"Lamentation and mourning and woe" follow the triumph of arms, and the
land bewails the unreturning brave: the victories of wisdom are
universal blessings, cheering the earth and gladdening the skies; and
wherever she prevails, the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose;
and "the voice of salvation and praise is in the tabernacles of the
righteous, saying, The right hand of the Lord is exalted! the right
hand of the Lord doeth valiantly!" The warrior may win a splendid
spoil; and the capture of vast stores and precious treasures--the
acquisition of cities, kingdoms, continents--may reward his valor:
wisdom "winneth souls"--more costly than all the gems of Golconda, and
all the gold of California--the most magnificent structures ever
reared, and the most extensive empires ever formed. The victor may feel
a proud gratification in his success, but it is necessarily mingled
with much of unhappiness: the achievements of wisdom afford "fulness of
joy, and pleasures forevermore"--joy without any mixture of sorrow,
pleasures without any interval of pain. The commendation of superiors
and the applause of the multitude are often imbittered to the conqueror
by the envy of rivals and the malice of foes: but the "Well done, good
and faithful servant!" of the Eternal Judge shall be re-echoed by the
happy universe, and the saints and the seraphim shall compass you about
with songs of deliverance, and every detractive tongue shall be shut up
in the bottomless pit forever. History will record your heroism,
eloquence will emblazon your victory, and poetry will perpetuate your
praise; and the pencil, the chisel, the temple, the towering column and
triumphal arch, will transmit your fame to future generations: but the
Christian's memorial is in the New Jerusalem, "the new heavens and
earth wherein dwelleth righteousness"--"a new name, which no man
knoweth, save he that receiveth it"--a new creation, glowing with the
image of its Creator, over which the morning stars shall sing together,
and all the sons of God shall shout for joy. The renown of your heroic
deeds may fill the world and flourish over your grave: but wisdom shall
inherit "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." The brass
will tarnish, and the marble will moulder, and the voice of the orator
will go silent, and the minstrel shall sing no more in the sepulchre;
but wisdom's "praise is not of men, but of God;" "and they that be wise
shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many
to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." Pharaoh perished; but
Moses is immortal. Ahab went down to the dust; but Elijah drove his
steeds of flame through the sapphire firmament. Saul fell in his blood
upon Gilboa; but the tuneful son of Jesse still leads the symphonies of
the church in the wilderness, while the cherubim and the seraphim
around the throne join in his choral hallelujahs. Egypt is a desert,
and Babylon is a heap of ruins, and Nineveh looks sadly up from her
ancient sepulchre by the Tigris, and the imperial Mother of Nations
sits in melancholy widowhood upon the bank of the "yellow Tiber;" but
Joseph, and Daniel, and the captive Tobit, and "Paul, the prisoner of
Jesus Christ," have found "a city of habitation," "whose builder and
maker is God"--
"Where age hath no power o'er the fadeless frame,
Where the eye is fire and the heart is flame!"
The Roman conqueror returned in triumph, with large display of spoils
and prisoners; and a magnificent array went forth to meet him, and the
populace rent the heavens with shouts of welcome, and the wall of the
city was torn down for his entrance, and splendid offerings sparkled at
his feet, and stately structures over-arched his head, and rich odors
perfumed the air, and sweet music enlivened the scene: oh! who shall
tell of wisdom's coronation in the metropolis of the universe--the
unnumbered millions of the ransomed, with palms and crowns and lutes,
amid the radiance of angelic beauty too bright for mortal eyes, singing
as the sound of many waters and mighty thunderings unto him that loved
them and washed them in his blood!
"Wisdom is better than weapons of war." Are you satisfied with the
proof? Then rally to the standard of wisdom, join her forces, fight her
battles, win her rewards, sing her transcendent glories, and share the
blissful immunities and emoluments of her victorious veterans forever!
Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid of the opinions or the speeches of
others? Oh! for shame! You have plenty of martial courage; where is
your moral courage? You can march up to the mouth of the cannon and
rush upon the point of the bayonet; why quail you at the scoff of the
infidel and the scorn of the blasphemer? Come out, come out, on the
side of truth and righteousness! Enrol yourselves with the saints,
under "the Captain of your salvation!" Defiant of earth and fearless of
hell, put on your arms, and away to the field, and take part in the
conflict, that you may have place in the coronation!
