A BASKET
OF
BARLEY LOAVES.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "THE HIGH MOUNTAIN APART" AND "SACRAMENTAL SABBATHS."
"There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves."--JOHN vi. 9.
PHILADELPHIA:
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
THE TRUSTEES OF THE
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
WESTCOTT & THOMSON,
_Stereotypers, Philada._
TO
MY FORMER PASTOR,
REV. ALEXANDER DICKSON,
WHO TAUGHT ME
"THE WAY OF GOD MORE PERFECTLY,"
AND WHOSE THOUGHTS AND VERY WORDS ENTER LARGELY INTO THESE PAGES,
I DEDICATE THIS
BASKET OF BARLEY LOAVES.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
To those who crave more of Christ in the soul and in the daily life,
to those who long for holiness and assurance, this BASKET OF
BARLEY LOAVES will bring welcome refreshment and nourishment. The
devout, even though trembling, believer, who hungers after
righteousness, will here find that which will kindle his affections
and lead them to the only satisfying source of love and peace, Jesus
Christ. What of sweetness and strength there is in these meditations
is due to God's word, of which they are full. Sweeter than honey and
the honey-comb, more precious than silver or gold, was that word to
the Psalmist; and thence these chapters draw their flavor and force.
By them the weary, the needy, the longing, will be led nearer to
Christ and be more filled with the power of his love. May these few
Barley Loaves feed many thousands of hungry souls!
J. W. D.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I.
JESUS SOUGHT AND FOUND 11
II.
HIS NAME 24
III.
THE ASSURANCE 31
IV.
THE PERFECT WORK 41
V.
THE CHASTENING 52
VI.
THE COMPASSION 61
VII.
THE SYMPATHY 69
VIII.
THE LOVE 78
IX.
THE LIFE ABUNDANT 85
X.
THE FORGIVENESS 90
XI.
THE HELP 97
XII.
THE DELIVERANCE 102
XIII.
THE HEARER OF PRAYER 107
XIV.
THE REWARD 112
XV.
THE SOUL'S PORTION 119
XVI.
THE CROSS 127
XVII.
THE PRESENCE 131
XVIII.
THE APPEARING 136
XIX.
THE CONCLUSION 143
[Illustration]
A BASKET
OF
BARLEY LOAVES.
I.
_Jesus Sought and Found._
The crowd was thronging and jostling. Eager and wistful faces were
turned to One who stood in the midst. His countenance was mild and
compassionate; and as I gazed upon him, a deep desire filled my heart
to know and follow this Man of Sorrows. With swiftest steps I hurried
on and pressed into the crowd. The lowly, suffering woman was
satisfied to touch the hem of his garments, and it was enough. But I
was not content until I had grasped his hand. Yes, I put my hand in
his--my guilty hand that nailed him to the cross.
"Who touched me?" He turned, and we stood face to face. In answer to
his inquiry I whispered, "Lord, I will follow thee whithersoever thou
goest." A look of love glanced from his eye; nearer he drew me to his
side and whispered, "Beloved." Oh how it thrilled my heart! Excess of
joy choked my utterance, and I could only grasp his hand more firmly
and exclaim, "My Lord and my God!"
Tell me not now of loneliness and desolation. Jesus is mine, and so we
journey hand in hand; and as he whispers to me of love unchangeable, I
hide this sweet secret in my heart and answer, "I am thine."
"They tell me," we said to an aged man, "that you have no rock on
which to plant your feet." "No rock?" he said, calmly, with a
smile--"no rock? Well, my creed does differ from yours. Mine is love
to God and love to my fellow-men. I do not believe such a man as Jesus
Christ ever lived. The world has had many saviours. Mine is a
principle--a rightening principle. I have tried all beliefs, and here
I am content to rest."
But we have not so learned Christ.
Infidels may tell me such a man never lived; humanitarians may tell me
he was mere man and no God; careless worldlings may tell me there is
no beauty in him that I should desire him; but from the far-off region
of light, beyond the mist-clouds that encircle the earth, I hear a
voice, calm in its majesty and tender in its tones: "I am Alpha and
Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and
which was, and which is to come, the Almighty." "I am the light of the
world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have
the light of life." "I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel,
thy Saviour." "I, even I, am the Lord; and beside me there is no
Saviour." "O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thine
help." "I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem
them from death." "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest."
Hearing this voice I draw nearer. "Have I been so long time with you,
and yet hast thou not known me? Thou hast both seen him, and he it is
that talketh with thee." "Lord, I believe." "I know thee who thou art,
the Holy One of God." With the eye of faith I have seen thee, and I
can testify that "thou art fairer than the children of men." With the
hand of faith I have grasped thine, O thou "Friend that stickest
closer than a brother." And thou hast talked with me. "Never man spake
like this man." I cannot utter half the words Jesus has spoken to my
soul; but this I say: Into his hands I commit my soul with all its
interests; "for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he
is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day."
"O Jesus, Friend unfailing,
How dear thou art to me!
And, cares or fears assailing,
I find my strength in thee.
