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MIDNI&HT HARMONIES, 
 
 OE, 
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 hum nf Inlitttfo fa Jwrntn, 
 
 OCTAVIUS WINSLOW, M.A. 
 
 <* In the night his song shall be with me." 
 
 Psalm zlii. 8. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 No. 285 BROADWAY. 
 
 1856. 
 
/8<5<L> 
 
TO 
 
 %\ iistn, 
 
 AS AN EXPRESSION OF TENDER SYMPATHY 
 
 AND 
 
 WITH THE FOND HOPE OF ITS SOOTHING 
 
 IN HEP. SICKNESS AND SOLITUDE, 
 
 THIS VOLUME, 
 
 THE OFFERING OF A BROTHER'S LOVE, 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 INSCRIBED. 
 
tfxiibit. 
 
 The following pages owe their origin to one of 
 those strange interpositions of Divine Providence, 
 by which man is often unexpectedly and solemnly 
 turned from his purpose. The Author had com- 
 pleted his arrangements for a sea -voyage, when the 
 sudden and alarming illness of a beloved relative 
 interposed to prevent its accomplishment. A pe- 
 riod of much anxiety ensued, during which the idea 
 and the themes of this little volume suggested them- 
 selves to his mind. Too oppressed to resume the 
 composition of a larger work on a graver subject, 
 which he had commenced, he found it more soothing 
 to allow his thoughts to flow in the simple channel 
 which his own feelings naturally dictated. Com- 
 posed at intervals between a sick chamber and the 
 study, the Author cannot claim for it, nor will the 
 
VI PEEFACE. 
 
 reader expect that it should possess, the depth of a 
 profound, or the grace of a finished composition. 
 But such as it is, — a song in the night of his own 
 sadness, — he presents it as a tribute of heartfelt 
 sympathy to those who may be passing through a 
 season of anxiety and trial. 
 
 It is just possible that this little volume may fall 
 into the hands of some who may not have met with 
 a few works of a kindred character ; copies of which 
 the Author would be rejoiced to see laid upon every 
 sick pillow, and placed within every house of mourn- 
 ing in the land. He particularly refers to Bonar's 
 " Night of Weeping," to Dr. Cumming's c; Voices 
 of the Night," and to Dr. Hamilton's " Mount of 
 Olives." The writer is conscious that he is but fol- 
 lowing in the wake of these master " sons of con- 
 solation," allured and guided by the radiance which, 
 like the stern-lights of a gallant ship, illumines the 
 track along which they have coursed. If, however, 
 through the blessing of the Eternal Spirit, his little 
 vessel should come freighted with the smallest de- 
 gree of soothing and hope to a single child of sor- 
 row " tossed with tempest and not comforted," it 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 will impart additional sweetness to the dealings of 
 his heavenly Father, to whom all glory shall be 
 ascribed, even to Him ' : who comforteth us in all 
 our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort 
 them which are in any trouble, by the comfort 
 wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." 
 
 Leamington, Dec. 1850. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SONGS IN THE NIGHT, . . . . 11 
 
 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS, .... 40 
 
 SOLITUDE SWEETENED, . . . . .67 
 
 A LOOK FROM CHRIST, . . . .11 
 
 HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS, . . . .90 
 
 THE GODLT WIDOW CONFIDING IN THE WIDoVs GOD, . 106 
 
 LOOKING UNTO JESUS, . . . . .116 
 
 LEANING UPON THE BELOVED, . . . .136 
 
 THE WEANED CHILD, . . . . .152 
 
 GOD, COMFORTING AS A MOTHER, . . . 173 
 
 JESUS ONLY, . . . . . .189 
 
 THE INCENSE OF PRAYER, . . . .206 
 
 THE DAY BREAKING, . • . . 224 
 
Inngs in tjjt Jligjt. 
 
 44 God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night." — Job xxxv. 10. 
 
 It will be acknowledged by all, competent 
 to form an opinion in the matter, that a holy- 
 man is from the very necessity of the case a 
 happy man. It is as impossible to separate 
 happiness from holiness, as to separate light 
 from the sun. The introduction of sin opened 
 the door to all wretchedness ; the restoration 
 of divine purity closes the door by restoring 
 the Divine image ; and the nearer we approx- 
 imate to the image of God, the more deeply 
 we participate in the happiness of Grod. Sin 
 is nothing more than a disturbance of 
 the harmony once subsisting between the 
 divine and the human will. Restore that 
 harmony — let the will of Grod be done on 
 earth as it is done in heaven — and earth will 
 
t 
 12 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 again, as it once did, reflect back the puritj 
 of heaven, just as the tranquil lake mirrors 
 from its bosom the image and the splendor 
 of the sun. A saint of God is, then, a happy 
 man. He is often most so when others deem 
 him most miserable. When they, gazing with 
 pity upon his adversities, and his burdens, and 
 silently marking the conflict of thought and 
 feeling passing within — compared with which 
 external trial is but as the bubble floating 
 upon the surface — deem him a fit object of 
 their commiseration and sympathy, even then, 
 there is a hidden spring of joy, an under cur- 
 rent of peace lying in the depths of the soul, 
 which renders him, chastened and afflicted 
 though he is, a happy and an enviable man. 
 Worldling! refrain your tears, spare your 
 pity. " Blessed are they that mourn now, for 
 they are, and they shall be, comforted." 
 " Thus saith the Lord Grod : behold, my ser- 
 vants shall eat, but ye shall be hungry : be- 
 hold, my servants shall drink, but ye shall be 
 thirsty : behold, my servants shall rejoice, but 
 ye shall be ashamed : behold, my servants 
 
SONGS IX THE NIGHT. 13 
 
 shall sing for joy of heart, but ye shall cry for 
 sorrow of heart, and shall wail for vexation of 
 spirit." "Weep not for him, but, ye Christ- 
 less souls ! weep for yourselves ! 
 
 How fully do the words placed at the head 
 of this chapter sustain this train of thought. 
 Midnight harmony ! Who can inspire it? 
 Songs in the night ! Who can create them ? 
 (rod can, and God does. The " God of all 
 consolation," the " God who comforteth them 
 that are cast down," the " God of hope," who 
 causes the " bright morning star" to rise upon 
 the dreary landscape, the " God of peace, who 
 himself gives peace, always, and by all 
 means ;" even he, our Maker and our Redeem- 
 er, giveth songs in the night. All music is 
 of God's inspiration. The lark's cheerful 
 carol — the nightingale's plaintive note — an 
 infant's praise, and the music of the spheres — 
 is the voice of God. There is no instrument 
 whose broken and untuned strings he cannot 
 make discourse sweet strains — even a heart 
 collapsed with grief. And there is no season 
 in the Christian historv which he cannot ren- 
 
14 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 der vocal with a melody to which a seraph 
 might breathlessly listen, from which he 
 might derive new rapture, but which he 
 would imitate in vain. Music, at all times 
 sweet, is the sweetest amidst the sublimity 
 of night. When in the solemn stillness that 
 reigns — not a breath rustling the leaves, 
 and echo herself slumbers, — when in the 
 darkness that enshrouds, the thoughts that 
 agitate, the gloomy phantoms that flit be- 
 fore the fancy, like shadows dancing upon the 
 wall, there breaks upon the wakeful ear the 
 soft notes of skilfully touched instruments, 
 blending with the melting tones of well-tuned 
 voices, it is as though angels had come down 
 to serenade and soothe the sad and jaded sons 
 of earth. But there are songs richer, and 
 there is music sweeter still than theirs, — the 
 songs which God gives, and the music which 
 Jesus inspires in the long dark night of the 
 Christian's pilgrimage. To this harmony let 
 us now hearken. Three reflections are sug- 
 gested by the words — The night season, — the 
 songs in the night, — and the author of these 
 
SOXGS IN THE NIGHT. 15 
 
 night-songs. " G-od, my Maker, who giveth 
 songs in the night." 
 
 The season referred to by the inspired pen- 
 man is figurative of the sorrow, gloom, and 
 despondency into which all Grod's people are, 
 more or less, brought, — the season of night. 
 Designed though this little work is for the 
 period of Christian solitude and sorrow, it is 
 not improbable that it may find its way into 
 the sick and gloomy chamber of a mind yet 
 more sick and dark. It may not, then, be 
 inappropriate to remark what an expressive 
 imao;e is the season of night of an unconverted 
 state — a state of spiritual darkness and of 
 death. Night is the season of gloom, of 
 slumber, of visions. Such is the moral con- 
 dition of the soul, unenlightened, unawakened, 
 unsanctified by the Holy Grhost. The apos- 
 tle touches upon this state, in the contrast 
 which he finely draws between the believer 
 and the unbeliever. " But ye, brethren, are 
 not in darkness, that that day should overtake 
 you as a thief. Ye are all the children of 
 light, and the children of the day : we are not 
 
16 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 of the night, nor of darkness, therefore, let us 
 not sleep, as do others ; but let us watch and 
 be sober ; for they that sleep, sleep in the 
 night ; and they that be drunken are drunken 
 in the night." What a solemn picture this, 
 of an ungodly world, of our unconverted 
 relatives ; perhaps, my reader, of thyself. 
 " Children of the night" — asleep — in dark- 
 ness. Is not the night-season especially the 
 season of dreams ? Such is the spiritual 
 night of the soul. Thus graphically is it de- 
 scribed by the evangelical prophet Isaiah, — 
 " As when a hungry man dreameth, and, be- 
 hold, he eateth ; but he awaketh, and his soul 
 is empty ; or as when a thirsty man dreameth, 
 and, behold, he drinketh; but he awaketh, 
 and, behold, he is faint, and his soul hath 
 appetite." Such is your state. You are 
 asleep ; the chains of spiritual slumber bind 
 your moral senses ; your plans, your pursuits, 
 your pleasures, your realizations, all are but 
 as the visions that sport around the pillar of 
 night. You imagine you are happy, you 
 fancy liberty in your fetters, substance in 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 17 
 
 your shadows, reality in your visions. But, 
 by and by, you awake to the conviction — 
 how keen — that all is but a dream ! The 
 spirit is restless, the mind is unfed, the heart 
 is sick, the soul is unsatisfied ; all, all is one 
 dark and desolate blank. Yes, God will 
 write, yea, God has written, the sentence of 
 death upon the worldling's enjoyment ; and 
 will teach him that all happiness is ideal, and 
 all pleasure is unsubstantial that flows not 
 from himself, and of which he is not the " ex- 
 ceeding joy." Rouse you, then, from your 
 sleep ; the bridegroom is coming ! the mid- 
 night cry of the approaching judge is about to 
 break upon the slumber and darkness of your 
 soul. It is high time to awake out of sleep. 
 "What, if the words should startle you amidst 
 your worldliness and folly, your sin and re- 
 bellion, your day-dreams of earthly good, — 
 " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be re- 
 quired of thee !" "What, if you should awake 
 up in hell ! Horror of horrors ! Listen to 
 the warning of the Saviour, " What shall it 
 profit a man, if he should gain the whole 
 2* 
 
18 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 world, and lose his own soul." Then, " awake 
 thou that sleepest, arise from the dead, 
 and Christ shall give thee life." Awful, if 
 the present night of your unsanctified sorrow 
 should be the harbinger, the prelude, the fore- 
 casting shadows of a future and an endless 
 night of woe ! 
 
 But this season of night is signally de- 
 scriptive of some periods in the history and 
 experience of a child of God, and to them we 
 especially restrict it. It reminds us of the 
 period of soul darkness which oftentimes over- 
 takes the Christian pilgrim. " My servant 
 that walketh in darkness and hath no light," 
 says God. Observe, he is still God's servant. 
 He is the " child of the light," though walk- 
 ing in darkness. Gloom spreads its mantle 
 around him — a darkness that may be felt. 
 Shadows thicken upon his path. God's way 
 with him is in the great deep : " Thou art a 
 God that hidest thyself," is his mournful 
 prayer. The Holy Spirit is, perhaps, grieved 
 — no visits from Jesus make glad his heart — 
 he is brought in some small degree into the 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 19 
 
 blessed Saviour's experience : " My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" But, sor- 
 rowful pilgrim, there is a bright light in this, 
 your cloud — turn your eye towards it — the 
 darkness through which you are walking is 
 not judicial. It is not the darkness of an 
 unconverted, alienated state. no ! you are 
 still a " child of the day," though it may be 
 temporary night with your spirit. It is the 
 withdrawment but for " a little moment," 
 — not the utter and eternal extinction, — of 
 the Sun of Righteousness from your soul. 
 You are still a child, and God is still a 
 Father. " In a little wrath I hid my face 
 from thee for a moment : but with everlasting 
 kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the 
 Lord thy Redeemer." " Is Ephraim my dear 
 son ? is he a pleasant child ? for since I spake 
 against him I do earnestly remember him 
 still" 
 
 And what are seasons of affliction but as 
 the night-time of the Christian ? The night 
 of adversity is often dark, long, and tempestu- 
 ous. The Lord frequently throws the pall of 
 
20 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 gloom over the sunniest prospect, touching his 
 loved child where that touch is the keenest 
 felt. He knows the heart's idol : he is best 
 acquainted with the fowler's snare — the temp- 
 tation and the peril lying in our path. He 
 knows better far than we the chain that 
 rivets us to some endangering object ; he 
 comes and draws the curtain of night's sorrow 
 around our way. He sends messenger after 
 messenger. Deep calleth unto deep. He 
 touches us in our family — in our property — 
 in our reputation — in our persons. And 0, 
 what a night of woe now spreads its drapery 
 of gloom around us ! Then it is — amidst the 
 deepening shades — we seem to take a more 
 dismal view of every object. All things loom 
 in the mist. Our position, our circumstances, 
 our losses, our prospects, all present a more 
 gloomy and discouraging aspect, and assume 
 a more exaggerated and magnified form, 
 viewed in the sombre hues now gathering 
 and darkening around them. It is a " day 
 of darkness and of gloominess, a day of 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 21 
 
 clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning 
 spread upon the mountains." 
 
 Such, too, is the season of mournful be- 
 reavement. "What a night is that when the 
 shadow of death falls upon our once bright 
 and joyous tabernacle ; when the destroyer 
 enters and lays low some loved object, around 
 which the heart's affections, perhaps, too 
 closely entwined. It is as though the noon- 
 day sun had suddenly become quenched in 
 midnight gloom. " Lover and friend hast 
 thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance 
 into darkness," is the heart's sad breathing. 
 It was such a night to the heart of Jesus 
 when he left the house of Bethany to go to 
 the grave of Lazarus. Ah! who has not 
 passed through the gloom and the pangs of 
 this season ? Who has not seen the shadows 
 approaching which forewarned of the coming 
 woe ? To take our position in the room of 
 suffering, and to watch through the weari- 
 some day and the lonesome night, the slow 
 advance of the fell-destroyer, — to see tha 
 light retiring from our ' pleasant picture,' and 
 
22 SONGS IN THE NIGH3 
 
 its features of expression and its lines of 
 beauty growing dimmer and fainter, until the 
 shadow of death completely veiled it from 
 our view — what a night of heart-ache is 
 this ! But hush ! 
 
 " All are not taken 1 there are left behind 
 Living beloveds, tender looks to bring, 
 And make the daylight still a blessed thing, 
 And tender voices, to make soft the wind. 
 But if it were not so — if I could find 
 Not love in all the world to answer me, 
 Nor any pathway but rang hollowly, 
 Where ' dust to dust' the love from life disjoined — 
 And if with parched lips, — as in a dearth 
 Of water-springs the very deserts claim, — 
 I uttered to these sepulchres unmoving 
 The bitter cry, ' Where are ye, my loving V 
 I know a voice would sound, ' Daughter, I am, 
 Can I suffice for heaven, and not for earth V " 
 
 But dark, and often rayless for a time, as 
 are these various night-seasons of our pil- 
 grimage, they have their harmonies. It is 
 not perfect night, as it is not perfect day 
 with us here. If the day has its dark 
 periods, the night has its bright ones. If the 
 one has its sounds of woe, the other has its 
 notes of melody. There are — provided by 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 2S 
 
 him who "divides the light from the dark- 
 ness" — softenings, alleviations, and soothings, 
 which can even turn night into day, and 
 bring the softest tones from the harshest dis- 
 cord. How humbling is the reflection, that 
 in the depth of the deepest sorrow, the dark- 
 ness of the darkest shade, we should lose 
 sight of this precious truth. The strong con- 
 solations which our God has laid up for them 
 that love him, are so divine, so rich, so varied, 
 that to overlook the provision in the time of 
 our sorrow, seems an act of ingratitude 
 darker even than the sorrow we deplore. ! 
 it is in the heart of God to comfort you, his 
 suffering child. Once convinced of this, and 
 the bitterest ingredient in your cup has be- 
 come sweet. Let me assist you to the con- 
 viction of this truth by directing your atten- 
 tion, perhaps in an hour of dark woe, to some 
 of those " songs" which the Lord enables his 
 people to sing in the night-watches of their 
 journey. 
 
 This was pre-eminently David's experience. 
 Few of the Lord's saints knew more of the 
 
24 feONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 night-travel of faith, than this wonderful man 
 of Grod. Happy shall we be if we study- 
 closely his instructive life. After alluding to 
 the " waves and the billows which had gone 
 over him," he seems to be suddenly checked 
 in his complainings by the recollection of the 
 night-song : " Yet the Lord will command his 
 loving-kindness in the day-time, and in the 
 night his song shall be with me, and my 
 prayer unto the Grod of my life," (Psalm xlii. 
 8.) Here was midnight harmony! Amidst 
 the " noise of the water-spouts," and the 
 swellings of "billows" — the midnight of his 
 soul — lo ! music rises ! A song is sung, such 
 as is not heard in heaven — for there is no 
 night there — it is of kindness, it is of love, 
 yea, it is of loving-kindness, manifested and 
 experienced in the hour, when sinking amidst 
 deep and dark waters the soul cries out for 
 fear, "Lord, save, I perish!" what loving, 
 kindness must that be, suffering believer, 
 which inspires" a song so sweet, amidst a sea- 
 son so dark as this ! 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT, 25 
 
 " Awake, my soul, in joyful lays, 
 And sing thy dear Redeemer's praise ; 
 He justly claims a song from me, 
 His loving-kindness, how free I 
 
 " When trouble, like a gloomy cloud, 
 Has gathered thick and thundered loud ; 
 He near my soul has always stood, 
 His loving-kindness, how good !" 
 
