afflictions, the end of your spiritual conflicts,--to lead you to the
same Shepherd of Israel, and to exult in Him as "the health of your
countenance, and your God?" Elimelech, of old, was compelled by famine
to leave Bethlehem, but his name signified, "_My God is King!_" When
we are pressed with straits, and troubles, and perplexities, let _us_
make that name our strong tower! "MY GOD IS KING" is a glorious motto.
Is it the heavings and convulsions of the world's nations--"kings of
the earth setting themselves, and rulers taking counsel together,"
from motives of personal ambition, or political jealousy, or lust of
conquest? Write upon all their schemes, ELIMELECH--"_My God is King!_"
Is it the apparently mysterious discipline through which some may be
passing--bereavements threatening your dwelling, or the hand of death
already on your loved ones? Write on the darkened threshold,
ELIMELECH--"_My God is King!_" Is it the prospect of your own death
that is filling you with apprehension? Remember in whose hands, under
whose sovereign control, that messenger is. Go to the vacant Sepulchre
at Golgotha, and read that writing and superscription which the
"Abolisher of death" has left for the comfort of all His people:--"_I
have the keys of the grave and of death_." Christian! even here, in
these gloomy regions, "_thy God is King!_"
How blessed thus to be able, both in temporal and spiritual things,
to lie in the arms of His mercy, saying, "Undertake Thou for us!"--to
feel that every thread in the web of life is woven by the Great
Artificer,--that not one movement in these swiftly-darting shuttles is
chance; but all is by _His_ direction, and all is to result in good!
In having Himself as our portion, we are independent of every
other;--we have the pledge of all other blessings. "Let the moveables
go, the inheritance is ours!" Let the streams fail, we have the
inexhaustible fountain! "Drop millions of gold," says good Bishop
Hopkins, "boundless revenues, ample territories, crowns and sceptres,
and a poor contemptible worm lays his _One God_ against them
all."[107] "_Our_ all," says Lady Powerscourt, "is but two mites (soul
and body). _His_ all--Heaven, Earth, Eternity, Himself." We have said
in a previous chapter that the loftiest archangel can tell of no
mightier prerogative than looking up to the Great Being before whom he
casts his crown, and saying, "My God!" WE can utter them in a sense
higher than he. He is OUR God _in Christ_. The words to us are written
(which to the unredeemed angels they are not) in the blood of
atonement! Imagine, for a moment, a conversation between a bright
angel in heaven and a ransomed sinner from earth. The angel can point
to a past eternity; he can tell of a glorious pedigree; he can point
up to his Almighty Maker, and say, "He has been _my God_ for ages and
ages past. I have been kept, supported, gladdened by His amazing
mercy, long before the birth of time or your world!" "True," we may
imagine the redeemed and glorified sinner to reply,--"but I can tell
of something more wondrous still. He is _my God in covenant_! Thou art
His by _creation_, but I am His also by _adoption_, _filiation_,
_sonship_. Though grace has kept thee through these countless ages,
during which thou hast cast thy crown at His feet, what is the grace
manifested to _thee_, in comparison with the grace manifested to _me_?
Grace made thee holy, and kept thee holy; but grace found me on the
brink of despair, plucked me as a brand from the burning, brought me
from the depths of woe and degradation, to a throne and a crown!
_Thy_ God hath loved thee. _My_ God hath 'loved _me_' and GIVEN
HIMSELF _for me_!"