"I love to own, Lord Jesus,
Thy claims o'er me and mine;
Bought with thy blood most precious,
Whose can I be but _thine_?"
"As the late lamented Dudley Tyng was passing from the earthly
vineyard to his higher position in the heavenly," writes Boardman in
his book entitled "Him that Overcometh," "he said to his father, while
light fell upon him from the open gateway, 'Father, stand up for
Jesus.' Then, after advancing a little farther on into the fuller
effulgence, he spoke again, saying, 'Father, stand up in Jesus.' These
injunctions were reported by his father as they fell from the lips of
his son, and went abroad all over the land. The first one struck a
chord which vibrates still, and passed into a watchword for all
Christian enterprise and for all enterprising Christians, but the
second seemed to find no chord keyed up and ready to respond. It is to
be feared that this is indicative of the true state of the Christian
world to-day--_for_ Christ, more than _in_ him; and yet, if we may
believe the words of Christ himself, and the history of all the
progress of his kingdom, we have the secret of all power in these two
words, "in Jesus," with the converse of them, "Jesus in us."
"_Abide in me, and I in you._" Christ within is better even than
Christ beside us, as the apostles found after Pentecost. This is the
secret of all joy and the source of all strength.
To those who are just starting on the Christian pilgrimage we would
repeat these words of the Master, "Abide in me." Guide-books are good,
but a trusty guide is better. We might fill our pages with minute
directions concerning the way, but we would rather point to Christ,
who is the way. We remember that there are times when travelers forget
their guide-books and cling to their strong and sure-footed guides.
Consider our Guide. He knows every step of the way, and he will guide
us with his eye. Let us meditate upon Christ till our hearts are led
to desire more intimate fellowship with him. "My meditation of him
shall be sweet"--"sweet" when I remember his name, his character, his
work, his promises and the peace he gives.
But it may be that some to whom these pages are addressed find many
dark threads of doubt woven into their meditation of Christ. You have
never, perhaps, been fully assured of your acceptance with him; or, if
confident at the commencement of your Christian course, doubts and
fears may have gathered around your pathway before journeying very far
into the wilderness. The chilling winds of unbelief make winter in
your soul. The days are short and cold; the nights are long and
colder. Yes, even the day seems as the night--all darkness. Some
around you seem to be enjoying perpetual spring-time, because Christ
shines so constantly upon their happy souls, and your coldness and
darkness seem all the sadder in contrast with their warmth and
brightness.
How can you account for this? Ask some Christian friends, and they
will tell you that you must not expect so much joy--that the Christian
life is a constant conflict with doubt and sin, and you cannot expect
to be always as happy as perhaps you were at first. You turn away
sadly disappointed. They are older Christians, and you think they must
know better than you. What will you do? Will you sit under the clouds,
or struggle to get out into clear sunshine?
We cannot think that God intends you to have a limited measure of joy
and peace. Why should you not grow happier in your love to Christ as
you learn to know him better? Why should not the promises become more
precious as you prove them and find them all "yea and amen in Christ
Jesus?"
Let us inquire into the cause of your darkness. The Saviour does not
willingly withhold his smile which makes spring and summer in the
soul. When God made a covenant with you he gave you this promise: "I
will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." God has not then forsaken
you. Perhaps you have neglected the means of grace. Perhaps you are
cherishing some secret sin. Perhaps you have looked more to your own
frames and feelings than to Christ's perfect work. Your mind has dwelt
too much upon self. Take the advice of one who walked with God and was
not, because God took him: "For one look at self take ten looks to
Christ." The advice is good, and it has lifted many a Christian above
the clouds.
"Saw ye Him whom my soul loveth? I sought him, but I found him not."
Is this your sad lament?
Seek him again. Seek him earnestly, prayerfully, constantly. Seek him
in the place of secret prayer. Jesus had his secret place upon the
lonely mountain. Though he lived in constant communion with his
Father, though his every step was a hymn of praise and his every act
was a prayer, still he felt his need of a place where he could pour
out his soul in supplication. If secret prayer was necessary for the
Master, is it not more needful for you? If you have neglected that, it
is not strange if it is winter in your soul.
Seek Jesus also in his holy word. In the garden of the gospel you may
meet him and walk with him, holding sweet communion. Here he reveals
himself. Obey his own commandment, "Search the Scriptures." This is
the reason and this the reward, "for they are they that testify of
me." They testify of Christ. Yes, they are full of Christ. Rays from
his cross shine through both the Testaments. Prophets and saints of
old looked forward and rejoiced--"not having received the promises,"
it is true, "but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them
and embraced them." Fuller, clearer light now shines on Calvary. Draw
near and read again the sacred story. Yes, "search the Scriptures,"
for here you will surely find Jesus. His love prompted every promise,
and is the pledge and fulfillment of every promise.
