over it as he does, sometimes by the year together, there is always a
freshness in the undulation of the waves, the whiteness of the foam of
the breaker, the curl of the crested billow, and the frolicsome pursuit
of every wave by its long train of brothers. Which of us has ever
complained that the sun gave us but little variety? What though at morn
he yoke the same steeds, and flash from his car the same golden glory,
climb with dull uniformity the summit of the skies, then drive his
chariot downward, and bid his flaming coursers steep their burning
fetlocks in the western deep? Or who among us would complain loathingly
of the bread which we eat, that it palls upon the sense of taste? We eat
it to-day, to-morrow, the next day; we have eaten it for years which are
passed; still the one unvarying food is served upon the table, and bread
remains the staff of life. Translate these earthly experiences into
heavenly mysteries. If Christ is your food and your spiritual bread; if
Christ is your sun, your heavenly light; if Christ is the sea of love in
which your passions swim, and all your joys are found, it is not
possible that you as Christian men, should complain of monotony in Him.
"He is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever;" and yet He has the "dew
of His youth." He is like the manna in the golden pot, which was always
the same; but he is also like the manna which came down from heaven,
every morning new. He is as the rod of Moses, which was dry, and changed
not its shape; but he is also to us as the rod of Aaron, which buds, and
blossoms, and brings forth almonds.
_Divine Teaching._
In the depth of troubles we learn the sufficiency of grace. Well may
they "glory in tribulations also," who have learnt in them the most
profitable lessons of grace--proved in them how ample is the provision
of grace, and realized in them the certainty of the triumph of grace. I
know not whether all soldiers love the thought of war--some do; there
are many who pant for a campaign. How often an officer of low rank has
repeated the murmur, "There is no promotion; no hope of rising; no
honors; no prize-money, as if we had to fight. Could we rush to the
cannon's mouth, there would be some prospect before us of gaining
promotion in the ranks." Men get few medals to hang upon their breasts
who never know the smell of gunpowder. The brave days, as men call them,
of Nelson and Trafalgar have gone by; and we thank God for it. Still we
do not expect to see such brave old veterans, the offspring of this age,
as those who are still to be found lingering in our hospitals, the
relics of our old campaigns. No, brethren, we must have trials if we are
to get on. Young men do not become midshipmen altogether through going
to the school at Greenwich, and climbing the mast on dry land; they must
go out to sea. We must do business in great waters; we must be really on
the deck in a storm, if we would see the works of the Lord and his
wonders in the deep. We must have stood side by side with King David; we
must have gone down into the pit to slay the lion, or have lifted up the
spear against the eight hundred, if we would know the saving strength of
God's right hand. Conflicts bring experience, and experience brings that
growth in grace which is not to be attained by any other means.
_Seeking Christ._
Consider, O waiting soul, that the mercy is worth tarrying for. Is it
not salvation--thy soul's deliverance from hell? A long tarrying at the
gate of mercy will be well repaid, if the King, at last, will give thee
this jewel of exceeding price.
Bethink thee, also, how utterly unworthy thou art of the mercy;
therefore be not loath to humble thyself, or patiently to abide the
sovereign will of Jehovah. Proud men must be noticed at once, or they
will depart; but thou hast nothing to boast of, and shouldst feel that
if He disregarded thee for a long season, thine unworthiness could
demand no apology for his delay. Moreover, remember that He _will_ hear
at last. His promise would be violated, if one praying soul could
perish; for He has said, "Seek, and ye _shall_ find"--"Whosoever calleth
on the name of the Lord _shall_ be saved." The delay may be for thy
good, to lay thee lower in the dust of self-abasement, or to make thee
more earnest for the blessing. Possibly the Lord intends to try thy
faith, that, like the woman of Syrophenicia, thou mayst reflect honor on
Him by thy confidence in Him. Pray on, for "the Lord is good unto them
that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him."
"_Christ in You._"
What is it to have "Christ in you?" The Romanist hangs the cross on his
bosom; the true Christian carries the cross in his heart; and a cross
inside the heart is one of the sweetest cures for a cross on the back.
