving mouth whispers, “I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for my name’s sake.”
See how he washes every wound with sacred water from the side of Jesus; mark how he spreads the ointment of forgiving grace, and binds around each wound the fair white linen, which is the righteousness of saints.
Does the mourner faint under the operation? He puts medicine to his lips, exclaiming, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love.”
Yes, it is true—most true—neither dream nor fiction, “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” How condescending is the Lord of heaven, thus to visit poor forsaken man.
not in its fashion and manner, but in the truth which it contains.