trembling feet touch the cold waters of the river of death, before the
last fond grasp of earth is given, Christ will take your hand in his,
and as he draws very near to you, you will feel in that hour that
Christ is the best portion your soul can possess. His finger will
point plainly toward "things to come," and he will doubtless give you
glimpses of glory before the time.
We need not, however, wait till the last hour to consider the things
God has laid up for us. The lesson of present content is more easily
learned while we sit, like Bunyan's Patience, waiting for our good
things. Passion would not be satisfied till his lap was filled with
golden treasure, but Patience, with empty hands, was very quiet,
though Passion laughed scornfully. "Patience," says Bunyan, "is
willing to wait."
What a beautiful figure of the Christian! And what are these good
things for which the Christian is willing to wait?
First of all, he has a home in the future. No earthly home can be
compared to it, for it is a home where change and death never come.
The earthly home may be made desolate by death, but in the heavenly
home there shall be no vacant place. "There shall be no more death,
neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for
the former things are passed away."
The Christian has also a crown laid up in the future. Here thorns may
bruise his aching brow, but there he shall be crowned. And earthly
crowns will pale before the Christian's crown of glory. If he is wise
in winning souls, they shall be placed as jewels in his crown; for
though all will have bright crowns, some shall be surpassingly
glorious, being studded with immortal souls.
Let me, dear Lord, be one of those who "turn many to righteousness."
Give me a glorious crown, and I will gladly lay it at thy feet. No
matter if it must be with weeping that I now go forth to win souls, no
matter if my heart be weary and my hands be heavy, the reward will
more than compensate for the weariness and weeping, and every redeemed
soul shall shine in my diadem of glory.
Let the worldling keep his portion and clutch his paltry treasures
till they crumble to dust beneath his eager fingers, but let
"My soul to heaven aspire,
And fix its all on God."
He is my best portion, and "my meditation of him shall be sweet" when
I remember that this "good part," which his grace has enabled me to
choose, "shall not be taken away" from me.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVI.
_The Cross._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I consider his cross and
mine_.
The cross is the emblem of our religion. To it the awakened sinner
flies when conscience fills him with gloomy fears. There is no place
of safety for him save in its blessed shadow. Looking up with faith,
he sees Jesus, the suffering Saviour, and with the sight peace and joy
fill his heart. As he starts upon his pilgrim course the cross is set
before him, and these are his marching orders: "If any man will come
after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me."
Oh how he learns to love that cross of shame! it becomes radiant with
glory, and as he journeys he sings,
"In the cross of Christ I glory."
As he bears his own personal cross, which sometimes is exceedingly
heavy, he lays the heaviest end of it upon Christ, and looks up
joyfully through his tears to the great Cross-Bearer and learns to
"glory in tribulation." Looking up, what does he see? Beyond the cross
he sees the crown. How dazzling! how enduring! No stain nor rust shall
ever mar its beauty; none shall ever rob it of its sparkling gems.
Tell me, I ask, who shall wear these bright crowns? "And he said unto
me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Out
of great tribulation into great exaltation. What a striking contrast!
What a happy exchange! Like the Master, they passed from a lowly state
of trouble into a lofty state of triumph. Because they were not
ashamed of him in his grief, he was not ashamed of them in his glory.
They were saved not because they suffered, but because they trusted in
Him who suffered for them. Some of them suffered even unto the death,
but the blood that made white their garments was not their own; it was
"the blood of the Lamb." "_Therefore_ are they before the throne of
God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that sitteth on
the throne shall dwell among them."
How happy are they now! Former trials, when recalled, only lead them
to new songs of praise. They remember all the way of the past, and
strike the harp-strings with exultant fingers when they think of their
sufferings, now exchanged for endless joys.
Consider your cross, young disciple, and meditate upon it without
bitter thought. It was a wise and loving Hand that laid it upon your
shoulder, and that same Hand will lift it when he thinks you have
carried it long enough. "He doeth all things well." The end shall be
better than the beginning, and in eternity you will understand it all.