If you have a cross in your heart--Christ crucified in you, the hope of
glory--the cross of this world's troubles will seem to you light enough,
and you will easily be able to sustain it. Christ in the heart, means
Christ believed in, Christ beloved, Christ trusted, Christ espoused,
Christ communed with, Christ as our daily food, and ourselves as the
temple and palace wherein Jesus Christ daily walks. Ah! there are many
who are total strangers to the meaning of this phrase. They do not know
what it is to have Jesus Christ in them. Though they know a little about
Christ on Calvary, they know nothing about Christ in the heart. Now,
remember, that Christ on Calvary will save no man, unless Christ be in
the heart. The Son of Mary, born in the manger, will not save you,
unless He be also born in your heart, and live there--your joy, your
strength, and your consolation.
_Consolation._
Consolation is the dropping of a gentle dew from heaven on desert
hearts beneath; it is one of the choicest gifts of divine mercy.
_Self-Examination._
"If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious." "_If_"--then there
is a possibility that some may _not_ have tasted that the Lord is
gracious, and it is needful to inquire whether we are amongst the number
who know the grace of God by heart-experience. There is no spiritual
revelation which may not be a matter of heart-searching. At the very
summit of holy delight we meet the challenge of sentinel "If"--"If ye
then be risen with Christ;" and at the very bottom of the hill, even at
Repentance-gate itself, He meets us with a warrant of arrest, until He
sees whether our sorrow is the godly sorrow which needeth not to be
repented of. "If thou be the Son of God," is not always a temptation of
the devil, but often a very healthy inquiry, most fittingly suggested by
holy anxiety to men who would build securely upon the Rock of Ages. At
the Lord's Table itself it is proper for us to pray, "Lord, is it I?"
when there is a Judas in the company; and after the most intimate
fellowship, Christ exclaimed, "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" Let
no enjoyment of ordinances, let no high and rapt fellowship which we may
have known, exempt us from the great duty of proving ourselves whether
we be in the faith. Examine yourselves then in this matter, and rest not
satisfied until you can say, "There is no 'if' about it; I _have tasted_
that the Lord is gracious."
_Heaven an Inheritance._
"The _inheritance of the saints_." So then, heaven, with all its
glories, is an _inheritance_. Now, an inheritance is not a thing which
is bought with money, earned by labor, or won by conquest. If any man
hath an inheritance, in the proper sense of that term, it came to him by
birth. And thus it is with heaven. The man who shall receive this
glorious heritage, will not obtain it by the works of the law, nor by
the efforts of the flesh; it will be given to him as a matter of most
gracious right, because he has been "begotten again unto a lively hope,
by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead;" and has thus become
an heir of heaven by blood and birth. They who come unto glory are sons;
for is it not written, "The Captain of our salvation bringeth many sons
unto glory?" They come not there as servants; no servant has any right
to the inheritance of his master. Be he never so faithful, yet is he not
his master's heir. But because ye are sons--sons by the Spirit's
regeneration--sons by the Father's adoption--because by supernatural
energy ye have been born again, ye become inheritors of eternal life,
and ye enter into the many mansions of our Father's house above. Let us
always understand, then, when we think of heaven, that it is a place
which is to be ours, and a state which we are to enjoy as the result of
_birth_--not as the result of work. "Except a man be born again, he
cannot see the kingdom of God." That kingdom being an "inheritance,"
until ye have the new birth ye can have no claim to enter it.
_The Sleep of Death._
"The sleep of death"--what is this sleep? We know that the surface
idea connected with sleep is that of _resting_. The eyes of the sleeper
ache no more with the glare of light or with the rush of tears; his ears
are teased no more with the noise of strife or the murmur of suffering;
his hand is no more weakened by long protracted effort and painful
weariness; his feet are no more blistered with journeyings to and fro
along a rugged road; there is ease for aching heads, and overtaxed
nerves, and heavy hearts, in the sweet repose of sleep. On yonder couch,
however hard, the laborer shakes off his toil, the merchant his care,
the thinker his difficulties, and the sufferer his pains. Sleep makes
each night a Sabbath for the day. Sleep shuts to the door of the soul,
and bids all intruders tarry for a while. So is it with the body while
it sleeps in the tomb. The weary are at rest: the servant is as much at
ease as his lord. No more the worker leans on his spade, no more the
thinker props his pensive head. The wheel stands still; the shuttle is
not in motion; the hand which turned the one and the fingers which threw
the other are quiet also. The grave shuts out all disturbance, labor, or
effort. The toilworn believer quietly sleeps, as does the child weary
with its play, when it shuts its eyes and slumbers on its mother's
breast. O! happy they who die in the Lord; they rest from their labors,
and their works do follow them. We would not shun toil, for though it be
in itself a curse, it is, when sanctified, a blessing; yet toil for
toil's sake we would not choose: and when _God's_ work is done, we are
too glad to think that _our_ work is done too. The mighty Husbandman,
when we have fulfilled our day, shall bid His servants rest upon the
best of beds, for the clods of the valley shall be sweet to them. Their
repose shall never be broken until He shall rouse them up to give them
their full reward. Guarded by angel-watchers, curtained by eternal
mysteries, resting on the lap of mother earth, ye shall sleep on, ye
heritors of glory, till the fulness of time shall bring you the fulness
of redemption.