Seek him in the place of social prayer. Thomas was not at the
prayer-meeting when Jesus manifested himself to his disciples. How
much he lost by staying away! When Jesus draws near and says, "Peace
be unto you!" then let me be within hearing of his gentle voice. Let
me be near when he says, "Receive ye the Holy Ghost." "_Only_ a
prayer-meeting," do you say? _Only_ a visit from Jesus, the Giver of
peace! Who would miss a visit of so much profit--a visit of so much
pleasure!
Seek Jesus at the sacramental supper. Jesus is there. There you may
enjoy his longest, sweetest visits. There he speaks peace to his
people. Sweet it is to meet Jesus in the closet; sweet visits there he
pays his beloved and betrothed. Sweet it is to meet him in the holy
Scriptures; sweet to find him in the place of social prayer. But
sweeter far are his visits at the communion-table. To sit like Mary at
his feet, to lie like John upon his bosom--was ever joy like this? was
ever Jesus nearer? No longer do we say, "Saw ye Him whom my soul
loveth?" We have found him! we have found him! "His left hand is under
my head, while his right doth embrace me." I charge you, my unstable
heart, that you forsake not, nor grieve again "Him whom my soul
loveth."
Now that you have found him, cleave to him. "Abide in me," the Master
says. In union with Christ the Christian finds his safety, strength
and happiness. And the closer this union, the greater is the security,
strength and happiness of the Christian. Would we be guided by his
eye? Then must we be continually "looking unto Jesus." Do we need
strength? "In the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength." Are we
seeking happiness? "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his
help, whose hope is in the Lord his God."
Cling closer, young Christian, cling closer to Christ. Learn to walk
with him daily in sweet communion. Be not satisfied with an occasional
visit from your Lord, but beseech him to abide with you. He is willing
to come and abide with you. "If any man love me, he will keep my
words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and
make our abode with him."
[Illustration]
II.
_His Name._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I remember his name_.
We need not say, as did Jacob, "Tell me, I pray thee, thy name." We
know thy name, _Jehovah Tsidkenu_, "The Lord our Righteousness." We
are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy
rags, and all the soap and nitre in the world cannot make us pure and
holy. "If I wash myself with snow-water, and make my hands never so
clean, yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch, and mine own clothes
shall abhor me." But in the covenant of the cross we come and change
clothes with Christ. He takes our filthy rags and gives us his own
spotless robe; and we are "accepted in the Beloved," not having our
"own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the
faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith."
We know thy name, _Jehovah Shalom_, The Lord of Peace. Sweet peace
speedily follows as one of the results of justification. "And the work
of righteousness shall be peace, and the effects of righteousness
quietness and assurance for ever." Or, as the apostle expresses it in
the Epistle to the Romans, "Therefore, being justified by faith, we
have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Peace was one of
the notes in the song which angels sung when He was born who himself
"is our peace." And when he was parting from his disciples "peace" was
among the last words that fell from his lips: "Peace I leave with you;
my peace I give unto you." "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose
mind is stayed on thee." "Perfect peace," being interpreted, means,
"Peace, peace." So that we shall have a double portion, "good measure,
pressed down and shaken together and running over."
We know thy name, _Jehovah Nissi_, The Lord my Banner. "Thou hast
given a banner to them that fear thee." He his own self is our
standard and our standard-bearer, and we need not fear that our flag
shall ever be taken, or that those who fight under it shall be beaten.
Though we are but weak worms of the dust, and are called to contend
"against principalities, against powers, against spiritual wickedness
in high places," there is nothing more sure than that we shall win the
day. "If God be for us, who can be against us?" Looking at the end
from the beginning, and confident of victory, we can say, when
buckling on the harness before the battle is begun, "We are more than
conquerors through Him that loved us."
We know thy name, _Jehovah Rophi_, The Lord my Healer. When he began
his holy ministry here on earth, "Jesus went about all Galilee,
teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom,
and healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease among
the people." Some came to him groping in their blindness, others came
on crutches, and many were carried to him on their beds; and he healed
them all. Though he came from heaven mainly to heal diseases of the
mind, yet while he labored here in the flesh he healed more diseases
of the body. He is still the only Physician of the soul, and by far
the best Physician of the body. "He knoweth our frame," this our
mortal body, better than the wisest men, for he made it, and without
his blessing the best prescription will do us no good. He is our
Physician. When we are taken sick he is first called to our bedside.
By prayer we lay hold of something at the mercy-seat that rings a bell
in heaven, and he makes haste and comes down and "healeth all our
diseases."
We know thy name, _Jehovah Jireh_, The Lord will Provide. He provided
a lamb upon Mount Moriah for Abraham in his greatest emergency. He has
also provided a Lamb for us--a Lamb without spot or blemish, "the Lamb
slain from the foundation of the world." "Even Christ our Passover is
sacrificed for us." On his guiltless head our guilt was laid. And
having provided a Lamb for us, he will provide anything else. "My God
shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ
Jesus." As the greater includes the less, so the unspeakable gift
embosoms all minor blessings. "He that spared not his own Son, but
delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him freely give us
all things?"