Your voice will rise in higher, loftier strains when you remember the
sickness that was sanctified and the sorrow that led you nearer to
your God.
"Oh what a load of struggle and distress
Falls off before the cross! The feverish care;
The wish that we were other than we are;
The sick regrets; the yearnings numberless;
The thought, "this might have been," so apt to press
On the reluctant soul; even past despair;
Past sin itself,--all, all is turned to fair,
Ay, to a scheme of ordered happiness,
As soon as we love God, or rather know
That God loves us!... Accepting the great pledge
Of his concern for all our wants and woe,
We cease to tremble upon danger's edge;
While varying troubles form and burst anew,
Safe in a Father's arms we smile as infants do."
[Illustration]
XVII.
_The Presence._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I remember his near and
constant presence_; for he is the joy of my life and the life of my
joy. Joy without him is hardly worth the name of joy, and sorrow with
him is better than joy.
When my heart is overwhelmed because of enemies and foes, my terrified
soul turns quickly to him, and David's prayer becomes all my own: "Be
not thou far from me, O Lord; O my Strength, haste thee to help me!
Deliver my soul." The answer quickly comes: "Wait on the Lord; be of
good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart."
But oh, my Saviour, "they mar my path." Remove these enemies, even for
thine own name's sake; for then shall I run in the way of holiness and
my ever-brightening path shall show forth thy praise.
And again the answer comes: "Commit thy way unto the Lord;" "My
presence shall go with thee."
Nearer and nearer draws the Saviour; sweeter and sweeter is his
presence in this time of my soul's sorest need. He lifts my prostrate
soul and bids my weary eyes survey the upward path. How glorious to
behold! He tells me "these light afflictions" are working out "a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." And when I feel his
strong arms around me, my soul breaks forth in singing:
"I have no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness."
Blessed is the man who has learned the secret of a happy life, and,
like Enoch, walks with God. We care not to know the outward
circumstances of him whose inner life is hid with God. His delighted
soul bathes in the sunshine of God's smile; his face reflects the
peace that flows like a river through his spirit.
It was the presence of Christ that made the Emmaus journey so
delightful. We know that the favored two started with slow steps and
heavy hearts, and there was a deep undertone of sadness in their
voices as they talked together of all the strange things that had
happened. But what a change came over them! A stranger joined their
company, and as he talked with them their hearts burned within them,
till, drawing near the journey's end, they felt so unwilling to lose
his company that they constrained him to come in and tarry with them.
And so it came to pass that the last hours of the day were the best
hours. In the morning it was cloudy and dark, but at evening-time it
was light, for as they sat at meat the Sun of Righteousness shone full
and clear into their hearts, dispersing all the clouds.
Does not this journey remind us of some of the days of our pilgrimage?
The morning found us heavy-hearted. We knelt at the mercy-seat, while
sighs and groans took the place of songs and rejoicings. With slow
steps and aching hearts we began the duties of the day. But soon there
came a change. Jesus, our Lord, drew near. He spake some cheering
promise, uttered some whisper of his love. Our hearts began to melt;
again we knelt at the mercy-seat. We prayed, we praised; we rose and
hastened to our duties, singing as we worked; and so the hours sped
on. Night fell; still he tarried: we slept in sweet security, for "so
he giveth his beloved sleep;" we woke to find that we were still with
Jesus.
Happy the soul that hath the abiding presence of the Saviour. Be this
our constant prayer: "Abide with us." "Lord, I am not worthy that thou
shouldst come under my roof," but yet my heart cries out, "Abide with
me." Give me light in the evening-time. Abide with me "until the day
break and the shadows flee away."
"Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,
But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples, Lord--
Familiar, condescending, patient, free--
Come, not to sojourn, but abide, with me."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVIII.
_The Appearing._
"My meditation of him shall be sweet" _when I consider his appearing_.