_Foretastes of Heaven._
Is it possible for us to know anything whatever of our heavenly home?
Is there power in human intellect to fly into the land of the hereafter,
where God's people rest eternally? Our inquiry is met at the outset by
what seems a positive denial: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither
have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared
for them that love Him." If we paused here, we might give up all idea of
beholding from hence that "goodly land and Lebanon;" but we do not
pause, for, like the apostle, we go on with the text, and we add, "But
God hath revealed them unto us by His Spirit." It _is_ possible to look
within the veil; God's Spirit _can_ turn it aside for a moment, and bid
us take a glimpse, though it be a distant one, at that unutterable
glory. There are "Pisgahs" even now on the earth, from the top of which
the celestial Canaan can be beheld; there are hallowed hours in which
the mists and clouds are swept away, and the sun shineth in his
strength, and our eye, being freed from its natural dimness, beholds
something of that land which is very far off, and sees a little of the
joy and blessedness which is reserved for the people of God hereafter.
By the Holy Spirit there is given to them, even now, in seasons of
blissful communion, such experiences, joys, and feelings, as seem to
bring heaven down to them, and make them able to realize, in some faint
measure, what heaven itself must be.
_The Work of the Spirit._
Let us ever remember that Christ on the cross is of no value to us
apart from the Holy Spirit in us. In vain that blood is flowing, unless
the finger of the Spirit applies the blood to our conscience; in vain is
that garment of righteousness wrought out, unless the Holy Spirit wraps
it around us, and arrays us in its costly folds. The river of the water
of life cannot quench our thirst, till the Spirit presents the goblet
and lifts it to our lips. All the things which are in the paradise of
God could never be blissful to us, so long as we are dead souls--and
dead we are, until that heavenly wind comes and breathes upon us, that
we may live. We do not hesitate to say, that we owe as much to God the
Holy Ghost, as we do to God the Son. Indeed, it were a high sin and
misdemeanor to attempt to put one person of the divine Trinity before
another. Thou, O Father, art the source of all grace, all love and mercy
towards us. Thou, O Son, art the channel of Thy Father's mercy, and
without Thee Thy Father's love could never flow to us. And Thou, O
Spirit, art He who enables us to receive that divine virtue which flows
from the fountain-head, the Father, through Christ the channel, and
which, by Thy means, enters into our heart, and there abides, and brings
forth its glorious fruit. Magnify, then, the Spirit. There never yet was
a heavenly thought, a hallowed deed, or a consecrated act, acceptable to
God by Jesus Christ, which was not worked in us by the Holy Spirit.
_Peace._
The believer enjoys, in favored seasons, such an intimacy with the Lord
Jesus, as fills his heart with an overflowing peace. O! there are sweet
words which Jesus whispers in the ears of His people, and there are
love-visits which He pays to them, which a man would not believe, even
though it should be told unto him. He who would comprehend it, must
experience in his own heart what it is to have fellowship with the
Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ. There is such a thing as Christ
manifesting Himself to us as He does not unto the world. All doubting
thoughts are banished then, and we can say, "I am my Beloved's, and my
Beloved is mine." This is the one all-absorbing feeling. And what wonder
is it that the believer has such deep peace, when Christ thus dwells in
the heart, and reigns there without a rival? It were a miracle of
miracles, if we did _not_ have peace. But how is it that our peace is
not more continuous? The only explanation of our frequent loss of peace
is, that our communion is broken, and our fellowship is marred; else
would our peace be like a river, and our righteousness like the waves of
the sea. Live near the cross, and your peace shall be continual.
_Earth's Seasons._
The things which are seen are types of the things which are not seen.
