March 1

‘Awake, 0 north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my gar. den, that the spices thereof may Jlow out.” — Canticles iv. 1(5.

ANY THING is better than the dead calm of indilfcrence. Our souls may wisely desire the north wind of trouble if that alone can be sanctified to the drawing forth of the perfume of our graces. So long as it cannot be said, “The Lord was not in the wind,” we will not shrink from the most wintry blast that ever blew upon plants of grace. Did not the in this verse humbly submit herself to the reproofs of her Beloved; only entreating Ilira to send forth His grace in some form, and making no stipulation as to the peculiar manner in which it should come? Did not she, like ourselves, become so utterly weary of deadness and unholy calm that she sighed for any visitation which would brace her to action? Yet she desires the warm south wind of comfort, too, the smiles of divine love, the joy of the Redeemer’s presence; these are often mightily eflfectual to arouse our sluggish life. She desires either one or the other, or both; so that she may but be able to delight her Beloved with the spices of her garden. She cannot endure to be unprofitable, nor can we. How cheering a thought that Jesus can find comfort in our poor feeble graces! Can it be? It seems far too good to be true. Well may we court trial, or even death itself, if we shall thereby be aided to make glad Inimanuel’s heart. 0 that our heart were crushed to atoms, if only by such bruising our sweet Lord Jesus could be glorified! Graces unexercised are as sweet perfumes slumbering in the cups of the flowers: the wisdom of the great Husbandman overrules diverse and opposite causes to produce the one desired result, and makes both aflliction and consolation draw forth the grateful odors of faith, love, patience, hope, resignation, joy, and the other fair flowers of the gardeo Mar we know by sweet experience what this means!