We know thy name, _Jehovah Shammah_, The Lord is there. Wherever we
may be called to go, the Lord is there. What strong consolation, what
good cheer there is in this blessed truth,
"Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,
I am surrounded still with God!"
In every duty, in every difficulty, the Lord is there. In the lion's
den and in the fiery furnace, the Lord is there. In sickness and in
health, in sorrow and in joy, the Lord is there. When our pilgrimage
is almost over, and we are going down into the dark valley, blessed be
his name, we shall find that the Lord is there. "Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for
thou art with me."
Beyond the valley there is a place about which we know very little;
but we know that there is a house of many mansions, and we know that
the Lord is there. "I go to prepare a place for you." There is a holy
city along whose golden streets these feet shall one day walk; "And
the name of the city from that day shall be, The Lord is there."
"Oh magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together." He
is everything to us. Are we sinners? He is our Righteousness. Are we
in trouble? He is our Peace. Are we soldiers? He is our Banner. Are we
sick? He is our Healer. Are we in want of anything? He will provide.
Are we going into eternity? He is there, waiting to receive us up into
glory. "Oh magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name
together."
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" when I remember his name, for
"they that know thy name shall put their trust in thee."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
III.
_The Assurance._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I remember the assurance
he has given me_.
To his dear children God is pleased to give earnests or pledges of the
future bliss. We cannot think that any of the heirs of glory are
wholly deprived of foretastes of heaven. Some indeed walk in the
mist-clouds of doubt for a great part of their lives. Only at
intervals the clouds part and reveal a ray of heavenly sunshine. They
live amid clouds--it may be they die amid clouds--and never know clear
shining until they reach the land of perpetual sunshine.
Others there are who pitch their tents upon "the high hill Clear."
They live in the land Beulah, where the sun is ever shining and the
birds are ever singing, where Giant Despair never comes and where
Doubting Castle is not so much as seen. They live in the sunshine,
they die in the sunshine--no, they do not die; they pass away, onward
and upward, into clearer light and brighter sunshine. Light is sown
for them on earth by Him who is the light of the world, and the
harvest in eternity is abundant and glorious. The first-fruits here,
though nothing compared with the after-fruits, are beautiful and
greatly to be desired. Why may they not be enjoyed by all?
We hardly think it is God's will that his children should have a
limited measure of peace and joy. Neither can we think it humility to
doubt the words of our Lord Jesus: "I give unto them eternal life; and
they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand."
"Yes," we hear you saying, "this is comforting for Christians, but am
I a Christian? The clouds of unbelief often envelop me and exclude all
heavenly light. 'Whereby shall I know that I shall inherit the land?'
Who will assure me of my interest in Christ?"
"He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself." Can
you remain ignorant of so great a change wrought within by the Spirit?
Are there not many signs to prove to you that you are in Christ? Do
you not believe and know that a change has passed over all your
feelings and affections? Do you not love the things you once hated and
hate the things you once loved? Do you not love all who bear the
Saviour's image? Is not sin odious to you? Do you not find some
pleasure in drawing near to God in prayer? Is not the thought of
continuing in sin painful to you? Would you willingly grieve your
Saviour?
We would not say, "Peace! peace!" when there is no peace. We would
have you look well to the foundations of your hope. Examine it
closely. Let the light of the Word fall full and clear upon it. Look
at it on every side, and rest not till you know that it is founded
simply and solely upon the merits of the Redeemer. If you are sure
Christ's work is really begun in your soul, you need have no doubt
about its being continued and finally completed. The Master counts
well the cost when he begins his work in the sinner's soul, and none
shall ever mock his work, saying, "This man began to build and was not
able to finish."
Having ascertained this all-important fact, you may be "always
confident" till you enter his presence "with exceeding joy." You need
not fear that you shall fall away. "Rejoice not against me, O mine
enemy: when I fall, I shall arise." You shall be "kept by the power of
God through faith unto salvation." You need never fear that Christ
will weary of his work, but you may be "confident of this very thing,
that he which has begun a good work in you will perform it until the
day of Jesus Christ," and you shall stand "without fault before the
throne."
We know some humble and sincere disciples will shrink back, saying,
"We are not able," when we beg them to make Paul's language all their
own. With their hands upon their mouths and their mouths in the dust,
they dare not look up with perfect confidence; they think it almost
presumption, or at least they say, despondingly, "It is not for me."
"Paul," they say, "was an uncommon Christian--he attained a tall
stature in holiness." So he did; and why? Because his was no half-way
service; he gave no divided heart to his master. That was the reason
why he so well understood the doctrine of full assurance. "If any man
will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine." Do you understand
these words of the Master? He does not say, "If any man fully keeps
the law, which is the perfect will of the Father, he shall know of the
doctrine," for it is not possible for any mere man perfectly to keep
the commandments of God. Nor does he say, "If any man _does_ the
will," but, "If any man _will_"--is willing to do his will. If he
shows a willing heart and mind, God will enlighten him more and more.
And what is implied in this willing heart and mind but full
consecration?
