Chapter 4

The awakened soul thirsts for this sweetness of the divine presence. Nothing else can satisfy it. The wealth and pleasure of the world do not contain a sweetness sufficient to satisfy the heart of man. It is only God that can fill the hungry soul with goodness. The divine life sheds peace and light and rest in the soul. Man receives the divine presence into his spiritual being when he is quickened by the Spirit. In the Word of God it is termed "passing from death unto life," and "being born again." In sanctification when a revolution is effected in the nature of man and he becomes a partaker of the divine nature, it is then he is conscious of the fulness of the divine presence and is at rest. Glory be to God!

To possess the divine presence in its fulness is not the end of the Christian race. There are certain conditions for man to meet in order to possess this glorious inheritance, and there are certain conditions for him to meet in order to retain it. Not only is man able, in the economy of grace, to retain the sweet consciousness of the divine presence in the soul, but in his hands are placed instruments that enable him to cultivate and deepen this consciousness and thus add glory to glory and cause his way to shine more and more unto the perfect day. Oh, how many Christians would enjoy more of heaven's glory in their souls, if by careful cultivation they would increase the sense of the divine presence! Dear pilgrim, have you reached the land of "eternal weights of glory" or the regions where "joy is unspeakable"?

To cultivate or deepen the sense of the divine presence requires an almost constant effort. Right at this point is where perhaps more Christians have failed to do what was required of them than at any other; and consequently experience less joy and power than formerly. There are many things employed by Satan to weaken this consciousness of God. Looseness of thought, moments of idleness, or yieldings to self, serve to weaken the reverential feeling in our hearts toward him. A little attention to the world, a little thought for the morrow, a little anxiety, a little too much talking,--these things destroy the consciousness of the divine presence in the soul, and rob us of spiritual power and rest. Living before God in prayer, holy and pure thoughts, the entertaining of right feelings toward God and man, acts of benevolence and self-sacrifice for the benefit of others, develop and fashion the soul more and more into the beauty of the divine life.

It is the privilege of the saint so to walk in the presence of God and live in holy communion with him as to draw God's glory and life into his own, and give him a feature very distinguishing for ordinary natural man. If we wish to be like Jesus and enjoy the sweet consciousness of his presence, we must live with him in prayer. As we improve the health and strength of our physical being by proper food and exercise, so we improve the strength and beauty of our spiritual being by proper meditation and prayer.

REFLECTION.

How often when walking down the country lane in the twilight of a summer's evening you have looked upon the round, full moon and exclaimed, "What a tender, beautiful light! how soft and mellow is the glow!" But you must remember the light is not its own. Of itself it is a cold, dark body. The great luminary that so recently sank behind the western hills is the real light. It pours its brilliant rays upon the moon and the moon reflects the sun's light upon your pathway. The moon, therefore, is only a reflector. You stand before a mirror and behold your face and form imaged in the glass. The glass acts as a reflector, reproducing the objects that are placed before it and shine upon it. The unregenerate heart is dark and reflects no light; but God can take it and cleanse, purge, and polish it, and make it capable of reflecting the virtues of heaven's grace.

1 Cor. 13:12 is rendered thus by Conybeare and Howson: "So now we see darkly, by a mirror; but then face to face." While here in this life we can not see the real and true glories of the eternal world; but we can see some of its beauties and glories mirrored in the face of nature and the Bible. The starry worlds above us, the verdant hills, the swaying forests, the waving grain, the fleeting cloud, the blooming flower, dimly shadow forth the glory that awaits our expectant souls in that bright world where angels dwell.

The Greek text of 2 Cor. 3:18 is beautifully rendered in these words by the above mentioned translators: "With face unveiled we behold in a mirror the brightness of our Lord's glory, are ourselves transformed into the same likeness; and the glory which shines upon us is reflected by us, even as it proceeds from the Lord, the Spirit." These words are full of grandeur to my soul. Their wondrous beauty and sublimity can not fail to awaken admiration in every Spirit-quickened and purity-loving heart. You will see, Christian reader, the position you occupy as a follower of the Lamb of God. You are a reflector; you have no light of yourself. God shines his glory upon you and you reflect it to the world, and thus you become the light of the world. In one translation "character" is used instead of "glory." God's character is shined into your soul, and you are to reflect it to the world.