"Soldier, go--but not to claim
Mouldering spoils of earthborn treasure,
Not to build a vaunting name,
Not to dwell in tents of pleasure.
Dream not that the way is smooth,
Hope not that the thorns are roses,
Turn no wishful eye of youth
Where the sunny beam reposes.
Thou hast sterner work to do--
Hosts to cut thy passage through;
Close behind the gulfs are burning--
Forward! there is no returning.
"Soldier, rest--but not for thee
Spreads the world her downy pillow;
On the rock thy couch must be,
While around thee chafes the billow:
Thine must be a watchful sleep,
Wearier than another's waking;
Such a charge as thou dost keep
Brooks no moment of forsaking.
Sleep as on the battle-field--
Girded--grasping sword and shield:
Those thou canst not name or number
Steal upon thy broken slumber.
"Soldier, rise--the war is done:
Lo! the hosts of hell are flying!
'Twas thy God the battle won;
Jesus vanquished them by dying.
Pass the stream--before thee lies
All the conquered land of glory;
Hark! what songs of rapture rise!
These proclaim the victor's story.
Soldier, lay thy weapons down,
Quit the sword and take the crown;
Triumph! all thy foes are banished,
Death is slain, and earth has vanished!"
[1] Preached to soldiers in camp, 1863.
XI.
LOVE TESTED.[1]
Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?--John xxi. 17.
Were the dear Lord to appear personally in our midst this morning,
addressing one after another by name, and putting the same question
thus pointedly to all, who would answer in the negative? Who would
frankly confess so base an ingratitude? Who of all this assembly would,
by the acknowledgment of so flagrant an impiety, write himself down
with the reprobate? However negligently or wickedly men live, few are
willing to admit that they are utterly wanting in love to him who loved
them to the death.
But is love to Christ indeed so common? With a few exceptions of
unbelief so blasphemous as to shock ordinary irreligion, are all men
truly his friends? Are they so taken with his teaching, so enamoured of
his virtue, so captivated by the beauty of his character, that they are
ready to forsake all to become his disciples, and prove the sincerity
of their attachment by the cheerful endurance of the severest
sufferings? Do they generally accord to him his claims, practically
observe his requirements, and devote all their energies to his service?
Do they so believe in him as the one only Mediator between God and man,
the one only name under heaven given among men by which they can be
saved, that they renounce all others and cling with the tenacity of a
death-grasp to his cross?
Let us ask ourselves the question. Let us enter solemnly into
conference with our own hearts. Let every one bring his consciousness,
his recollection, the facts of his life, to the test. "Do I truly love
the Lord Jesus? Will my love bear the ordeal of a faithful and
impartial scrutiny? Is my conduct, public and private, such as to put
the matter beyond all doubt and controversy? Should my crucified Friend
come visibly into the church, take me by the hand, look straight into
my eyes, and say, as he did to 'Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?'
could I answer as promptly, as honestly, as emphatically, as the
apostle did--'Lord, thou knowest that I love thee'!"
No superfluous or unprofitable inquiry is this, my dear brethren; but a
matter of infinite moment, addressing itself immediately to each
individual soul. Had Jesus deemed it a question of little consequence,
think you he would have put it thrice in so searching a manner to St.
Peter? Does not the repetition seem to imply a danger of mistake and
self-deception? Yet the question obviously supposes the apostle might
know with certainty whether he really loved or not. And if he, why not
we? I will not put it to your consciousness, in which any man may be
deceived; but the manifestation and fruits of love furnish certain
practical tests, quite easy of application and far less liable to
mistake; so that no soul, well instructed in the principles of
Christianity, need remain in ignorance of so vital a matter.