When shall we learn the secret of a happy life? "Ye cannot serve two
masters." Those who give themselves up to Satan's service may lead an
unhappy life, but greater must be the unhappiness of those who are
trying to make a compromise between God and Satan. They can enjoy
neither service; they are of all men most miserable.
O ye who have professed the name of Christ, come away from all
inferior pleasures! Pleasures? They are not worthy of the name. One
hour with Christ is worth them all. Will you then suffer them to hide
the Saviour from your view?
Once we were happy all the day long, having given ourselves to Christ
in the covenant of the cross. Christ was the source of our life, the
fullness of our joy, all our salvation and all our desire. Having
enjoyed his precious presence, we dreamed not that we could ever
wander; we thought our hearts would cleave to him for evermore. We had
no doubts in those days. "My Beloved is mine, and I am his," was the
constant language of our heart. But, alas! the world again entered our
heart, dividing it and leaving but half for God. Then came the clouds
gathering thick and fast, till our Saviour was hidden from our view.
Upon the ear of the watchman who went about the streets soon fell our
mournful cry, "Saw ye Him whom my soul loveth?" We sought him, but we
found him not. Our gloom and grief increased. Oh for one hour of
Jesus' presence! "Let all other joys forsake this heart," we cried,
"if only we may again enjoy Jesus' presence." Feeling thus, we thrust
the joys (falsely so called) of earth away, and kneeling at the
mercy-seat, we renewed our covenant with Jesus. True, there was no joy
in our hearts; we saw not yet his smile. But we could trust him where
we could not trace him; so we confessed to him all our wanderings. We
told him how we had thought to serve him with half our hearts, but now
we would give him all. The first steps were taken in darkness, but God
soon revealed his smiling face.
If this assurance is attainable by one, why not by all? If at one time
it may be enjoyed, why not at all times? We have "for a foundation a
stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation,"
laid in Zion by the great Master-Builder.
Foundation-stones are chosen with great care and laid with care, for
upon them the whole building depends. Look at this foundation-stone.
Tell me, is it not perfect, sure and tried? This is the stone that the
builders rejected: they perished, but it remaineth, and upon it the
Lord hath built his Church. Believers in all ages and climes have
built all their hopes of heaven upon it. Is it not a tried stone?
Satan tried it and found no flaw; Pilate tried it and found no fault;
the Father tried it and pronounced it good; and we have tried it and
proved it so. What a sure foundation it is, with Christ for the
corner-stone, the next stone faith, then repentance, hope, submission
and all the graces! "Master, see what manner of stones are here." Are
they not goodly stones? and will they not make a beautiful temple?
Upon Christ, the precious corner-stone, let us build our hopes of
heaven, and dismiss all fears for the future.
My hope, my joy, my salvation, my desire, my righteousness, my
strength, my all--Christ in me "the hope of glory." "Lord, who shall
abide in thy tabernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill?" I have not
clean hands, nor a pure heart. Behold, I am vile. Nevertheless, I
shall abide in thy tabernacle; I shall dwell in thy holy hill. Why?
Because Christ is mine. His hands are spotless, his heart is pure, his
righteousness is perfect. All his is mine, for he is mine. I build my
hopes upon the Rock Christ Jesus. These hopes shall never be
overthrown; I have no fear of it.
_When_ the head stone shall be placed I cannot tell, but I wait and
work with joy, hoping unto the end. Sometimes weariness almost
overcomes me, for building is hard work. Foes within and foes without
make the labor exceedingly hard. But whether in joy or grief, the
building goes on, and from the completed structure shouts shall ascend
to the great Master-Builder: "Grace, grace unto it!" "Glory be to the
Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost! Amen."
[Illustration]
IV.
_The Perfect Work._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I consider his perfect
work_.
What consternation must have been felt among the ranks of holy spirits
when sin entered into the world, "and death by sin!" Could grief
intrude into heaven, we should imagine _that_ an hour of deepest
anguish when the Father, looking down upon the fallen race, exclaimed,
"How shall I pardon thee for this?" "How shall I put thee among the
children?" How could the just and holy God justify the sinner? Not one
of all the heavenly host could solve the problem. "How shall I give
thee up?" burst from the heart of the loving Father. The beloved Son
exclaims: "Deliver him from going down to the pit; I have found a
ransom." "Who will seek and save these wanderers?" says the Father.
"Father, send me," the Son replies; "I will seek them, and save them,
and bring them home. I will bear the wrath due to them for sin; I will
die for them." The Father accepts the Substitute; the Son lays aside
his glory and girds himself for the mighty conflict. He looks along
the line of weary years, and though he sees nothing but suffering,
reproach and death, his holy purpose remains unshaken. The lost sheep
of the house of Israel must be saved, and none but Jesus could save
them.
"So he was their Saviour."
His work of _justification_ is perfect. Look at it for a moment. What
is justification? "Justification is an act of God's free grace,
wherein he pardoneth _all_ our sins, and accepteth us as righteous in
his sight, only for the righteousness of Christ imputed to us, and
received by faith alone."
Can there be anything more simple and beautiful and perfect than this?
