|Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord| (Phil. iii.1).
There is no spiritual value in depression. One bright and thankful look at the cross is worth a thousand morbid, self-condemning reflections. The longer you look at evil the more it mesmerizes and defiles you into its own likeness. Lay it down at the cross, accept the cleansing blood, reckon yourself dead to the thing that was wrong, and then rise up and count yourself as if you were another man and no longer the same person; and then, identifying yourself with the Lord Jesus, accept your standing in Him and look in your Father's face as blameless as Jesus. Then out of your every fault will come some lesson of watchfulness or some secret of victory which will enable you some day to thank Him, even for your painful experience.
But praise is a sacrifice, for |it is acceptable to God.| It goes up to heaven sweeter than the songs of angels, |a sweet smelling savor to your Lord and King.| It should be unintermittent -- |the sacrifice of praise continually.| One drop of poison will neutralize a whole cup of wine, and make it a cup of death, and one moment of gloom will defile a whole day of sunshine and gladness. Let us |rejoice evermore.|