His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers" (Song of Solomon 5: 13).
The flowery month is here! March winds and April showers have done their work, and the earth is clothed with beauty. To you the "beds of spices" are well known. You have often smelled the perfume of the "sweet flowers." Go at once to your Beloved and find in Him all loveliness and all joy. That cheek once so rudely smitten with a rod, often wet with tears of sympathy, and then defiled with spittle--that chee¾Æ, as it smiles with mercy, is a fragrant aroma to my heart. You did not hide Your face from shame and spitting, O Lord Jesus, and therefore I will find my dearest delight in praising You. Those cheeks were furrowed by the plow of grief and crimsoned with red lines of blood from Your thorn-crowned temples; such marks of love unbounded cannot but charm my soul far more than "pillars of perfume." In Jesus I find not only fragrance, but a bed of spices; not one flower, but all manner of sweet flowers. He is to me my rose and my lily, my hearts-ease and my cluster of camphor. When He is with me, it is May all year round. My soul goes forth to wash its happy face in the morning-dew of His grace and to solace itself with the singing of the birds of His promises. Precious Lord Jesus, let me know the blessedness which dwells in abiding, unbroken fellowship with You.