Sacred Meditations

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 17, 1858

Sacred Meditations.

"And thou hast loved them, as thou hast loved me."

And does God, the holy one, love me? Me, once a rebel, covered over with guilt, and no spot bright? Can it be, he loves me? Yes, redeemed one, he loves thee. As he hath loved Jesus, so he loves the purchase of his blood. As a father over his lost son, as the bridegroom over the bride, so does thy God rejoice over and delight in thee. O, it is in my Father's love that I delight myself. All else but love is cold and formal, and meets not the demands of my being. It is love the soul of man was made for. Here is its home, its rest. To rest in my father's love, this is bliss beyond expression. Bliss allied to that of the celestial ones. My soul flutters to be free; to reach and touch an angel's harp, to give expression to the blessedness of love. O, ye blessed ones, going up and coming down, hear my request. Strike ye a louder note, and praise for me the God of love. Thou seest my harp, descending angel! It is feeble. Shattered are its strings, and broken. But it is attuned to love. Melody is in my soul.

And shall no stormy blast beat upon and quench this flame? Can it survive in the rude shocks, which perchance may beat upon it in this nether world? O, yes, yes. There is a calm, a solace in the storm. My Father bids it blow. There is no chance, no accident to me. A Father's hand governs each event. It is love that spreads out the dark, no less than the bright scenes of life. And love can cast a shade of beauty on the darkest hour. It is bright above the cloud.

"I go to prepare a place for you."

A home in heaven—is this thy portion, O my soul? A home with God, with Christ, with all the holy angels. A short, brief space of time, and then shall I be there, where all the air is love? Where nothing enters that defileth? Shall I look around and find no scoffer there? No lip of scorn; no jealous, no malignant eye? See not one face but what is beaming love? Will no unholy thought intrude into my breast? Shall I then be saved, forever saved from sin? Blessed thought! beyond expression, blessed! My soul longs, my spirit pants to see the God I love. My God! Thou art in my waking thoughts, my noon-day reverie, and my midnight dream. So close art thou unto my heart, thou seemest to be a portion of myself; or rather I am a part of thee. O, is it possible, that God can come so near; can so restore us to himself, and bring back again the blissful days of Eden to the soul? Yes, so it is. Infinite love can accomplish all that Infinite Love has devised. This is our God, and we will bless him; our father's God, and we will exalt him.

I have heard a soft and pleasing strain, sung by a voice I loved, and breathing words of love, and I have thought of Heaven's music. If that of earth be so sweet, what must the music of heaven be? Heard ye that seraph's song, who sits near by the throne? Saw ye the response in every glistening eye? It fell on the ear as dew on the tender herb, awaking to new life and beauty each emotion of the soul. There was one heart, one feeling, "Worthy is the Lamb!" And shall I too swell the chorus of that song? Yes, I have loved it here on earth. It is to me the song of songs. It comes up from the depths of my soul, a melody akin to heaven's own music; awakened there by the same touch that gives beauty to the seraph's song. And shall I not re-echo it in heaven? Yes. My soul kindling with seraphic fire, will praise the Lamb, for he was slain for me.—Guide to Perfection.