Ah, my much abused, much neglected heart!
How have I allowed you to wander, to be
enamored, enchained, won, and possessed
by others! How has your spiritual verdure
withered, how have your fresh springs dried,
your beauty faded, and your strength decayed!
How cold, how inconstant, how unfaithful,
how unkind have you been to your best,
your dearest, your heavenly Friend!
It is beneath the cross alone
that sin shall be seen, hated,
conquered, and forsaken.
Sin, guilt, unbelief, impenitence,
cannot live a moment under
the sacred shadow of the cross
of Christ. Go there, my soul,
and weep, mourn, and love.
Drag your foe there, and it is slain!
Your transgressions, deep as scarlet
and as crimson, shall not be of too
deep a dye if you but plunge into
the fountain of Christ's blood.
(from Octavius Winslow's "Self Communion")