I well remember some conversation which we once had upon the subject of
the creation, and feeling my mind particularly imprest with that subject,
I venture only to drop a word or two upon it, ’tis a mercy to be
satisfied with what God has said; but some are daringly presumptuous, so
that they can treat both the Deity and his revelation with contempt. I
am glad you are delivered from that snare. The Mosaic account of the
Creation has always been supposed to be too weak, simple, and incorrect
for a philosophic mind; they vainly suppose the mind ought to have been
led through the whole Planetary System, instead of being led to the
glorious Work of Redemption, which reflects his highest honour and
beauty; for here, and here alone, his brightest form of glory shines.
The six days work of Creation was to open to the eye of faith his works
very gradually, that like the stars of a night, they might be seen one by
one. The six days work, and the seventh day of rest, was no doubt
designed to shadow forth the Seven Millenniums, which would include all
time between the two eternities. The first day, from Adam to Enoch, had
in it a revelation of the true light—the second, from Enoch to Abraham,
including the division of the waters—the third day, from Abraham to
David, including the separation of the nations of the world—the fourth
day, represented the Thousand Years from Solomon to Christ, the time when
the Shekinah appeared in the Temple: the Church, fair as the Moon, and
the Prophets, the Stars, shone bright in the firmament. At the close of
this, Christ the true Sun appeared. The fifth day was to point out the
state of the church and the world, from Christ to the Reformation, when
the great Whales of Anti-christian powers, troubled the seas. This
lasted till the glorious Reformation, the beginning of the Sixth Day, in
which we now are, and longing for the Seventh, the rest of Jesus and his
Bride, in the den of Eden, the glorious Millennium. But infidels object
to the Mosaic account of light, the finest emblem of Jesus—there is
nothing in the account contrary either to reason or philosophy. I
acknowledge the question which philosophers have asked, cannot be solved,
the Bible has not engaged to satisfy vain curiosity, viz. _What was that
light that made its appearance before the Sun_? A very learned man
supposes it to have been an emanation of the same Sun that enlightens us,
and which was created though it had not yet appeared in his glory, yet it
shed sufficient light to make the Globe visible.—This is not a bad idea
for a half-hearted Christian Philosopher.—Milton seems to lean this way
when speaking of light—
To journey through the aerial gloom began,
Sphered in a radient cloud, for yet the Sun
Was not, she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourn’d the while.
This is a very pretty idea, nor is it at all contrary to reason any more
than the cloud that followed the Israelites which contained a shade, a
fire, darkness, and light at the same time. Yet the word of God is true,
and to that we must adhere. As light without the sun was first formed,
so it appears the great Creator collected these particles of light into
one body, the Sun. The language of scripture often expresses the
appearance of things to us, such as the Sun rising and setting, which at
the same time, perfectly in the main point, agreeing with the Newtonian
System of Philosophy. Did light appear first? was it not to notice the
dispensation for the four first thousand years, till on the fourth day
the Sun of Righteousness should appear? Was it not an emblem of all the
light the Church of God has now, till the second appearance of the Son of
God in our nature, and of that light which we have till the Saviour
shines upon the soul, with healing in his beams? We have light to see
ourselves and his glory, but we want him to shine with power, then we
shall _be light in the Lord_, till then, light and darkness must struggle
together; and God divided them, to shew the difference between the Law
and the Gospel—between the Flesh and the Spirit, between the Church and
the World—between the Elect and the Reprobate—Christ and Anti-christ.
See the light and darkness struggling; see it soon begins in Cain and
Abel, and to this day it continues, and will for ever. The Elect and
Reprobate are divided in election, in redemption, in calling, in
principles, in practices, in death, judgment, and eternity. May this
subject lead you and me to the Saviour, who is the light, the beauty,
purity, loveliness, and glory of the Church. O may we see him, love him,
adore him, and enjoy him, till we behold him in Heaven.
Permit me to notice further, that the Holy Ghost is pleased to represent
various characters and things by these same terms, Sun, Moon, Light, and
Stars,—which is really worthy our attention. He sets forth the Lord
Jesus by that well known emblem, the Sun, and I think it is the finest
figure in nature; and hence that very precious promise to those who are
the called according to his purpose, _Unto you that fear my name shall
the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his beams_. Eternal sun,
whose morning measures all our days, who hast gradually risen on my dear
friend’s heart, shine brighter to perfect day, even to that blessed
meridian when in our flesh we shall see God.
Sometimes the moon, in scripture, signifies the Church of God as inferior
to Christ, the glorious sun, from whom they borrow all their light and
truth; their frames and feelings inconstant, spotted in their hearts and
lives, which is the cause of much grief to their souls, yet they are the
light of this lower world, and their influence is great on the sea of
this troubled state.
