The poor, humble, drooping soul, entering into the rest
Thou that now spendest thy days in sorrow, and thy breath in sighings, and turnest all thy voice into groanings; who knowest no garments but sackcloth, no food but the bread and water of affliction; who minglest thy bread with tears, and drinkest the tears which thou weepest; what sayest thou to this great change, from all sorrow to more than all joy? Thou poor soul, who prayest for joy, waitest for joy, complainest for want of joy, longest for joy; why, then, thou shalt have full joy, as much as thou canst hold, and more than ever thou thoughtest on, or thy heart desired. And, in the mean time, walk carefully, watch constantly, and then let God measure out thy times and degrees of joy. It may be he keeps them till thou have more need: thou mayst better lose thy comfort than thy safety: if thou shouldst die full of fears and sorrows, it will be but a moment, and they are all gone, and conclude in joy unconceivable. As the joy of the hypocrite, so the fears of the upright are but for a moment. And as their hopes are but golden dreams, which, when death awakes, doubts and fears are but terrible dreams, which, when they die, do all vanish; and they awake in joyful glory. For “God’s anger endureth but a moment, but in his favour is life: weeping may endureth in the morning,” Psal. xxx. 5. O blessed morning, thrice blessed m orning! poor, humble, drooping soul, how would it fill thee with joy now, if a voice from heaven should tell thee of the love of God; of the pardon of thy sins; and should assure thee thy actual possession shall convince thee of thy title and thou shalt be in heaven before thou art well aware! when the angels shall bring thee to Christ, and when Christ shall, as it were, take thee by the hand, and lead thee into thy purchased possession, and bid thee welcome to his rest, and present thee unspotted before his Father, and give thee thy place about his throne! Poor sinner, what sayest thou to such a day as this? Wilst thou not be almost ready to draw back and say, What I Lord, I, the unworthy neglecter of thy grace! I the unworthy disteemer of thy blood, and slighter of thy love! Must I have this glory? “Make me a hired servant, I am no more worthy to be called a son” But love will have it so; therefore must thou enter into his joy. [Richard Baxter]
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About
Nothing much to tell. I’m walking a single solitary pilgrims walk, in England, that is not an easy one. I am a Calvinistic Covenanter Christian, My Autonomic Nervous system is failing slowly, which has led to severe disability, with an ultra rare disease than medics don’t even understand, often misdiagnose.and will no doubt kill me at some point. But, I trust the Lord to get me where I’m going. All glory to HIM.
The symptomology listed on the link, most porphyrics will only have most of those symptoms if in an acute attack. A few of us, with the ongoing, smouldering symptoms, that never go away, have most if not all of the symptom list, even when not in an acute attack, and are persistent and constant. Anyone who has ever been in the psychiactric system, diagnosed as this or that, even if physically well, should consider this illness could be responsible. King George III, the most famous porphyric, his sole symptom was “insanity.” Its so rare in part, because it’s massively under-diagnosed. But in making this illness known, when it struck me physically a few years ago, God vindicated me from every mis-diagnoses and bersmirchment upon me medically that has ever been made, and has made them all null and void.
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