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The blood of Christ can do greater things than our questioning hearts conceive. Its virtue extends farther than either unbelief or self-righteousness will credit. It has the property of covering, not merely our sins before coming, however great these may be, but the defects of our act of coming. Our High Priest bears “the iniquity or our holy things.” (Ex 28:38)

~Horatius Bonar,From the preface to “Hours of Christian Devotion”, quoted in Christ is All: The Piety of Horatius Bonar, 213

Even when we do not grasp it, the blood of Christ extends further than we can conceive. From one side, covering the rank of our absolute rebellion when were were blind and dead; all the way to our greatest acts of obedience as believers. The blood of Christ covers all.

If you ever question whether the blood of Christ extends to your situation, don’t question any longer.

The Spirit’s infinite holiness gives Him such a view of the misery of an unholy soul, as makes Him yearn with compassionate love over such; His infinite holiness makes Him long to see them delivered from their sin, and made holy as He is holy. Holy love yearns over the unholy. Holy love longs to save the lost. Holy love strives to deliver the unholy from the awful misery of a sinful state, and to replace them in the blessedness of a divine purity, and the perfect image of God.

~Horatius Bonar, The Love of the Spirit, quoted in Christ Is All: The Piety of Horatius Bonar, 176.

Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, (Rom 5:20)

There is more mercy in Christ than sin in us.

– Richard Sibbes

It is a wondrous truth I get to think on every morning. The truth that no matter how many sins I will bring to the day; They will be outmatched by God’s grace shown through Christ. And not only enough to equal them! But an over abounding amount to turn everyone of my wrong decisions into good (Rom 8:28)!

The day may come with whatever it may bring; grace is abounding all the more towards me.

O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree;
The tree of life to all, but only me:
Was ever grief like mine?

Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound;
Sharp nails pierce this, but shaper that confound;
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound.
Was ever grief like mine?

Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down.
Atlas I did so, when I left my crown
And father’s smile for you, to feel his frown:
Was ever grief like mine?

In healing not my self, there doth consist
All salvation, which ye now resist;
Your safety in my sickness doth subsist:
Was ever grief like mine?

Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robbery suffereth.
Alas! what have I stolen from you? death:
Was ever grief like mine?

But now I die; now all is finished.
My woe, man’s weal: and now I bow my head.
Only let others say, when I am dead,
Never was grief like mine.

~George Herbert, Sections from “The Sacrifice.”

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