Here, however, before we proceed any farther, a word of explanation and
caution seems necessary. The passion of love, as we all know well
enough, is innate. We naturally love our friends and all that is
pleasing and attractive to us. But to this general rule love to Christ
Jesus is certainly an exception. So fallen and sinful are we, that we
cannot love that which is holy, perfect, divine, without the
enlightening and purifying Spirit of grace from above. So blinded is
our sight, so depraved and perverted our moral taste, that Christ is to
us as a root out of a dry ground, without form or comeliness, and there
is no beauty that we should desire him. His sublime purity we cannot
appreciate; his beauty of holiness we cannot endure. We must be
regenerate, quickened together with Christ, raised from a death in
trespasses and sins to a new life in righteousness. Possible it may be,
indeed, for the infant, consecrated to Christ in baptism, to "lead the
rest of his life according to this beginning;" from the very font,
daily increasing in God's Holy Spirit more and more, until he come to
Christ's everlasting kingdom. But if, as commonly happens, the fact
prove otherwise--if there has been a defection from baptismal
grace--there must be a return to the bond of the covenant, and a
renewal by the power of the Holy Ghost, or there can be no true love to
Christ. And those who now sincerely and supremely love him may know
precisely when and where the blessed restoration took place, and the
Sun of righteousness arose upon them with healing in his wings. And
others, not baptized in childhood, may have a vivid recollection of the
place and the moment in which they first discovered the light of the
glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, and the Redeemer began to be
unspeakably precious to their souls. Love to Christ, therefore, is not
natural, but supernatural--not the result of self-culture, but the
product of divine grace--a new and heavenly principle shed abroad in
the heart by the power of the Holy Ghost. The test of which let us now
apply; and may God help us to do so with honest and faithful heart!
"Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?"
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will think of him with pleasure. Love
produces tender thoughts of the beloved. You cannot cease to think of
them even when long absent. Can those who love the Saviour ever forget
him? Will not their meditation of him always be sweet? How is it with
you? Can you say with the psalmist--"The desire of our soul is unto thy
name, and to the remembrance of thee"? Do you think often of Jesus, and
dwell with delight upon his love? Do you meditate sweetly of him in the
night-watches? Is the thought of him ineffably pleasing and joyful to
your soul?
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will delight in communion with him.
Love finds its greatest happiness in the presence of the beloved. Long
absence is painful, and hopeless separation is intolerable. Every
opportunity of communion with Christ, therefore, the saints value as a
high privilege and seize with eager joy. The word in which he speaks to
them is their sweetest music; the closet in which they meet with him is
their highest Pisgah; the table at which he feeds them is the very
antepast of heaven. Is this your experience? Do you love to speak with
Christ in prayer? Do you joyfully listen to the messages of his grace,
and read with pleasure the epistles of his love? Do you feast with a
keen relish upon the heavenly manna and the new wine of the kingdom
which he provides for you in the
"Rich banquet of his flesh and blood"?
Can you appeal to him in the language of the psalmist--"Lord, I have
loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honor
dwelleth"? and when deprived of its privileges, do you exclaim with
him--"My soul longeth, yea even fainteth, for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God; when shall I come and
appear before him?"
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will constantly aim and study to please
him. With regard to any undecided course of action, you will not ask,
"How will this please others?" but, "How will it please Christ?" Him
whom your soul loveth, whatever the effect upon your neighbors, you
will never be willing to displease. You would rather offend every
friend you have on earth than the heavenly "Friend that sticketh closer
than a brother." "Ye are my friends," saith he, "if ye do whatsoever I
command you." And again he saith, "If any man love me, he will keep my
words." Hearty obedience is the best proof of love. If you truly love
him, your obedience will be prompt, earnest, constant, uniform,
unquestioning and uncompromising. Try yourselves, my brethren, by this
criterion. Is the word of Christ the supreme law of your life? In all
things, do you seek his pleasure, and rejoice to do his will? Are his
commandments grievous to you, or do you find his yoke easy and his
burden light? Do you esteem his service a hard bondage, or the blessed
freedom of the sons of God? Is it your meat and drink to do his will,
as it was his to do the will of his Father? He is now challenging your
affection, as Delilah challenged that of Samson: "How canst thou say, I
love thee, when thy heart is not with me?"
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will rejoice even in suffering for his
sake. What was it but love stronger than death to him who died for them
that made the apostles glory in tribulations, sing hymns of praise at
midnight in their dungeons, wear their chains and manacles more proudly
than princes ever wore their jewels, and welcome the scourge and the
cross which completed their conformity to the divine Man of sorrows?