 The Psalmist, too, on another occasion of 
 night-travel fed his drooping faith with the 
 remembrance of songs he had previously 
 sung : " I call to remembrance my song ift, 
 the night" (Psalm lxxvii. 6.) It is no small 
 wisdom, tried Christian, to recall to memory 
 the music of the past. Think not that, like 
 sounds of earth-born melody, that music has 
 died away never to awake again. Ah, no ! 
 those strains which once floated from your 
 spirit-touched lips, yet live ! The music of 
 a holy heart never dies ; it lingers still amid 
 the secret chambers of the soul. Hushed it 
 may be for awhile, by other and discordant 
 sounds, but the Holy Spirit, the Christian's 
 Divine Remembrancer, will summon back 
 those tones again, to soothe and tranquillize 
 
26 SOXGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 and cheer, perhaps in a darker hour and in 
 richer strains, some succeeding night of heart- 
 grief. "J remember thee upon my bed, and 
 meditate on thee in the night-watches." 
 11 Restore unto me the joys of thy salvation." 
 Yet again : " At midnight I will arise to 
 give thanks unto thee because of thy right- 
 eous judgments," (Ps. cxix. 62.) At mid- 
 night — the most lonely, rayless, desolate hour. 
 1 When other hearts of sympathy are hushed 
 to rest ; when all the world seems dead to me, 
 wrapt in profound unconsciousness of my 
 silent vigils, in the midnight of my soul's 
 deep grief I will arise from my pillow, moist 
 with tears, and from my couch, worn with 
 my tossings, and will give thanks unto thee 
 because of thy righteous judgments.' 
 what midnight harmony, beloved, is this! 
 The blessed spirits of another world are 
 hearkening: God bows down his ear and 
 listens. Ah ! my reader, there is not a single 
 midnight of your history — never so dark as 
 that midnight may be — for which Grod has 
 not provided you a song, and in which there 
 
SONGS IX THE NIGHT. 27 
 
 may not be such music as human hand nevet 
 awoke, and as human lip never breathed — 
 the music that God only can create. But 
 what are some of the materials — the chords 
 and notes — of these songs in the night? 
 Begin we with the key-note. 
 
 Jesus himself is our song. If we cannot 
 sing of Jesus and of his love in the night of 
 our pilgrimage, of what, of whom, then, can 
 we sing ? As all music has its ground-work 
 — its elementary principles — so has the music 
 of the believing soul. Jesus is the basis. 
 He who knows nothing experimentally of 
 Jesus, has never learned to sing the Lord's 
 song. But the believer, when he contemplates 
 Jesus in his personal dignity, glory, and beauty 
 — when he regards him as God's equal — 
 when he views him as the Father's gift — as 
 the great depo c .tary of all the fulness of 
 God, can sing in the dark night of his con- 
 scious sinfulness, of a foundation upon which 
 he may securely build for eternity. And 
 when, too, he studies the work of Jesus, what 
 material for a song is gathered here ! when he 
 
28 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 contemplates Christ as "made of God unto 
 him wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and 
 redemption ;" when he views the atoning 
 blood and righteousness which presents him 
 moment by moment before God, washed from 
 every stain, and justified from every sin, even 
 now, in the night-season of his soul's deep 
 depravity, he can sing the first notes of the 
 song they chaunt in higher strains above : 
 u Unto him that loved us, and washed us 
 from our sins in his own blood, and hath 
 made us kings and priests unto God and his 
 Father ; to him be glory and dominion, for- 
 ever and ever. Amen." ! yes, Jesus is the 
 key-note — Jesus is the ground- work of our 
 midnight harmony. 
 
 Is it a season of heart-ploughing, of break- 
 ing up of the fallow ground, of deeper dis- 
 covery of the concealed p. ague? Still to 
 turn the eye of faith on Je-us, and con- 
 template the efficacy of his blood to remove 
 all sin, and the power of his grace to subdue 
 all iniquity, what music in the sad heart 
 does that sight of him create! " My sou] 
 
songs in the night. 29 
 
 doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath 
 rejoiced in God my Saviour." 
 
 Is it a night of sorrowful affliction ? What 
 a friend, what a brother, what a helper is 
 Jesus ! Never, no never, does he leave his 
 suffering one to travel that night unvisited, 
 unsoothed by his presence. He is with you 
 now, and of his faithfulness that never falters, 
 of his love that never changes, of his tender- 
 ness that never lessens, of his patience that 
 never wearies, of his grace that never decays, 
 of his watchfulness that never slumbers, you 
 may sing in the storm-night of your grief. 
 Fix your eye, dim with weeping though it be, 
 upon this touching picture of your sympa- 
 thizing Lord thus presented to your view : 
 " The ship was now in the midst of the sea, 
 tossed with waves : for the wind was contrary. 
 And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus 
 went unto them, walking on the sea. And 
 when the disciples saw him walking on the 
 sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit ; 
 and they cried out for fear. But straightway 
 Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of goa„ 
 
 3* 
 
30 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 cheer; it is I; be not afraid." Think you 
 there were no songs on that dark tempestuous 
 night? Did no music rise from that storm- 
 tossed vessel, and swell above the moaning of 
 the sea ? Ah, yes, beloved ! Jesus was there ! 
 And Jesus gave the key-note: "It is I ; be 
 not afraid!" And then rose the music of 
 faith and love from the lips of his transported 
 apostle: "Lord, if it.be thou, bid me come 
 unto thee, on the water." Trembling be- 
 liever ! Jesus had been all that night in 
 earnest, wrestling prayer for those loved dis- 
 ciples ; and when their peril and fear were at 
 their height, he hastened to their rescue and 
 their comfort, treading the limpid wave with 
 all the majesty and the firmness of a (rod. Jesus 
 loves to visit us in our night-watches. Jesus 
 is praying for us when in the storm. The 
 incarnate Grod delights to be near his helpless 
 and timid saints: and he is near — yes, near 
 to you — the strength of your fainting heart, 
 the support of your sinking soul; and you 
 "shall have a song as in the night, when a 
 holy solemnity is kept; and gladness' of heart, 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 31 
 
 as when one goeth with a pipe to come into 
 the mountain of the Lord, to the mighty one 
 of Israel." 
 
 Is it the night of bereavement? Ah, heavy 
 as that night is, there is a song even for it, 
 smitten, weeping soul. Jesus was bereaved. 
 Can you not sing of this? " Jesus wept." 
 Is there no melody in these words ? yes ! 
 As one, who himself knew and felt the blank 
 which death creates in human friendship: as 
 one, whose tears once fell upon the cold clay, 
 while no hand was outstretched to wipe them, 
 he sympathizes with your present sorrow, and 
 is prepared to make it all his own. Wide as 
 is the chasm, deep as is the void, mournful as 
 is the blank which death has created, Christ 
 can fill it ; and filling it with his love, with 
 his presence, with himself, how sweet will be 
 your song in the night of your sorrow, — " He 
 hath done all things well." there is not a 
 single hour of the long night of our woe, but 
 if we turn and rest in Jesus, we shall rind 
 material for a hymn of praise, such as seraphs 
 cannot sing. 
 
32 SOXGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 Nor must we pass by David's sweet song in 
 the dark night of his domestic calamity and 
 grief: "Although my house be not so with 
 God ; yet he hath made with me an everlasting ' 
 covenant, ordered in all things, and sure : for 
 this is all my salvation, and all my desire, 
 although he maketh it not to grow," (2 Sam. 
 xxiii. 5.) The everlasting covenant which 
 God has made with Jesus, and through Jesus 
 with all his beloved people, individually, is a 
 strong ground of consolation amidst the trem- 
 blings of human hope, the fluctuations of 
 creature things, and the instability of all that 
 earth calls good. The Word of God meets 
 the peculiar sorrow of domestic calamity with 
 especial tenderness. David was tried in his 
 children — how deep that trial was, few of us 
 may know. But the covenant was enough 
 for it ; it was a covenant ordered in all things, 
 and sure : and this was his song in the night. 
 
 And of this same covenant, sorrowful 
 child of the covenant, you too may sing : 
 The God of the covenant is your God, your 
 Father, your unchangeable Friend. What 
 
-OXGS IN THE NIGHT. 33 
 
 though domestic calamity enshrouds youi 
 spirit as with midnight gloom — the covenant 
 in which your name is written, and your sor- 
 row appointed, and your consolation provided, 
 and your steps ordered, sheds its mild lustre 
 upon your way, and bids you sing in the night- 
 time of your erief, — 
 
 " Since thou, the everlasting God, 
 My Father art become ; 
 Jesus, my guardian and my friend, 
 And heaven my final home : 
 
 " I welcome all thy sovereign will ; 
 For all that will is love : 
 And, when I know not what thou dost, 
 I wait the light above. 
 
 u Thy covenant in the darkest gloom 
 Shall heavenly rays impart, 
 Which, when my eyelids close in death, 
 Shall warm my chilling heart."' 
 
 And who gives these songs in the night ? 
 " G-od our Maker." AVho but Grod could give 
 them ? No saint on earth, no angel in heaven, 
 has power to tune our hearts to a single note 
 of praise in the hour of their grief. No, nor 
 could anv creature above or below breathe a 
 
34 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 word of comfort, of hope, or of succor, when 
 heart and flesh were failing. Who but the 
 incarnate God has power enough, or love 
 enough, or sympathy enough to come and 
 embosom himself in our very circumstances — 
 to enter into the very heart of our sorrow — to 
 go down into the deepest depth of our woe, 
 and strike a chord there that, responding to 
 his touch, shall send forth a more than angel's 
 music ? It is God who gives these songs. 
 He is acquainted with your sorrows : he 
 regards your night of weeping : he knows the 
 way that you take. He may be lost to your 
 view, but you cannot be lost to his. The 
 darkness of your night-grief may veil him 
 from your eye, but the u darkness and the 
 light are both alike to him." Then repair to 
 him for your song. Ask him so to sanctify 
 your sorrow by his grace, and so to comfort it 
 by his Spirit, and so to glorify himself in 
 your patient endurance of it, and so to make 
 you to know the wherefore of your trial, and 
 your trial so to answer the mission on which 
 it was sent, as will enable you to raise this 
 
SONGS IX THE XIGHT. 35 
 
 note of praise : " Thou hast turned for me my 
 mourning into dancing ; thou hast put off my 
 sackcloth, and girded me with gladness ; to 
 the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, 
 and not be silent." 
 
 In giving you a throne of grace, God has 
 given you a song, methinks one of the sweetest 
 ever sung in the house of our pilgrimage. 
 To feel that we have a Grod who hears and 
 answers prayer,— who has done so in count- 
 less instances, and is prepared still to give us 
 at all times an audience — ! the unutterable 
 blessedness of this truth. Sing aloud then, 
 ye sorrowful saints, for great and precious is 
 your privilege of communion with Grod. In 
 the night of your every grief and trial and 
 difficulty, forget not that, in your lowest 
 frame, you may sing this song, — " Having 
 boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood 
 of Jesus, by a new and living way, I will 
 draw near, and pour out my heart to Grod." 
 Chaunt, then, his high praises as you pass 
 along, that there is a place where you may 
 disclose ev^ry want, repose every sorrow, de- 
 
36 SOXGS IK THE NIGHT. 
 
 posit every burden, breathe every sigh, and 
 lose yourself in communion with God — that 
 place is the blood-sprinkled mercy-seat, of 
 which God says, " There will I meet with 
 thee, and I will commune with thee." 
 
 Ah ! but perhaps you exclaim, " Would 
 that I could sing ! I can weep, and moan, 
 and even trust, but I cannot rejoice." Yes, 
 but there is One who can give even you, 
 beloved, a song in the night. Place your 
 harp in his hands, all broken and unstrung as 
 it is, and he will repair and retune it ; and 
 then, breathing upon it his Spirit, and touch- 
 ing it with his own gentle hand, that heart 
 that was so sad and joyless shall yet sing the 
 high praises of its Grod. How much of Grod's 
 greatness and glory in nature is concealed 
 until the night reveals it ! The sun is with- 
 drawn, twilight disappears, and darkness robes 
 the earth. Then appears the brilliant firma- 
 ment, studded and glowing with myriads of 
 constellations. the indescribable wonder, 
 the surpassing glory, of that scene ! But it 
 was the darkness that brought it all to view. 
 
BONGS IN THE XIGHT. 37 
 
 Thus it is in the Christian's life. How much 
 of G-od would be unseen, how much of his 
 glory concealed, how little should we know of 
 Jesus, but for the night-season of mental 
 darkness and of heart sorrow. The sun that 
 shone so cheeringly has set : the gray twilight 
 that looked so pensively has disappeared ; and 
 just as the night of woe set in, filling you 
 with trembling, with anxiety, and with fear, 
 lo ! a scene of overpowering grandeur sud- 
 denly bursts upon the astonished eye of your 
 faith. The glory of (rod as your Father, has 
 appeared — the character of Jesus as a loving 
 tender brother, has unfolded — the Spirit as a 
 Comforter, has whispered — your interest in 
 the great redemption has been revealed — and 
 a new earth redolent with a thousand sweets, 
 and a new heaven resplendent with countless 
 suns, has floated before your view. It was 
 the darkness of your night of sorrow that 
 made visible all this wonder and all this glory: 
 and but for that sorrow how little would you 
 have known of it. "I will sing of mercy and 
 of judgment : unto thee, Lord, will T sing." 
 4 
 
38 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 Suffering, sorrowful believer ! pluck your 
 harp from yon willow, and with the hand of 
 faith and love sweep it to the high praises of 
 your Grod. Praise him for himelf — praise 
 him for Jesus — praise him for conversion — 
 praise him for joys — praise him for sorrows — 
 praise him for chastenings — praise him for 
 the hope of glory — praise him for all ! 
 Thus singing the Lord's song in a strange 
 land, you will be learning to sing it in divine 
 sounds, such as are — 
 
 " Sung before the sapphire-colored throne 
 To him that sits thereon — 
 "With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee, 
 Where the bright seraphim, in burning row, 
 Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, 
 And the cherubic host in thousand quires 
 Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
 With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
 Hymns devout, and holy psalms 
 Singing everlastingly ; 
 That we on earth with undiscording voice 
 May rightly answer with melodious noise ; 
 As once we did, till disproportion ed sin 
 Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din 
 Broke the fair music that all creatures made 
 To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed 
 In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 
 In first obedience, and their state of good. 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 39 
 
 may we soon again renew that song, 
 
 And keep in tune with heaven, till God ere long 
 
 To his celestial concert us unite, 
 
 To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light." 
 
Sisus tailing {[is Dealings. 
 
 u Jesus answered and said unto him, What I do thou knowest not 
 now ; but thou shalt know hereafter." — John xiii. 7. 
 
 Our Lord, when he spake these words, had 
 just risen from the lowliest act of his most 
 lowly life. Around that act there was thrown 
 a veil of mystery which partially concealed 
 its purport and its end from the view 7 of his 
 wondering disciple. There was much in this 
 simple but expressive incident of the Saviour's 
 life which filled his mind with perplexing 
 thought. His first feeling was that of resist- 
 ance, to be succeeded by one of astonishment, 
 still deeper. He had marked each step in the 
 strange proceeding — the loosened sandal, the 
 bathing of the feet, the replacing of the robe ; 
 but the deep significance of the whole was to 
 his view wrapped in impenetrable mystery. 
 And how did the Saviour meet his perplexity ? 
 
JESUS VEILIXG HIS DEALINGS. 41 
 
 Not by denying its mysteriousness, but by a 
 promise of clearer light anon. " Jesus an- 
 swered and said unto him, What I do thou 
 knowest not now ; but thou shalt know here- 
 after." And this explanation and assurance 
 satisfied the mind of the amazed disciple. 
 " Simon Peter saith unto him, Lord, not my 
 feet only, but also my hands and my head." 
 
 Each individual believer has a personal in- 
 terest in this subject, especially those to whom 
 these pages are inscribed, — the Father's chas- 
 tened ones. These words imply a concealment 
 of much of the Lord's procedure with his 
 people. In the preceding chapter we con- 
 templated, under the similitude of the night- 
 season, the present pilgrimage of the saints ; 
 a night, however, not entirely rayless, nor 
 songless ; not without some harbingers of the 
 joyous morning, nor some key-notes of the 
 entrancing melody with which that morning 
 of joy will be ushered in. It is our wisdom 
 to know that no pure, unmixed sorrow, ever 
 befalls the Christian sufferer. Our Lord 
 Jesus flung the curse and the sin to such an 
 4* 
 
£2 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 infinite distance from the church, that could 
 his faith but discern it, the believer would 
 see nothing but love painting the darkest 
 cloud that ever threw its shadow upon his 
 spirit. Akin to the preceding subject is the 
 one upon which we now propose briefly to 
 address the suffering reader. It speaks of a 
 veiling of Christ's dealings, with the promise 
 of an unveiling in a day far sunnier and hap- 
 pier than this. " What I do thou knowest 
 not now ; but thou shalt know hereafter." 
 
 With regard to our heavenly Father, there 
 can be nothing mysterious, nothing inscruta- 
 ble to him. A profound and awful mystery 
 himself, yet to his infinite mind there can be 
 no darkness, no mystery at all. His whole 
 plan — if plan it may be called — is before him. 
 Our phraseology, when speaking of the divine 
 procedure, would sometimes imply the oppo- 
 site of this. We talk of God's fore-knowl- 
 edge, of his foresight, of his acquaintance 
 with events yet unborn ; but there is in truth 
 no such thing. There are no tenses with 
 Grod — no past — nor present — nor to come. 
 
JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 43 
 
 The idea of Grod's Eternity, if perfectly 
 grasped, would annihilate in our minds all 
 such humanizing of the Divine Being. He 
 is one — Eternal Now. All events to the 
 remotest period of time, were as vivid and as 
 present to the divine mind from eternity, as 
 when at the moment they assumed a real ex- 
 istence and a palpable form. 
 
 But all the mystery is with us, poor finite 
 creatures of a day. And why, even to us, is 
 any portion of the divine conduct thus a 
 mystery ? Not because it is in itself so, but 
 mainly and simply because we cannot see the 
 whole as Grod sees it. Could it pass before 
 our eye, as from eternity it has before his, a 
 perfect and a complete whole, we should then 
 cease to wonder, to cavil and repine. The in- 
 finite wisdom, purity, and goodness, that 
 originated and gave a character, a form, and 
 a coloring, to all that (rod does, would appear 
 as luminous to our view as to his, and cease- 
 less adoration and praise would be the grate- 
 ful tribute of our loving hearts. 
 
 Throw back a glance upon the past, and 
 
44 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 see how little you have ever understood of all 
 the way Grod has led you. What a mystery 
 — perhaps, now better explained — has en- 
 veloped his whole proceedings ! When Jo- 
 seph, for example, was torn from the home- 
 stead of his father, sold, and borne a slave 
 into Egypt, not a syllable of that eventful 
 page of his history could he spell. All was 
 to his mind as strange and unreadable as the 
 hieroglyphics of the race, whose symbolical 
 literature and religion now for the first time 
 met his eye. And yet (rod's way with this 
 his servant was perfect. And could Joseph 
 have seen at the moment that he descended 
 into the pit, whither he was cast by his en- 
 vious brethren, all the future of his history 
 as vividly and as palpably as he beheld it in 
 after years, while there would have been the 
 conviction that all was well, we doubt not 
 that faith would have lost much of its vigour, 
 and Grod much of his glory. And so with 
 good old Jacob. The famine, — the parting 
 with Benjamin, — the menacing conduct of 
 Pharaoh's prime minister, wrung the mourn- 
 
JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 45 
 
 fill expression from his lips, " All these things 
 are against me." All was veiled in deep and 
 mournful mystery. Thus was it with Job, to 
 whom God spake from the whirlwind that 
 swept every vestige of affluence and domestic 
 comfort from his dwelling. And thus, too, 
 with Naomi, when she exclaimed. "Call me 
 not Naomi, call me Mara : for the Almighty 
 hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out 
 full, and the Lord hath brought me home 
 again empty.*' How easy were it to multiply 
 these examples of veiled and yet all-wise dis- 
 pensation. 
 
 And is this the way of the Lord with you, 
 my reader ? Are you bewildered at the 
 mazes through which you are threading your 
 steps ; at the involved circumstances of your 
 present history ; the incidents which seem so 
 netted and interlaced one with the other as to 
 present to your view an inextricable labyrinth ? 
 Deem yourself not alone in this. No mystery 
 has lighted upon your path but what is com- 
 mon to the one family of God : ' ; This honor 
 have all his saints." The Shepherd is leading 
 
46 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS, 
 
 you, as all the flock are led, with a skilful 
 hand and in a right way. It is yours to 
 stand if he bids you, or to follow if he leads. 
 " He giveth no account of any of his matters," 
 assuming that his children have such confi- 
 dence in his wisdom, and love, and upright- 
 ness, as, in all the wonder-working of his 
 dealings with them, to ' be still and know that 
 he is God.' That it is to the honor ©f God 
 to conceal, should in our view justify all his 
 painful and humiliating procedure with us. 
 " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing," 
 as it will be for his endless glory by and bye 
 fully to reveal it all. But there is one thing, 
 Christian sufferer, which he cannot conceal. 
 He cannot conceal the love that forms the 
 spring and foundation of all his conduct with 
 his saints. Do what he will, conceal as he 
 may; be his chariot the thick clouds, and his 
 w T ay in the deep sea ; still his love betrays 
 itself, disguised though it may be in dark and 
 impenetrable providence. There are under 
 tones, gentle and tender, in the roughest ac- 
 cents of our Joseph's voice. And he who has 
 
JESTS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 47 
 
 an ear ever hearkening to the Lord, and deli- 
 cately attuned to the gentlest whisper, shall 
 often exclaim, — ;i Speak, Lord, how and when 
 and where thou mayest — it is the voice of 
 my beloved !" 
 
 But we have arrived at an interesting and 
 cheering truth — the full unveiling of all the 
 Lord's dealings in a holier and a brighter 
 world. "What I do, thou knowest not now; 
 but thou shalt know hereafter" That there 
 is a present partial understanding of God's 
 will and ways concerning us, we readily con- 
 cede. AVe may, now and then, see a needs be 
 for his conduct. The veil is just sufficiently 
 lifted to reveal a portion of the 'end of the 
 Lord.' He will make us acquainted with 
 the evil which he corrects, with the back- 
 sliding which he chastens, with the tempta- 
 tion which he checks, and with the danger- 
 ous path around which he throws his hedge ; 
 so that we cannot escape. We see it, and we 
 bless the hand outstretched to save. He will 
 also 'cause us to be fruitful. Y\ r e have 
 mourned our leanness, have confessed our 
 
48 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 barrenness, and lamented the distance of our 
 walk, and the little glory we bring to his dear 
 name, — and lo ! the dresser of the vineyard 
 has appeared to prune his sickly branch, "that 
 it may bring forth more fruit." " By this 
 therefore shall the iniquity of Jacob be purged ; 
 and this is all the fruit to take away his sin." 
 The deeper teaching, too, — the result of the 
 divine chastenings, — has revealed to some ex- 
 tent the i end of the Lord' in his mysterious 
 conduct. there is no school like (rod's 
 school; for "who teacheth like him?" And 
 G-od's highest school is the school of trial. 
 All his true scholars have graduated from 
 this: "Who are these which are arrayed in 
 white robes ? and whence came they ? These 
 are they which came out of great tribulation, 
 and have washed their robes, and made them 
 white in the blood of the Lamb." "Blessed 
 is the man, Lord, whom thou chasteneth 
 and teacheth him out of thy law." Ask each 
 spiritually, deeply-taught Christian where he 
 attained his knowledge — and he will poirk; you 
 to God's great university — the school of trial 
 
JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 49 
 
 But there is a time coming, a blessed time 
 of " good things to come," when the darkness 
 will all have passed away, the mystery of 
 God will be finished, and the present conduct 
 of our Saviour will be fully cleared up. 
 " What I do, thou knowest not now ; but thou 
 shalt knoiv hereafter." that " hereafter," 
 what a solemn word to the ungodly ! Is there, 
 then, a hereafter ? Jesus says there is ; and 
 I believe it, because he says it. That here- 
 after will be terrible to the man that dies in 
 his sins. It will be a hereafter, whose history 
 will be " written in mourning, lamentation 
 and woe." It had been better for thee, reader, 
 living and dying, impenitent and unbelieving, 
 hadst thou never been born, or, had there been 
 no hereafter. But there is a hereafter of woe 
 to the sinner, as of bliss to the saint. " These 
 shall go away into everlasting punishment : 
 but the righteous into life eternal." (Matt, 
 xxv. 46.) 
 
 The position which the Christian shall 
 occupy hereafter, will be most favorable to 
 a full and clear comprehension of all the 
 5 
 
50 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 mysteries of the way. The " clouds and 
 darkness" — emblems in our history of ob- 
 scurity and distress — which now envelop 
 God's throne, and enshroud his government 
 of the saints, will have passed away ; the 
 mist and fog will have vanished, and breath- 
 ing a purer atmosphere, and canopied by a 
 brighter sky, the glorified saint will see every 
 object, circumstance, incident and step, with 
 an eye unobscured by a vapor, and un- 
 moistened by a tear. "Now we know in 
 part, then shall we know even as we are 
 known." And what shall we know ? All 
 the mysteries of Providence. Things which 
 had made us greatly grieve, will now be seen 
 to have been causes of the greatest joy. 
 Clouds of threatening, which appeared to us 
 charged with the agent of destruction, will 
 then unveil, and reveal the love which they 
 embosomed and concealed. All the mysteries 
 of faith too will be known. " Now we see 
 trough a glass, darkly ; (in a riddle) but then 
 ;e to face ; now I know in part ; but then 
 all I know even as also I am known." 
 
JESUS VEILING- HIS DEALINGS. 51 
 
 The great " mystery of Grodliness" will de- 
 velop and unfold its wonders. His everlasting 
 love to his church — his choice of a people for 
 himself — his sovereign grace in calling them, 
 all, all, will shine forth with unclouded lustre 
 to the eternal praise of his great and holy 
 name. what a perfect, harmonious, and 
 glorious whole will all his doings in providence 
 and grace appear, from first to last, to the 
 undimmed eye, the ravished gaze of his 
 white-robed, palm-bearing church. 
 
 Many and holy are the lessons we may 
 gather from this subject. The first is — the 
 lesson of deep humility. There are three 
 steps in the Christian's life. The first is — 
 humility ; the second is — humility ; the third 
 is — humility. " Thou shalt remember all the 
 way which the Lord thy God led thee these 
 forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, 
 and to prove thee, to know what was in thine 
 heart." In veiling his dealings, Jesus would 
 "hide pride" from us. How loftily and self- 
 sufriciently should we walk did we see all 
 our present and future history plain before us 
 
52 JESUS VEILING- HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 "We should ascribe to our own wisdom and 
 skill, prudence and forethought, the honor 
 which belongs to Christ alone. Let us, then, 
 lie low before the Lord, and humble ourselves 
 under his mysterious hand. " The meek will 
 he guide in judgment, and the meek will he 
 teach his way. All the paths of the Lord 
 are mercy and truth unto such as keep his 
 covenant and his testimonies." Thus writing 
 the sentence of death upon our wisdom, our 
 sagacity, and our strength, Jesus — the lowly 
 one — seeks to keep us from the loftiness of 
 our intellect, and from the pride of our heart 
 prostrating us low in the dust at his feet. 
 Holy posture ! blessed place ! There, Lord, 
 would I lie ; my trickling tears of penitence 
 and love, falling upon those dear feet that 
 have never misled, but have always gone 
 before, leading me by a right way, the best 
 way, to a city of rest. 
 
 " To cure thee of thy pride — that deepest-seated ill, 
 God humbled his own self — wilt thou thy pride keep 
 
 still?" 
 
 "We should learn from this subject to live 
 5* 
 
JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 53 
 
 by faith amidst the enshrouding dealings of 
 our Grod. Therefore are those dealings often 
 so dark. 'Could we ever see all the road, faith 
 would have no play ; this precious, this Christ- 
 honoring, this €rod-glorifying grace would lie 
 dormant in the soul. But, in " leading the 
 blind by a way that they know not," he 
 teaches them to confide in the knowledge, 
 truth, and goodness of their Divine escort— 
 and that confidence is the calm unquestioning 
 repose of faith. 
 
 " My spirit on thy care, 
 
 Blest Saviour, I recline ; 
 Thou wilt not leave me to despair, 
 For thou art love divine. 
 
 " In thee I place my trust, 
 On thee I calmly rest ; 
 I know thee good, I know thee just, 
 And count thy choice the best. 
 
 " Whate'er events betide, 
 
 Thy will they all perform ; 
 Safe in thy breast my head I hide, 
 Nor fear the coming storm. 
 
 " Let good or ill befall, 
 
 It must be good for me ; 
 
 5* 
 
54 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 Secure of having thee in all, 
 Of having all in thee."* 
 
 Oh, sweet, consoling words of Jesus !— • 
 " What I do." Not what men do — not what 
 angels do — not what thou doe»t, — but, " what 
 I do." Is the loved one wrenched from your 
 heart? — "I have done 'it," says Jesus. Is 
 the desire of thine eyes smitten down with a 
 stroke ? — " I have done it," says Jesus. Is it 
 the loss of property, of health, of position, of 
 friends, that overwhelms you with grief? — "I 
 have done it," says Jesus. " What J do thou 
 knowest not now ; but thou shalt know here- 
 after." How many a mother has this promise 
 soothed, while with an anguish such as a 
 mother only knows, she has gazed upon the 
 withered flower on her breast ! How many a 
 father, standing by the couch of death, grasp- 
 ing the cold clammy hand of the pride of his 
 heart, has felt the power of these words, more 
 sweet and more soothing than an angel's mu- 
 sic — " What I do thou knowest not now ; but 
 thou shalt know hereafter." Wait, then, suf- 
 * Rev. H. F. Lyte. 
 
JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 55 
 
 fering child, the coming glory — yielding your- 
 self to the guidance of your Saviour, and 
 submitting yourself wholly to your Father's 
 
 will. 
 
 " O Lord ! how happy should we be, 
 If we could cast our care on thee, 
 
 If we from self could rest ; 
 And feel at heart that One above, 
 In perfect wisdom, perfect love. 
 
 Is working for the best. 
 
 "How far from this our daily life! 
 Ever disturbed by anxious strife, 
 
 By sudden wild alarms ; 
 O could we but relinquish all 
 Our earthly props, and simply fall 
 On thy Almighty arms ! 
 
 <; Could we but kneel, and cast our load, 
 E'en while we pray, upon our God ; 
 
 Then rise with lightened cheer, 
 Sure that the Father who is nigh 
 To still the famished raven's cry 
 
 Will hear, in that we fear. 
 
 " We cannot trust him as we should, 
 So chafes fallen nature's restless mood 
 
 To cast its peace away ; 
 Yet birds and rlow'rets round us preach, 
 All, all the present evil teach 
 
 Sufficient for the day. 
 
 • 
 
56 JESUS VEILING HIS DEALINGS. 
 
 " Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours, 
 Such lessons learn from birds and flowers, 
 
 Make them from self to cease ; 
 Leave all things to a Father's will, 
 And taste, before him lying still, 
 E'en in affliction, peace." 
 
 " What I do, thou knowest not nq x v ; Bin 
 
44 1 am not alone, because the Father is with me." — John xvi. 32. 
 
 It was not one of the least mournful fea- 
 tures in the Saviour's humiliation that the 
 path he trod was in a measure solitary, and 
 that the sorrow he endured was in its charac- 
 ter a lonely one. He had created and had 
 peopled the world — he had given to man a 
 social constitution, had inspired the pulsation 
 of love, and had imparted to his creatures a 
 secret and strong affinity of mind to mind ; 
 and yet he was in the world as one to whom 
 it afforded no home, and proffered no friend- 
 ship. And was this no felt-trial to the Son 
 of God ? Did it enter nothing into the curse 
 which he came to endure ? Did it add no 
 gall-bitter to his cup, no keenness to the sad- 
 ness of his heart, no deepening to the shade 
 
58 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 upon his brow ? Did the absence of a per- 
 fectly congenial mind, assimilating spirit, 
 fond, confiding, sympathizing heart, on whose 
 pillow he could lay to rest the corroding cares 
 and mental disquietudes which agitated his 
 own, create no aching void in the Redeemer's 
 bosom? Surely it must. Our Lord was 
 human — though divine — and as man he must 
 have felt, at times, an intensity of yearning 
 for human companionship proportioned to his 
 capacity to enjoy, and his power to enrich it. 
 The human sympathies and affections that 
 belonged to him, pure and elevated as they 
 were, could only awaken a responsive chord 
 in a human breast. And for this he must 
 have sighed. He was formed for the enjoy- 
 ment of life, was endowed with a sensibility 
 to the objects around him. He had affections 
 — and he delighted to indulge them : he had a 
 heart — and he longed to bestow it. There 
 were times, too, when he seemed to contract 
 an attachment to inanimate objects : the tree 
 beneath whose shade he had occasionally sat, 
 the fields over whose verdure he had roamed, 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 59 
 
 the sequestered spots where he had often 
 strayed, the sea whose shores he had fre- 
 quently trod, the mountain-slopes where he 
 had been wont to stand, associated as they 
 were with communion with Grod and converse 
 with his disciples, had become sacred and 
 endeared haunts to the holy and sensitive 
 heart of Jesus. It might indeed be said that 
 the Saviour loved and coveted solitude, occa- 
 sionally stealing away to some favorite place 
 for meditation and prayer. But there were 
 ' other and more frequent occasions, especially 
 in the deep, lonely sorrower Grethsemane, 
 when he seemed to feel the want and to ask 
 the soothing of human sympathy. With 
 what melting tones must these words have 
 fallen on the ears of his little band of follow- 
 ers : " Tarry ye here, and watch with meP 
 Yes, our Lord's was a solitary life. He 
 mingled indeed with man — he labored for 
 man — he associated with man — he loved 
 man — but he " trod the wine-press alone, and 
 of the people there was none with him." 
 And yet he was not all alone. Creatures, one 
 
60 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 by one, had indeed deserted his side, and left 
 him homeless, friendless, solitary — but there 
 was One, the consciousness of whose ever- 
 clinging, ever-brightening, ever-cheering pres- 
 ence infinitely more than supplied the lack. 
 "Behold r the hour cometh, yea, is now come, 
 that ye shall be scattered evefy man to his 
 own, and shall leave me alone : and yet I am 
 not alone, because the Father is with me." 
 But from the history of Jesus let us turn to a 
 parallel page in the history of his saints. 
 
 The disciples of Christ, like their Lord and 
 Master, oftenieei themselves alone. The sea- 
 son of sickness — the hour of bereavement — 
 the period of trial, is often the occasion of in- 
 creased depression from the painful conscious- 
 ness of the solitude and loneliness in which it 
 is borne. The heavenly way we travel is 
 more or less a lonely way. We have, at most, 
 but few companions. It is a " little flock," 
 and only here and there we meet a traveller, 
 who, like ourselves, is journeying towards tho 
 Zion of Grod. As the way is narrow, trying 
 and humiliating to flesh, but few, under the 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 61 
 
 drawings of the Spirit, find it. If, indeed, 
 true religion consisted in mere profession, then 
 there were many for Christ. If the marks of 
 discipleship were merely an orthodox creed — 
 excited feeling — denominational zeal — flaming 
 partizanship, then there are many that M find 
 the way." But if the true travellers are men 
 of broken heart — poor in spirit — who mourn 
 for sin — who know the music of the Shep- 
 herd's voice — who follow the Lamb — who de- 
 light in the throne of grace — and who love 
 the place of the cross, then ^tere are but 
 1 few* with whom the true saints journey to 
 heaven in fellowship and communion. 
 
