Part 4

O Lord! of what small account are the best of men apart from Thee! How high they rise when Thou liftest them up! How low they fall if Thou withdraw Thy hand! It is our joy, amidst distress, when Thou enablest us to say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him;" but if Thou take away Thy Spirit, we cannot even trust Thee in the brightest day. When storms gather round us we can smile at them, if Thou be with us; but in the fairest morn which ever shone on human heart, we doubt and we miscarry if Thou be not with us still, to preserve and strengthen the faith which Thou hast Thyself bestowed.

_The Glad Command._

"Delight thyself in the Lord." This law of one command is no stony law to be written upon tablets of granite, but it contains a precept, for sparkling brightness worthy to be written on amethysts and pearls. "Delight thyself in the Lord." When delight becomes a duty, duty must certainly be a delight. When it becomes my duty to be happy, and I have an express command to be glad, I must indeed be foolish if I refuse my own joys, and turn aside from my own bliss. O, what a God we have, who has made it our duty to be happy! What a gracious God, who accounts no obedience to be so worthy of his acceptance as a gladsome obedience rendered by a joyous heart. "Delight thyself in the Lord."

_Untiring Delight._

Who ever called the sea monotonous? Even to the mariner, travelling over it as he does, sometimes by the year together, there is always a freshness in the undulation of the waves, the whiteness of the foam of the breaker, the curl of the crested billow, and the frolicsome pursuit of every wave by its long train of brothers. Which of us has ever complained that the sun gave us but little variety? What though at morn he yoke the same steeds, and flash from his car the same golden glory, climb with dull uniformity the summit of the skies, then drive his chariot downward, and bid his flaming coursers steep their burning fetlocks in the western deep? Or who among us would complain loathingly of the bread which we eat, that it palls upon the sense of taste? We eat it to-day, to-morrow, the next day; we have eaten it for years which are passed; still the one unvarying food is served upon the table, and bread remains the staff of life. Translate these earthly experiences into heavenly mysteries. If Christ is your food and your spiritual bread; if Christ is your sun, your heavenly light; if Christ is the sea of love in which your passions swim, and all your joys are found, it is not possible that you as Christian men, should complain of monotony in Him. "He is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever;" and yet He has the "dew of His youth." He is like the manna in the golden pot, which was always the same; but he is also like the manna which came down from heaven, every morning new. He is as the rod of Moses, which was dry, and changed not its shape; but he is also to us as the rod of Aaron, which buds, and blossoms, and brings forth almonds.

_Divine Teaching._

In the depth of troubles we learn the sufficiency of grace. Well may they "glory in tribulations also," who have learnt in them the most profitable lessons of grace--proved in them how ample is the provision of grace, and realized in them the certainty of the triumph of grace. I know not whether all soldiers love the thought of war--some do; there are many who pant for a campaign. How often an officer of low rank has repeated the murmur, "There is no promotion; no hope of rising; no honors; no prize-money, as if we had to fight. Could we rush to the cannon's mouth, there would be some prospect before us of gaining promotion in the ranks." Men get few medals to hang upon their breasts who never know the smell of gunpowder. The brave days, as men call them, of Nelson and Trafalgar have gone by; and we thank God for it. Still we do not expect to see such brave old veterans, the offspring of this age, as those who are still to be found lingering in our hospitals, the relics of our old campaigns. No, brethren, we must have trials if we are to get on. Young men do not become midshipmen altogether through going to the school at Greenwich, and climbing the mast on dry land; they must go out to sea. We must do business in great waters; we must be really on the deck in a storm, if we would see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep. We must have stood side by side with King David; we must have gone down into the pit to slay the lion, or have lifted up the spear against the eight hundred, if we would know the saving strength of God's right hand. Conflicts bring experience, and experience brings that growth in grace which is not to be attained by any other means.

_Seeking Christ._

Consider, O waiting soul, that the mercy is worth tarrying for. Is it not salvation--thy soul's deliverance from hell? A long tarrying at the gate of mercy will be well repaid, if the King, at last, will give thee this jewel of exceeding price.

Bethink thee, also, how utterly unworthy thou art of the mercy; therefore be not loath to humble thyself, or patiently to abide the sovereign will of Jehovah. Proud men must be noticed at once, or they will depart; but thou hast nothing to boast of, and shouldst feel that if He disregarded thee for a long season, thine unworthiness could demand no apology for his delay. Moreover, remember that He _will_ hear at last. His promise would be violated, if one praying soul could perish; for He has said, "Seek, and ye _shall_ find"--"Whosoever calleth on the name of the Lord _shall_ be saved." The delay may be for thy good, to lay thee lower in the dust of self-abasement, or to make thee more earnest for the blessing. Possibly the Lord intends to try thy faith, that, like the woman of Syrophenicia, thou mayst reflect honor on Him by thy confidence in Him. Pray on, for "the Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him."

