The Gospel by Octavius Winslow

The Gospel is the masterwork of Jehovah, presenting the greatest display of his manifold wisdom and the most costly exhibition of the riches of his grace. In constructing it, he would seem to have summoned all the resources of his own infinity to his aid, his fathomless wisdom, his boundless love, His illimitable grace, His infinite power, His spotless holiness, all contributed their glory, and conspired to present it to the universe as the most consummate piece of divine workmanship.

The revelations it makes, the facts it records, the doctrines it propounds, the effects it produces, proclaim it to be the glorious gospel of the blessed God.

We live encircled by shadows. Our friends are shadows. Our comforts are shadows. Our supports are shadows. Our pursuits are shadows. And we ourselves are shadows passing away.

But in the precious gospel, we have substance. We have reality. We have that which remains with us when all other things disappear, leaving the soul desolate, the heart bleeding, and the spirit bowed in sorrow to the dust.

But the gospel guides our perplexities, mitigates our griefs, sanctifies our sorrows, heals our wounds, dries our tears, because it leads us to the love of Jesus, the tenderness of Jesus, the sympathy of Jesus, the grace of Jesus.

The gospel reveals Jesus, speaks mainly of Jesus, leads simply to Jesus. And this makes it glad tidings of great joy to a miserable, lost, and hell-bound sinner.