Is Jesus still the object of my soul's warmest affection; the subject of all my thoughts, all my discourse, all my inquiry? Oh, yes, my scul; whom else, in heaven or in earth, wilt thou seek after but him? Tell me, ye ministers of Jesus, ye watchmen upon the walls of Zion "Saw ye him Whom my soul loveth?" Ye followers of the Lamb, can ye shew me where Jesus feedeth his flock at noon? Or rather, ye in the upper regions, where the Son of God manifesteth himself in the full glories of his Person; "ye spirits of just men made perfect," ye who have known, while sojourning here below, what feeling of the soul that is, which, in the absence of Jesus, is longing for his appearance. Ye angels of light also ye who see him without an intervening medium tell him, I beseech you, how my soul panteth for his visits: tell him, that a poor pensioner, well known to my Lord, is waiting this morning alms: nay, tell him that I am sick of love, longing for a renewed view of his person, his pardoning love, the renewals of his grace. Jesus knoweth it all before you tell him, and he will send his gifts and mercies nay, he will come himself; for he hath assured me of this. He hath said, "If a man love me, my Father will love him, and we will come and make our abode with him." Behold my soul, thy Jesus is come! I hear his well-known voice: he saith, "I am come into my garden." Now will I hold him, and not let him go, and pray him not to be as a wayfaring man that turneth in to tarry for a night, but abide with me until the breaking of the everlasting day.
From the POOR MAN'S MORNING AND EVENING PORTIONS.
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