 But the path is even narrower than this — 
 the circle is smaller still. How few real com- 
 panions do we meet even amongst the saints 
 of Grod ! Loving them as we do, and yearn- 
 ing for a wider fellowship, yet how few there 
 are with whom we can walk side by side ! 
 Doctrine divides us from some. If we speak 
 of God's eternal love, and free choice, and 
 discriminating mercy, we offend. When our 
 Lord preached the doctrine of sovereign grace,* 
 6 
 
62 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 we read that " from that time many of his 
 disciples went back, and walked no more with 
 him." it is a solemn and affecting thought, 
 that even the very doctrines of Christ's gospel 
 build a wall of partition between his true dis- 
 ciples. Church government and ordinances 
 sunder others. The blemishes and imper- 
 fections still clinging to the saints, such indeed 
 as separated Paul and Barnabas, often inter- 
 rupt the full harmony of Christian com- 
 munion. The difference of spirituality, too, 
 which we fijd in the Lord's people, tends to 
 abate much of that communion which ought 
 to distinguish the one family of God. We 
 meet, perhaps, with but few who have been 
 taught precisely in our school, who see truth 
 as we see it, and who observe ordinances as 
 we observe them, or who can understand the 
 intricacies of Christian experience through 
 which, with toil and difficulty, we are thread- 
 ing our way. Few keep the same pace in 
 the Christian race with us. Some linger be- 
 hind, while others outrun us. There is one 
 • always so lost in a sense of his unworthiness 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 as never to enter into our joy ; and there is 
 another towering, as on the eas:le ? s wins:, and 
 soaring into a region whose very purity awes, 
 and whose effulgence dazzles us. Thus are 
 we learning the solitariness of the way, even 
 in the very church and family of God within 
 which we are embosomed. 
 
 But not from these causes alone springs the 
 sense of loneliness which the saints often feel. 
 There is the separation of loving hearts, and 
 of kindred minds, and of intimate relation- 
 ships, by the providential ordering and deal- 
 ings of God. The changes of this changing 
 world — the alteration of circumstances — the 
 removals to new and distant positions — the 
 wastings of disease and the ravages of death, 
 often sicken the heart with a sense of friend- 
 lessness and loneliness which finds its best 
 expression in the words of the Psalmist: "I 
 watch, and am as a sparrow alone on the 
 house-top." 
 
 But if God " places the solitary in families," 
 as he occasionally does, he more frequently 
 sets the godly apart from others ; and this 
 
64 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 has often been found to be one of his wisest 
 and holiest appointments. " Come ye your- 
 selves apart, and rest awhile ;" " I will allure 
 her into the wilderness," are divine expressions 
 which would seem to indicate this instructive 
 truth. Shall we enter the chamber of sick- 
 ness ? Ah ! what solitude reigns here. The 
 gentle movement, the subdued voice, the soft 
 tread, the smouldering embers, the shaded 
 light, all signify that the scenes and the 
 society and the excitement of the world with- 
 out, intrude not upon the stillness of that 
 world within. Weeks and months and years 
 roll on, and still God keeps his child a " pris- 
 oner of hope." But since he kas done it, it 
 must be well done, for " his way is perfect." 
 To be arrested in the midst of activity, enter- 
 prise, and usefulness, — to be snatched from 
 the pinnacle of honorable distinction, from 
 the scene of pleasant labor, from the sooth- 
 ing society of friends, from the bosom of the 
 domestic circle, within all of which we were 
 so warmly nestled, and to find ourselves the 
 sickly occupant of a lone and gloomy chamber, 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 65 
 
 from which books and friends and family are 
 excluded, is to some a trial of faith and 
 patience demanding grace of no ordinary de- 
 gree. The pastor torn from his flock, feels it, 
 — the minister banished from his pulpit, feels 
 it, — the Christian laborer laid aside from his 
 loved employ, feels it, — the mother separated 
 from her little ones, feels it ; all feel it to be a 
 school of which, though the teaching is most 
 blessed, yet the discipline is most severe. 
 
 Shall we enter the house of mourning? 
 Here is solitude indeed — the heart-aching soli- 
 tude such as death only can create. What 
 an awful stillness reigns here! The dread 
 silence of all sounds has entered ; even the 
 living seem to hold their breath while the 
 king of terrors passes by. The blinded win- 
 dows — the light foot-fall — the wrapt thought- 
 fulness — the suppressed conversation — the air 
 of desolateness resting on each countenance — 
 and speaking from each eye, betokens how 
 sad and deep and lonely is the grief with 
 which each heart is breaking. Ah, yes ! what 
 a solitude does death often create in the life 
 
66 SOLITUDE SWEETEKED. 
 
 of the Christian. The old companion, and 
 /the confiding friend removed — the "strong 
 staff broken, and the beautiful rod," — what a 
 blank does the universe appear ? 
 
 But should we murmur at the solitary way 
 along which our Grod is conducting us? Is it 
 not his way, and therefore the best way ? In 
 love he gave us friends — in love he has re- 
 moved them. In goodness he blessed us with 
 health — in goodness he has taken it away. 
 In faithfulness he vouchsafed to us affluence 
 —in faithfulness he has recalled it. And yet 
 this is the way along which he is conducting 
 us to glory. And shall we rebel? Heaven is 
 the home of the saints ; u here we have no 
 continuing city." And shall we repine that 
 we are in the right road to heaven ? What, 
 if in weariness and sorrow, you were journey- 
 ing to the metropolis, where your heart's 
 fondest treasure was embosomed ; and you 
 were to come to a way on whose finger-post 
 was inscribed, — " The road to London," or, 
 "The road to Paris," would you, because that 
 road was lone and dreary and irksome, indulge 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 67 
 
 in repining feelings, or waste your moments 
 and your energies in useless regrets ? Would 
 you divert into another and an opposite, be- 
 cause a more pleasant and inviting path ? 
 No ! The image of your home with its sweet 
 attractions — reposing like a fairy isle in the 
 sunny distance — would give wings to your 
 feet, and carpet every step of that rough way 
 with a soft mantle of green. Christ, your 
 heart's treasure, is there. And will you mur- 
 mur that the way that leads you to it and to 
 him is sometimes enshrouded with dark and 
 mournful solitude ? the distinguished priv- 
 ilege of treading the path that Jesus walked 
 in! 
 
 But the solitude of the Christian has its 
 sweetness. The Saviour tasted it when he 
 said, "I am not alone, because the Father is 
 with me ;" and all the lonely way that he 
 travelled he leaned upon God. Formed for 
 human friendship, and even knowing some- 
 thing of its enjoyment — for there reposed 
 upon his breast the disciple whom he loved — 
 he yet drew the love that sweetened his soli- 
 
68 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 tude from a higher than a human source. 
 His disciples were scattered, and he was left 
 to plod his weary way alone : but his Father 
 with him, — this was enough ! 
 
 The society of God is the highest, purest, 
 sweetest mercy a saint of God can have on 
 earth. Yea, it is the highest, purest, sweetest 
 bliss the saints of God can have in heaven. 
 What is the enjoyment of heaven ? Not 
 merely exemption from trial, and freedom 
 from sorrow, and rest from toil, and release 
 from conflict : no ! it is the presence — the 
 full, unclouded presence of our Father there. 
 To be with Christ — to behold his glory — to 
 gaze upon his face — to hear his voice — to feel 
 the throbbino's of his bosom — to bask in the 
 effulgence of God's presence— this is heaven, 
 the heaven of heaven ! 
 
 The twilight of this glory we have here on 
 earth. "I am not alone," can each sorrowful 
 and banished soul exclaim, "because the 
 Father is with meP Yes, beloved, your own 
 Father. " Thou shalt call me, my Father." 
 In Jesus he is your Father — your reconciled, 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 69 
 
 pacified Father — -all whose thoughts that he 
 thinks of you, are peace ; and all whose ways 
 that he takes with you, are love. The pres- 
 ence, the voice, the smile of a parent, how 
 precious and soothing ! especially when that 
 presence is realized, and that voice is heard, 
 and that smile is seen in the dark desolate 
 hour of adversity. God is our heavenly 
 parent. His presence, his care, his smiles 
 are ever with his children. And if there be 
 a solitary child of the one family that shares 
 the richer in the blessing of the Father's pres- 
 ence than another, it is the sick, the suffer- 
 ing, the lone, the chastened child. Yes, your 
 Father is with you ever. He is with you to 
 cheer your loneliness — to sweeten your soli- 
 tude — to sanctify your sorrow — to strengthen 
 your weakness — to shield your person — to 
 pardon your sins, and to heal all your diseases. 
 Hearken in your deep solitude to his own 
 touching words : " Fear thou not ; for I am 
 with thee : be not dismayed ; for I am thy 
 God : I will strengthen thee ; yea, I will help 
 thee ; yea, I will uphold thee w r ith the right 
 
70 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 hand of my righteousness." Enough, my 
 Father ! if thus thou art with me, I am not, 
 I cannot be alone — and if such the bliss with 
 which thou dost sweeten, and such the glory 
 with which thou dost irradiate the solitude of 
 thy hidden ones, Lord, let me ever be a hid- 
 den one — shut out from all others, shut in 
 alone with thee ! 
 
 " Thou art near, — yes, Lord, I feel it, 
 Thou art near where'er I move ; 
 And though sense would fain conceal it, 
 Faith oft whispers it in love. 
 
 " Thou art near, — what a blessing 
 To the souls thy love hath blest 1 
 Souls, thy daily care confessing, 
 Daily by their God confessed. 
 
 " Why should I despond or tremble 
 When Jehovah stoops to cheer ? 
 But far rather, why dissemble 
 When Omniscience is near ? 
 
 " Am I weak ? thine arm will lead me 
 Safe through every danger, Lord : 
 Am I hungry ? thou wilt feed me 
 With the manna of thy Word. 
 
 "Ami thirsting ? thou wilt guide me 
 Where refreshing waters flow ; 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 Faint or feeble, thoult provide me 
 Grace for every want I know. 
 
 " Am I fearful ? thou wilt take me 
 Underneath thy wings, my God ! 
 Am I faithless ? thou wilt make me 
 Bow beneath thy chastening rod. 
 
 " Am I drooping ? thou art near me, 
 Near to bear me on my way : 
 Am I pleading ? thou wilt hear me, 
 Hear and answer when I pray. 
 
 M Then, my soul, since God doth love thee, 
 Faint not, droop not, do not fenr ; 
 For though his heaven is high above thee, 
 He himself is ever near ! 
 
 " Near to watch thy wayward spirit, 
 Sometimes cold and careless grown ; 
 But likewise near with grace and merit, 
 All thy Saviour's, thence thine own."* 
 
 There are many thoughts calculated to 
 sweeten the season of Christian solitude 
 which we need but simply suggest to the re- 
 flective mind. You cannot be in reality alone 
 when you remember that Christ and you are 
 one — that by his Spirit he dwells in the heart, 
 and that therefore he is always near to par- 
 ticipate in each circumstance in which you 
 * J. S. Monsell. 
 
72 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 may be placed. Your very solitude he shares : 
 with your sense of loneliness he sympathizes 
 You cannot be friendless — since Christ is your 
 friend. You cannot be relationless — since 
 Christ is your brother. You cannot be unpro- 
 tected — since Christ is your shield. Want 
 you an arm to lean upon ? — his is outstretched. 
 "Want you a heart to repose in ? — his invites 
 you to its affection and its confidence. "Want 
 you a companion to converse with ? — he wel- 
 comes you to his fellowship. sweet soli- 
 tude, sweetened by such a Saviour as this ! — 
 always present to comfort, to counsel, and to 
 protect in times of trial, perplexity, and 
 danger. 
 
 There is so much soothing in the reflection 
 that it is a Father's presence that sweetens 
 the solitude of his child, that I know not how 
 to relinquish it. " My Father is with me !" 
 what words are these ! Who can harm you 
 now ? What can befall you ? When and 
 where can you be alone, if your heavenly 
 Father is with you ? He is with you on the 
 ocean, he is with you on the land. He is 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 73 
 
 with you in your exile, he is with you at 
 home. Friends may forsake, and kindred 
 may die, and circumstances may change — 
 but " my Father is with me!" may still be 
 your solace and your boast. And to realize 
 the presence of that Father — to walk with 
 Orod in the absorbing consciousness of his 
 loving eye never removed, of his solemn pres- 
 ence never withdrawn, of his encircling arm 
 never untwined — welcome the solitude, wel- 
 come the loneliness, welcome the sorrow, 
 cheered and sweetened and sanctified by such 
 a realization as this! "I am not alone, be- 
 cause my Father is with me." 
 
 Let the season of temporary solitude be a 
 time of earnest prayer — of deep searching of 
 heart — of much honest, close, filial transaction 
 with yourself and with God. He may have 
 allured you into the wilderness, he may thus 
 have set you apart from all others for this 
 very end. You have been communing much 
 with books, and with men, he would now 
 have you commune with your own heart and 
 with himself. And this, too, may be the 
 7 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 school in which he is about to train you for 
 greater responsibility, for more extended use- 
 fulness, and for higher honors in his church. 
 Moses was withdrawn from Pharaoh's court 
 and banished to the solitude of the wilderness 
 forty years, in order to train him to be the 
 great legislator and leader of God's people. 
 Who can tell what numerous blessings are 
 about to be realized by you, and through you, 
 by the church of God, from the present sea- 
 son of silence and repose through which you 
 are passing"? to feel a perfect 'satisfaction, 
 yea, an ecstatic delight, with all that our 
 heavenly Father does. Submission is sweet, 
 resignation is sweeter, but joyous satisfaction 
 with the whole of God's conduct is sweeter 
 still. " My Father, not my will but thine be 
 done." Be this, then, your solace — this your 
 boast — this your midnight harmony — " I am 
 
 NOT ALONE, BECAUSE MY FATHER IS WITH ME." 
 
 " How heavily the path of life 
 
 Is trod by him who walks alone, 
 Who hears not, on his dreary way, 
 Affection's sweet and cheering tone ; 
 
SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 75 
 
 Alone, although his heart should bound 
 With love to all things great and fair, 
 
 They love not him, — there is not one 
 His sorrow or his joy to share 
 
 'Alone, — though in the busy town, 
 
 Where hundreds hurry to and fro— 
 If there is none who for his sake 
 
 A selfish pleasure would forego ; 
 And how lonely among those 
 
 Who have not skill to read his heart, 
 When first he learns how summer frienda 
 
 At sight of wintry storms depart. 
 
 "My Saviour ! and didst thou too feel 
 
 How sad it is to be alone, 
 Deserted in the adverse hour 
 
 By those who must thy love have known I 
 The gloomy path, though distant, still 
 
 Was ever present to thy view ; 
 O how couldst thou foreseeing it, 
 
 For us that painful course pursue ? 
 
 ■ Forsaken of thy nearest friends, 
 
 Surrounded by malicious foes — 
 No kindly voice encouraged thee, 
 
 When the loud shout of scorn uprose. 
 Yet there was calm within thy soul, 
 
 No stoic pride that calmness kept, 
 Nor Godhead unapproached by woe — 
 
 Like man thou hadst both loved and wept 
 
 " Thou wert not then alone, for God 
 
 Sustained thee by his mighty power ; 
 His arm most felt, his care most seen, 
 When needed most in saddest hour. 
 
76 SOLITUDE SWEETENED. 
 
 None else could comfort, none else knew 
 How dreadful was the curse of sin ; 
 
 He who controlled the storm without, 
 Could gently whisper peace within. 
 
 " Who is alone if God be nigh ? 
 
 Who shall repine at loss of friends, 
 While he has One of boundless power, 
 
 Whose constant kindness never ends 
 Whose presence felt, enhances joy, 
 
 Whose love can stop each flowing tear. 
 And cause upon the darkest cloud 
 
 The bow of mercy to appear." 
 
% tn\t from (Cjfrist 
 
 ** The Lord turned, and looked upon Peter."— Luke xxii. 61. 
 
 And who can fully interpret that look ? 
 Painters have often attempted to portray it, 
 but the pencil has fallen despairingly from 
 their hands. The Saviour was now standing 
 face to face with Caiaphas — infinite purity 
 confronting sin, infinite truth confounding 
 error. It was to him a solemn and a critical 
 moment. Pleading for his life, all his thoughts, 
 and sympathies, and moments might be sup- 
 posed to concentrate wholly upon himself. 
 But no ! he heard a voice behind him, the 
 tones of which were familiar, though start- 
 ling, to his ear. It was a voice to which he 
 had often listened, as the ear listens to sweet 
 sounds ; but dear and familiar as it was, i* 
 uttered words of appalling import. It was 
 
A look fro:j: christ. 
 
 the voice of a loved disciple, a sworn friend, 
 who, but a few hours before, had vowed, with 
 all the solemnity and emphasis of an oath, 
 attachment and fidelity unto death. And 
 what was its affirmation ? "I know not the 
 man !" His attention, diverted from the trial, 
 and his eye, withdrawn from his accusers, the 
 " Lord turned, and looked upon Peter." All 
 thought and emotion seemed now to gather 
 around one object, — the Christ-denying disci- 
 ple. His own personal case, now fraught 
 with the deepest interest and peril ; the tre- 
 mendous responsibility which he at that mo- 
 ment sustained ; standing on the eve of ac- 
 complishing the eternal purpose of his Father 
 in the redemption of his church ; the woe 
 through which he was about to pass lowering 
 and darkening around him ; yet all seemed 
 for the moment to tremble in the balance, be- 
 fore the case of a now fallen apostle. " And 
 the Lord turned and looked upon Peter." 
 Peter met the glance. Not a word was ut- 
 tered, not a syllable was breathed, not a finger 
 was lifted by the Saviour ; it was but a look 
 
A LOOK FROM CHRIST. 79 
 
 and yet it was such a look as pierced the 
 heart of the sinning apostle. " Peter went 
 out and wept bitterly." Let us attempt its 
 interpretation. The eye of Jesus is still upon 
 us ; it has often reproved us in our wayward- 
 ness and folly ; it has often cheered us in our 
 loneliness and sorrow ; and it may often chide 
 and gladden us again. What is its language? 
 It was a look of injured love. Christ 
 loved Peter; he loved him with an everlasting 
 love. When he allured him from his lowly 
 calling, summoned him to be a disciple, and 
 ordained him to be an apostle, and " a fisher 
 of men," he loved him. Yes ; and he loved 
 him, too, at that moment. He was about to 
 die — to die for Peter. He knew how false 
 and treacherous he .would prove ; how, at a 
 most critical period of his life, and amidst 
 circumstances the most painful, he would 
 deny that he knew him, confirming the dis- 
 ownment with an oath and a curse ; yet he 
 loved Peter, loved him with an affection that 
 never faltered or cooled, — no, not even aj; the 
 moment when the denial and the imprecation 
 
80 A LOOK FROM. CHRIST. 
 
 rose, fiend-like, from his lips. What, then, 
 was the language of that look which Christ 
 now bent upon Peter ? It seemed to say, " I 
 am about to die for thee, Peter, and canst 
 thou now deny me ? What have I done, or 
 what have I said, worthy of such requital?" 
 And what, my reader, are all our backslidings, 
 and falls, and unkind returns, but so many 
 unjust injuries done to the deep, deathless 
 love of Jesus? How do we forget, at the 
 moment of excited feeling, that every step we 
 take in departure from God, each temptation 
 to which we yield assent, and ea-ch sin we 
 voluntarily commit, is in the face of love in- 
 conceivably great, and unutterably tender. 
 Injured love! how reproving its glance! "I 
 have died for thee," Jesus says ; " for thee I 
 poured out my heart's blood ; and canst thou, 
 in view of love like mine, thus grieve, and 
 wound, and deny me ?" 
 