Light is sometimes used as an emblem of God’s word, as pure, glorious,
pleasant, and comfortable, penetrating and purifying. While favored with
this light, may we walk in it, lest darkness overtake us, as it is
written, _Give glory to the Lord your God_, _before he cause
darkness_.—By Stars, in scripture, sometimes the Spirit condescends to
point out the Ministers of the Gospel, with all the Ordinances, which are
designed, like the Star in the East, to lead to the grand end, the Babe
of Bethlehem. These are fixed in the firmament of the Church, for
adorning it, and for guiding the spiritual mariner to endless glory,
amidst the nights of trouble and woe. These are held in the hands of
Christ, kept, supported, and blest by him; and though constantly opposed
and troubled, yet shine on, and shine forth. This is the mystery of the
Seven Stars. But these are likewise used to point out other things in
sacred writ. When God foretold the exaltation of Joseph, in a dream, he
shewed him, in a second revelation, the sun, moon, and eleven stars,
bowing down to him; which was afterwards explained by the venerable
Patriarch finding an asylum with his son Joseph, and his brethren doing
him homage in his state of exaltation.—And was it not a striking type of
our truly-exalted spiritual Joseph? honored by the most dignified
characters in our world, for kings shall submit themselves to him, and
the whole Church of Jesus, the moon, with all the stars, ministers of the
Gospel, that should bow before him, and Crown him Lord of all.
I remark again, that when the Saviour predicted the overthrow of
Jerusalem, he foretold that the sun should be darkened, that is, that the
Lord, who was the light of the Jewish Church, should withdraw his light,
justly leave them in judicial blindness, in which they remain to this
day—that the moon should be turned into blood, that is, their Synagogue,
their Church, which was put to the sword, (at least the greatest part of
them)—that the stars should fall—their doctors, rulers over the church
and state—which they did. But Solomon, in his 12th of Ecclesiastes,
verse 2, seems to borrow these metaphors of sun, moon, light, and stars,
and applies them to the human frame, when sickness or old age has
impaired it. Good Mr. Henry remarks on this passage—the decays and
infirmities of old age are here elegantly set forth in figurative
expressions, which have some difficulty in them to us now, who are not
acquainted with the phrases and metaphors used in Solomon’s age and
language. But the general scope is plain, to shew how uncomfortable,
generally, the days of old age are. Then he proceeds, and says, that the
sun, moon, stars, and light will be dim to old people, through the decay
of their sight; their countenance is decayed, and the beauty and lustre
of it is eclipsed—their intellectual powers and faculties, which are as
light in the soul, are weakened—their understanding and memory fail them,
and their apprehension is not so quick, nor their fancy so lively as it
has been.—Light is often put for joy and prosperity—the days of their
mirth are over, and they have not the pleasure either of the converse by
day, or the repose of night, for both the sun and moon was darkened to
them; then the clouds return after the rain, as when the weather is
disposed to wet, no sooner is one shower blown over but another succeeds
it, when one pain is a little abated another comes on—the gout, the
rheumatism; and so these afflictions being common to aged persons, they
are continually grieved.
That famous commentator, Patrick, observes on this verse, that the words
intimate the universal decay of the whole frame of nature, and a failing
of the mind in all its faculties and powers—that something particular is
signified by every word; that by the sun is meant the soul itself; by the
light the understanding, by the moon his will, by the stars all the
motion of the mind and memory, with all the affections and powers in the
will. So the sense of the wise man is thus—the mind of man grows feeble
in all its powers, the understanding dim-sighted, the memory forgetful,
the reason weak and childish, giving even a feeble light, that can
neither direct ourselves or others. The will listless in all its
desires, dull about our greatest concerns, wavering and inconstant in all
resolutions, and so on. But the interpretation first mentioned seems
most consistent.
Surely then, my Brother, these are some of the evil days which are
hastening on us, and though we may not live to see old age, yet, through
affliction we may have all our faculties as much impaired as the most
ancient person in the world; this has been very often seen.—What a mercy
I do consider it, that _he_ who hath begun the good work in my heart, can
carry it on without my aid, or the concurrence of my powers or faculties
working with him. Say not it is my duty to do so and so, in and with the
work of the Spirit: _Thou_, _Lord_, says the Church, _shall work all our
works __in us_, _and ordain peace for us_. But while we would look
forward to the evil days which must come on the body, may we not notice
some evil days that our souls may meet with, when the all-healing,
comfortable, soul-reviving, soul-cheering, heart-warming beams of Christ,
the glorious Sun of Righteousness shall be with-held, and coldness,
deadness, sickness, darkness, legality, and distance is felt; and such
seasons have befel the brightest saints. Hence the mournful cry, _Why
hidest thou thy face_, _O Lord_? _thou hidest thy face and we are
troubled_, about our state, our feelings, our wants, our prospects, our
way, our end. We always know when we feel him shine and when we do not,
though, as it respects himself, he is just the same in his shining, but
we are not sensible of it by reason of the cloud that cometh betwixt.
