Watts - Houston-Packer Collection BX5207.W3 S4x 1805 v.2

SEAM. XXXIV.] THE ATONEMENT OF CHRIST. thereby he hath shewn himself to be a priest of recon- ciliation. How adorable is this contrivance ! How amazing is this love ! How should sinners be surprized with a sense of this abounding grace I Here I behold the Son of God stooping down from the height of his glory, to become a mortal man, surrounded with flesh and sorrows : I behold the first favourite of heaven, the first beloved Son leaving the bosom of his Father, and the fulness Of celestial joys, that he might unite himself to our feeble nature, and taste the anguish and the smart that our rebellions had deserved. I behold him for- saken of his Father, and lying under the weight and ter- ror of sóme unknown discoveries and impressions of that divine indignation and wrath that was due to sin- ners ; unknown impressions indeed, that struck the Son of God with amazement, and made his soul exceeding sorrowfúl, even to death. And was all this for my sins, O my Saviour ? Didst thou sustain these heavy sufferings from the hand of Of God, that such a rebel as I might be reconciled ? Yes, all this for my sins, If I am found a sincere be- liever on the Sou] of God. Enquire now, Omy 8ó111, dost thoubelieve in Christ ? Hast thou seen thy heavy guilt, and thy danger of eternal death ? Hast thou been weary and heavy laden with a Sense of thy past iniquities ? Hast thou been pained at heart under the present power of indwelling sin ? And hast thou fled for refuge to the hope set before thee iii the gospel ? Hast thou joyfully receivedJesus the Savi- our by faith in his blood? by a living and active faith? Hast thou committed thyself to him, to be delivered from the reign of sin, as well as from the condemnation of it ? Then, mayest thou join with the blessed apostle, and speak in the language of faith, ` He loved me, and gave himself for me," Gal. ii. 20. Let me meditate again the sorrows and agonies ofmy dear, my adored Redeemer. Infinite agonies and sor- rows, beyond all the powers of language. Is my heart made of stone, that it can hear such a history and not melt within me ? Have I no tender part within -me to bleed at the rehearsal of such anguish, and such love ? Blessed Jesus, smite the rock of my heart, and let it pour out new streams of repentance and affectionate gratitude. F4