 It was a look of painful remembrance, 
 " And the Lord turned and looked upon Pe- 
 ter. And Peter remembered the word of the 
 Lord." His Lord's solemn prediction of hi? 
 
A LOOK FRO^I CHEIST. 81 
 
 sin he seemed quite to have forgotten. But 
 when that look met his eye, it summoned 
 back to memory the faded recollections of the 
 faithful and tender admonitions that had fore- 
 warned him of his fall. There is a tendency 
 in our fallen minds to forget our sinful de- 
 partures from (rod. David's threefold back- 
 sliding seemed to have been lost in deep 
 oblivion, until the Lord sent his prophet to 
 recall it to his memory. Christ will bring 
 our forgotten departures to view, not to up- 
 braid or to condemn, but to humble us, and 
 to bring us afresh to the blood of sprinkling. 
 The heart-searching look from Christ turns 
 over each leaf in the book of memory ; and 
 sins and follies, inconsistencies and departures, 
 there inscribed, but long forgotten, are read 
 and re-read, to the deep sin-loathing and self- 
 abasement of our souls. Ah ! let a look of 
 forgiving love penetrate thy soul, illumining 
 memory's dark cell, and how many things, 
 and circumstances, and steps in thy past life 
 wilt thou recollect to thy deepest humiliation 
 before Grod. And ! how much do we need 
 
82 a look from: Christ. 
 
 thus to be reminded of our admonitions, our 
 warnings, and our falls, that we may in all 
 our future spirit and conduct " walk humbly 
 with Grod." The season of solitude and sor- 
 row, suffering reader, is peculiarly favorable 
 for this. It is a time of recollection. The 
 past is recalled, the life is reviewed, principles, 
 motives, and actions are examined, scrutinized, 
 and weighed, and the result, if the process is 
 fairly and honestly gone into, will be, " Lord ! 
 I do remember this day my sin and folly ; 
 pardon it, for thy name's sake, and do thou 
 remember it no more forever !" 
 
 It was a look of gentle reproof. It seemed 
 to convey that reproof in language like this : 
 — "I am now bearing thy sin and curse; I 
 am about to drink the cup of woe for thee ; 
 to take thee, a poor, lost, condemned sinner, 
 into my very bleeding heart ; and dost thou 
 deny that thou didst ever know me ? Canst 
 thou inflict another and a deeper wound ? 
 Canst thou add another and a keener pang to 
 those now falling, like a storm, upon me from 
 my enemies, deriding, and scorning, and re- 
 
A LOOK FBOM CHRIST. 83 
 
 jecting me ?" 0, what a reproof was that 
 look ! It was indeed tender ; but its very 
 tenderness made it ail the more keen. Blessed 
 Jesus ! we love thee for all the reproofs of 
 thine eye, — reproofs most deserved, most 
 searching. "We have met thy look in secret ; 
 in solitude and in sorrow it has spoken to us, 
 revealing our sin and thy displeasure, and we 
 bless thee for the look. 
 
 It was a look of full forgiveness. Who 
 can doubt but that, at this moment, Jesus, 
 by his blessed Spirit, did secretly write upon 
 the heart of his backsliding disciple the free 
 pardon of his sin. And such is ever the look 
 of Christ to us. Be it a look expressive of 
 wounded love ; be it a look of mournful re- 
 membrance ; or be it a look of searching re- 
 proof ; it yet is always a look of most free 
 and full forgiveness. "I have pardoned," is 
 its language. And this is the meaning of 
 Christ's look now penetrating the dark cloud 
 of your heart's grief, suffering believer. It 
 may revive the recollection of past offences ; 
 it may search, and rebuke, and alarm; yet 
 
84 A LOOK FEOM CHRIST. 
 
 beware of interpreting it all of displeasure : 
 it is a look of loving forgiveness. The 
 sharpest reproof the look of Christ ever con- 
 veyed to a believer, spake of pardoned sin. 
 It must be so, since the covenant of peace 
 provides, and the atonement of Jesus secures, 
 the entire cancelling of all his sin. Meet the 
 eye of Jesus, then, with confidence and love. 
 There maybe self-reproach in your conscience; 
 there is no harsh reproach in his look. The 
 uplifted glance of your eye may be sin-re- 
 penting, the downward beaming of his is sin- 
 forgiving. ! press to your heart the conso- 
 lation and joy of this truth, — the glance of 
 Jesus falling upon his accepted child ever 
 speaks of pardoned sin. Chastened, sorrow- 
 ful, and secluded, you may be, yet your sins 
 are forgiven you for his name's sake. ! I 
 know not a truth more calculated to light up 
 the gloom of a lone chamber, to lift up me 
 drooping spirit of a heart-sick child of (rod, 
 than the announcement that Grod, for Christ's 
 sake, has pardoned all his transgressions and 
 his sins, and stands to him in the relation of 
 
A LOOK FROM CHRIST. 85 
 
 a reconciled Father. Suffering child of Grod ! 
 with this divine declaration would I come to 
 you in your sorrow and seclusion : — " Israel ! 
 thou shalt not be forgotten of me. I have 
 blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy trans- 
 gressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins. Return 
 unto me ; for I have redeemed thee." ! that 
 the Spirit, the Comforter, may sweeten your 
 solitude and cheer your gloom, and give you 
 this song to sing in the night season of your 
 grief: — "Bless the Lord, my soul! and 
 forget not all his benefits ; who forgiveth all 
 thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases, 
 who redeemeth thy life from destruction, and 
 crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender 
 mercies." Forget not that the look of Christ 
 is ever, to his saints, a look of pardoning 
 love. 
 
 The posture of Jesus when he looked upon 
 his sinning disciple was most expressive. 
 " The Lord turned" Here was the first step 
 of recovery taken on the part of Christ. And 
 what has all the restoring conduct of our 
 Lord been towards us, but just this turning 
 
 8 
 
86 A LOOK FROM CHRIST. 
 
 to us, when we had turned from him ? "Wo 
 have wandered, he has gone after us ; we 
 have departed, he has pursued us ; we have 
 stumbled, he has upheld us ; we have fallen, 
 he has raised us up again ; we have turned 
 from him, he has turned to us. ! the 
 wonderful love, and long-suiiering patience of 
 Christ ! And what is still his language, 
 speaking to us in that look? " Return unto 
 me, for- 1 have redeemed thee." And what 
 should be the response of our hearts? " Be- 
 hold, we come unto thee, for thou art the 
 Lord our God." Then, " let us search and 
 try our ways, and turn again unto the Lord." 
 Yes, my reader, again. What! after all rny 
 backslidings and recoveries, my departures 
 and returns, may I turn again to the Lord ? 
 Yes ! with confidence we say it, " turn again 
 unto the Lord." That look of love beaming 
 from the eye of Jesus, invites you, woos you 
 to return again, yes, this once more, to the 
 shelter of his pierced side, to the home of his 
 wounded heart. 
 
 And ! how acute the sorrow awakened 
 
A LOOK FH03I CHRIST. 87 
 
 by a look from Christ. " Peter went out and 
 wept bitterly" How melting is the look of 
 wounded love ! A Father's eye, beaming 
 with tenderness upon a rebellious, wandering 
 child, inviting, welcoming his return, — what 
 adamant can resist it ? Peter's sorrow, too, 
 was solitary. He went out from the high 
 priest's hall, and sought some lone place to 
 weep. Ah ! the deepest, bitterest, truest 
 . grief for sin, is felt and expressed beneath 
 God's eye alone. When the wakeful pillow 
 of midnight is moistened, when the heart un- 
 veils in secret to the eye of Jesus, when the 
 chamber of privacy witnesses to the confi- 
 dential confessions, and moanings, and plead- 
 ings of a wandering heart, there is then felt 
 and expressed a sorrow for sin, so genuine, so 
 delicate, and so touching, as cannot but draw 
 down upon the soul a look from Christ the 
 most tender in its expression, and the most 
 forgiving in its language. 
 
 And what, my reader, shall be the one 
 practical lesson we draw from this subject ? 
 Even this — Let us always endeavor to realize 
 
88 A LOOK FEOM CHEIST. 
 
 the loving eye of Jesus resting upon us. In 
 public and in private, in our temporal and 
 spiritual callings, in prosperity and in adver- 
 sity, in all places and on all occasions, and 
 under all circumstances, ! let us live as be- 
 neath its focal power. "When our Lord gave 
 this look to Peter, his eyes were dim with 
 grief; but now that he is in heaven, they are 
 as " a flame of fire." To his saints not a burn- 
 ing, withering, consuming flame, but a flame 
 of inextinguishable love. Deem not yourself, 
 then, secluded believer, a banished and an 
 exiled one, lost to all sight. Other eyes may 
 be withdrawn and closed, distance intercept- 
 ing their view, or death darkening their vision; 
 but the eye of Jesus, your Lord, rests upon 
 you ever, in ineffable delight, and with un- 
 slumbering affection. "I will guide thee 
 with mine eye," is the gracious promise of 
 your God. Be ever and intently gazing on 
 that Eye, " looking unto Jesus." He is the 
 Fountain of Light ; and in the light radiating 
 from his eye you shall, in the gloomiest hour 
 
f 
 
 A LOOK FR03I CHRIST. 89 
 
 of your life, see light upon your onward way. 
 " By his light I walked through darkness." 
 
 ' Bend not thy light-desiring eyes below ; 
 
 There thy own shadow waits upon thee ever ; 
 But raise thy looks to Heaven, — and lo ! 
 
 The shadeless sun rewards thy weak endeavor. 
 Who sees the dark, is dark ; but turn towards the light, 
 And thou becornest like that which fills thy sight." 
 
 " We all, with open face, beholding, as in 
 a glass, the glory of the Lord, are changed 
 into the same image from glory to glory, even 
 as by the Spirit of the Lord." 
 8* 
 
ioitrq in tjiB Mtornra. 
 
 u And when the people had come into the wood, behold the honey 
 dropped. . . . Wherefore he put forth the end of the rod that was In 
 his hand, and dipped it in an honey-comb, and put his hand to his 
 mouth ; and his eyes were enlightened."—! Sam. xiv. 26, 27. 
 
 The Word of God is rich with the most 
 beautiful and instructive similitude. We are 
 aware there is a limit to its use, and that if 
 that limit be overstepped, we may quit the 
 field of a sober reality, for the uncertain and 
 unsafe path of imagination. Yet, on the 
 other hand, since God has " used similitudes 
 by the ministry of the prophets," it were folly, 
 nay, it were sin to disregard them altogether 
 as useless aids in illustrating and elucidating 
 divine truth. 
 
 The army of the Lord was now faint and 
 weary in the conflict. Saul had rashly en- 
 joined that no individual should taste of food 
 until the battle had been fought. Ignorant 
 
HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 91 
 
 of the royal command, Jonathan, on coming 
 to a certain wood, and beholding honey drop- 
 ping upon the ground, in a moment of ex- 
 haustion, put forth the end of his rod, dipped 
 it in the honey-comb and partook of it ; " and 
 his eyes were enlightened.'' Now each par- 
 ticular here is suggestive of some spiritual 
 truth. 
 
 Firstly : the Lord's people are often weary 
 . nd faint in their spiritual conflicts. It is no 
 ideal picture of the Christian life w T hen the 
 Word of God represents it in the character of 
 a warfare — it is a solemn and serious truth. 
 To the tactics of this warfare we do not now 
 refer ; ourremarks bear particularly upon that 
 peculiar state which the conflict produces — 
 weariness and exhaustion. It may be in- 
 structive to trace this condition to some of its 
 causes. Amongst these may be stated, the 
 nature and the number of his spiritual foes. 
 It may be at the risk of damping the ardor 
 of a young recruit, that we give prominence 
 to this idea, nevertheless, ignorance of our 
 enemies, their strength and variety, has often 
 
92 HOXEY IN THE WILDEBKESB, 
 
 led to disastrous consequences. The very 
 field upon which the battle is fought is one of 
 sore temptation. What is the world to the 
 believer, but one of his greatest snares ? Is 
 there in it anything that sympathizes with 
 the Christian character ? Anything in its 
 pursuits, its pleasures, its policy, which ad- 
 vances in his soul the divine life? Can he in 
 his weakness extract from it strength ? Can 
 he in his trials derive from it comfort ? Can 
 he in his difficulties ask from it aid? Quite 
 the reverse. Yes, the very battle-field is one 
 of severe temptation* to the Christian warrior. 
 We can only compare his position to an armed 
 force going out to war, and startled at every 
 turn by some wild beast rushing from its lair, 
 or perilled by some pitfall lying concealed at 
 every step. This is no over-wrought picture 
 of the world through which the saints are 
 passing. Things that are lawful, are snares. 
 Things, too, that wear the most innocent and 
 innocuous form, often conceal the greatest 
 danger. Yet how little are we broad awake 
 to this. Why does the apostle so frequently 
 
HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 93 
 
 and so earnestly warn the Church of (rod 
 against the world ? Because he knew it to 
 be one of his most subtle and most dansrerous 
 foes. I believe the day is coming — hasten, 
 Lord, its arrival ! — when God will so pour out 
 his Spirit upon his church, that it will be 
 considered then as glaring an inconsistency 
 for a Christian man to become a partner in 
 business with a worldly man, as it is now to 
 form an alliance still closer and more sacred 
 with one who is not a follower of the Lord 
 Jesus. " Know ye not, that the friendship of 
 the world is enmity with God ? Whosoever 
 therefore will be a friend of the world is the 
 enemy of God." " Wherefore come out from 
 among them, and be ye separate, saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 And what shall we say of his great, unseen, 
 but not less dangerous enemy — the devil? 
 Satan has a more accurate knowledge of us 
 than we have of ourselves. He studies us as 
 we study a book. Without ascribing: to him 
 divine attributes, there is a kind of ubiquity 
 belonging to him which renders him a most 
 
94 HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 formidable, because an ever-present foe. Nor 
 do we think that it is id things decidedly evil 
 that Satan proves most successful with the 
 child of Grod. It is oftener in things which 
 wear the appearance and the semblance of 
 good. It is Satan robed as " an angel of 
 light," not Satan appearing as a fiend of 
 darkness, that we have most to dread. Hence 
 we have reason to beware of the many spe- 
 cious, but false religions of the day. 
 
 And when with the world and the devil, he 
 numbers among his spiritual foes, the cor- 
 ruptions of his fallen nature, the subtilty 
 and deep depravity of his own heart ; is it 
 marvellous that the believer should often be 
 dispirited in the spiritual conflict? " Cast 
 down, but not destroyed." 
 
 The defeats too which he is constantly sus- 
 taining — the cutting off of supplies upon 
 which he depended — the seeming withdraw- 
 ment of the Captain of his salvation, as if 
 indifferent to the conflict — the rusting of his 
 armor — the defection in the camp of some, 
 the desertion from the ranks of others, and 
 
HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. VO 
 
 the falls upon the battle-field of yet more, 
 often deeply discourage the Christian soldier. 
 His heart sickens, his spirits droop, his courage 
 fails, and he lays him down upon his shield, 
 as if to die. 
 
 But there is htfney in the desert for the 
 Christian soldier, ;i faint yet pursuing.*' There 
 is appropriate refreshment for the weariness 
 and exhaustion of the conflict. The Israelites 
 had been sore pressed by the Philistines. 
 They had fought hard all that day. The rash 
 injunction of their royal leader, had greatly 
 aggravated their suffering. They were for- 
 bidden to partake of any nourishment until 
 the evening. Exhausted and faint, weary 
 and discouraged, they light upon a spot in the 
 forest where honev fell, luxuriant and inviting, 
 upon the ground. It met the case of the 
 king's son. He partook of it, and his droop- 
 ing spirit revived within him. The Lord of 
 hosts, the Captain of our salvation, has a 
 kind and considerate regard for his weary and 
 discouraged soldiers. They are fighting in 
 his cause — they are battling for his truth — 
 
96 HONEY EH" THE WILDEKjSTESS. 
 
 they have come to his help against the mighty, 
 and in the hour when their strength fails, and 
 their spirits droop, and their hearts faint, he 
 will guide them to the spot in the desert, 
 where the honey — the nourishment of his pro- 
 viding — is found, and of \fchich they may eat 
 abundantly. 
 
 The similitude is one of frequent occurrence 
 in the Bible. When God would describe the 
 richness of Palestine, he speaks of it as a 
 "land flowing with milk and honey" This, 
 too, would appear to have been a provision 
 especially made by him for the nourishment 
 of his church in the wilderness. Moses says 
 that the Lord made his people to "suck honey 
 out of the rock, and oil out of the flinty 
 rock." It is quite clear, then, that we may 
 regard this species of food as the symbol of 
 great spiritual blessings. The sources from 
 whence the Christian's nourishment is derived 
 are various. "We should be grateful to God 
 that he has not limited us to one secondary 
 source of spiritual nourishment. It was 
 proper, it was wise and gracious in God that 
 
HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS; 97 
 
 tliere should be but one Plant of Renown, 
 but one Ptose of Sharon, but one Lily of the 
 Valley, but one Living Vine ; in other words, 
 that there should be but one Saviour and Re- 
 deemer, but one Head and Reservoir of the 
 church. But there are offshoots from this 
 divine plant ; there are streams issuing from 
 this sacred fountain-head, from each of which 
 the believer in his weariness and sorrowing 
 may, by faith, extract the nourishment that 
 strengthens and revives him. I would repeat 
 it, — be grateful to God for this. Suppose his 
 people were shut up to but one mean of grace 
 — that mean the Gospel ministry; and sup- 
 pose he were to assign your lot where no such 
 channel were accessible, — how would it fare 
 with your soul ? But it is not so. Let his 
 Providence guide you to the farthest spot on 
 the earth, — the desert, the forest, the prairie, 
 — where no ministry of reconciliation pro- 
 claims the unsearchable riches of Christ, yet, 
 even there, he can guide you to the spot 
 where falls the honey, abundant as his own 
 affluence, and free as his own grace can make 
 
 
98 HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 it. Such, believer, may be your present con- 
 dition. The seclusion of a sick chamber, the 
 solitude of the house of mourning, the depri- 
 vation in other ways of the wonted means of 
 grace, may be to you like an exile from the 
 land of milk and honey ; but the Lord has 
 his heart upon you still, and " he doth devise 
 means, that his banished be not expelled from 
 him." There is honey for you in the wood. 
 
