Genesis 8:11

Blessed be the Lord for another day of mercy, even though I am now weary with its toils. To the preserver of men I lift my song of gratitude. The dove found no rest out of the ark and therefore returned to it; and my soul has learned this day, yet more fully than ever, that there is no satisfaction to be found in earthly things—God alone can give rest to my spirit.

As for my business, my possessions, my family, my attainments—these are all well enough in their way, but they cannot fulfill the desires of my immortal nature. Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. It was at the still hour, when the gates of the day were closing, that with weary wing the dove came back to the master: O Lord, enable me this evening thus to return to Jesus.

She could not endure to spend a night hovering over the restless waste, nor can I bear to be even for another hour away from Jesus, the rest of my heart, the home of my spirit. She did not merely alight upon the roof of the ark; she “came in to him”; so too, my longing spirit would look into the secret of the Lord, pierce to the interior of truth, enter into that which is within the veil, and reach my Beloved indeed.

I must come to Jesus: short of the nearest and dearest communion with him, my panting spirit cannot rest. Blessed Lord Jesus, be with me, reveal yourself, and abide with me all night, so that when I awake I may still be with you. I note that the dove brought in her mouth an olive branch plucked off, the memorial of the past day and a prophecy of the future.

Have I no pleasing record to bring home? No pledge and earnest of lovingkindness yet to come? Yes, my Lord, I present to you my grateful acknowledgments for tender mercies which have been new every morning and fresh every evening; and now, I ask you, put forth your hand and take your dove into your bosom.