It is free to all; it is sufficient for all: "Whosoever will;" "And I
will pardon _all_ their iniquities." It is the work of a moment, but
it abideth for ever. One look of faith, and life, eternal life, is
yours.
"The moment a sinner believes
And trusts in his crucified Lord,
His pardon at once he receives,
Redemption in full through his blood."
His work of _adoption_ is perfect. Like justification, it is done in a
moment, and it abideth for ever. "Adoption is an act of God's free
grace, whereby we are received into the number and have a right to all
the privileges of the sons of God."
The Romans had a twofold form of adoption. The first was a private
transaction between the parties, receiving the person adopted into the
family; the second was the public recognition in the forum.
The moment we are justified we are adopted. This is the private
transaction. Hearing a voice from heaven saying, "Thy sins are
forgiven thee; go in peace," we look up through our tears, and with
rejoicing lips we cry, "Father!" "_Now_ are we sons of God," placed
among the children, because Jesus solved the mighty problem, showing
how God can be just and yet justify the sinner. The public recognition
will come very soon. When we reach the pearly gates, Jesus, our Elder
Brother, will be waiting to receive and acknowledge us as his own.
Standing before his Father and ours, he will stretch forth his hand
toward his disciples and say, "Behold my mother and my brethren!"
His work of _sanctification_ is perfect. It is not, like justification
and adoption, an act done in a moment. It is a work slow and at times
painful, yet sure and perfect. It begins when we are justified, it
ends when we are glorified. "Sanctification is the _work_ of God's
free grace, whereby we are renewed in the whole man after the image of
God, and are enabled more and more to die unto sin and live unto
righteousness." It is often a painful work. "The flesh, with the
affections and lusts," must be crucified. We must "die unto sin." The
sound of the hammer and axe and iron tools is not heard by those who
are without, yet every blow causes the heart to quiver, and the
cutting is very painful. Nevertheless, who would not be "a carved
stone" in the temple of our God?
We praise thee for this work, O God. We rejoice to know that thou wilt
not weary of it, but wilt carry it on "until the day of Jesus Christ."
We shall be perfect in that day. No imperfection shall remain in
us--no sinful desire, no unholy thought. Jesus will say unto us, "Thou
art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee," and he will present
us "faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy."
His work of _redemption_ is perfect. Christ, our Prophet, instructs
us, "revealing to us, by his word and Spirit, the will of God for our
salvation." Christ, our Priest, offers up himself "a sacrifice to
satisfy divine justice and reconcile us to God." He also "maketh
continual intercession for us." Christ, our King, subdues "us to
himself;" he rules and defends us, and restrains and conquers "all his
and our enemies." Is he not a perfect Redeemer? He redeems our souls
from death, our bodies also from the grave. "My flesh also shall rest
in hope," always confident of a glorious resurrection. "For I know
that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day
upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet
in my flesh shall I see God." "I will ransom them from the power of
the grave; I will redeem them from death. O Death, I will be thy
plague! O Grave, I will be thy destruction!"
Though some may cavil at this mystery and say sneeringly, "How are the
dead raised up? and with what body do they come?" yet we trust in the
word of our God, and "_we know_ that if our earthly house of this
tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens." Christ, "the first-fruits of
them that slept," is risen; then how say some among you that there is
no resurrection of the dead? "Christ is risen!" Oh glorious truth,
first proclaimed to the women who came weeping to his sepulchre! "Fear
ye not," the angel answered, "for I know that ye seek Jesus which was
crucified. He is not here; for he is risen, as he said." Christ is
risen! Then we which are Christ's shall rise also. "Because I live ye
shall live also." "Behold, I show you a mystery:" "the dead shall be
raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible
must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality."
O Lord, our Redeemer, Prophet, Priest and King, we praise thee for thy
perfect work!
Yes, "my meditation of him shall be sweet" when I consider his perfect
work. My Master too regards it with satisfaction; he sees of the
travail of his soul, and is satisfied. His life on earth was
sorrowful, but his triumph was complete. "Having spoiled
principalities and powers," God's enemies and ours, "he made a show of
them openly, triumphing over them in it," or in _himself_, as it may
be rendered. As a victor returning from the fight, he ascended to the
glory which he had with the Father "before the world was;" and the
song of the glorified filled the high heavens with richer harmony as
the Well-Beloved of the Father proved by the nail-prints that he had
finished the work which was given him to do.
Coming ages will testify to his triumph and to the completeness of his
work. On earth it was for the most part viewed not only with
indifference, but even with unbelief and scorn. "He came unto his own,
and his own received him not." "For a good work we stone thee not; but
for blasphemy, and because that thou, being a man, makest thyself
God." "He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ, the
chosen of God." "If thou be Christ, save thyself and us." "If he be
the King of Israel, let him now come down from the cross, and we will
believe him." But now a mighty multitude swell the song, "Worthy is
the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and
strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing. And every creature which
is in heaven, and on the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all
that are in them, heard I saying, Blessing, and honor, and glory, and
power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb,
for ever and ever. And the four beasts said, Amen. And the four and
twenty elders fell down and worshiped Him that liveth for ever and
ever."
