Blessed be the Holy Spirit when He kills me! When He drives the sword through the very heart of my own merits and my self-confidence, then He makes me alive. “I wound, and I heal.” He never heals those whom He has not wounded. Then blessed be the hand that wounds! Let it go on wounding! Let it cut and tear! Let it lay bare to me myself at my very worst, that I may be driven to self-despair and may fall back upon the free mercy of God—and receive it as a poor, guilty, lost, helpless, undone sinner!
May we cast ourselves into the arms of sovereign grace, knowing that God must give all, and Christ must be all, and the Spirit must work all—and we must be as clay in the potter’s hands, that the Lord may do with us as seems to Him good. Rejoice however low you are brought, for if the Spirit humbles you, He means no evil, but intends infinite good to your soul.