Sin and the saviour.

Saints are sweetly sensible that the sense of sin and the assurance of pardon will make famous work in their poor hearts.  Ah, what meltings without guilt; what humility without casting down; and what a sight of the creature’s nothingness, yet without fear, will this sense of sin work in the soul.  The sweetest frame, the most heart-endearing frame that possibly a Christian can get into while in this world, is to have a warm sight of sin and of a Saviour upon the heart at one time.  Now it weeps not for fear and through torment, but by virtue of constraining grace and mercy, and is at this very time so far off of disquietness of heart by reason of the sight of its wickedness, that it is driven into an ecstasy by reason of the love and mercy that is mingled with the sense of sin in the soul.  The heart never sees so much of the power of mercy as now, nor of the virtue, value, and excellency of Christ in all his offices, as now; and the tongue is never so sweetly enlarged to proclaim and cry up grace as now:  now will Christ come to be glorified in his saints and admired in them that believe.

Dost thou see in thee all manner of wickedness?  The best way that I can direct a soul in such a case, is to place a steadfast eye on Him that is full, and so to look to him by faith as that thereby thou mayest draw his fulness into thy heart.

The best saints are most sensible of their sins, and most apt to make mountains of their molehills.

The Christian in darkness.

I know it is dreadful walking in darkness; but if that should be the Lord’s lot upon me, I pray God I may have faith enough to stay upon him till death; and then will the clouds blow over, and I shall see him in the light of the living.

The valley of the shadow of death.

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came to a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them so that they could not see.  Then said the pilgrims, “Alas, what now shall we do?” But their guide made answer, “Fear not; stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also.”  So they staid there, because their path was marred.  Then they also thought they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also and smoke of the pit was much easier to be discerned.  Then said Christiana to Mercy, “Now I see what my poor husband went through; I have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now.  Poor man! he went here all alone in the night; he had night almost quite through the way; also these fiends were busy about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces.  Many have spoke of it, but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in themselves.  The ’heart knoweth its own bitterness; a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.’  To be here is a fearful thing.”