Morning, March 20

This was a golden name which the ancient Church in her most joyous moments was accustomed to give to the Anointed of the Lord. When the time of the singing of birds was come, and the voice of the turtle-dove was heard in her land, her love-note was sweeter than either, as she sang, "My beloved is mine—and I am His!" Ever in her song of songs, does she call Him by that delightful name, "My beloved!" Even in the long winter, when idolatry had withered the garden of the Lord, her prophets found space to lay aside their burden for a little season, and to say, as Elijah did, "Now will I sing to my well-beloved, a song of my beloved." Though the saints had never seen His face, though as yet He was not made flesh, nor had dwelt among us, nor had man beheld His glory—yet He was the consolation of Israel, the hope and joy of all the chosen, the "beloved" of all those who were upright before the Most High God.

We, in the summer days of the Church, are also accustomed to speak of Christ as the best beloved of our soul, and to feel that He is very precious, the "chief among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely one." So true is it, that the Church loves Jesus, and claims Him as her beloved, that the apostle dares to defy the whole universe to separate her from the love of Christ, and declares that neither persecutions, distress, affliction, peril, or the sword have been able to do it! Nay, he joyously boasts, "In all these things—we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us!"

O that we knew more of You, O ever precious one! My sole possession is Your love! In earth beneath, or heaven above—I have no other treasure! I ask for nothing more.

Courtesy of Grace Gems! Used by permission.