November 25

"Then said I, Here am I; send me."—Isaiah 6:8.

THERE was a transforming vision behind Isaiah's vow. He had seen the majesty of God. He had seen the uncleanness of his own nature. He had seen the cleansing mercy of heaven. And it was this which prompted his dedication. Am I conversant with his threefold vision? I must not attempt to speak and labour for God till I have it. From the secret place I must come out to serve.

There was an unqualified gift wrapped up in Isaiah's vow. He presented himself, purged, ennobled, to the Lord his Saviour. A living sacrifice—it was that which he laid at the feet of God. And my whole history should be proof that I am separated unto the gospel and kingdom of Christ. My body and my spirit, my time and my tastes, my pleasures and my pursuits, are His. "God knows," cried John Livingstone of the Kirk of Shotts, "that I would rather serve Him on earth and then endure the torments of the lost, than live a life of sin on earth and then have for ever the bliss of the ransomed."

There was an unconditional ministry in front of Isaiah's vow. Send me, he said. He could not sit still any longer. And for years he toiled untiringly on. There is work opening out to me on every hand, work summoning me hour after hour. It is guilt to stand idle in the market-place. It is treason to refrain from glorifying my Master. My Lord wants reapers; let me mount up before night falls and says, "Too late!"

Having gone in, to the heart of the Father, to the salvation of the Son, to the grace of the Holy Ghost, let me go out too.