As the prodigal son learned, there is no giving in the “far country,” not even of husks. Satan sells all, and dearly; our souls are the price. You must buy everything. The world’s principle is “nothing for nothing.”

Would you find a giver? You must come to God.

Grace has no limits, no bounds. Be we what we may—and we cannot be worse than we are—in spite of that, God towards us is Love.

His grace is ever more astonishing, and it so connects itself with every fiber and want, too, of our hearts in Christ’s becoming man, that it brings us into a place which none can know who are not in it. And yet one is nothing in it, though united to Him who is everything, and to be nothing is to be in a blessed place. The law may torture the conscience, but grace humbles.

“While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” We see just two things in this, that the sinner is without strength, without riches. Like the poor prodigal, he has spent all he had, and now that he comes to himself, and is about to return, he has nothing to bring with him. Like a shipwrecked mariner, all is thrown overboard, everything going adrift, and he himself struggling with the dark billows is just cast ashore, wearied and poor, having nothing! But blessed be God, if we have got to shore, God is there, and He is for us; and we know we shall not be cast out again, and that we may lay claim now to all things that God can give: “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with him also freely give us all things?” The way I come at the sense of the immensity of sin is by the immensity of the grace that has met it.