WHAT I DESIRE
by Archibald
Alexander
Spiritual knowledge is
that view of divine truth which arises from the
illumination of the Holy Spirit. With this
divine illumination comes:
A lively exercise of
faith, not merely in the way of assenting to the
truth, but confiding in the promises;
A holy susceptibility
of heart, so that every thought of Christ may be
a warm emotion of love and delight;
Godly fear—a profound
veneration, yes, adoration of the divine
majesty;
Deep humility, not
only a feeling of littleness and weakness and
ignorance, but of unworthiness and ill desert,
together with contrition of spirit, a godly
sorrow that works repentance;
A devotional spirit, a
constant breathing after God, the living God;
Fervent spontaneous
prayers in the midst of business and company;
Good-will to all men;
brotherly love;
Tender compassion for
the afflicted;
Inward peace—peace
with God, peace of conscience, tranquility of
mind, a peaceable temper;
Courage in opposing
spiritual foes, and in aggressive assaults on
the kingdom of darkness;
A spirit of wise
enterprise in doing good; promptitude in seizing
on opportunities of being useful;
Constancy and
perseverance in well-doing—bringing forth much
fruit, and continuing to bear fruit even in old
age;
Assurance of pardon
and acceptance, with a good hope, entering into
that within the veil;
Patience under
suffering, and the salutary benefits of
sanctified affliction;
A grateful temper,
ever disposed to give thanks, and to praise the
Father of lights, from whom comes down every
good and perfect gift;
Contentment with an
obscure and humble condition in the world,
without envy of the rich and great.
Let these things be in
me and abound, and I ask no more.
Let the worldlings
have the world, and make the most of it! I will
never envy their prosperity, for it is but for a
moment, and then, like a passing scene in a
drama, disappears forever! Their feet stand on
slippery places, and in due time their steps
will slide! And then, all their music, their
mirth, and their wine will cease forever! And
when they sink, they will rise no more. They
plunge into a horrible abyss, where no ray of
hope ever enters! Oh, their end, their dreadful
end!
Give me my place and
portion with the humble poor. Lift upon me, O
God, the light of your reconciled face, and
scatter the dismal gloom with which guilt and
unbelief envelops the soul. Speak your peace to
my troubled conscience, and darkness shall be
light, the weeping of the night converted into
the joy of the morning.
Lights and shadows
alternate during our earthly pilgrimage. But
often the nights are long and wintry; we long
for the genial, reviving warmth of spring. Our
spirits seek to be regaled by the sweet odors of
the fragrant flowers, and with the joyful
singing of birds. Oh for a serene, unclouded
sky.
But see that dark,
deep valley. See how many descend into the sides
of the pit, but none ever return. Most are
driven away—they are suddenly cast down. They
were not aware of their nearness to the
brink—they were not prepared for this sudden,
awful change. O the blindness of man! How deep
his sleep of carnal security! Will nothing
awaken him?
My desire is to
meditate on my latter end until I become wise
unto salvation; to stand ready with my lamp
trimmed, and thus to wait for the coming of my
Lord. Soon I shall need earthly blessings, and
even means of grace--no more. O what scenes will
soon burst on my astonished vision! Lord Jesus,
come quickly!