"_Christ in You._"

What is it to have "Christ in you?" The Romanist hangs the cross on his bosom; the true Christian carries the cross in his heart; and a cross inside the heart is one of the sweetest cures for a cross on the back. If you have a cross in your heart--Christ crucified in you, the hope of glory--the cross of this world's troubles will seem to you light enough, and you will easily be able to sustain it. Christ in the heart, means Christ believed in, Christ beloved, Christ trusted, Christ espoused, Christ communed with, Christ as our daily food, and ourselves as the temple and palace wherein Jesus Christ daily walks. Ah! there are many who are total strangers to the meaning of this phrase. They do not know what it is to have Jesus Christ in them. Though they know a little about Christ on Calvary, they know nothing about Christ in the heart. Now, remember, that Christ on Calvary will save no man, unless Christ be in the heart. The Son of Mary, born in the manger, will not save you, unless He be also born in your heart, and live there--your joy, your strength, and your consolation.

_Consolation._

Consolation is the dropping of a gentle dew from heaven on desert hearts beneath; it is one of the choicest gifts of divine mercy.

_Self-Examination._

"If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious." "_If_"--then there is a possibility that some may _not_ have tasted that the Lord is gracious, and it is needful to inquire whether we are amongst the number who know the grace of God by heart-experience. There is no spiritual revelation which may not be a matter of heart-searching. At the very summit of holy delight we meet the challenge of sentinel "If"--"If ye then be risen with Christ;" and at the very bottom of the hill, even at Repentance-gate itself, He meets us with a warrant of arrest, until He sees whether our sorrow is the godly sorrow which needeth not to be repented of. "If thou be the Son of God," is not always a temptation of the devil, but often a very healthy inquiry, most fittingly suggested by holy anxiety to men who would build securely upon the Rock of Ages. At the Lord's Table itself it is proper for us to pray, "Lord, is it I?" when there is a Judas in the company; and after the most intimate fellowship, Christ exclaimed, "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" Let no enjoyment of ordinances, let no high and rapt fellowship which we may have known, exempt us from the great duty of proving ourselves whether we be in the faith. Examine yourselves then in this matter, and rest not satisfied until you can say, "There is no 'if' about it; I _have tasted_ that the Lord is gracious."

_Heaven an Inheritance._

"The _inheritance of the saints_." So then, heaven, with all its glories, is an _inheritance_. Now, an inheritance is not a thing which is bought with money, earned by labor, or won by conquest. If any man hath an inheritance, in the proper sense of that term, it came to him by birth. And thus it is with heaven. The man who shall receive this glorious heritage, will not obtain it by the works of the law, nor by the efforts of the flesh; it will be given to him as a matter of most gracious right, because he has been "begotten again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead;" and has thus become an heir of heaven by blood and birth. They who come unto glory are sons; for is it not written, "The Captain of our salvation bringeth many sons unto glory?" They come not there as servants; no servant has any right to the inheritance of his master. Be he never so faithful, yet is he not his master's heir. But because ye are sons--sons by the Spirit's regeneration--sons by the Father's adoption--because by supernatural energy ye have been born again, ye become inheritors of eternal life, and ye enter into the many mansions of our Father's house above. Let us always understand, then, when we think of heaven, that it is a place which is to be ours, and a state which we are to enjoy as the result of _birth_--not as the result of work. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." That kingdom being an "inheritance," until ye have the new birth ye can have no claim to enter it.

_The Sleep of Death._

"The sleep of death"--what is this sleep? We know that the surface idea connected with sleep is that of _resting_. The eyes of the sleeper ache no more with the glare of light or with the rush of tears; his ears are teased no more with the noise of strife or the murmur of suffering; his hand is no more weakened by long protracted effort and painful weariness; his feet are no more blistered with journeyings to and fro along a rugged road; there is ease for aching heads, and overtaxed nerves, and heavy hearts, in the sweet repose of sleep. On yonder couch, however hard, the laborer shakes off his toil, the merchant his care, the thinker his difficulties, and the sufferer his pains. Sleep makes each night a Sabbath for the day. Sleep shuts to the door of the soul, and bids all intruders tarry for a while. So is it with the body while it sleeps in the tomb. The weary are at rest: the servant is as much at ease as his lord. No more the worker leans on his spade, no more the thinker props his pensive head. The wheel stands still; the shuttle is not in motion; the hand which turned the one and the fingers which threw the other are quiet also. The grave shuts out all disturbance, labor, or effort. The toilworn believer quietly sleeps, as does the child weary with its play, when it shuts its eyes and slumbers on its mother's breast. O! happy they who die in the Lord; they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them. We would not shun toil, for though it be in itself a curse, it is, when sanctified, a blessing; yet toil for toil's sake we would not choose: and when _God's_ work is done, we are too glad to think that _our_ work is done too. The mighty Husbandman, when we have fulfilled our day, shall bid His servants rest upon the best of beds, for the clods of the valley shall be sweet to them. Their repose shall never be broken until He shall rouse them up to give them their full reward. Guarded by angel-watchers, curtained by eternal mysteries, resting on the lap of mother earth, ye shall sleep on, ye heritors of glory, till the fulness of time shall bring you the fulness of redemption.

