(Octavius Winslow, "Midnight Harmonies")
There exists not upon earth a more vile and
unlovely thing, in the self searching view of
the true believer, than his own heart.
From every other human eye that bosom is
deeply, impenetrably veiled. All that is within
is known only to itself. What those chambers
of abomination are, God will not permit another
creature to know.
But oh, how dark, how loathsome, how unholy
to him "who knows the plague of his own heart!"
Believer! Jesus loves that heart of yours!
He purchased it with his own heart's blood,
agonies, and tears!
With all its indwelling evil and self loathing, God
sees its struggles, watches its conflict, and marks
its sincerity. He has his finger upon its pulse, he
feels every beat, records every throb. Not a feeling
thrills it, not an emotion agitates it, not a sorrow
shades it, not a sin wounds it, not a thought passes
through it, of which he is not cognizant.