"Ten thousand times ten thousand sung
Loud anthems round the throne,
When lo! one solitary tongue
Began a song unknown--
A song unknown to angel ears--
A song that told of banished fears,
Of pardoned sins and dried up tears.
"Not one of all the heavenly host
Could these high notes attain,
But spirits from a distant coast
United in the strain;
Till he who first began the song,
To sing alone not suffered long,
Was mingled with a countless throng.
"And still, as hours are fleeting by,
The angels ever bear
Some newly-ransomed soul on high
To join the chorus there:
And so the song will louder grow,
Till all redeemed by Christ below
To that fair world of rapture go.
"Oh give me, Lord, my golden harp,
And tune my broken voice,
That I may sing of troubles sharp
Exchanged for endless joys:
The song that ne'er was heard before--
A sinner reached the heavenly shore--
But now shall sound for evermore."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
V.
_The Chastening._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I consider his
chastenings_, for "blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord."
Of all the beatitudes this may appear to be the strangest. To the
young disciple chastisements may seem anything but happiness; you see
in them no beauty that you should desire them. If you have never been
taught in the school of affliction, you cannot understand this;
neither can you understand it if you have not learned well what you
were there taught. Perhaps you have been greatly afflicted, and yet
you can see no good fruits of it in your soul. Every disappointment
has only increased bitter feelings in your heart. You are conscious of
this. You are ready to say, "Where are the blessed effects of sorrow?"
The Master comes "seeking fruit," and findeth none. Why is this? We
reply, that sorrow in itself has no sanctifying power. Many are
hardened by it, and rendered more unlovely and unholy. But the plane
in the hand of the carpenter's Son cannot fail to make you better, and
if you are not profited by it, it is because you do not rightly
receive your sorrows.
While you were a stranger to the love of Christ you had no special
consolation to sustain you in the time of trial. The consolations of
God, which are neither few nor small, you had no right to appropriate.
With every stroke of the rod you seemed to hear a terrible voice
saying, "I, even I, will chastise you seven times for your sins." But
now that you are reconciled to God, all is changed; you hear another
voice saying, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten."
Henceforth, therefore, you may accept trials as love-tokens, for "whom
the Lord loveth he chasteneth."
Perhaps, like Jonah, you have been sitting with great delight under
the shadow of your gourd. To give you joy and comfort in the desert,
God caused it to spring up. You felt glad and even thankful because of
its pleasant shade, and while you rested under its shadow songs of
praise ascended to the Giver. Yet "God prepared a worm." You woke one
morning to find your beautiful gourd all withered. Never did the
desert seem more dreary. You fainted under God's smiting, and with
aching and rebellious heart you prayed for death. There seemed to be
nothing for which to live, and you said, "It is better for me to die
than to live."
"Doest thou well to be angry for the gourd?"
There are times when God shows his mercy to us by turning a deaf ear
to our foolish prayer. No, I should not say he turneth a deaf ear to
our prayer. He does hear, and he does answer, but not according to our
asking. You asked death; he sent grace to live. "It is better for me
to die," you said. God, by sparing your life, said most plainly, "It
is better for you to live." God knows best.
If you are still mourning over your smitten gourd, permit us to give
you some reasons why you should no longer mourn, or, at least, why you
should not murmur.
Remember, the gourd was undeserved. You had done nothing to merit such
a blessing. Perhaps even when it came it found you, like Jonah,
indulging in bitter, reproachful thoughts. Wayward and wandering were
you; loving and tender was God. Earthly parents bestow most tenderness
and anxious thought upon the erring child. The Good Shepherd leaves
the ninety and nine to search for the straying one. These things but
faintly illustrate the dealings of God with his children.
Perhaps you were in the path of duty, and were not unthankful while
you rested under the gourd. Still, you know that you deserve not the
least of all God's mercies. Your sufferings are less than your sins
deserve. "He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us
according to our iniquities." "Wherefore doth a living man complain?"
Let then this thought silence your complaints.
Remember also that the hand that smote the gourd was the hand of your
Father, your loving Father. And this thought surely will give you
comfort in your sorrow, and will even cause you by and by to sing
aloud for joy. Knowing full well that "he doth not afflict willingly,"
you seek to know why he thus dealt with you. It ought to be enough for
you to know that "_God_ prepared a worm." "What I do thou knowest not
now, but thou shalt know hereafter," should make us dumb before him,
but so great is his condescension toward them that love him that he
even tells them _why_ the smiting was necessary. Your heart was fully
set upon the gourd, and you were
"Making a heaven down under the sun."
It may be that there was very little of the pilgrim spirit in your
heart. The heart-tendrils were firmly fastened around the gourd; its
uprooting seemed to rend you in twain. Bitter and severe was the pain,
but the hand that dealt the blow is ready to bind up the bleeding
wound, and in after days you will love to look upon this scar, for you
will cherish it as a sweet reminder of God's faithfulness and
mercy--not only as a monument, but also as a warning, for whenever you
look upon it, it will say to you, "Little children, keep yourselves
from idols."
