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Upon a Glass Without a Foot

That which chiefly renders this glass of little or no esteem is not the brittles of it, which is common to every glass, but the unaptness for use and service through a particular defect: in regard it has only a capacity to receive what is put into it — and no ability to retain it unless some hand or some foreign aid supply the place of a natural foot.

In the hand it is useful to convey drink to the thirsty, or a cordial to the patient: but as soon as it is out of the hand through mere weakness it falls and spills the liquor — if not ruin itself.

O how lively does this imperfect glass resemble the best condition of believers on this side of heaven who in themselves are not only brittle and so apt to be irrecoverably broken; but are also totally unable to retain either grace or comfort without which Christ is pleased to fill them — unless Christ bear them always in his hand?

And O how great is the care and love of Christ, to preserve such frail creatures to life, and to honor such weak instruments in his constant service. Who can think upon this goodness of Christ, and not be transported with raptures and ecstasies in the deep admiration of it? Who can believe that sure salvation that is in him, out of whose hand no man can pluck us, than it was with us in Adam — who had feet to stand upright, but no hand which might preserve him from falling?

Freewill has made many servants, but has it ever made one son? Are not all that are saved children of grace? Let others then magnify nature’s power, and like sick men confidentially walking — yet when tried they cannot stand.

I shall always desire to have a due sense of my own emptiness and weakness, and to make this my daily prayer, that Christ would always fill me with his grace, hold me by his hand, and use me ever in his service.