XXXII. The Edge Off.

There are many in these days that once enjoyed the keen edge of perfect love. It was round about them like a wall of fire. It was seen in their faces. It beamed out in sacred song, in fervent prayer; in their testimony it cut its way through like a two-edged sword, causing sinners to cry for mercy, and the saints to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. It was manifest in the tone of voice; in the very look; it was not wanting in exhortation, and in preaching, the word was in power and in “demonstration of the Spirit.”

It gave a freshness to all their labor, and they were emphatically “the lights of the world”—“living epistles, known and read of all men.” Their experience was positive; nothing doubtful or misty, but the genuine ring of the pure metal. They passed current for one hundred cents on the dollar. They did not repudiate a single claim the Almighty had upon them, but endorsed the whole of God’s Word from Genesis to Revelation; hence they lived under the direct rays of the Son of righteousness, causing even the desert to blossom as the rose. But now, alas! alas! how changed. The gloom of night is upon them. They go with their heads down like a bullrush. They make the same motions as formerly, but the power is gone, the edge is off.

O, my dear brother, sister, let me exhort you to edge up. Just put your head on the grindstone of humble confession; make all wrongs right, so far as you have the power and ability to do so. You will be perfectly astonished at the result, if you will just take the back track to the cross, and then renewedly consecrate your all to God for time and eternity. Rest not a moment until you are fully restored; until love, yea, perfect love, sits enthroned in your heart, and you can sing,—