Have you ever noticed the old grave stones in some English
burial-garden? The damp climate, which so soon obliterates the
letters, has a kindly way of dealing with the horizontal stones. Into
the deep grooves of the lettering little seeds are carried by the
wind, and, lodging there, the dampness soon causes them to germinate,
and in place of the blackness of decay spring up the characters in
living green.
Into the deep scars caused by God's sharp instruments the precious
seeds of divine consolation shall be wafted. Watered by your tears,
they shall soon spring up, and in your sweet submission others will
read your testimony to God's faithfulness: "I know, O Lord, that thy
judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me."
When God uproots the gourd he gives us something better, and "our
light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
If Paul could call his calamities "light," surely we may; for what are
our trials when compared with his? Behold what a crushing load he
carried! "In labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in
prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received
I forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I
stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in
the deep, in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of
robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen,
in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the
sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in
watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and
nakedness." Oh what a life! How could he call all these afflictions
light? Placed in the balance with the exceeding weight of glory, they
seemed as naught. The afflictions were but for a moment; the glory was
eternal.
"Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth
him out of them all. He keepeth all his bones: not one of them is
broken. Evil shall slay the wicked: and they that hate the righteous
shall be desolate. The Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants; and
none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."
Then "wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen
thy heart: wait, I say, on the Lord." And let your meditation be sweet
when you consider Him who smites the gourd in order that he may lead
you to the shadow of the great Rock.
"When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than
I."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
VI.
_The Compassion._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I remember his compassion_
for the multitude.
It was a beautiful thought to compile a record of loving and heroic
deeds, of all lands and ages, and to entitle it, "A Book of Golden
Deeds." Florence Nightingale, whose picture adorns the opening page,
stands forth a fit exponent of the spirit of love that prompted these
recorded acts.
The record of Christ's life may truly be called "A Book of Golden
Deeds;" and that blessed name, which is above every name, becomes the
symbol of "whatsoever things are lovely and of good report." The works
which mark his earthly career are wonderful beyond compare, and the
crowning act of this life of perfect self-abnegation is the greatest
mystery of love.
It was noble in Dick Williamzoon, the Netherland martyr, when safely
over the frozen mere, to turn back, at the peril of his life, and
rescue his pursuer, whom he saw about to perish in the waters. He
saved his enemy, and was himself captured and burned at the stake--a
martyr for mercy as well as for truth. It was nobler still in the
Moravian missionary to enter the hospital in order to preach Christ to
the lepers. "If you go in, you can never be allowed to come out." "I
accept," he said, and entered, to go out no more. But the compassion
of Jesus towers far above the devotion of mortals, and expresses
itself in a manner which excites wonder in heaven and upon earth.
Looking down from his heavenly throne, his heart was deeply affected
by the ruin of our race. One blow of the arch-destroyer had marred
God's fair creation--man. Could no hand restore what in one dark hour
had been lost? O mighty Restorer! we wonder and adore.
"He left his lofty throne,
And threw his robes aside;
On wings of love came down,
And wept and bled and died."
Yes, girding himself with full strength, he descended to the work his
loving heart devised. Humbling himself to bear our sins, he became our
Saviour. Not satisfied with simply bearing the sins of his people, he
also carried their sorrows, and so becomes their Sympathizer. "Surely
he has borne our griefs" as well as our guilt. He became "a Man of
Sorrows" in order that from henceforth and for ever his followers
might have not exemption from all sorrow, but a Saviour who would be
able to sustain them fully in their afflictions, even lifting them so
far above their sorrows that at midnight and in prison they might sing
praises.
Gazing along the line of centuries, the omniscient Jesus saw a mighty
multitude of bowed and suffering ones--in sickness, in pains, in
poverty and chains; inheritors of "cruel mockings and scourgings, yea,
moreover, of bonds and imprisonment;" those whose portion should be to
be stoned, "sawn asunder," tempted, "slain with the sword;" who should
wander about "in sheep-skins and goat-skins, being destitute,
afflicted, tormented." Seeing these, is it any wonder if his heart
melted with tenderness? In the simple story of his life we read: "And
Jesus went forth and saw a great multitude, and was moved with
compassion toward them, and he healed their sick." "In all their
affliction he was afflicted." Blessed be our High Priest who is still
"touched with the feeling of our infirmities!"
When his life on earth ended and he returned to the glory which he had
with the Father before the world was, he left us an example that we
should walk in his steps. To his disciples belongs the honor of taking
up and carrying forward the work of ministration. Partakers of
Christ's love and sympathy "look not every man on his own things, but
every man also on the things of others. Let the same mind be in you
which was also in Christ Jesus," who "took upon him the form of a
servant." "He that saith he abideth in him, ought himself also to walk
even as he walked."
How did he walk? Study well the memorial of "golden deeds." Compare
your life with his. How can you bear the test?