The Sight of
A Pierced Savior,
the Best Spring of Sorrow for Sin
WE HAVE all pierced Christ, inasmuch as our sins were the cause of His death. "He was wounded for our transgressions." Now, a believing sight of a pierced Savior is the best spring of sorrow for sin. It it faith's look to a crucified Christ that will set us to mourning after a godly sort.
Oh, that this promise may be made good to me at this time, that I may be helped to look believingly upon Christ as pierced for my sins, my pride, my passion, my unbelief, my carnality, my disobedience, my sins of the heart, of the tongue, and of the life; that I may confess and bewail them, mourn and weep over them before the Lord.
Oh, when shall I mourn and weep if not now, when called to look upon my dear Lord and Surety at His table, all red with blood, for my red and scarlet-colored sins?
I will not now stand afar off, and look to my Savior on the cross, as those women who followed Him from Galilee. No, I will come close to Him, take a near look and a narrow view of His wounds and piercings by my sins, that I may see how wide and deep they are, that my eye may affect my heart with godly sorrow for sin.
When I look at Him, I will consider the dignity of the Person pierced by and for me. He is the mighty Creator, the glorious Immanuel, the Plant of renown, the Prince of the kings of the earth, that is pierced and nailed to a cross.
Jeremiah laments in the captivity that princes were hanged up by the hands. But what were the princes of Israel to the Prince of peace, the king of glory, whom I see hanging nailed through the hands on the cross, and Hisblood poured out like water upon the earth? Oh, it is royal blood, the blood of God.
Can I look upon my lovely Redeemer stripped naked, mounted up, fixed with nails to a tormenting cross? Can I see His head pierced with thorns, His back pierced with scorgings, and feet with big nails, His side pierced with a spear, and His heart pierced with sorrows for my sins, and my heart not mourn for them?
Yet all the piercings and wounds of His sacred body were but small to the piercings and agonies of His soul when He drank of the cup of the Father's wrath for me, which made Him cry out, "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?''
Lord, make me a melting and a mourning sinner.
--John Willison, 1718, taken from The Lone Pilgrim, 1929
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