And why did Ignatius chant so cheerfully among the lions, and Polycarp
pour forth his thanksgiving so joyfully as he stood unbound in the
flames? And why did so many Christians, in the early persecutions of
the Church, rush to the tribunal to confess their faith in Christ,
hastening to share the fiery coronation of their bishops and their
brethren? There is but one answer to these questions; and if you love
Christ as they loved him, you will be ready to make any sacrifice or
endure any suffering for his glory. Like Moses, who "esteemed the
reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt," you
will "choose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to
enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." Like the Hebrew captives in
Babylon, you will prefer the company of the king's lions to the society
of his courtiers, and the sevenfold heat of the Chaldaean furnace to the
perfumed breezes that regale the royal gardens. Hard sayings are these
to ears like yours? Have you no sympathy, then, with the Prince of
sufferers? Are you not ready to take up your cross, and follow him to
Calvary? If not, how can you say, "We love him because he first loved
us"?
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will love those who are the special
objects of his love. Love to him is one half of his religion; love to
his followers is the other half. The latter is the fruit of the former,
and the best evidence of its reality. "By this," saith our Saviour,
"shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to
another." And did he not pray for his little flock, that they might
love one another as he had loved them? And does not his most loving
apostle plainly tell us that this is the proof of our having passed
from death to life? And does not St. Paul assure us that it is "the
bond of perfectness" and "the fulfilling of the law"--more important
than faith, knowledge, miracles, the grandest eloquence, the largest
beneficence, and even martyrdom itself? How can you love Christ, and
not love Christians? If you love the Father, will you not love his
children? If you love the Master, will you not love his servants? Truly
loving your Monarch, can you fail to love your loyal fellow-subjects?
What proof give you, then, of your love to the brethren? Do you prefer
their society to that of the world? Do you delight to converse with
those who delight to converse with Christ and to converse with you
about him? Is it a great pleasure to you to do them kind offices,
supply their temporal needs, promote their spiritual well-being, and
cheer and comfort them in the manifold sorrows of life? Is their
interest as dear to you as your own, their reputation, and the
salvation of their souls? If not, how can it be said that you love them
as you love yourself? And, failing in this, where is the proof of your
love to him who laid down his life for us all?
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will sympathize with him in his grief
for those who love him not. Over the Jews who rejected him Jesus wept
upon Olivet, and for the Romans who crucified him he prayed upon his
cross. And when his loving heart broke beneath the burden of its
anguish, think you he ceased to grieve for a guilty and ungrateful
world? As he looks down from his mediatorial throne upon the multitudes
who everywhere spurn the gospel of his grace and seek death in the
error of their way--despising the riches of his goodness and
forbearance and longsuffering, treasuring up wrath against the day of
wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God--does he not
still weep and pray for the perishing neglecters of so great salvation,
and seek those who can weep and pray with him, in whose tears and
intercessions he can pour forth the full measure of his loving sorrow
for the undone? And, loving him, will you not respond to his
compassionate lamentations, feeling as he feels for the impenitent
ingrates who are despising their own mercy and trampling upon the
precious blood of their redemption? How is it with you, dear brethren?
Am I saying what sounds strange to you, if not absurd and preposterous?
Have you never wept for the wicked as Elisha did when he foresaw the
cruelties of Hazael, or as St. Paul did when he told his brethren of
the enemies of the cross of Christ? Have you never said with David--"I
beheld the transgressors, and was grieved; rivers of waters run down
mine eyes because they keep not thy law"? Tell me not that you love
Christ, while you have no sympathy with his love for sinners--no
self-sacrificing zeal to save them, pulling them out of the fire!