 What is the Word of God but this honey ? 
 David's experience shall testify. " How-sweet 
 are thy words unto my taste ! Yea, sweeter 
 than honey to my mouth !" And from whence 
 does this honey fall, but from the heart of 
 God ? What is the word of God ? It is ih.Q 
 unfolding of the heart of God. His mind 
 conveys the word, but his heart dictates the 
 word. Take the promises ; how " exceeding 
 great and precious" they are. Have you not 
 often found them sweet to your taste as the 
 honey and. the honey-comb ? When some 
 portion of the word suited to your present 
 need has been brought home to your heart by 
 the sealing power of the Holy Ghost, how 
 
HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 99 
 
 have all other sweets become bitter to your 
 taste compared with this. Your Heavenly 
 Father saw your grief, your divine Captain 
 beheld your conflict and your exhaustion, and 
 bade his Spirit go and drop that sweet promise 
 into your sad heart, and you found the en- 
 trance of Grod's word gave light and comfort 
 to your sad and gloomy spirit. 
 
 The love of God in Christ ! it is sweeter 
 than honey ! The love that gave Christ — 
 that chose us in Christ — that hath blessed us 
 in Christ — that gives us standing in Christ ; 
 surely it passeth all knowledge. To see it 
 travelling over all the opposition of our unbe- 
 lieving minds, and the corruption of our de- 
 praved hearts, and meeting us at some pecu- 
 liar stage of our journey, in some painful 
 crisis of our history, in some bitter lonely 
 trial through which we are passing, how does 
 this exalt our views of its greatness, and 
 bring us into the experience of its sweetness. 
 Such, too, is the love of the Spirit. His love 
 as tasted in his calling — in his comforting — 
 n his sanctifying — in his witnessing, and in 
 
100 HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 all his effectual and unwearied teaching, 
 " G-od is love" — and on this truth — sweet in 
 our present experience — we shall be living 
 through eternity : " If so be we have tasted 
 that the Lord is gracious." 
 
 But let us not overlook the honey -comb — 
 the depository of this spiritual nourishment. 
 " It pleased the Father that in Jesus should 
 all fulness dwell." If the grace that flows 
 from Jesus is sweet, Jesus himself is sweeter 
 still. Let us not, then, be satisfied with 
 the fulness of Christ ; but let us live on 
 the person of Christ : " He that eateth of my 
 flesh, and drinketh of my blood, dwelleth in 
 me, and I in him." I fear we have too little 
 contact with Christ himself. We do not suf- 
 ficiently make him our personal friend — walk- 
 ing with him, talking with him, confiding in 
 him as we would with the dearest personal 
 friend of our hearts. And yet this is our 
 high and precious privilege. " This is my 
 Friend," should be the language of every 
 believer, as he points to, and leans upon, 
 Christ. 
 
HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 101 
 
 The place where this . honey — the symbol 
 of such spiritual blessing — was found, was 
 the "wood." Beloved, the covenant of grace, 
 the fulness that is in Christ, is not for heaven, 
 but for earth. It is not for the church 
 triumphant, but for the church militant — the 
 church in her warfare. Here it is the battle 
 is fought, and the conflict is passing, and the 
 enemy assails, and the wound is inflicted, 
 and the heart faints, and the spirit is dis- 
 couraged, and the soul is weary. This honey 
 of God's providing is for the season of sorrow 
 and seclusion, for the want and weariness, 
 the entanglement and loneliness of the forest. 
 Then, refuse it not, child of sorrow ! 
 Stretch forth your rod of faith, and gather of 
 it abundantly. "Eat, friends," is your 
 Lord's invitation. Drink deeply of your 
 Father's love — draw largely from Christ's 
 fulness — confide implicitly in God's word — 
 invoke believingly the Spirit's help. All is for 
 you. God is the God of the tried — Jesus is 
 the Saviour of the tried — the Spirit is the 
 Comforter of the tried — the Bible, with all its 
 
102 HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 consolations and its hopes, is the Book of the 
 tried. Eat of this honey, and your spirit 
 shall be revived. Your eyes will be opened 
 to see new depths of love in Gfod, new cham- 
 bers of repose in Christ, new promises of 
 sweetness in the Word, and new unfold ings 
 of wisdom, truth, and goodness in the present 
 conduct of him whose dealings may be veiled 
 in painful mystery, but who will never forget 
 to lead his valiant yet exhausted soldier to 
 the honey in the wood. 
 
 Nor let us overlook the mingling of the bit- 
 ter and the sweet in the Lord's dealings with 
 us here. Like the Apocalyptic book eaten by 
 John, which was in his " mouth sweet as 
 honey : and as soon as he had eaten, was bit- 
 ter ;" so are often blended the varied dispen- 
 sations of our Grod. It is a most wise and 
 gracious arrangement. All bitter would have 
 dispirited ; all sweet would have cloyed. The 
 one would have created despondency, and tho 
 other, loathing. Thus, our sorrows and our 
 joys, our trials and our succorings, our defeats 
 and our victories, are strangely, wisely, and 
 
HONEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 103 
 
 kindly blended in this the ;i time of our so- 
 journing/' 
 
 Be skilful and diligent to extract this honey 
 from every, the bitterest flower. that Grod 
 may make us wise to do this. The sweetest 
 apprehensions of Christ have often been in the 
 bitterest dispensations of God's providence. 
 The stone that was rolled upon the tomb of 
 Christ was heavy : but Christ was beneath it. 
 There may be a stone of difficulty in the way 
 of our mercies, but faith rolling it away, that 
 very difficulty will be found to have brought 
 us to a living Christ full of sweet grace and 
 truth. And let us remember, too, that it is 
 along the path of filial and unreserved obedi- 
 ence that this honey is most thickly strewed. 
 " that my people had hearkened unto me, 
 and Israel had walked in my ways !" "What 
 would have been their reward ? " He should 
 have fed them also with the finest of the 
 wheat : and with honey out of the rock should 
 have satisfied them." 
 
 Beware of being so surfeited with the 
 world, with earthly care and carnal enjoy- 
 
104: HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 ment as to loathe this honey. " The full soul 
 loathed the honey -comb." Israel loathed the 
 manna. Learn one reason why Grod has 
 placed you just where you are — even to 
 create in your soul a zest and a taste for this 
 honey. He will embitter the world's sweets, 
 when they embitter his. But Jesus can make 
 the world's bitter, sweet, and the creature's 
 sweet,, sweeter. Receive all as from Christ, 
 
 )and enjoy all as in Christ, and then shall Christ 
 
 I be to you all and in all. 
 
 Soon we shall be in glory, soon we shall es- 
 cape from the world, and enter the paradise of 
 God. There the boughs are laden, and drop 
 with honey that never wastes, and that never 
 cloys. The weary pilgrim and the veteran 
 warrior shall repose by the side of the rock 
 from whence flowed this precious food all 
 through the desert, partaking of its fulness, 
 lasting as eternity. You who have tasted the 
 honey in the wilderness, shall assuredly par* 
 take of it in your Father's house. 
 
 " Spent with the toil of wasting war, 
 His hosts, with him, compelled to fast, 
 
HOXEY IN THE WILDERNESS. 105 
 
 The longing chief of Israel saw 
 
 Where nature furnished wild repast. 
 
 ■ The aged terebinth had shed 
 
 Its pure and luscious treasure round ; 
 And the rich feast lay duly spread, 
 Free as the winds along the ground 
 
 " For there, upon the tangled grass, 
 
 Dropt the sweet burden of that hive ; 
 Yet, till the dial's shade should pass, 
 Xo Hebrew might partake and live. 
 
 ■ The monarch's son, the empire's heir, 
 
 The leader in the conflict's van, 
 The victor — say, what was he there? 
 A weary, worn and famished man ! 
 
 " He took and eat — no more oppressed, 
 
 From eyes, enlightened, flashed his joy I 
 fainting soul ! be thou as blest 
 
 With drops of grace, that never cloy. 
 
 "And praise Him who leads sons of care, 
 Pursued by sin and sore distress — 
 From famine and from flight, to where 
 There's honev in the wilderness."* 
 
 * William B. Tappan. 
 
€\}t #iiMt{ iBitora rnniiMiig in tjjt 
 Atom's #nl 
 
 " Let thy widows trust in me." — Jerem. xlix. 11. 
 
 It is well! All that he does, who speaks 
 these touching words, is well. It is well with 
 you, for he who gave in love, in love has taken 
 away the mercy that he gave. The companion 
 of your youth, the friend of your bosom, the 
 treasure of your heart, the staff of your riper 
 and the solace of your declining years, is re- 
 moved, but since Grod has done it — it is, it 
 must be well. Look now above the circum- 
 stances of your deep and dark sorrow, the 
 second causes of your bereavement, the proba- 
 ble consequences of your loss, — Grod has done 
 it ; and that very Grod who has smitten, who 
 has bereaved, and who has removed your all 
 of earthly good, now invites you to trust in 
 Mm. Chance has not brought you into this 
 
THE WIDOWS GOD. 107 
 
 state ; accident has not bereft you of your 
 treasure ; God has made you a widow, that 
 you may confide in the widow's God. 
 
 With your peculiar case the word of God in 
 a pre-eminent degree sympathizes. It would 
 seem, indeed, as if a widow's sorrow arid a 
 widow's desolateness took the precedence of 
 all other bereavements in the Bible. It is 
 touched with a hand so gentle, it is referred to 
 with a tenderness so exquisite, it is quoted 
 with a solemnity so profound, it would seem 
 as if God had taken the widow's sorrow, if I 
 may so express myself, into his heart of hearts. 
 " Ye shall not afflict any widow" — " He doth 
 execute the judgment of the widow? — " The 
 sheaf in the field shall be for the widow? — 
 "He felieveth the widow? — "He will estab- 
 lish the border of the widow? — " A judge of 
 the widow is God," — " Plead for the widow? — 
 " If ye oppress not the widow? — " Pure reli- 
 gion and undefiled before God and the Father 
 is this, to visit the widows in their affliction," 
 — "Let your widows trust in me." What a 
 cluster of divine and precious consolations for 
 
108 THE GODLY WIDOW CONFIDING 
 
 the widow is here ! How do their extraordi- 
 nary appropriateness to her case, their extreme 
 delicacy in dealing with her position, their es- 
 pecial regard for her circumstances ; above all, 
 their perfect sympathy with her lonely sorrow, 
 betray the heart from whence they flow ! 
 
 And who is the object of the widow's 
 trust? " In me," says God. None less than 
 himself can meet your case. He well con- 
 siders that there is an acuteness in your sor- 
 row, a depth in your loss, a loneliness and a 
 helplessness in your position, which no one 
 can meet but himself. The first, the best, 
 the fondest, the most protective of creatures 
 has been torn from your heart, is smitten 
 down at your side ; what other creature could 
 now be a substitute ? A universe of beings 
 could not fill the void : God in Christ only 
 can. ! wonderful thought, that the Divine 
 Being should come and embosom himself in 
 the bereft and bleeding heart of a human 
 sufferer — that bereft and bleeding heart of 
 yours. He is especially the God of the 
 widow. And when he asks your confidence; 
 
IN THE WIDOWS GOD. 109 
 
 and invites your trust, and bids you lift your 
 weeping eye from the crumbled idol at your 
 feet, and fix it upon himself, he offers you an 
 infinite substitute for a finite loss ; thus, as he 
 ever does, giving you infinitely more than he 
 took ; bestowing a richer and a greater bless- 
 ing than he removed. He recalled your 
 husband, but he bestows himself. And 0, 
 the magnitude of this trust ! It is to have 
 infinite power to protect you, infinite wisdom 
 to guide you, infinite love to comfort you, in- 
 finite faithfulness at all times to stand by 
 you, and boundless resources to supply your 
 every need. It is to have the God who made 
 heaven and earth, the God to whom the 
 spirits of all creatures are subject, the God 
 who gave his dear Son to die for you, the 
 God of the everlasting covenant to be your 
 shield, your counsellor, your provider, your 
 God forever and ever, and your guide even 
 unto defath. 
 
 And what are you invited thus to entrust 
 to God ? First, your own self. It is one of 
 the greatest, as it is one of the most solemn 
 10 
 
110 THE GODLY WIDOW CONFIDING 
 
 peculiarities of the Gospel, that it deals with 
 us as individuals. It never, in all the com- 
 mands it enjoins, and in all the blessings it 
 promises, loses sight of our individuality. 
 This, then, is a personal confiding. You are 
 to trust yourself into God's hands ; God 
 seems now to stand to you in a new relation. 
 He has always been your Father and your 
 Friend. To these he now adds the relation of 
 Husband. Your present circumstances seem to 
 invest you with a new claim, not upon his love 
 — for he has always loved you, as he loves you 
 now — but upon his especial, his peculiar, his 
 tender care ; the affectionate solicitude of the 
 husband blending with the tender love of the 
 father. You are to flee to him in your help- 
 lessness, to resort to him in your loneliness, to 
 confide to him your wants, and to weep your 
 sorrows upon his bosom. Secondly, your 
 children. " Leave your fatherless children ; I 
 will preserve them alive." A state of half- 
 orphanage is one of peculiar interest to God. 
 A fatherless child is an object of his especial 
 regard and care. "Thou art the helper of 
 
IN THE WIDOW'S GOD. Ill 
 
 the fatherless ," — " A father of the fatherless 
 is God," — " Enter not into the field of the 
 fatherless ; for their Redeemer is mighty, he 
 will plead their cause with thee." En- 
 couraged by this invitation and this promise, 
 take, then, your fatherless ones, and lay them 
 on the heart of God. He has removed their 
 earthly father, that he may adopt them as his 
 own. His promise that he will " preserve 
 them alive," you are warranted to interpret 
 in its best and widest sense. It must be re- 
 garded as including, not temporal life only, 
 but also spiritual life. God never offers us 
 an inferior blessing, when it is in his power 
 to confer, and our circumstances demand, a 
 greater. He will preserve your fatherless 
 ones alive temporarily, providing all things 
 necessary for their present existence ; but, 
 infinitely more than this, he will, in answer 
 to the prayer of faith, preserve their souls 
 unto eternal life. Thus it is a promise of the 
 life that now is, and also of that which is to 
 come. Thirdly, your concerns are to be en- 
 trusted to God. These, doubtless, press at 
 
112 THE GODLY WIDOW CONFIDING 
 
 this moment with peculiar weight upon your 
 mind. They are new and strange. They 
 were once cared for by one in whose judgment 
 you had implicit confidence, whose mind 
 thought for you, whose heart beat for you, 
 whose hands toiled for you, who in all things 
 sought to anticipate every wish, to reciprocate 
 every feeling; 'who lessened his cares by 
 your sympathy, and multiplied his pleasures 
 by your participation ;' whose esteem, and 
 affection, and confidence, shed a warm and 
 mellow light over the path of life. These 
 interests, once confided to his judgment and 
 control, must now be entrusted to a wiser and 
 more powerful friend, — to him who is truly 
 and emphatically the widow's God. Trans- 
 ferred to his government, he will make them 
 all his own. Your care will be his cares ; 
 your concerns will be his concern ; your chil- 
 dren will be his children ; your need the occa- 
 sion of his supply ; and your fears, perils, and 
 dejection, the period of his soothing, protec- 
 tion, and love. And just at this period of 
 your life, when every object and every scene 
 
IK THE WIDOW'S GOD. 113 
 
 appears to your view trembling with uncer- 
 tainty and enshrouded with gloom, God — the 
 widow's God — speaks in language well calcu- 
 lated to awaken in your soul a song in the 
 night, — "Let thy widows trust in me." 0! 
 have faith, then, in this word of the living 
 God, and all will be well with you. It will 
 be well with your person, it will be well with 
 your children, it will be well with your 
 estate. The God who cared for the widow of 
 Zarephath, the Saviour who had compassion 
 on the bereaved widow of Nain, is your God 
 and Saviour ; and the same regard for your 
 interests, and the same sympathy for your 
 sorrow, will lighten your cares and cheer the 
 desolateness of your widowhood. Only trust 
 in God. Beware of murmuring at his deal- 
 ings, of doubting his kindness, of distrusting 
 his word, and of so nursing your grief as to 
 refuse the consolation your God and Saviour 
 proffers you. The sweetest joy may yet 
 spring from your bitter, lonely sorrow; and 
 the richest music may yet awake from your 
 unstrung and silent harp. If a human power 
 10* 
 
114: THE GODLY WIDOW CONFIDING 
 
 and sympathy could " make the widow's 
 heart to sing for joy," ! what joy cannot 
 God's power and love create in that desolate, 
 bleeding, widowed heart of thine. Place it, 
 then, all stricken and lonely as it is, in God's 
 hands ; and, breathing over it his loving Spirit, 
 he will turn its tears, its sighs, its moanings, 
 into the sweetest midnight harmony. 
 
 "Long have I viewed, long have I thought, 
 And held with trembling hand this bitter draught ; 
 'Twas now first to my lips applied ; 
 Nature shrank in, and all my courage died. 
 But now resolved and firm I'll be, 
 Since, Lord, 'tis mingled and reached out by thee. 
 
 " Since 'tis thy sentence I should part 
 With the most precious treasure of my heart, 
 I freely that and more resign ; 
 My heart itself, as its delight is thine. 
 My little all I give to thee — 
 Thou gavest a greater gift, thy Son, to me. 
 
 " He left true bliss and joys above, 
 Himself he emptied of all good but love ; 
 For me he freely did forsake 
 More good than he from me can take, 
 A mortal life for a divine 
 He took, and did at last even that resign. 
 
 "Take all, great God ! I will not grieve ; 
 But still will wish that I had still to give. 
 