There is another clause in the above quotation too full of riches and too well adapted to this work to pass by unnoticed. It is this: "We behold in a mirror the brightness of our Lord's glory, are ourselves transformed into the same likeness." We do not grow into salvation, neither do we grow into sanctification; but after we receive this glorious experience there is still a continual transforming into a more perfect likeness of Christ. While in the Museum of Art in one of our large cities last spring I saw an artist reproducing on canvas a painting which hung upon the wall. I looked upon the painting on the wall and upon the reproduction before the artist. So far as I could see the reproduction was in exact imitation of the original; but the eye of the artist could see farther than mine. He kept on applying the brush, giving a slight touch here and a slight touch there, and soon I discovered that the features stood out in more perfect imitation. So let us stand before the original and let the Holy Spirit work in us that which is pleasing to God, and we shall be continually transformed into a more perfect likeness of God. This must be your daily life. Attend strictly to every Christian duty, be obedient to the Word and Spirit of God, and you will become more and more like him and your soul will be rich in grace.

BECOMING.

One translation has rendered Phil. 1:27 in these beautiful words: "Let your manner of life be becoming the gospel of Christ." We speak of anything being becoming when it gives a good appearance. An article of clothing becomes you when it gives you a better or less awkward appearance. So your life is to be becoming to the gospel of Christ. You are to live so that your life will make the gospel of Christ more beautiful to the hearts of men. You can do this only by living just as the Bible reads. All the precious truths of the Bible are to read in your life just as they do in the Bible, and thus your life will give a better appearance to God's Word and make it more real and interesting to the unsaved.

LOVE OF HOME.

There are but few sweeter words in the English language than the word _home_. I have thought the three sweetest words are _mother, home_, and _heaven_. Home is the dearest place in all the world to the Christian heart. To have a fond love for home is not at all injurious to Christian character. Those who have but little love for home will never succeed well in the Christian life. It may sometimes occur that some of the home members are so disagreeable that the Christian for peace' sake will quit the home roof; but he still loves home. Sometimes young people think that to enjoy life they must get out from under parental rule and roof. We have an instance of this nature recorded in the Bible. How soon we learn of the prodigal's longing for the comforts of home. How often he thought of his father's house, that place so dear to him now. The love of home is a high mark of integrity. Show me one who has no love for home, and I will show you one who has but little true manhood or womanhood. The Bible command to young Christians is to be "chaste, keepers at home." When our duty and service to God demand our absence from home we submit and go in the strength of his grace, but lose not our love for home, and return in joy at Father's will.

You can nowhere find more of heaven upon earth than in a Christian home. Look at the picture: A father with the Holy Bible, the mother and children listening in reverence to the heavenly message. Where, I say, can you find more of heaven? Such a scene is most sweet and sacred. Methinks the angels bend low to catch the chants of praise that arise from those devoted hearts to the gates of heaven. "Such a picture," you may say, "is very beautiful and inspiring to look upon, but where is the reality?" Thank God, such a home can be real in life, and it is your duty as a Christian to help make it so. God is pleased with such a home. It is much to his praise. Since such homes are so rare they are all the more glorifying to God, and we should strive the more earnestly to have them real.

In your home is the place to shine for God. It is the place to shed forth the radiant beams of Christian light from your grace-ladened soul. If you hope to prosper in the divine life, be your best at home. Do not think you can be careless at home and then shine in the splendor of Christian virtue when before the public. Your life at home leaves its mark upon you. Shine in Christian beauty at home, and you will shine in beauty in public; but attempt away from home to be more than you are at home, and you will miserably fail. A few years ago while in one of our large Eastern cities laboring for Jesus and souls for whom he died I wrote a few lines to the dear ones at home, which perhaps will not be out of place to insert here.

When the light of day is dying And the shades of night steal on, Voices to my mem'ry whisper Of the dear loved ones at home.

Ere the chandelier is lighted, Ere the day's last ray is gone, O'er me comes a fond remembrance Of the dear loved ones at home.

Far above in arch of heaven Lamps are lighted one by one, But I only see the bright eyes Of the dear loved ones at home.

Far away beyond the region Where I see those shining stars, Somewhere in the land of angels, Dwells a little boy of ours.

Years ago one wintry evening Heaven's gate was opened wide, And an angel swift descended, With a sickle at his side.

Paused he at our boy's low trundle In the evening twilight hour, Caught away his happy spirit To its home beyond the stars.

How my heart adores the Giver Of all good o'er land and sea, But I praise him more than ever For the dear ones left to me.

As I think of her he gave me In my happy youthful time, How he bound our hearts together At love's pure and sacred shrine;

As I think of her this moment, Given me by love divine, Seems I almost feel the pressure Of her gentle hand in mine.