The works of creation are pictures to the children of God of the secret
mysteries of grace. God's truths are the apples of gold, and the visible
creatures are the baskets of silver. The very seasons of the year find
their parallel in the little world of man within. We have our
winter--dreary, howling winter--when the north wind of the law rusheth
forth against us; when every hope is nipped; when all the seeds of joy
lie buried beneath the dark clods of despair; when our soul is fast
fettered like a river bound with ice, without waves of joy, or flowings
of thanksgiving. Thanks be unto God, the soft south wind breathes upon
our soul, and at once the waters of desire are set free, the spring of
love cometh on, flowers of hope appear in our hearts, the trees of faith
put forth their young shoots, the time of the singing-birds cometh in
our hearts, and we have joy and peace in believing through the Lord
Jesus Christ. That happy springtide is followed in the believer by a
rich summer, when his graces, like fragrant flowers, are in full bloom,
loading the air with perfume; and fruits of the Spirit, like citrons and
pomegranates, swell into their full proportion in the genial warmth of
the Sun of Righteousness. Then cometh the believer's autumn, when his
fruits grow ripe, and his fields are ready for the harvest; the time has
come when his Lord shall gather together his "pleasant fruits," and
store them in heaven; the feast of ingathering is at hand--the time when
the year shall begin anew, an unchanging year, like the years of the
right hand of the Most High.
_Love Undeserved._
There is nothing which makes one love Christ, so much as a sense of His
love balanced with a sense of our unworthiness of it. It is sweet to
think that Christ loves us; but, O, to remember that we are black as the
"tents of Kedar," and yet he loves us! This is a thought which may well
wean us from everything else beside.
_The Infallible Commentary._
Those who would best know God's Word, must study it in its own light.
_A Place of Trust._
_Take care that thou puttest all thy dear ones into God's hand_. Thou
hast put thine own soul there, put their souls and bodies likewise into
His custody. Thou canst trust Him for temporals for thyself, trust thy
jewels with Him. Feel that they are not thine own, but that they are
God's loans to thee--loans which may be recalled at any moment--precious
denizens of heaven, not entailed upon thee, but of which thou art only a
tenant at will. Your possessions are never so safe as when you are
willing to resign them, and you are never so rich as when you put all
you have into the hand of the Lord. You shall find it greatly mitigate
the sorrow of bereavements, if before bereavement you shall have learned
to surrender every day all the things which are dearest to you, into the
keeping of your gracious God.
"_Consider Him._"
O believer, who art weary and disheartened because of the roughness of
the way, look at the Master's footsteps, and see how _He_ suffered. You
are tried and troubled, and you ask for consolation. What better can be
afforded you than what is presented to you in the fact that Jesus Christ
is one with you in your nature--that He has suffered all that you are
now suffering--that your pathway has been aforetime trodden by His
sacred foot--that the cup of which you drink is a cup which He has
drained to the very bottom--that the river through which you pass is one
through which He swam, and every wave and billow which rolls over your
head did in old time roll over Him. Come! are you ashamed and unwilling
to suffer what your Master suffered? Shall the disciple be above his
Master, and the servant above his Lord? Shall he die upon a cross, and
will not you bear the cross? Must He be crowned with thorns, and shall
you be crowned with laurel? Is He to be pierced in hands and feet, and
are His followers to feel no pain? O, cast away the fond delusion. Look
to Him who "endured the cross, despising the shame," and be ready to
endure and to suffer even as He did. You have His example to guide you,
and His sympathy to cheer you.
_The Joy of Pardon._
O what a joyous thing it is to have a ray of heavenly sunlight in the
soul, and to hear the very voice of God as He walks in the garden of our
souls in the cool of the day, saying to us, "Son, thy sins which are
many, are all forgiven thee." The whisper of that heavenly voice may
raise our heart to bliss almost divine. It confers a joy not to be
equalled by all the pleasures, the riches, and the enjoyments of this
world can afford. To have the divine kiss of acceptance, to be robed in
the best robe, to wear the ring on the hand and the shoes on the feet,
to hear the heavenly music and dancing with which returning prodigals
are welcomed to their Father's house--this, indeed, is bliss and
blessedness worth worlds to realize.
_Inexhaustible Promises._
God's promises are not exhausted when they are fulfilled, for when once
performed, they stand just as good as they did before, and we may wait a
second accomplishment of them. Man's promises, even at the best, are
like a cistern which holds but a temporary supply; but God's promises
are as a fountain, never emptied, ever overflowing, so you may draw from
them the whole measure of that which they apparently contain, and they
shall be still as full as ever.