IN THE WIDOW'S GOD. 115 
 
 I hear thy voice ; thou bidd'st me quit 
 
 My paradise ; I bless, and do submit ; 
 
 I will not murmur at thy word, 
 
 Nor beg thy angel to sheathe up his sword' 
 
looking irntn §*sas. 
 
 " Looking unto Jesus." — Heb. xii. 2. 
 
 It was no little kindness in our God that as 
 one saving object, and one alone, was to en- 
 gage the attention and fix the eye of the soul, 
 through time and through eternity, that object 
 should be of surpassing excellence and of peer- 
 less beauty. That he should be, not the sweet- 
 est seraph nor the loveliest angel in heaven, 
 but his own Son, the " brightness of his glory, 
 the express image of his person." God delights 
 in the beautiful ; all true beauty emanates 
 from him. What a beautiful picture was this 
 world as it rose from beneath his pencil ! What 
 a magnificent piece of sculpture was man, as 
 he came forth from his hands. And despite 
 of the withering blight which has fallen upon 
 all that was once so perfect, how much beauty 
 still lingers around the works and creatures of 
 
LOOKING- UNTO JESUS. 117 
 
 Grod. "He hath made all things beautiful. " 
 To recur to the thought just advanced, how 
 worthy of himself that, in providing a Saviour 
 for fallen man, bidding him fix the eye of 
 faith supremely and exclusively upon him, 
 that Saviour should unite in himself all divine 
 and all human beauty ; that he should be the 
 "chiefest among ten thousand, the altogether 
 lovely/' Adore the name, ! praise the love 
 of our Grod, for this. To this peerless object, 
 to this glorious Saviour, then, we are now in- 
 vited to look. And in " looking unto Jesus," 
 let it be remembered that it is not exclusive 
 of the Father, nor of the Holy Spirit. In 
 looking unto Jesus for salvation, we include 
 each Divine Person of the glorious Trinity. 
 "We cannot look unto Jesus without seeing the 
 Father, for Christ is the revelation of the 
 Father. " He that hath seen me," says Christ, 
 "hath seen the Father." Nor can we con- 
 template Jesus exclusive of the Holy Spirit, 
 because it is the Spirit alone who imparts 
 the spiritual eye that sees Jesus. Thus, in 
 the believing and saving view a poor sinner 
 
118 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 has of Jesus, he beholds, in the object of his 
 sight, a revelation of each separate Person of 
 the ever-blessed Trinity, engaged in devising 
 and accomplishing his eternal salvation. O ! 
 what a display of infinite love and wisdom is 
 here, that in our salvation one object should 
 arrest the eye, and that that object should em- 
 body an equal revelation of the Father, who 
 gave Jesus, and of the Holy Spirit of truth, 
 who leads to Jesus, and that that object should 
 be the loveliest being in the universe. Look- 
 ing unto Jesus ! most refreshing and sweet 
 are these words ! What an embodiment of 
 truth ! How simple, yet how grand ! How 
 brief, yet how expressive ! They involve the 
 following points : — " Looking unto Jesus," 
 from everything; " Looking unto Jesus," in 
 everything; " Looking unto Jesus," for ev- 
 erything. 
 
 Eirst, " Looking unto Jesus," from every- 
 thing. The eye cannot properly contemplate 
 two 'different objects with equal simplicity and 
 distinctness at the same moment. It is equally 
 contrary to the philosophy of mind, that it can 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 119 
 
 give its supreme study to more than one sub- 
 ject at a time. This will hold good in mat- 
 ters of faith. The object of faith is one, the 
 trust of faith is one, the giver of faith is one, 
 — " looking unto Jesus.''' Now a true spiritual 
 beholding of the Lord Jesus in the great mat- 
 ter of our eternal salvation, requires that we 
 look from every other object that would divide 
 our attention, to him alone. We must look 
 from ourselves. This is, perhaps, the most 
 common and insidious object that comes be- 
 tween the eye of the soul and Jesus. When 
 God was ejected from the heart of man, self 
 vaulted into the vacant throne, and has ever 
 since maintained a supremacy. It assumed 
 two forms, from both of which we are to look 
 in looking savingly to Jesus. We must look 
 from righteous self; from all works of right- 
 eousness which we can perform, from our 
 almsgivings, from our charities, from our re- 
 ligious observances, our fastings, and prayers, 
 and sacraments ; from all the works of the 
 law by which we are seeking to be justified ; 
 from all our efforts to make ourselves better, 
 
120 LOOKING- UNTO JESUS. 
 
 and thus to do something to commend our- 
 selves to the Divine notice, and to propitiate 
 the Divine regard ; from all this we must 
 look, if we rightly look unto Jesus to be 
 saved by his righteousness, and by his alone. 
 The noble language of the Apostle must find 
 an echo in our hearts : — " "What things were 
 gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. 
 Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss 
 for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus my Lord : for whom I have suffered the 
 loss of all things, and do count them but dung 
 that I may win Christ, and be found in him, 
 not having mine own righteousness, which is of 
 the law, but that which is through the faith 
 of Christ, the righteousness which is of Grod 
 by faith." We must equally, too, look unto 
 Jesus from unrighteous self. Our sins and 
 transgressions and iniquities, — red as crimson, 
 countless as the sands, and towering as the 
 Alps, — are not for one moment to intercept or 
 obscure our looking unto Jesus for salvation. 
 Jesus is a Saviour, as his precious name sig- 
 nifies. As such, he came to save us from our 
 
LOOKING- XffiTG JESUS. 121 
 
 sins, be those sins never so great for magni- 
 tude, or infinite for number. It is impossible 
 that we can look unto Jesus, and feel the joy 
 of his salvation flowing into our hearts, while 
 at the same time, we are looking at the num- 
 ber and the turpitude of our sins. "We must 
 not look at the sin and at the Saviour at the 
 same time ; but beholding by faith him who 
 "bore our sins in his own body on the tree," 
 who was "made a sin-offering for us," who 
 was "w r ounded for our transgressions, and was 
 bruised for our iniquities," who shed his pre- 
 cious blood that the guiltiest may be cleansed, 
 and the vilest saved, and between whom and 
 the penitent sinner, though he were another 
 Manasseh, another Saul of Tarsus, another 
 dying malefactor, no transgression and no 
 crime can interpose an effectual barrier, w T e 
 shall see the exceeding greatness and sinful- 
 ness of sin in a clearer, and more searching 
 and solemn light, than we possibly could view- 
 ing it apart from the cross. Look unto Jesus, 
 then, from your sins; their magnitude and 
 their number interpose no difficulty, and form 
 11 
 
122 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 no real discouragement to your immediate ap- 
 proach to Christ. No argument based upon 
 your unworthiness can avail to exclude you 
 from an interest iu his great salvation. He 
 came into the world to save sinners, even the 
 chief. All that he did, and all that he said, and 
 all that he suffered, was for sinners. It is his 
 work, it is his joy, it is his glory to save sin- 
 ners. For this lie exchanged heaven for earth, 
 relinquished the bosom of his Father for the 
 embrace of the cross. He was never known 
 to reject a poor sinner that came to him; he 
 has never refused to take within. his sheltering 
 side, to hide within his bleeding bosom, the 
 penitent that sought its protection, fleeing from 
 the condemnation of the law to the asylum of 
 the cross. " Whoso cometh unto me I will in 
 no wise cast out." With such a declaration 
 as this, flowing from the lips of Jesus, who 
 can refuse to look from the greatness of his 
 own sin and guilt to the greatness of his love, 
 the greatness of his grace, the greatness of his 
 salvation, "who came into the world to save 
 sinners." 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 123 
 
 In " looking unto Jesus,'' we must also look 
 from churches, as from ourselves. Grod has 
 placed salvation for a lost sinner in no church 
 upon earth. He has ordained that salvation 
 should exist only in the Lord Jesus. To sub- 
 stitute, then, the church of God for the Christ 
 of (rod, faith in the church for faith in the 
 Saviour of the church, surely were a crime 
 of the deepest guilt, entailing consequences 
 the most dire. The church of God is herself 
 a fallen, sinful, and impotent body, She is 
 pardoned, justified, and accepted alone in her 
 one, divine and great Head ; and " there is no 
 other name given amongst men whereby they 
 may be saved," but the name of Jesus. He, 
 then, who is looking to any church, or to 
 church privileges for salvation, whatever the 
 name by which that church is called, what- 
 ever the power it claims, or the authority it 
 assumes, shall as assuredly perish in his vain 
 refuge as Joab perished when he fled from 
 the vengeance of the king, into the " taber- 
 nacle of the Lord, and caught hold of the 
 horns of the altar," but fell beneath its sacred 
 
124 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 shadow, weltering in his blood. Escape^ 
 then, from every other refuge, and flee to 
 Jesus, the true Sanctuary and the true Altar, 
 where safety and salvation alone are found. 
 
 Second, " Looking unto Jesus," in every- 
 thing. In the deep study of the holiness of 
 the law, and the strictness of divine justice, 
 what a suitable and glorious object for the 
 alarmed and trembling spirit to look upon is 
 he who came to honor that law and to satisfy 
 that justice. Are you agitated -by thoughts 
 of the Divine holiness, and your own im- 
 purity ? Do you tremble as you contemplate 
 God's determination to punish sin, by no 
 means clearing the guilty ? Look unto Jesus, 
 and let your trembling subside into the calm- 
 ness with which his whisper stills the tem- 
 pest. He has become " the end of the law 
 for righteousness," to all that believe. His 
 atonement, while it vindicates the majesty of 
 the Father's government, spreads its mighty 
 shield around the Father's child ; and thus 
 protected, neither the thunder of the law nor 
 the flaming sword of justice can reach him. 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 125 
 
 ! the blessedness of looking, by faith, ta 
 Jesus, from the wrath and the condemnation 
 justly due to our transgressions ; to see all 
 that wrath and condemnation borne by him 
 who wept and bled in the garden, who lan- 
 guished and died upon the tree ; to see Jesus, 
 with the keys of all authority and power sus- 
 pended from his girdle, closing up our hell, 
 and opening wide our heaven. In the season 
 of solitude and sorrow, Christian reader, when 
 thoughts of God's holiness mingle with views 
 of your sinfulness, and fears of Divine wrath 
 blend with the consciousness of your just 
 deserts, darkening that solitude and embitter- 
 ing that sorrow, ! turn and fix your be- 
 lieving eye upon the divine, the suffering, the 
 atoning Saviour, and peace, composure, and 
 joy will lull your trembling spirit to rest. 
 You are not sick, nor in solitude, nor in sor- 
 row, because there is wrath in God, for all 
 that wrath was borne by your Redeeming 
 Surety. You are so — ! that you could 
 believe it — because God is love. Divine 
 goodness sent the sickness, mingled the cup 
 11* 
 
126 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 of sorrow, and marked out your lonely path. 
 It must be, since Jesus so bore away the 
 curse and the sin, that Grod now brims the 
 cup he emptied with a love that passeth 
 knowledge. " My son, despise not the chas- 
 tening of the Lord, neither be thou weary of 
 his correction : for whom the Lord loveth, he 
 correcteth, even as a father the son in whom 
 he delighteth" Your heavenly Father loves 
 you, and delights in you ; therefore he chas- 
 tens and corrects you. 'Despise"* it not, then, 
 on the one hand ; and be not ' toear?/ of it on 
 the other. 
 
 In every position of life, our privilege is to 
 be " looking unto Jesus." (rod can place us 
 in no circumstances, be they humble or ex- 
 alted, in which we may not repair to Christ 
 for the wisdom and the strength, the grace 
 and the consolation, those circumstances de- 
 mand. It is our mercy to know that Grod 
 adapts himself to every position of his saints. 
 He knows that in times of prosperity, the 
 feet of his saints are apt to slide ; and that in 
 times of adversity, they are often pierced and 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 127 
 
 wounded. Thus, in the smooth path, as in 
 the rough, Jesus is to be the one object to 
 which the eye is raised, and upon which it 
 rests. If he exalts you, as he may do, to any 
 post of distinction and responsibility, look 
 unto Jesus, and study the self-annihilation 
 and lowliness of his whole life : and seek the 
 grace to sustain you in the position for which 
 your own powers are most inadequate. If he 
 lays you low, as in his dealings with his peo- 
 ple he often does, from the depth of your 
 humiliation let your eye look unto Jesus, who 
 reached a depth in his abasement infinitely 
 beneath your own; and who can descend to 
 your circumstances, and impart the grace 
 that will enable you so to adapt yourself to 
 them as to glorify him in them. Thus you 
 will know both how to abound, and how to 
 suffer need. 
 
 In each season of affliction, to whom can 
 we more appropriately look than to Jesus? 
 He was pre-eminently the man of sorrows 
 and acquainted with grief. If you would tell 
 your grief to one who knew grief as none 
 
128 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 .9 
 
 ever knew it ; if you would weep upon the 
 bosom of one who wept as none ever wept ; if 
 you would disclose your sorrow to one who 
 sorrowed as none ever sorrowed ; if you would 
 bare your wound to one who was wounded as 
 none ever was wounded ; then, in your afflic- 
 tion turn from all creature sympathy and 
 succor, and look to Jesus ; to a kinder nature, 
 to a tenderer bosom, to a deeper love, to a 
 more powerful arm, to a more sympathizing 
 friend, you could not take your trial, your 
 affliction, and your sorrow. He is prepared 
 to embosom himself in your deepest grief, 
 and to make your circumstances all his own. 
 So completely and personally is he one with 
 you, that nothing can affect you that does not 
 instantly touch him. Your temptations from 
 Satan, your persecutions from man, the 
 woundings of the saints, and the smitings of 
 the watchmen, all fall upon him. " The re- 
 proaches of them that reproached thee fell on 
 me. 5 ' Tender to him are you as the apple of 
 his eye. Your happiness, your reputation, 
 your usefulness, your labors, your necessities, 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 129 
 
 your discouragements, your despondencies, all 
 pass beneath his slumbering notice, and are 
 the objects of his tenderest love, and incessant 
 care. If Jesus, then, is willing to come and 
 make, as it were, his home in the very heart 
 of your sorrow, surely you will not hesitate in 
 repairing with your sorrow to his heart of love. 
 And when heart and flesh are fast failing, 
 and the trembling feet descend into the dark 
 valley of the shadow of death, to whom shall 
 we then look, but unto Jesus. The world is 
 now receding and all creatures are fading 
 upon the sight ; one object alone remains, 
 arrests and fixes the believer's eye, — it is 
 Jesus, the Saviour ; it is Immanuel, the In- 
 carnate and now present God ; it is the Cap- 
 tain of our salvation, the conqueror of death, 
 and the spoiler of the grave ; it is our friend, 
 our brother, our Joseph, our Joshua, loving 
 and faithful, and present to the last. Jesus 
 is there to confront death again, and vanquish 
 him with his own weapons. Jesus is there to 
 remind his departing one that the grave can 
 wear no gloom and can boast of no victory, 
 
130 LOOKING- UETTO JESUS. 
 
 since he himself passed through its portal, 
 rose and revived and lives for evermore. Sick 
 one ! in your languishing, look to Jesus ! 
 Departing one! in your death struggles, look 
 to Jesus ! Are you guilty ? Jesus is righteous. 
 Are you a sinner ? Jesus is a Saviour. Are you 
 fearful, and do you tremble? The Shepherd 
 of the flock is with you, and no one shall 
 pluck his sheep out of his hands. How fully, 
 how suitably does the gospel now meet your 
 case. In your bodily weakness and mental 
 confusion, two truths are, perhaps, all that 
 you can now dwell upon, — your sinfulness, 
 and Christ's redemption, your emptiness and 
 Christ's sufficiency. Enough! you need no 
 more. God requires no more. In your felt 
 weakness, in your conscious unworthiness, 
 midst the swelling of the cold waters, raise 
 your eye and fix it upon Jesus, and all will 
 be well. Hear you not the words of your 
 Saviour calling you from the bright world of 
 glory to which he bids you come, — " Arise, 
 my love, my fair one ! and come away." Let 
 your trusting, joyful heart respond, — 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 131 
 
 "Jesus ! my breath is failing ; lead me on 
 Softly and gently, as my strength can bear ; 
 Draw me to thee in closer union, 
 And for eternal life thy child prepare. 
 Let thy love shine upon my soul, and chase 
 This mistiness and darkness quite away, 
 Till faith discerns her holy resting-place 
 Distinctly, in the perfect light of day. 
 Roll me in snowy raiment; store my heart 
 With precious jewels from thy treasury. 
 This world is not my rest; let me depart, 
 And let my ransomed soul return to thee. 
 Well may I trust thee, who thyself hast given 
 To gain for me the peace and bliss of heaven." 
 
 Third, " Looking unto Jesus," for every- 
 thing. A few words must express all that we 
 would say upon this view of our subject. 
 God has but one Treasurer, and the Church 
 but one Treasury — the Lord Jesus. He has 
 deposited all fulness exclusively in Christ, 
 that we might, in all need, repair only to 
 Christ. " Looking unto Jesus," for our stand- 
 ing before God; "Looking unto Jesus," for 
 the grace that upholds and preserves us unto 
 eternal life; "Looking unto Jesus," for the 
 supply of the Spirit that sanctifies the heart, 
 and meets us for the heavenly glory; " Look- 
 ing unto Jesus," for each day's need, for each 
 
132 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 moment's support ; " Looking unto Jesus," for 
 the eye that sees him, the faith that beholds 
 the invisible ; in a word, " Looking unto 
 Jesus," for everything. Thus has Grod sim- 
 plified our life of faith in his dear Son. Sev- 
 ering us from all other sources, alluring us 
 away from all other dependencies, and wean- 
 ing us from all self-confidence, he would shut 
 us up to Christ alone, that Christ might be all 
 and in all. " They shall look upon him whom 
 they have pierced, and shall mourn." "Look 
 unto me, all ye ends of the earth, and be ye 
 saved, for I am God, and there is none else." 
 