To those who have refused the Saviour's offer of mercy the thought of
his second coming is full of terror. With them there is a "certain
fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation." Having
"trodden under foot the Son of God," and "counted the blood of the
covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing," is it any
wonder if they fear to fall into the hands of the living God, knowing
full well that the fearful and unbelieving "shall have their part in
the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone?"
But the event which strikes such terror into the hearts of those who
are without Christ and without hope in the world, fills the heart of
the Christian with exceeding joy. There is comfort, yea, great
comfort, in the thought of Christ's coming. The apostles departed from
Olivet with new hope and joy after receiving this angel message: "This
same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in
like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." Ever since, the
waiting Church has been gazing steadfastly toward heaven, "looking for
that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our
Saviour Jesus Christ." And ever and anon angel voices have uttered
words of comfort to the waiting ones. Often the voice is the voice of
our Beloved, the Angel of the Covenant. "I will come again," he says,
"and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."
Hear his last prayer: "Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast
given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory." Hear
the last words of inspiration: "Surely I come quickly." And the
waiting company of believers joyfully respond, "Amen. Even so, come,
Lord Jesus."
The thought of his coming comforts those whose dearest friends sleep
in Jesus, for them will God bring with him. This shall be a time of
glad reunions. Let us not sorrow "as others which have no hope." We
shall soon be ever with one another.
_There is deliverance_ in the thought of Christ's coming; "for we that
are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened." Yes, young disciple,
we have not yet reached that state of perfection when we have no
burdens. We are yet in the body, and the burden of sorrow is often
upon us; and though we try to cast this burden on the Lord, we yet
look forward with joy to Christ's coming, for then "sorrow and sighing
shall flee away," and "God shall wipe away all tears." And though
Christ has delivered us from the penalty of the broken law, yet the
burden of sin is often upon us, and many times with contrition and
shame we bow before the mercy-seat, saying, sadly, "Father, I have
sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be
called thy son." The burden of death is upon us, and Christ's coming
gives comfort to those who through fear of death are all their
lifetime subject to bondage.
Trembling disciple, perhaps you are fearing what may never come upon
you. You may be among the number of those who shall be alive at the
coming of the Lord. The time may not be distant, for nearly all the
prophecies have been fulfilled and the signs of the times seem to
declare plainly, "The coming of the Lord draweth nigh." Many a time,
it is true, the waiting Church has fancied it heard the sound of his
chariot-wheels, but the time was not yet. "Where is the promise of his
coming?" cries the scoffing world. "Behold, I come quickly." Believers
closely clasp this promise to their hearts while they pray for
patience to wait. Generations have passed away, but the word of the
Lord endureth for ever. "I come quickly." Perhaps this generation
shall not pass away till all be fulfilled. It may be so. Certainly
there is "upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity;" men's
hearts are "failing them for fear, and for looking after those things
which are coming on the earth."
"My Lord, I stand continually upon my watch-tower," remembering the
benediction, "Blessed are those servants whom the Lord when he cometh
shall find watching."
Last of all and best of all, _there is glory_ in the thought of
Christ's coming. There is comfort, great comfort; there is
deliverance, great deliverance; there is glory, great glory, "a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." "Behold, I show you a
mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a
moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; for the trumpet
shall sound, and 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. So when this corruptible shall have
put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality,
then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is
swallowed up in victory." What a glorious picture! No doubt is here
admitted. "We _shall_ be changed;" "this corruptible _must_ put on
incorruption;" "this mortal _must_ put on immortality."
This thought of glory overwhelms us; it is a "weight of glory." To be
ever with one another is blessedness; to be ever with the Lord is
glory. To be free from this body of sin and death is deliverance; to
wear the likeness of our glorified Lord is transfiguration--wonderful,
dazzling, glorious!
