It is not with an increase of corn, and wine, and oil, but with the shining of the countenance of God upon us, that he comforts our souls (Ps. 4:6–7). “The world hates me,” may such a soul as has the Spirit say; “but my Father loves me. Men despise me as a hypocrite; but my Father loves me as a child. I am poor in this world; but I have a rich inheritance in the love of my Father. I am straitened in all things; but there is bread enough in my Father’s house. I mourn in secret under the power of my lusts and sin, where no eyes see me; but the Father sees me, and is full of compassion. With a sense of his kindness, which is better than life, I rejoice in tribulation, glory in affliction, triumph as a conqueror. Though I am killed all the day long, all my sorrows have a bottom that may be fathomed—my trials, bounds that may be compassed; but the breadth, and depth, and height of the love of the Father, who can express?” I might render glorious this way of the Spirit’s comforting us with the love of the Father, by comparing it with all other causes and means of joy and consolation whatever; and so discover their emptiness, its fullness—their nothingness, its being all;
~John Owen~
Communion With The Triune God (Wheaton, IL; Crossway Books; 2007) p. 409
The Old Guys 
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