When we feel this wretched state we are always ready to fly to means,
though we ought never to neglect them; yet there is a proneness in us to
cleave to something short of the main subject. But, alas, we find the
moon of Ordinances is just as dark! We move backwards and forwards, like
the door on its hinges, yet get neither dew nor rain, light, life,
comfort, nor joy. At the table of the Lord we neither feel love nor pity
for our dear Saviour. In singing his praises we have no heart, in
associating with his people we get nothing from them; if they talk of
joys, we have none! if of a broken-heart, we feel nothing but hardness—if
of light or comfort, we feel destitute of both—thus the moon gives no
light. As to ministers, they don’t seem to touch our case, nor is their
word cloathed with any power. We fancy they are very much altered in
their preaching—we change them: the passions are stirred up for a little
while, but we find we are in just the same state. Hence the spouse is
represented as having lost her lover—she rises, runs, seeks, mourns, and
is still disappointed. _I sought him but I found him not_. Then she
went into the broad places of public worship, then into the streets,
among the inhabitants; after this to ministers, to enquire, _how_? _why_?
and _wherefore_? But, for a season, all was still dark, yes, very dark
indeed: these stars seem to give but little light during such painful
seasons: the scriptures of light shut up in their beautiful histories,
promises, types, parables, and doctrines, where we could see Christ once
in every part, and enjoy him; now, alas, it is not so, but it is as a
spring shut up, and sealed from us. While this is attended with a
lowering sky, and a continual dropping of rain; no bright clouds now
return as they used to do, and how it is with us we cannot tell. Once if
we felt a little dark or uncomfortable, it was soon gone, smiling hope
used to spring up, or a promise sent home with power. The company of
God’s people cheered us up, or a little access to God’s throne revived
us. Seldom heard a sermon but we got something by it—and if a few storms
of persecution, temptation or corruption, or family trials befel us, the
Lord made a bright cloud after it; but, alas, it is not thus with us now,
these clouds don’t return after the rain—thus
Afflictions like vapours may rise,
Light, love, and delight may be gone;
The sun may be dark in the skies,
And hell with its legions come on!
Ah, my dear Brother, these are dark days truly, but it shall not be
always thus; _to the upright there arises light in darkness_—this light
is sown for us, and shall spring up again.
But may I not here enquire, as on another occasion, the Prophet did,
_Shall there be an evil in the City and the Lord hath not done it_? _Is
there not a cause_? _Why doth a living man_ (a quickened man)
_complain_? Let us enquire the cause: Have you not been making too much
of your comforts? Have you not been looking at them instead of the
Saviour, living on them instead of his fulness?—and were you not too
prone to slight those who had not attained the same consolation? And, if
so, Can you wonder that God should permit a partial death to overtake
you?—Or, perhaps, there may be other causes—a sad neglect of those means
which are appointed for the spiritual health of the soul: as abstinence,
or neglect of food, will soon bring the body into a pining, languishing
condition, so, if the means of the knowledge of grace be not diligently
attended to and implored, our souls must get into a starving state. The
indulgence of sensual pleasures may bring on deadness, darkness, and
distance. See this in Sampson, while sleeping in the lap of Delilah, he
was shorn of his strength; and he arose to shake himself as at other
times, but he wist not that the Lord had departed from him. But perhaps
the Lord has done this to shew his adorable sovereignty, as in the case
of Job: hence his complaint, _He hath fenced up my way that I cannot
pass_, _and he hath set darkness in my path_. And so complains Jeremiah,
_He hath led me_, _and brought me into darkness_, _and not into light_.
Sometimes this is done to humble us, lest we should be exalted above
measure. But, above all, the Spirit leads into these deep and painful
feelings, to make us prize our adorable Redeemer, and see our continual
need of being supplied from his fulness. He lets our cisterns run dry,
that we may come and lay our vessels under the flowings of the blessed
fountain of life, that from him we might receive grace for grace.
May great grace rest on you. I remain
Your willing Servant in Christ,
[Picture: Signature of J. C.]
_LETTER VI_.