Is it any wonder, then, if our meditation is sweet when we reflect
upon "the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus
Christ," "who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned
like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is
able even to subdue all things unto himself?" No wonder the apostle
calls it "a blessed hope." It sustains the heart of the aged Christian
who has "fought a good fight" and finished his course. It also helps
the young disciple to "run with patience" the race that is set before
him.
"This same Jesus shall come again." How? "In like manner as ye have
seen him go into heaven." "Behold he cometh with clouds," and with
"ten thousand of his saints." And why does he come? To take his weary
children home. "I will come again and receive you unto myself."
"Wherefore, comfort one another with these words."
[Illustration]
XIX.
_The Conclusion._
"Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter."
We have meditated upon the names of Christ, and have found in them a
sweet significance. Jehovah Tsidkenu satisfied the demands of the
broken law, making us righteous in the sight of God. Jehovah Shalom
gave a peace which even this tumultuous world cannot take from us.
Jehovah Nissi leads us forth to battle against our mighty foes, and
always gives us the victory; "thanks be to God!" Jehovah Rophi healeth
all our diseases with marvelous skill: even the broken heart is not
beyond his power, for his own word declares, "He healeth the broken in
heart, and bindeth up their wounds." Jehovah Jireh quiets all our
fears for the future, for his name is sufficient pledge that he will
supply all our need. Jehovah Shammah completes and crowns our joy, for
in his presence is fullness of joy; "his presence is salvation."
We have rejoiced in "the earnest of our inheritance." Glimpses of
glory before the time have made us homesick. His "perfect work" has
filled our minds with amazement as we meditated upon our adoption,
justification, sanctification and redemption. The thoughts of his
chastenings were not painful, because we knew a blessing was concealed
in the blow. His compassion for the multitude seemed to us a sweet
thought; but as we learned something more about his sympathy with all
his "sanctified ones," and his deep personal love for each individual
Christian, our hearts melted within us, and drawing nearer to this
great heart of love, we joyfully exclaimed, "This is my Beloved, and
this is my Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem."
We have considered the life more abundant which he gives, until life
with Christ seemed the happiest life man can know. Thoughts of the
full and free forgiveness of all our sins, even sins of scarlet hue,
were comforting thoughts; and while we cast the past behind our backs,
we looked forward to the future with new confidence, remembering the
"stones of help" provided by him to slay the giant sins. Deliverance
from the curse was certainly a pleasant thought; and as we gazed into
Paradise regained, we gave thanks because Christ had purchased for us
the "right to the tree of life" which stands in the midst of the
Paradise of God.
Our meditation was sweet when we thought of his faithful promises
concerning prayer, for his word confirmed our own experience, and we
learned to kneel and ask with a more unwavering confidence.
Considering his reward for faithful labors made us almost forget the
weariness of work as we seemed already to hear his "Well done, thou
good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
Christ as the soul's best portion filled the heart with deep,
unspeakable joy, and we took up our cross, singing as we walked,
because his near presence made us almost unmindful of its weight upon
our shoulder.
On Olivet we had our last glimpse of our living Lord. Here we stood
"gazing up into heaven" at "this same Jesus," who is as dear to us as
he was to the twelve. Our hearts thrilled over his parting blessing,
and the thought of his coming again filled us with delight.
Our meditations are over now. They have been "sweet," or, as it may be
rendered, "as the calm evening hour." Meditating upon Jesus has
increased our joy: "I will be glad in the Lord." Around his very name
sweet thoughts thickly cluster. Jesus! my Jesus! In that dear name the
best music of heaven comes down to me.
How sweet it sounds! A bundle of myrrh it is--a hill of
frankincense--a mountain of spices. Through all the livelong day,
through all the silent watches of the night, my mind may turn to Him
whose "name is as ointment poured forth," and no bitter, doubting,
fearful thought shall ever mingle with my musing. No dark thread shall
ever weave itself into the silver web of my sweet meditation of him,
for my unbelief is banished when my Jesus is near. All my grief fades
away in the presence of his glory, and he his own self is the joy of
my heart and the heart of my joy.
