It points you to the Cross, and all it has borne to prove the reality of its affection, and to win you for itself. It reminds you of all it has promised to do for you, if you will but throw yourself unreservedly into its arms. It asks you whether, so far as you have come to dwell with it and taste its blessedness, it has not done well by you. Here I am. From this love springs forth the measure and completeness of our surrender to it.
Love gives all, but asks all.
It does so, not because it grudges us anything, but because without this it cannot get possession of us to fill us with itself. In the love of the Father and the Son, it was so. In the love of Jesus to us, it was so. How all thought of sacrifice or surrender would pass away, and our souls be filled with wonder at the unspeakable privilege of being loved with such a love, of being allowed to come and abide in it forever. And this divine love, treating me as a reasonable being, endowed with the wondrous power of willing and choosing, cannot force all this blessedness on me, but waits till I give the willing consent of the heart.