If you love the Lord Jesus, you will look for his glorious appearing
and long for his eternal fellowship. This was the one great gladdening
hope of the apostles and all the early Christians. Before his
departure, their dear Master had promised them that he would come
again, and receive them unto himself; and with perfect faith in his
word, they joyfully waited and watched for his return in the clouds of
heaven. And still the expectant bride is on the outlook for her absent
Lord; and often we hear her from behind the lattice of her
chamber-window calling--"Make haste, my Beloved! and be thou like the
young hart upon the mountains of spices!" What Christian soul does not
respond to the sweet words of Milton? "Come forth out of thy royal
chambers, O Prince of all the kings of the earth; put on the visible
robes of thy imperial majesty; take up that unlimited sceptre which thy
Almighty Father hath bequeathed thee; for now the voice of thy bride
calls thee, and all things sigh to be renewed!" What saint of Jesus
does not thrill to the eloquent strain of Edward Irving? "Blessed
consummation of this weary and sorrowful world! I give it welcome; I
hail its approach with joy; I wait its coming more than they that watch
for the morning! O my Lord, come away! hasten, with all thy congregated
ones! My soul desireth to see the King in his beauty, and the beautiful
ones he shall bring along with him!" Verily, "herein is our love made
perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment, because as
he is so are we in this world." But were he this very day revealed from
heaven in flaming fire, should we take lute and timbrel and go forth to
welcome him to his ransomed world, or fly to the rocks and mountains to
hide from his presence and escape from his wrath? In a great earthquake
which shook a vast city, when the people said it was the day of
judgment and sought where they might take refuge from their Judge, a
certain poor man began to cry out--"Oh! is it so? is it so? Then
whither shall I go to meet my Lord? on what mountain shall I stand to
see my Saviour?" Oh! to greet the Redeemer in his glory--who that loves
him does not leap for joy at the expectation? "For the Lord himself
shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel
and the trump of God;" and the saints in their redeemed bodies "shall
be caught up in the clouds to meet him in the air, and so shall we ever
be with the Lord." Again the happy bride looks forth and cries--"The
voice of my Beloved! behold, he cometh, leaping upon the mountains,
skipping upon the hills!" And you, my dear brethren, if you truly love
your Saviour, so far from dreading him as your judge, will hail him as
your friend; when the sound of his chariot-wheels, heard from pole to
pole, shall gladden the graves of his beloved; and the voice of
rejoicing and praise, rising from the tabernacles of the righteous,
shall roll its thunder-chant through all the realms of joy!
Take, then, these _criteria_, and test your love to Christ. Surely
the result will be worth the examination. For what transcendent
importance, everywhere in Holy Scripture, is given to this divine
principle! and in all ages, especially all Christian ages, what fine
things have been said and sung of love! Not to recite the sublime
statements of St. John and the inspired raptures of St. Paul, with
which you are all familiar; the great bishop of Hippo calls it "that
sweet and sacred bond of the soul, having which the poorest is rich,
wanting which the richest is poor;" while the golden-mouthed orator of
Antioch declares it "the grandest mastery of the passions, and the
noblest freedom of the redeemed man." The prince of schoolmen, the
Angelical Doctor, writes: "Divine love surpasseth science, and is more
perfect than understanding; for we love more deeply than we know, and
love dwelleth in the heart, while knowledge remaineth without." The
greatest military chieftain of modern times remarked to his friend in
St. Helena: "I have conquered nations by the sword; Jesus Christ
overcame the world by love." A more heroic spirit--St. Catherine of
Sienna--says: "Love was the cord that bound the God-man to the cross;
the nails could not have held him there, had not love bound him fast."
The martyr-monk of Florence--Savonarola--cheering his fellow-sufferers
in the kingdom and patience of Jesus, assures them that love to the
dear Lord "plucks the sting of death and disinherits the grave," and
that he who thus conquers Satan in his final assault upon the soul "has
won the battle of life." And here is the noble testimony of Thomas a
Kempis: "Nothing is sweeter or purer than love; nothing is higher, or
broader, or fuller; nothing more pleasant, or more excellent, or more
heroic, in earth or heaven. Weary, it is not tired; oppressed, it is
not straitened; alarmed, it is not confounded; sleeping, it is ever
watchful; like a living flame and burning torch, forcing its way upward
and overcoming all things." Finally, Eloquence takes wing, and soars
with her sister Song; chanting in the strain of Sir Walter Scott--
"Love rules the court, the camp, the grove;
And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love!"
or with Charles Wesley from his fire-chariot at the gates of pearl--
"By faith we are come to our permanent home;
By hope we the rapture improve;
By love we still rise, and look down on the skies,
For the heaven of heavens is love!"
In conclusion, let me repeat what I said in the outset. The question of
our Lord is a plain matter of fact, about which there need be no
uncertainty; and every one of us, with careful self-examination, may be
able to answer it at once. I have heard some honest Christians sing:
"'Tis a point I long to know;
Oft it causes anxious thought;
Do I love the Lord or no?
Am I his, or am I not?"
Discard that verse, my brethren! Its theology is worse than its poetry.
For a filial love, or a conjugal love, about which the wife or the
child is uncertain, you would not give a farthing. Do not the anxious
thought and the longing to know indicate at least some small degree of
love? Not loving at all, you would care nothing about it, you would be
quite indifferent to the question. Dim indeed the spark may be in your
bosom; but bless ye the Lord that it is not utterly gone out, and
answer his gracious inquiry with this better verse: