I Am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valleys

Narrator: Chris Genthree
Song of Solomon 2:1  •  4 min. read  •  grade level: 6
Listen from:
Songs of Solomon 2:1
Mark well, my soul, that the speaker (Israel in that future day) says, “I am the lily of the valleys” – not of the cities. In the quiet vale she finds her native soil, and breathes her native air. There she blooms, for the eye of her Beloved, and sheds her fragrance for His refreshment. “He feedeth among the lilies.” It was in the city she lost the joys of His presence; and there she was insulted and unveiled by the watchmen. These were her wandering, backsliding moments. O! how much better for her, had she never left her native valleys! My soul, here, pause a little. Meditate on these things. At a distance – far from the stream and spirit of this world – in heart far from its attractions, study that which will be pleasing to the eye of Jesus, and refreshing to His heart.
O! wondrous truth! that He who is seated on the throne of God in heaven, and surrounded with its glory, should yet think at all of such good-for-nothing ones as we are, and, most of all, to be pleased and delighted, or grieved and wounded, by the character of our ways! Alas! that He should be so frequently wounded in the house of His friends!
O! is there one thing under the sun, that should give thee such unfeigned pleasure, as to please Him? Canst thou think of anything more unworthy of a Christian, than his seeking to please himself, and to find pleasure in the things of the world? Especially when he knows, as men speak, that it is to grieve the heart of One whom only he should find his supreme delight in pleasing – the One who died for him on Calvary.
Having well judged thy heart and ways on this solemn subject, let thy care, love, and sympathy go out after others; especially the young of the flock, for the Lord’s glory. How beautiful to the eye of Jesus now, and how refreshing to His heart, to see those for whom He died, walking happily and steadfastly in the footsteps of the flock, and feeding beside the shepherd’s tents. There the tender budding grass is found, and the quiet waters flow. But O! how grieving both to the chief and to the under shepherds to witness, it may be, a dear young disciple, who seemed for awhile to be all heart for the Lord, yielding to the arguments, of unconverted friends, and to the attractions of the world, and, by and by, making excuses for a measure of conformity to the fashion of the world. Must I give up this – and must I give up that? such will sometimes say. Rather think, my brother, my sister, on what you gave up in order to enjoy these things. Most solemn thought! For these follies and vanities you gave up Christ. I mean as to your experimental enjoyment of Him. You know that you cannot enjoy the Lord, and these things at the same time. And now, you must give up these for Christ. But do you hesitate for a moment? Look to the cross! “O, how He loves” – how He dies and dies for thee – and for these very sins! O! cast thyself at His blessed feet with true godly sorrow. Thou hast offended His eye, thou hast grieved His heart, thou hast dishonored His name; confess all to Him; and thy restoration shall be perfect, and all thy past sins shall be forgiven and forgotten forever.
But until this is done, spirituality of mind, earnestness of heart, and communion with the Lord are interrupted. It is a solemn case of backsliding. And unless the Lord clogs the wheels of the chariot, who can tell how fast and how far it may run down the hill? Sometimes an accident will happen and stop it suddenly, but with much damage, the scars of which may remain forever.
O Lord, let Thy grace shine forth; and allure many into the wilderness, who keep too near the world’s borders, and too often cast a wishful glance over the line of separation. Wean them from this present evil world. Let them be arrayed in the meek and lowly beauties of the lily, for Thee alone. Suffer them not to appear adorned for the eye of the world. Surely, most blessed Lord, to hear Thee saying,
“As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters,” would infinitely more than recompense for all our self-denial.