_Foretastes of Heaven._

Is it possible for us to know anything whatever of our heavenly home? Is there power in human intellect to fly into the land of the hereafter, where God's people rest eternally? Our inquiry is met at the outset by what seems a positive denial: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." If we paused here, we might give up all idea of beholding from hence that "goodly land and Lebanon;" but we do not pause, for, like the apostle, we go on with the text, and we add, "But God hath revealed them unto us by His Spirit." It _is_ possible to look within the veil; God's Spirit _can_ turn it aside for a moment, and bid us take a glimpse, though it be a distant one, at that unutterable glory. There are "Pisgahs" even now on the earth, from the top of which the celestial Canaan can be beheld; there are hallowed hours in which the mists and clouds are swept away, and the sun shineth in his strength, and our eye, being freed from its natural dimness, beholds something of that land which is very far off, and sees a little of the joy and blessedness which is reserved for the people of God hereafter. By the Holy Spirit there is given to them, even now, in seasons of blissful communion, such experiences, joys, and feelings, as seem to bring heaven down to them, and make them able to realize, in some faint measure, what heaven itself must be.

_The Work of the Spirit._

Let us ever remember that Christ on the cross is of no value to us apart from the Holy Spirit in us. In vain that blood is flowing, unless the finger of the Spirit applies the blood to our conscience; in vain is that garment of righteousness wrought out, unless the Holy Spirit wraps it around us, and arrays us in its costly folds. The river of the water of life cannot quench our thirst, till the Spirit presents the goblet and lifts it to our lips. All the things which are in the paradise of God could never be blissful to us, so long as we are dead souls--and dead we are, until that heavenly wind comes and breathes upon us, that we may live. We do not hesitate to say, that we owe as much to God the Holy Ghost, as we do to God the Son. Indeed, it were a high sin and misdemeanor to attempt to put one person of the divine Trinity before another. Thou, O Father, art the source of all grace, all love and mercy towards us. Thou, O Son, art the channel of Thy Father's mercy, and without Thee Thy Father's love could never flow to us. And Thou, O Spirit, art He who enables us to receive that divine virtue which flows from the fountain-head, the Father, through Christ the channel, and which, by Thy means, enters into our heart, and there abides, and brings forth its glorious fruit. Magnify, then, the Spirit. There never yet was a heavenly thought, a hallowed deed, or a consecrated act, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ, which was not worked in us by the Holy Spirit.

_Peace._

The believer enjoys, in favored seasons, such an intimacy with the Lord Jesus, as fills his heart with an overflowing peace. O! there are sweet words which Jesus whispers in the ears of His people, and there are love-visits which He pays to them, which a man would not believe, even though it should be told unto him. He who would comprehend it, must experience in his own heart what it is to have fellowship with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ. There is such a thing as Christ manifesting Himself to us as He does not unto the world. All doubting thoughts are banished then, and we can say, "I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine." This is the one all-absorbing feeling. And what wonder is it that the believer has such deep peace, when Christ thus dwells in the heart, and reigns there without a rival? It were a miracle of miracles, if we did _not_ have peace. But how is it that our peace is not more continuous? The only explanation of our frequent loss of peace is, that our communion is broken, and our fellowship is marred; else would our peace be like a river, and our righteousness like the waves of the sea. Live near the cross, and your peace shall be continual.

