Awe

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Journal Entry. 3rd of August, 2026. 3:14 Early Morning.

As my life draweth nearer its close, and the end appears more real than it did in the days of my strength, I find that every part of my life is being quietly altered. My prayers have passed from the continual presentation of my needs unto seasons of stillness, speechless wonder, and holy awe before the God of heaven and earth. The early hours of the morning have become at once the sweetest seasons of communion and the sharpest hours of spiritual conflict.

There are few duties against which Satan directs himself with greater malice than prayer. He knoweth well that, when a believer is brought low before God, heaven is pleased to accomplish what all the powers of earth and hell cannot withstand. It is no wonder, then, that he labours with such unwearied diligence to distract, discourage, and weary the soul before it hath well begun to pray. The flesh would have me turn mine eyes unto anything rather than the Word of God, and fill my mind with every thought rather than that holy silence wherein the soul is prepared for communion with Him. Thus it labours to drown the gentle pleadings of the Spirit, who calleth me to draw near unto the heavenly court. It would persuade me that the golden scepter is not stretched forth in welcome, that I have no liberty to enter the presence of my King, and so remain without, contenting myself with the crumbs beneath my feet, whilst the banquet of His fellowship is freely set before me.

Greater is the war to still the soul before God
than to stand in the public square opposed by men.

To stand before hostile men may last but an hour; to still the soul before God requires the labor of a whole day. The multitude disperse, and their insults are no more; but the inward conflict sinks its fangs deep into my neck wherever I go. It is a warfare hidden from the eyes without, known only to God and to my soul that ever pleads to be rid of it. No man writes biographies of those long and silent hours spent alone before God. Yet I am persuaded that the victories obtained in such Gethsemanes are those which sustain every faithful labor performed before the eyes of men. Public obedience is but the fruit; the hidden conflict in secret prayer is the root from which it springs.

My thoughts are often occupied throughout the day with where I should next proclaim the Word, what I ought to write, how best to set my chores in order, and how I might lead the saints in worship as a family when evening comes. Yet these necessary concerns have often stolen from me that time which ought first to have been spent in the Scriptures. Thus the early morning hath become my refuge, and it is no strange thing for my eyes to open of themselves at three o'clock. There I seek to meditate, to search my own heart, and to commune with my God.

Yet even there I find that sin lieth at my bedside, ready to draw away my thoughts once my eyes open, and interrupt commencing holy fellowship. Were I left to myself but for a moment, I should soon wander. I live wholly upon the merciful hand of my heavenly Father, who sustaineth me when my flesh, my mind, and my body daily feel more of their corruption and weakness. Whilst the outward man wastes away, He is pleased continually to refresh my spirit with the dew of heaven. Therefore I can do no other than sit in silent wonder before Him, and worship with grateful awe beneath His gracious throne.

I desire not a long life, but I do fear departing with my appointed labors unfinished. I have often thought that, were the Lord pleased to shorten my days, I should be content to see no more than threescore years. Yet my times are in His hand, and I myself am His to command. My life is no longer mine, for the life which I now live is His gracious work within me. What a wondrous mystery it is that the thrice-holy God should be pleased to make a deteriorating creature His habitation, and continue His work through one whose every thought, every deed, and every desire He knoweth far better than I know them myself. Nothing is hidden from His sight, yet He hath not cast me away.

What shall I say that He knoweth not already? Or what shall I offer unto Him which He hath not first wrought by His own gracious hand? What remaineth, then, but holy awe and reverent silence before so great a God? The privilege of being constrained by His love is a mercy too weighty for words, leaving the soul with no fitter posture than to bow low before His throne in humble gratitude.

What words remain for Him who heareth even the speechless heart?

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me.
Job 19:25-27

I desire that not only my life for the present, but even my memory in the future, should point my children unto Christ. And when my children's children, whom I already love though I will perhaps never see them, shall one day read these journals, hear these recordings, watch these labors, and learn of me from the tales of their parents, that they should not think highly of me, but realize in holy awe the majesty and faithfulness of God.

The stars shine only for a season before the morning breaks forth, yet while they remain, they brightly declare the glory of Him who placed them in the heavens. So may my life, however brief, leave behind for all a clear view of the beauty of my gracious Lord.

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