The woods are deep, the light is dim; the dominion of darkness is running rampant, for it’s days are but nigh to the end.
‘Come Lord Jesus, come!’ – goes the cry of the saints; shall I languish in prayer and shall the Word be put beneath the dust? Shall I be asleep in the watch? Oh how I desire NOT to be found faithless nor wanting of truth down deep and in soul cleansing prayer.
All of hell’s brigade has hit the earth, seeking the saint’s blood to destroy; but shall I fear, tremble and hope in vain? No! I shall run head-on till the battle is won or God calls my day done.
Although I praise the Lord that He grinds me to dust in His sanctification, however, I find no appeasement to the flesh but in the Spirit alone can I say, “Although You burn out the dross and pierce me with many scourging arrows, You alone are good, faithful, loving and true. All praises be unto You Lord God Almighty.“
Drive this man into the dust, yet remember me through I be the tinniest, weakest and most bankrupt among men. Lord, let Jesus alone be what You see in me – my great propitiation and precious treasure of infinite worth.
‘Oh come Lord Jesus, come!’ – and rescue, yet again, this poor man from Himself; oh that You would march the victor for all of my enemies to see and with the flag of Christ high and firmly planted by Your Spirit.