_Earth's Seasons._

The things which are seen are types of the things which are not seen. The works of creation are pictures to the children of God of the secret mysteries of grace. God's truths are the apples of gold, and the visible creatures are the baskets of silver. The very seasons of the year find their parallel in the little world of man within. We have our winter--dreary, howling winter--when the north wind of the law rusheth forth against us; when every hope is nipped; when all the seeds of joy lie buried beneath the dark clods of despair; when our soul is fast fettered like a river bound with ice, without waves of joy, or flowings of thanksgiving. Thanks be unto God, the soft south wind breathes upon our soul, and at once the waters of desire are set free, the spring of love cometh on, flowers of hope appear in our hearts, the trees of faith put forth their young shoots, the time of the singing-birds cometh in our hearts, and we have joy and peace in believing through the Lord Jesus Christ. That happy springtide is followed in the believer by a rich summer, when his graces, like fragrant flowers, are in full bloom, loading the air with perfume; and fruits of the Spirit, like citrons and pomegranates, swell into their full proportion in the genial warmth of the Sun of Righteousness. Then cometh the believer's autumn, when his fruits grow ripe, and his fields are ready for the harvest; the time has come when his Lord shall gather together his "pleasant fruits," and store them in heaven; the feast of ingathering is at hand--the time when the year shall begin anew, an unchanging year, like the years of the right hand of the Most High.

_Love Undeserved._

There is nothing which makes one love Christ, so much as a sense of His love balanced with a sense of our unworthiness of it. It is sweet to think that Christ loves us; but, O, to remember that we are black as the "tents of Kedar," and yet he loves us! This is a thought which may well wean us from everything else beside.

_The Infallible Commentary._

Those who would best know God's Word, must study it in its own light.

_A Place of Trust._

_Take care that thou puttest all thy dear ones into God's hand_. Thou hast put thine own soul there, put their souls and bodies likewise into His custody. Thou canst trust Him for temporals for thyself, trust thy jewels with Him. Feel that they are not thine own, but that they are God's loans to thee--loans which may be recalled at any moment--precious denizens of heaven, not entailed upon thee, but of which thou art only a tenant at will. Your possessions are never so safe as when you are willing to resign them, and you are never so rich as when you put all you have into the hand of the Lord. You shall find it greatly mitigate the sorrow of bereavements, if before bereavement you shall have learned to surrender every day all the things which are dearest to you, into the keeping of your gracious God.

"_Consider Him._"

O believer, who art weary and disheartened because of the roughness of the way, look at the Master's footsteps, and see how _He_ suffered. You are tried and troubled, and you ask for consolation. What better can be afforded you than what is presented to you in the fact that Jesus Christ is one with you in your nature--that He has suffered all that you are now suffering--that your pathway has been aforetime trodden by His sacred foot--that the cup of which you drink is a cup which He has drained to the very bottom--that the river through which you pass is one through which He swam, and every wave and billow which rolls over your head did in old time roll over Him. Come! are you ashamed and unwilling to suffer what your Master suffered? Shall the disciple be above his Master, and the servant above his Lord? Shall he die upon a cross, and will not you bear the cross? Must He be crowned with thorns, and shall you be crowned with laurel? Is He to be pierced in hands and feet, and are His followers to feel no pain? O, cast away the fond delusion. Look to Him who "endured the cross, despising the shame," and be ready to endure and to suffer even as He did. You have His example to guide you, and His sympathy to cheer you.

_The Joy of Pardon._

O what a joyous thing it is to have a ray of heavenly sunlight in the soul, and to hear the very voice of God as He walks in the garden of our souls in the cool of the day, saying to us, "Son, thy sins which are many, are all forgiven thee." The whisper of that heavenly voice may raise our heart to bliss almost divine. It confers a joy not to be equalled by all the pleasures, the riches, and the enjoyments of this world can afford. To have the divine kiss of acceptance, to be robed in the best robe, to wear the ring on the hand and the shoes on the feet, to hear the heavenly music and dancing with which returning prodigals are welcomed to their Father's house--this, indeed, is bliss and blessedness worth worlds to realize.

_Inexhaustible Promises._

God's promises are not exhausted when they are fulfilled, for when once performed, they stand just as good as they did before, and we may wait a second accomplishment of them. Man's promises, even at the best, are like a cistern which holds but a temporary supply; but God's promises are as a fountain, never emptied, ever overflowing, so you may draw from them the whole measure of that which they apparently contain, and they shall be still as full as ever.

_The Fulness of Christ._

At our very best we are strangers to much of the incomparable sweetness of Christ. We shall never exhaust His goodness by our praise, for He is ever so fresh, and has so much of the dew of His youth, that every day he has a new song to sing. We shall find Him a new Christ every day of our lives, and yet He is ever the same; His surpassing excellence and unexhausted fulness thus constantly renew our love. O Jesus! none can guess how great is the least of Thine attributes, or how rich the poorest of Thy gifts.

_True Blessing._

Christ, when He blesses, blesses not in word only, but in deed. The lips of truth cannot promise more than the hands of love will surely give.

_Faith and Feeling._