The countless, blood-bought throng
During the earthly state the redeemed appeared to be a little flock—a tiny speck in a dreary waste, a rare flower in a weedy desert. The solitary pilgrim often sighed, ‘I, I alone, am left.’
But now how changed is the scene! The collected throng baffles enumeration—to count the happy hosts eludes all power; numbers are impotent to reach their expanse; no vision can embrace them—their horizon has no bound. On the right hand and on the left they stretch beyond all gaze—in the front and in the rear their vastness spreads beyond all measure. They are ‘a great multitude, which no man can number.’ They all on earth had sins as countless as their countless throng; but all their sins are now forgiven!
How wondrous is the blood of Jesus! How matchless is its worth! The result is worthy equivalent of its expenditure.
Forgiveness of Sins
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