[107] "Were it not for this word of possession, the devil might
say the Creed to as good purpose as we. He believes there is a God
and Christ, but that which torments him is this--he can say '_my_'
to never an article of faith."--_Sibbs._
* * * * *
And now we close our meditations on this beautiful and instructive
Psalm:--a Psalm which, even since we have begun to write on it, we
have seen clung to as a treasured solace in hours of sickness;--its
sublime utterances soothing the departing soul, just as it was pluming
its wings for flight to the spirit-world! Reader! in any future dark
and troubled passages in your life, you may well with comfort turn to
this _diary_ of an old and tried saint, remembering that it records
the experiences of "the man after God's own heart." Tracing _his_
footsteps and tear-drops along "the sands of time," you shall cease to
"think it strange concerning the fiery trials that may be trying you,
as though some strange thing happened." You will find that "the same
afflictions are accomplished in you," which have been "accomplished"
in the case of God's most favoured servants in every age of the
Church. Do not expect now the _un_clouded day. That is not for earth,
but for heaven. God indeed, had He seen meet, might have ordained that
your pathway was to be without cloud or darkness, trial or tear;--no
poisoned darts, no taunts, no contumely, no cross, no "deep calling to
deep,"--nothing but calm seas unfretted by a ripple, sunny slopes and
verdant valleys, and bright Mizar-hills of love and faithfulness! But
to keep you humble,--to teach you your dependence on Himself,--to make
your present existence a state of discipline and probation, He has
ordered it otherwise. Your journey as travellers is through mist and
cloud-land;--your voyage as seamen through alternate calm and
storm.[108] And much of that discipline, too, is mysterious. You
cannot discern its "why" and "wherefore." To employ a former symbol,
you are now like the vessel building in the dock-yard. The unskilled
and uninitiated can _hear_ nothing but clanging hammers;--they can see
nothing but unshapely timbers and glare of torches. It is a scene of
din and noise, dust and confusion. But all will at last be
acknowledged as needed portions in the spiritual workmanship;--when
the soul, released from its earthly fastenings, is launched on the
summer seas of eternity--
"Give to the winds thy fears,
Hope and be undismay'd.
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
God shall lift up thy head:
Through waves, and clouds, and storms,
He gently clears the way;
Wait thou His time--so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day."[109]
[108] "Sometimes I can rejoice in the Mount with my Redeemer.
Sometimes I lie in the Valley, dead, barren, unprofitable.... I am
frequently wounded in the battle. Blessed be God that the
Physician, the Castle, and the Fortress, are ever at
hand."--_Bickersteth's Life._
[109] "David might have gone a thousand times to the tabernacle
and never found a thousandth part of the blessing he found in this
wilderness. It was in the absence of all that was dear to him as
man, he found his special solace in God."--_Harington Evans._
Above all, let this Psalm teach you that your _spiritual_ interests
are in safe keeping. No wounded Hart seeking the water-brooks ever
sought them in vain. When drooping, downcast, disconsolate yourself,
remember "God is faithful." "He cannot deny Himself." "_He satisfieth
the longing soul with goodness._" None is "able to pluck you out of
His hand." There may be fluctuations--ebbings and flowings--in the
tides of the soul; but "_He that hath begun a good work in you, will
carry it on until the day of the Lord Jesus._" You may reach the
heavenly fold with bleating cries,--with torn fleece and bleeding
feet;--but you _will_ reach it, if you have learned to sing, "_The
Lord is my shepherd!_" You may reach the water-brooks with languid eye
and panting sides;--but you _will_ reach them, if you can truthfully
say, "_My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God!_" You may begin
your song in the minor-key, but if "MY GOD" be its key-note, you will
finish it with the angels and among ministering seraphim!
Go then, Christians! and, as you see what FAITH, and HOPE, and PRAYER
did for the Exile of Gilead, try what they can and _will_ do for
_you_. With all your varied trials, with all your manifold sorrowful
experiences, who, after all (this Psalm seems to say) so favoured as
_you_? Who possess your present exalted privileges?--who your
elevating hopes?--the consciousness, even in your trials, that each
billow is wafting you nearer the haven of eternal rest? "_These see
the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth,
and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They
mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul
is melted because of trouble. Then they cry unto the Lord in their
trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the
storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad
because they be quiet_; SO HE BRINGETH THEM UNTO THEIR DESIRED HAVEN!"
"Soul, then know thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,
Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father's smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to save thee--
Child of heaven! canst thou repine?
"Haste thee on from grace to glory--
Arm'd by FAITH and wing'd by PRAYER;
Heaven's eternal days before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there!
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
HOPE shall change to glad fruition,
FAITH to sight, and PRAYER to praise!"
THE END.
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Hart and the Water-Brooks;, by John R. Macduff