_The Fulness of Christ._
At our very best we are strangers to much of the incomparable sweetness
of Christ. We shall never exhaust His goodness by our praise, for He is
ever so fresh, and has so much of the dew of His youth, that every day
he has a new song to sing. We shall find Him a new Christ every day of
our lives, and yet He is ever the same; His surpassing excellence and
unexhausted fulness thus constantly renew our love. O Jesus! none can
guess how great is the least of Thine attributes, or how rich the
poorest of Thy gifts.
_True Blessing._
Christ, when He blesses, blesses not in word only, but in deed. The
lips of truth cannot promise more than the hands of love will surely
give.
_Faith and Feeling._
We are saved by faith, and not by feeling; yet there is a relation
between holy faith and hallowed feeling like that between the root and
the flower. Faith is permanent as the root which is ever embedded in the
soil; feeling is casual, and has its seasons--the bulb does not always
shoot up the green stem, far less is it always crowned with its many
flowers. Faith is the tree, the essential tree: our feelings are like
the appearance of that tree during the different seasons of the year.
Sometimes our soul is full of bloom and blossom, and the bees hum
pleasantly, and gather honey within our hearts. It is then that our
feelings bear witness to the life of our faith, just as the buds of
spring bear witness to the life of the tree. Anon, our feelings gather
still greater vigor, and after we come to the summer of our delights,
again perhaps, we begin to wither into the sear and yellow leaf of
autumn; nay, sometimes the winter of our despondency and despair will
strip away every leaf from the tree, and our poor faith stands like a
blasted stem without a sign of verdure. And yet, so long as the tree of
faith is there, we are saved. Whether faith blossom or not, whether it
bring forth joyous fruit in our experience or not, so long as it be
there in all its permanence, we are saved. Yet should we have the
gravest reason to distrust the life of our faith, if it did not
sometimes blossom with joy, and often bring forth fruit unto holiness.
_Near Home._
The best moment of a Christian's life is his last one, because it is
the one which is nearest heaven; and then it is that he begins to strike
the key-note of the song which he shall sing to all eternity. O! what a
song will that be!
_Beauty in Christ._
There is a thing called _beauty_, which wins upon the hearts of men.
Mighty men, not a few, have bowed before it, and paid it homage; but if
you want true beauty, look into the face of Jesus, for there you have
the concentration of all loveliness. There is no beauty anywhere but in
Christ. O sun, thou art not fair, when once compared with Him. O, fair
world, and grand creation of a glorious God, thou art but a dim and
dusky blot compared with the splendors of His face. When we shall see
Christ, we shall be compelled to say that we never knew what loveliness
was before. When the clouds are swept away, when the curtains which hide
Him from our view are drawn aside, we shall find that not anything we
have seen or heard of, grand or graceful, in the wide universe, will
bear a moment's comparison with Him, who was once seen as a root out of
a dry ground, but shall presently fill heaven and earth with lustre, and
gladden all hearts with His glory.
_The Savior's Legacy._
"Peace I leave with you." Our Savior here means peace _with God_, and
peace _with our own conscience_. Peace with God--for He "hath reconciled
us to himself by Jesus Christ," and now there is "peace on earth," and
"good will towards men." Christ has put our sins away, and therefore
there is a virtual substantial peace established between God and our
souls. This, however, might exist without our clearly understanding and
rejoicing in it. Christ has, therefore, given this further
witness--peace in the conscience. Peace with God is the treaty: peace
with conscience is the publication of it. Peace with God is the
fountain, and peace with conscience is the crystal stream which issues
from it. There is a peace decreed in the court of divine justice in
heaven; and then there follows as a necessary consequence, as soon as
the news is known, a peace in the minor court of human judgment, wherein
conscience sits upon the throne to judge us according to our works. The
legacy, then, of Christ is a twofold peace; a _peace_ of friendship, of
agreement, of love, of everlasting union between the elect and God; and
a _peace_ of sweet enjoyment, of quiet rest to the understanding and the
conscience. When there are no winds above, there will be no tempests
below: when heaven is serene, earth is quiet. Conscience reflects the
complacency of God. "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace
with God, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
_Needless Poverty._
Many a believer lives in the cottage of doubt when he might live in the
mansion of faith.
_The Sin of Unbelief._