Morning Sacrifices
Psalm v. 3 v.
“My voice shalt Thou hear in the morning, 0 Lord; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto Thee; and will look up.”
Why “look up”? Is it expectancy — the lifting of the eyes in the hope of an answer? I do not think so. I think it is the looking up not in expectation but in pride — that noble pride which a holy man may feel. The Psalmist says that when he prays he can pray with unabashed countenance — with eyes looking right into the face of God. He has nothing to be ashamed of. He may not gain his desire, but he need not blush for it. And why has he no cause to blush? Because his prayer is offered “in the morning.” It is not wrung out by the exigencies of the day. It does not come from the burden and the heat. It is not wakened by the cares of the world. It is not a cry called forth by personal pain. It comes from the heart as yet unburdened, from the spirit as yet free. It mounts by the wings of praise; it soars in the flight of song. It has not been taught to fly; it flies by instinct. It turns to the Father as the magnet turns to the pole — not by compulsion but by attraction. It comes before the clouds come, ere ever there is felt a drop of rain. Only the offering of life’s morning can say,” I will direct my prayer unto Thee’’
Oh, Thou whose name is love, it is in the offering of love that Thou rejoicest. There is no sacrifice to Thee like the morning sacrifice. Thou lovest it best because it is the least sacrificial. It is dearest to Thy heart because it is most spontaneous to mine. Thou desirest not sacrifice, oh, my Father. My voice is never so sweet to Thee as when it comes from where the birds sing. The cry of the weary is open to
Thee, but it is not precious to Thee. The prayers of evening can wake Thy yity, but only the prayers of morning can stir Thy joy. Be mine the voice Thou shalt hear in the morning. Many voices cry to Thee from the dusk; let mine be from the dawn. Let me bring Thee my springtime, my freshness, my glory. Let me bring Thee my heart undimmed, my life unweighted. Let me bring Thee a desire for communion that is born not of fear, but of love. Let me pluck for Thee the rose that has not drooped beneath the shower. If my voice shall be heard in the morning, I can lift up my head with joy.