Morning, May 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening
“His cheeks are like a bed of balsam, Banks of sweet-scented herbs.” — Song of Solomon 5:13
Look, the flowery month is come! March winds and April showers have done their work, and the earth is all decorated with beauty. Come my soul, put on your holiday attire and go forth to gather garlands of heavenly thoughts. You know where to take yourself, for to you “the beds of spices” are well known, and you have so often smelled the perfume of “the sweet flowers,” that you will go at once to your beloved and find all loveliness, all joy in him. That cheek once so rudely stricken with a rod, often flowing with tears of sympathy and then defiled with spittle—that cheek as it smiles with mercy is as fragrant aroma to my heart. You did not hide your face from shame and spitting, O Lord Jesus, and therefore I will find my dearest delight in praising you. Those cheeks were furrowed by the plow of grief, and made crimson with red lines of blood from your thorn-crowned temples; such marks of unbounded love cannot fail to charm my soul far more than “pillars of perfume.” If I may not see the whole of his face I would behold his cheeks, for the least glimpse of him is extraordinarily refreshing to my spiritual senses and yields a variety of delights. In Jesus I find not only fragrance, but a bed of spices; not one flower, but all types of sweet flowers. He is to me my rose and my lily, my heart’s ease and my cluster of sweet spice. When he is with me it is May all the year round, and my soul goes forth to wash her happy face in the morning dew of his grace, and to solace herself with the singing of the birds of his promises. Precious Lord Jesus, let me indeed know the blessedness which dwells in abiding, unbroken fellowship with you. I am a poor worthless one, whose cheek you have condescended to kiss! O let me kiss you in return with the kisses of my lips.