"My Beloved is mine, and I am his." All that he is is mine, and all
that I am is his. He is more than all the world to me, and without him
heaven would not be worth having. "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and
there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee." Jesus! my Jesus!
Eternal musings will not exhaust this hive of honey. He has saved me
from my sins and betrothed me to himself for ever. O my soul, "how
much owest thou unto my Lord!" The greatness of my indebtedness I will
not fully realize till I stand upon the yonder shore, and perhaps not
even then.
"Jesus, I ne'er can pay
The debt I owe thy love."
I am, and ever will be, "debtor." Thy gifts to me have been so great
that, though my giving cannot enrich thee, I would fain relieve my
grateful heart by giving thee some token of love.
In the stable at Bethlehem the Eastern sages open their costly
treasures. The sight is a strange one, and there seems a strange
incongruity between the gifts and the receiver; also between the giver
and the receiver. The wise men bow before a babe, and lavish the
riches of the East upon the infant of the lowly manger. "Lavish," did
I say? Let not the thought of waste be here implied. This babe is "the
holy child Jesus," the King of the Jews. Bring costly sacrifices. "The
kings of Tarshish and of the isles shall bring presents; the kings of
Sheba and Seba shall offer gifts. Yea, all kings shall fall down
before him; all nations shall serve him."
Jesus, Saviour, once a child! Jesus, my exalted King! what shall I
bring to thy footstool? What shall I give my Lord?
"Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small."
But I am poor, very poor. No good works have I to bring; no incense of
holy prayers; no golden thoughts in which there mingles no alloy of
impurity.
"Thou willest that thy bride should be--
I bless thy will--most poor, most low,
Receiving everything from thee,
My Lord and God. Then be it so.
"That I have nothing of my own,
Freely and gladly I to all declare.
This is my portion, this alone,
That thou permittest me thy name to bear."
Have I then nothing to give? Stay, holy Christ; I have a heart. True,
it is polluted--more than this, it is broken--yet I have heard that
though
"Our God requires a whole heart or none,
Yet he will accept a broken one."
Accept the gift. Take it and make it holy; fill it with love to thee.
Fill it even to overflowing; so that, having received all from thee, I
may be able to give thee all. Let me be wholly thine--thine in every
thought and passion of my soul. Here, Lord, I give my soul to thee; I
am thine.
"Poor heart of mine, awake, arise!
And thou, my Bridegroom, my life's Sun,
Draw me to reach the heavenly prize,
Oh, do thou draw, and we will run.
Draw after thee thy fainting bride,
Who still is far, too far, from light and grace;
Till in thy presence, at thy side,
She see thee wholly--see thee face to face."
My meditation of him makes me long to see Him whom, having not seen, I
love. I would see him--not as I have seen him in the sanctuary and in
his holy supper, but I would see him "face to face." I would see him
as he is; and, blessed be his glorious name for ever! I shall one day
see him thus. Oh blessed hope! These eyes shall see Jesus; "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; whom I shall see for myself, and mine
eyes shall behold, and not another."
And, better than all beside, I shall be like him; for "we know that
when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he
is." Such knowledge is too wonderful for me: it is high; I cannot
attain unto it.
"Jesus! the very thought is sweet;
In that dear name all heart-joys meet;
But sweeter than the honey far
The glimpses of his presence are.
"No word is sung more sweet than this;
No name is heard more full of bliss;
No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh
Than Jesus, Son of God most high.
"Jesus, the Hope of souls forlorn,
How good to them for sin that mourn!
To them that seek thee, oh how kind!
But what art thou to them that find!
"No tongue of mortal can express,
No letter write, its blessedness:
Alone who hath thee in his heart
Knows, love of Jesus, what thou art.
"O Jesus! King of wondrous might;
O Victor! glorious from the fight;
Sweetness that may not be expressed,
And altogether loveliest."
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Basket of Barley Loaves, by Mary Christina Miller