In the arms of night I'm folded, Soon in dreamland I shall roam; Then I'll go and see the dear ones-- See the dear loved ones at home.

VICTORY.

When you are forgotten or neglected, or purposely set at naught, and you smile inwardly, glorying in the insult or the oversight, because thereby counted worthy to suffer with Christ--that is victory.

When your good is evil spoken of, when your wishes are crossed, your taste offended, your advice disregarded, your opinions ridiculed, and you take it all in patient, loving silence--that is victory.

When you are content with any food, any raiment, any climate, any society, any solitude, any interruption by the will of God--that is victory.

When you can lovingly and patiently bear with any disorder, any irregularity, any unpunctuality, or any annoyance--that is victory.

When you can stand face to face with waste, folly, extravagance, spiritual insensibility, and endure it all as Jesus endured it--that is victory.

When you never care to refer to yourself in conversation or to record your own good works, or to itch after commendation, when you can truly love to be unknown--that is victory.

When, like Paul, you can throw all your suffering on Jesus, thus converting it into a means of knowing his overcoming grace, and can say from a surrendered heart, "Most gladly," therefore, do "I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake"--that is victory. 2 Cor. 12:7-11.

When death and life are both alike to you through Christ, and to do his perfect will, you delight not more in one than the other--that is victory, for, through him, you may become able to say, "Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death." Phil. 1:20. "Death is swallowed up in victory." 1 Cor. 15:54.

The perfect victory is to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ" and thus to triumph over one's self. Rom. 13:14.

"In all things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." Rom. 8:37.

THE FIRST LOVE.

You may wonder why we write so much about love. It is for the very best reason in the world. Nothing is so great as love, and no way so excellent. It is difficult to bind people together where love is lacking. A religious people may resolve to live in peace and confidence with one another; but this they will find to be very difficult if there is a deficiency of love. Love solves the problem; it removes every difficulty, and is the perfect bond of union. Nothing can separate hearts that are full of love. Love must be suppressed before division can be admitted. The most earnest exhortations and entreaties and the strongest reprovings fail to get men to attend to every Christian duty where love is wanting; but it is not difficult to persuade men to obey God and do all they can to glorify him when they love him with all their hearts.

There was much in the life of the angel of the church at Ephesus that was praiseworthy; but something was lacking. He had left his first love. But, what is the first love? There is no difference between first love and last love if it be love. Pure, genuine love is the same always--first, last, and all the time. The overseers of this church, and doubtless the church in general, had lost the ardor of the love which they had at the first. Oh, the warmth, the sweetness, of first love! Do you not remember it, dear reader? When you were so clearly and wonderfully born of the Spirit of God, how ardent was the love in your heart! It thrilled you with delight. There was a delicious, sweet taste all through your soul. How gladly you would have taken wings and have flown away to the arms of Him whom your heart loved. The word of God was to your soul like honeyed dew upon your lips. How delightful it was to labor for Jesus! How preciously sweet to make the greatest sacrifices for his sake! and to go away into some secret place and pray was dearer to you than can ever be told. You found the greatest pleasure in attending to every Christian duty. I should be glad if I could describe to you just what that first love was in your heart. I can not do this, neither can you; but you know how it felt, and how joyful was your soul. Oh, blessed happy day, when your sins were washed away, and love sang its sweetest lay within your soul!

Now, if you do not have the same ardor; the same warmth; the same sweet relish for prayer, for the word of God, for a meeting; the same thrilling sense of sweetness in your soul; that same precious drawing toward God and toward the brethren; that same delight in laboring for Jesus; that same joy and happiness in making sacrifices for him and for your fellow man: if you do not feel those symptoms of love as deeply and as delightfully, and if they are not in you as actively as they were at the first,--you are like the church at Ephesus--you have left your first love. In Wilson's excellent translation this text reads, "Thou hast relaxed thy first love." They had lost the intensity of their first love. It had relaxed, or lost tension, and had become languid. It does not matter to what you testify, or who you are, if you have not the same ardor and deep intensity of love that you had at the first, you have relaxed love.

Do not deceive yourself. Do not make any excuses. There is no necessity of losing this fervency of love. The leaping, thrilling, bounding love can be kept in the full blaze of its intensity in your soul as long as you live. I can never encourage a cessation of love. No matter what the circumstances, we can increase and abound more and more in love. You may have works, you may have labor, you may have patience; so did the church at Ephesus; but they had relaxed their first love.

