Jeremiah 30:12-14. For thus saith the LORD, Thy bruise is incurable, and thy wound is grievous. There is none to plead thy cause, that thou mayest be bound up: thou hast no healing medicines. All thy lovers have forgotten thee; they seek thee not; for I have wounded thee with the wound of an enemy, with the chastisement of a cruel one, for the multitude of thine iniquity; because thy sins were increased.
God never gave his people leave to sin; and sin in them is worse than sin in any other people, for they sin against more light, and more love; and therefore it grieves the Lord the more, and he smites all the more heavily; and, mark you, when God smites, there is nobody who can comfort us. A quaint old writer, whose book I was reading the other day, commenting on that part of the parable where the friend, disturbed at midnight, said, "My children are on me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee," wrote something like this, "When God is in bed, there are none of his children up to help us; if he does not open the door, there are none of his saints to give us a crust; all must come from him." Therefore we must cry unto him, and say, "Awake for my help, O God; for all my lovers have forgotten me; they seek me not in the time of my distress." When God wounds us, men often desert us; and those that seemed to be most fond of us forsake us when God smites us.
Jeremiah 30:12-14. For thus saith the LORD, Thy bruise is incurable, and thy wound is grievous. There is none to plead thy cause, that thou mayest be bound up: thou hast no healing medicines. All thy lovers have forgotten thee; they seek thee not; for I have wounded thee with the wound of an enemy, with the chastisement of a cruel one, for the multitude of thine iniquity; because thy sins were increased.
God never gave his people leave to sin; and sin in them is worse than sin in any other people, for they sin against more light, and more love; and therefore it grieves the Lord the more, and he smites all the more heavily; and, mark you, when God smites, there is nobody who can comfort us. A quaint old writer, whose book I was reading the other day, commenting on that part of the parable where the friend, disturbed at midnight, said, "My children are on me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee," wrote something like this, "When God is in bed, there are none of his children up to help us; if he does not open the door, there are none of his saints to give us a crust; all must come from him." Therefore we must cry unto him, and say, "Awake for my help, O God; for all my lovers have forgotten me; they seek me not in the time of my distress." When God wounds us, men often desert us; and those that seemed to be most fond of us forsake us when God smites us.