Selections from—Provisions for Passing over Jordan.
Not only am I sensible of the deficiency of my affection for my Jesus, but I feel the deficiency of my affection for my fellow-men. I need more of that long-suffering and gentleness, and meekness, which are equally the fruits of the Spirit with love, joy, and peace. That thou my soul, mayest hereafter through grace be constrained to act a more consistent part, remember that the least violation of these graces, especially that the least species of resentment towards those who have injured thee, though it may be unmixed with ill-will, and though it amount only to the withdrawing of thy good feelings from them, will prove a great hindrance to thee in making thy provisions for passing over Jordan. With such a spirit, thou canst not ask thy Father to forgive thee thy trespasses, as thou forgivest those who trespass against thee; for this prayer in appropriate words, would be, Lord, be pleased to treat me in the same manner that I treat those who have injured me. If ever, my soul, thou feelest the least spark of resentment, or if thou art in danger of acting contrary to the long-suffering, and the gentleness, and the meekness of the gospel, flee to Calvary. Hear thy Saviour, under the severest provocations from his enemies, crying out, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do," and learn from this prayer to hush every angry passion to peace. Welcome afflictions, welcome trials, welcome pains, so that they do but lead me to my Jesus. O what a precious fountain is the fountain of my Redeemer's blood. “Bethesda's pool is not like this,
Nor heals nor cures such leprosies,
Nor Siloam's stream, nor Jordan's flood,
Could in my heart seem half so good:
’Tis Jesus' blood, that crimson sea,
That washeth guilt and filth away. To this dear fountain I'll repair
With all the wounds and pains I bear;
I'll keep my station near its side,
And wash and drink and there abide;
Nor from the sacred streams remove
Till taken to their source above. O that I might plunge into the fountain of my Redeemer's love, be covered over with it, and drink in its fullness. Hell, earth and heaven all tried the strength of the love of thy Jesus to thee, my soul; and all thy sins and imperfections and ingratitude and thy forsaking and forgetting him have tried it; but they have never been able to quench it. Dwell much, my soul, in Gethsemane. Dwell much at Golgotha; for nothing is so powerful to work a lively faith, and a joyful hope, as an attentive consideration of thy Lord's unutterable merits. Nothing has so great a tendency to wean thee from an undue attachment to a vain world, as the habitual remembrance of his extreme agonies.