See to it, O beloved, that you do not lose the deep fervency of love. Keep it burning in all its brightness and warmth; and the works and labor and patience are sure to follow. But do not let your works, and labor, and patience deceive you. See that there is an underlying principle of love in all you do. If your works and labor and patience be devoid of love, there will be a secret desire in your heart to attract attention, and a longing for a bit of praise. But if all is done in purest sincere godly love, the joy you will find in doing is a full and sufficient reward. And, may the Lord give you understanding.

THE LITTLE FOXES.

One little fox is, "_Some other time_." If you track him up, you come to his hole--_never._

Another little fox is, "_I can't."_ Just set on him a plucky little "_I can_," and he will kill him for you.

Another bad little fox is, "_Just a little_" pride, self-will, worldly conformity, etc. That little mischief will strip the whole vine if left go.

Another malignant little fox is "_I haven't faith."_ He slips into the vineyard through a knot-hole called _self_. You can shut him out by removing the self-plank and filling up with Jesus only.

Another bad little fox is, "_I haven't power."_ Be sure and catch him. If you will take the pains to dig him up, you will find his nest some where beyond the end of your present consecration. It will pay you to take him, if you have to "dig deep" and work hard.

Another devouring little fox is, "_My church_." "Salt" and "fire" is the sure and only antidote for such nasty vermin.

We will point out one more little fox, and he is able to devour all the fruit of the vineyard and kill the very vines. His species is "_Fear_." One good dose of "perfect love" will kill him stone-dead. And a constant application of the blood of Christ will prevent this, with all other little or big foxes, yea, and all other animals, ever coming to life again.

SPIRITUAL DECLENSION.

A want of interest in the duties of secret devotion is a mark of religious declension. It is well said that prayer is the Christian's vital breath. A devout spirit is truly the life and soul of godliness. The soul can not but delight in communion with what it loves with warm affection. The disciple, when his graces are in exercise, does not enter into his closet and shut the door, that he may pray to his Father who is in secret, merely because it is a duty which must be done, but because it is a service which he delights to render, a pleasure which he is unwilling to forego. He goes to the mercy-seat as the thirsty hart goes to the refreshing brook. The springs of his strength are there. There he has blessed glimpses of his Savior's face, and unnumbered proofs of his affection.

But sometimes the professing Christian comes to regard the place of secret intercourse with God with very different feelings. He loses, perhaps by a process so gradual that he is scarcely conscious of it for a time, the tenderness of heart, and the elevation and fervor of devout affection that he had been used to feel in meeting God. There is less and less of spirit and more and more of form in his religious exercises. He retires at the accustomed time rather from force of habit than because inclination draws him. He is enclined to curtail his seasons of retirement or to neglect it altogether if a plausible pretext can be found. He reproaches himself, perhaps, but hopes that the evil will cure itself at length. And so he goes on from day to day, and week to week. Prayer--if his heartless service deserves the name--affords him no pleasure and adds nothing to his strength. Where such a state of things exists it is evident that the pulses of spiritual life are ebbing fast. If the case is yours, dear reader, it ought to fill you with alarm. Satan is gaining an advantage of you and seducing you from God.

A second sign of spiritual declension is indifference to the usual means of grace. The spiritual life, not less than the natural life, requires appropriate and continual nourishment. For this want God has made ample provision in his Word. To the faithful-disciple the Scriptures are rich in interest and profit. "O how love I thy law! it is my meditation all the day." To such a soul the preaching of the gospel is a joyful sound; and the place where kindred spirits mingle in social praise and worship is far more attractive than the scenes of worldly pleasure. But, alas! from time to time it happens that some who bear the Christian name and who have rejoiced in Christian hopes, insensibly lose their relish for the Scriptures. If they continue to read them daily, it is no longer with such appreciation of their power and beauty as makes them the bread of life, refreshing and invigorating the soul. Their minds are occupied no small portion of the time with thoughts of earthly things. They find it easy to excuse themselves from frequenting the place of social prayer, and even content themselves, perhaps, with an occasional half-day attendance on the more public service of the sanctuary. And when they are in the place of worship they feel listless, destitute of spiritual affection, disposed to notice others or to attend to only mere words and forms. They want, in a great measure, that preparation of the heart, without which the means of grace are powerless and lacking in pleasure or profit to the soul. Such indifference is conclusive proof that the soul has departed from God; has grieved the Holy Spirit and lost the vital power of godliness. If you, reader, are conscious of this indifference, see in it an infallible sign of your backsliding. It declares you have departed from the fountain of living waters and are a wanderer from your God.