 For the weakness of faith's eye remember 
 that Christ has suitably provided. His care 
 of, and his tenderness towards, those whose 
 grace is limited, whose experience is feeble, 
 whose knowledge is defective, whose faith is 
 small, are exquisite. He has promised to 
 " anoint the eye with eye-salve, that it may 
 see," and that it may see more clearly. Re- 
 pair to him, then, with your case, and seek 
 the fresh application of this divine unguent. 
 Be cautious of limiting the reality of your 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 133 
 
 sight to the nearness or distinctness of the 
 object. The most distant and dim view of 
 Jesus by faith, is as real and saving as if that 
 view were with the strength of an eagle's 
 eye. A well-known example in Jewish, his- 
 tory affords an apposite illustration : the 
 wounded Israelite was simply commanded to 
 look to the brazen serpent. Nothing was said 
 of the clearness of his vision or the distinct- 
 ness of his view ; no exception was made to 
 the dimness of his sight. His eye might pos- 
 sibly be blurred, the phantoms of a diseased 
 imagination might float before it, intercepting 
 his view ; nay, more, it might already be 
 glazing and fixing in death! Yet, even under 
 these circumstances, and at that moment, if 
 he but obeyed the divine command, and looked 
 towards, simply towards^ the elevated serpent, 
 distant and beclouded as it was, he was im- 
 mediately and effectually healed. Thus is it 
 with the operation of faith. Let your eye, in 
 obedience to the gospel's command, be but 
 simply raised and fastened upon Jesus, far 
 removed as may be the glorious object, and 
 12 • 
 
134 LOOKING UKTO JESUS. 
 
 dim as may be the blessed vision, yet thus 
 ' looking unto Jesus' you shall be fully and 
 eternally saved. And soon — ! how soon — 
 we shall see him unveiled, unclouded in glory. 
 Until then, let us run the race set before us ; 
 looking unto Jesus as the goal, which we soon 
 shall reach, and as the prize which we shall 
 forever possess. 
 
 " Soon, and forever, 
 
 The breaking of day 
 Shall drive all the night-clouds 
 Of sorrow away. 
 
 " Soon, and forever, 
 
 We'll see as we're seen, 
 
 And learn the deep meaning 
 
 Of things that have been. 
 
 " When fightings without us, 
 And fears from within, 
 Shall weary no more 
 In the warfare of sin. 
 
 44 Where tears and where fears, 
 
 And where death shall be — never. 
 Christians with Christ shall be 
 Soon, and forever. 
 
 " Soon, and forever, 
 
 The work shall be done, 
 The warfare accomplished, 
 The victory won. 
 
LOOKING UXTO JESUS. 135 
 
 " Soon, and forever, 
 
 The soldier lay down 
 His sword for a harp. 
 
 And his cross for a crown. 
 
 " Then droop not in sorrow, 
 Despond not in fear, 
 A glorious to-morrow 
 Is brightening and near ; 
 
 "^hen, — blessed reward 
 
 Of each faithful endeavor—" 
 Christians with Christ shall be 
 Soon, and forever" 
 
STwraing upon tjje iMattrtr. 
 
 tt Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon 
 her Beloved?" — Sono of Solomon, viii. 5. 
 
 The path of the believer is an ascent, from 
 a dark path and desolate world under the do- 
 minion of sin and Satan, to a bright and glori- 
 ous world, where Grod and holiness supremely 
 and eternally reign. The first step which he 
 takes in this heavenly journey is out of the 
 wilderness of a wrecked and ruined nature, 
 into the glories of a nature new and divine. 
 Until this be uone, there cannot possibly be 
 any right direction or real progress of the soul 
 towards heaven. Years may be exhausted in 
 the rigid performance of religious duties — sac- 
 raments, fasts, charities, pilgrimages — but 
 they count with Grod for nothing; they but fet- 
 ter and impede, rather than free and propel the 
 spirit in its holy and heavenly course. All these 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 137 
 
 self-endeavors must cease ; all these human 
 doings must be abandoned. Conversion, the 
 conversion of which Jesus spake to Tsicodemus, 
 is the severance of the sinner from himself, his 
 divorcement from his wedded attachment to a 
 broken law of works, a legal righteousness, 
 and his simple escape to the refuge set before 
 him in the (xospel. There is no turning of the 
 face to the Saviour, until there is a turning of 
 the back upon self. Iso man is in Christ, 
 savingly and sensibly, until he is out of him- 
 self, legally and meritoriously. No man will 
 enfold himself with the righteousness which is 
 of God by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 until, seeing the utter worthlessness of his 
 own, he renounces it at once and forever. 
 This single step taken, it becomes the first of 
 a series, each one constituting a daily coming 
 up out of self, conducting the believer nearer 
 and nearer to perfect and endless glory. 
 
 That the Christian's path should wind its 
 way along an ascent, sometimes steep and per- 
 ilous, always difficult and toilsome, should 
 awaken no surprise and create no murmur. 
 12* 
 
138 LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 
 
 There is ever this great encouragement, this 
 light upon his way, that it is a heaven-point- 
 ing, a heaven-conducting, a heaven-terminat- 
 ing path ; and ere long the weary pilgrim will 
 reach its sunlit summit ; not to lie down and 
 die there, as Moses did upon the top of Pisgah, 
 but to commence a life of perfect purity and 
 of eternal bliss. Turn your eye, dear reader, 
 and rest it for a moment upon the beautiful 
 picture which Solomon presents to your view 
 in his inspired song. To what is the world 
 compared ? a wilderness. "What object is seen 
 in this wilderness? the church of God. What 
 is she doing ? she is coming up from the wil- 
 derness. What company is she in? the 
 company of her Beloved. By what is she 
 strengthened and upheld in her journey? she 
 is leaning upon her Beloved. And what does 
 the sacred painter describe as the effect of this 
 spectacle ? it excites the admiration and 
 astonishment of all who behold it, and they 
 exclaim: — "Who is this that cometh up from 
 the wilderness leaning upon the Beloved?" To 
 one feature of this graphic description of the 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 139 
 
 Church of God, let us turn our attention, viz 
 the posture of the believer in -his ascent from 
 the wilderness — leaning upon Jesus. 
 
 The object of the believer's trust is Jesus, 
 his Beloved. He is spoken of by the apostle 
 as " the Beloved/' as though he would say, 
 "There is but one beloved of God, of angels, 
 of saints — it is Jesus."' He is the beloved 
 One of the Father. " Behold my servant, 
 whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul 
 delighteth" " The only begotten Son, which 
 is in the bosom of the Father" " This is my 
 beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." If 
 Jesus is thus so dear to the Father, what then 
 must be the turpitude of the sin of rejecting 
 him! — a sin, let it be remembered, of which 
 even Satan cannot be guilty. Yes ; he is the 
 beloved of Grod ; and therefore, coming to God 
 through him, it is impossible that a believing 
 soul can be rejected. 
 
 But he is also the church's beloved, the be- 
 loved of each member of that church. Thus 
 can each one exclaim, " This is my beloved, 
 and this is my friend. He is ten thousand 
 
140 LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 
 
 times more glorious to my view and precious 
 to my soul, because he is mine. His person 
 is beloved, uniting all the glories of the God- 
 head with all the perfections of the manhood. 
 His work is beloved, saving his people from tho 
 entire guilt, and condemnation, and dominion 
 of their sins. His commandments are beloved, 
 because they are the dictates of his love to us, 
 and the tests of our love to him." 0, yes! 
 you have but one beloved of your heart, dear 
 believer. He is " white and ruddy, the chief- 
 est among ten thousand ;" he is all the universe 
 to you ; heaven would be no heaven without 
 him; and with his presence here, earth seems 
 often like the opening portal of heaven. He 
 loved you, he labored for you, he died for you, 
 he rose for you, he lives and intercedes for 
 you in glory ; and all that is lovely in him, 
 and all that is grateful in you, constrain you 
 to exclaim: — "I am my beloved's, and my be- 
 loved is mine." Such is the company in which 
 the believer is journeying through, and coming 
 up from, the wilderness. Was ever a poor 
 pilgrim more honored ? Was ever a lonely 
 
LEANING UPOX THE BELOVED. 141 
 
 traveller in better company ? How can you 
 be solitary or sorrowful, be in peril or suffer 
 need, while you are journeying homewards 
 in company with, and leaning upon, Jesus? 
 But for what are you to lean upon your 
 Beloved ? 
 
 You are to lean upon Jesus for your entire 
 salvation. He is '•' made of God unto you 
 wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
 demption;" and for each one of these inesti- 
 mable blessings, you are to depend daily upon 
 Christ. Where can you lean for pardon but 
 upon the atoning blood of Jesus? Where can 
 you lean for acceptance, but upon the justify- 
 ing righteousness of Jesus? And where can 
 you lean for sanctification, but upon the sin-sub- 
 duing grace of Jesus? This leaning upon the 
 Beloved, then, is a daily coming up out of 
 ourselves in the great matter of our salvation, 
 and resting in the finished work of Christ, nay 
 more, in Christ himself. We are to lean upon 
 Jesus for a constant sense of pardon; to be 
 coming perpetually to the blood of sprinkling, 
 thus preserving the conscience clean and 
 
142 LEA.NTNG UPCXN" THE BELOVED. 
 
 tender, and maintaining a filial, loving, and 
 close walk with God. 
 
 You are to lean upon the fulness of your 
 Beloved. He is full to a sufficiency for all the 
 wants of his people. There cannot possibly 
 occur a circumstance in your history, there 
 cannot arise a necessity in your case, in which 
 you may not repair to the infinite fulness 
 which the Father has laid up in Christ for his 
 church in the wilderness. Why, then, seek 
 in your poverty what can only be found in 
 Christ's riches ? why look to your emptiness, 
 when you may repair to his fulness? " My 
 grace is sufficient for thee," is the cheering 
 declaration with which Jesus meets every turn 
 in your path, every crook in your lot, every 
 want in your journey. Distrust, then, your 
 own wisdom, look from your own self, and lean 
 your entire weight upon the infinite fulness 
 that is in Christ. 
 
 The posture is expressive of conscious 
 weakness, and deep self-distrust. Who is more 
 feeble than a child of Grod ? Taught the lesson 
 of his weakness in the region of his own heart, 
 
LEAXIXG UPON THE BELOVED. 113 
 
 and still learning it in his stumblings and falls, 
 and mistakes many and painful, in his self- 
 inflicted wounds and dislocations, he is at 
 length brought to feel that all his strength is out 
 of himself, in another. He has the " sentence of 
 death in himself, that he should not trust in him- 
 self.*' " I am weak, yea, weakness itself," is his 
 language, " I am as a reed, shaken of the wind ; 
 I stumble at a feather; I tremble at an echo; 
 I start at my own shadow; the smallest diffi- 
 culty impedes me; the least temptation over- 
 comes me. How shall I ever fight my way 
 through this mighty host, and reach in safety 
 the world of bliss ?" By leaning daily, hourly, 
 moment by moment, upon your Beloved for 
 strength. Christ is the power of God, and he 
 is the power of the children of God. "Who 
 can strengthen the weak hands, and confirm 
 the feeble knees but Jesus? In them that have 
 no might, he increaseth strength. "When they 
 are weak in themselves, then are they strong 
 in him. His declaration is: — "My strength 
 is made perfect in weakness." It is illus- 
 trated, it shines forth, and is exhibited in its 
 
144 LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 
 
 perfection and glory in upholding, keeping, and 
 succoring the weak of his flock. Lean, then, 
 upon Jesus for strength. He has strength for 
 all your weakness; he can strengthen your 
 faith, and strengthen your hope, and strength- 
 en your courage, and strengthen your patience, 
 and strengthen your heart, for every burden, 
 and for every trial, and for every temptation. 
 Lean upon him ; he loves to feel the pressure 
 of your arm ; he loves you to link your feeble- 
 ness to his almightiness, to avail yourself of 
 his grace. Thus leaning off yourself upon 
 Christ, u as your day so shall your strength 
 be." In all your tremblings and sinkings, you 
 will feel the encircling of his power. " Tho 
 eternal Grod is thy refuge, and underneath are 
 the everlasting arms." 
 
 And where would you lean in sorrow but 
 upon the bosom of your Beloved ? If you lean 
 upon his arm for support, it is equally your 
 privilege to lean upon his heart for sympathy. 
 Christ is as much your consolation, as he is 
 your strength. His heart is a human heart, a 
 sinless heart, a tender heart, a heart once the 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 145 
 
 home of sorrow, once stricken with grief, once 
 an aching, bleeding, mournful heart. 
 
 Thus disciplined and trained, Jesus knows 
 how to pity and to succor them that are sor- 
 rowful and solitary. He loves to chase grief 
 from the spirit, to bind up the broken heart, 
 to staunch the bleeding wound, and to dry 
 the weeping eye, to "comfort all that mourn." 
 It is his delight to visit you in the dark night- 
 season of your sorrow, and to come to you 
 walking upon the tempestuous billows of your 
 grief, breathing music and diffusing calmness 
 over your scene of sadness and gloom. When 
 other bosoms are closed to your sorrow, or are 
 removed beyond your reach, or their deep 
 throbbings of love are stilled in death, — when 
 the fiery darts of Satan fly thick around you, 
 and the 'world frowns, and the saints are cold, 
 and your path is sad and desolate, and all 
 stand aloof from your sore, — then lean upon 
 the love, lean upon the grace, lean upon the 
 faithfulness, lean upon the tender sympathy 
 of Jesus. That bosom will always unveil to 
 welcome you. It will ever be an asylum to 
 
146 LEAXIXG UPON" THE BELOVED. 
 
 receive you, and a home to shelter you. 
 Never will its love cool, nor its tenderness 
 lessen, nor its sympathy be exhausted, nor its 
 pulse of affection cease to beat. You may 
 have grieved it a thousand times over, you 
 may have pierced it through and through, 
 again and again, — yet, returning to its death- 
 less love, penitent and lowly, sorrowful and 
 humble, you may lay within it your w r eeping, 
 aching, languid head, depositing every burden, 
 reposing every sorrow and breathing every 
 sigh upon the heart of Jesus. Lord ! to 
 whom shall I go ? yea, to whom would*! go, 
 but unto thee ! 
 
 This posture of faith is equally expressive 
 of the advancement of the soul. The church 
 was seen leaning, but not stationary. She 
 was strengthened and upheld of her Lord, but 
 she was going forward. She was leaning 
 and walking, walking and leaning. The 
 power she was deriving from Christ stimu- 
 lated her greater progress. She gathered 
 strength from her close dealing with her 
 Lord, only to employ that strength in urging 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 147 
 
 her upward, heavenward, homeward way. 
 It was not the posture of indolence, in which 
 individual responsibility was lost sight of in 
 conscious weakness, and weakness was made 
 an excuse for slothfulness and drowsiness of 
 spirit. We lean truly upon Jesus that we 
 may advance in all holiness, that the grace of 
 the Spirit may be quickened and stimulated, 
 that we may cultivate more heavenly- mind- 
 edness, and be constantly coming up from the 
 world, following him without the camp, bear- 
 ing his reproach. ! what encouragement 
 have we here to cultivate heavenly-minded- 
 ness, since for the task, so difficult, yet so 
 pleasing, we may lean upon the all-sufficiency 
 of our Lord's grace. Let our movement, then, 
 be an advance ; let our path be upward ; let 
 us gather around us the trailing garment, 
 casting away whatever impedes rather than 
 accelerates our progress; and leaning upon 
 our Beloved, hasten from all below, until we 
 find ourselves actually reposing in the bosom 
 upon which, in faith and love, in weakness 
 
148 LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 
 
 and sorrow, we had rested amidst the trials 
 and perils of the ascent. 
 
 What more appropriate, what more soothing 
 truth could we bring before you, suffering 
 Christian, than this ? You are sick, — lean 
 upon Jesus. His sick ones are peculiarly dear 
 to his heart. You are dear to him. In all 
 your pains and languisbings, faintings and las- 
 situde, Jesus is with you ; for he created that 
 frame, he remembers that it is but dust, and 
 he bids you lean upon him, and leave your 
 sickness and its issue entirely in his hands. 
 You are oppressed, — lean upon Jesus. He 
 will undertake your cause, and committing it 
 thus into his hands, he will bring forth your 
 righteousness as the light, and your judg- 
 ment as the noonday. You are lonely, — lean 
 upon Jesus. Sweet will be the communion, 
 and close the fellowship which you may thus 
 hold with him, your heart burning within you 
 while he talks with you by the way. Is the 
 ascent steep and difficult? lean upon your 
 Beloved. Is the path straight and narrow? 
 Veah upon your Beloved. Do intricacies, and 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 149 
 
 perplexities, and trials weave your net-work 
 around your feet ? lean upon your Beloved. 
 Has death smitten down the strong arm, and 
 chilled the tender heart, upon which you were 
 wont to recline ? lean upon your Beloved. ! 
 lean upon Jesus in every strait, in every want, 
 in every sorrow, in every temptation. Noth- 
 ing is too insignificant, nothing too mean to 
 take to Christ. It is enough that you want 
 Christ to warrant you in coming to Christ. 
 No excuse need you make for repairing to 
 him ; no apology will he require for the fre- 
 quency of your approach ; he loves to have you 
 quite near to him, to hear your voice, and to 
 feel the confidence of your faith, and the pres- 
 sure of your love. Ever remember that there 
 is a place in the heart of Christ sacred to 
 you, and which no one can fill but yourself, 
 and from which none may dare exclude you. 
 And when you are dying, ! lay your lan- 
 guishing head upon the bosom of your Be- 
 loved, and fear not the foe and dread not the 
 passage, for his rod and staff they will com- 
 fort you. On that bosom, the beloved disciple 
 13* 
 
150 LEAXIXG UPON THE BELOVED. 
 
 leaned at supper ; on that bosom the martyr 
 Stephen laid his bleeding brow in death ; and 
 on that bosom, you, too, beloved, may repose, 
 living or dying, soothed, succored, and shel- 
 tered by your Saviour and your Lord. 
 
 " Jesus can make a dying bed 
 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
 "While on his breast I lean my head, 
 
 And breathe my soul out sweetly there." 
 
 Thus leaning ever on Jesus, how sweet will be 
 your song in the night of your pilgrimage. 
 " Blessed be the Lord, because he hath heard 
 the voice of my supplications. The Lord is 
 my strength and my shield; my heart trusted 
 in him, and I am helped ! therefore my 
 keart greatly rejoiced, and with my song 
 will I -praise him." 
 
 " Holy Saviour, friend unseen, 
 Since- on thine arm thou bidd'st me lean, 
 Help me throughout life's varying scene, 
 
 By faith to cling to thee ! 
 
 " Blest with this fellowship divine, 
 Take what thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine ; 
 E'en as the branches to the vine, 
 
 My soul would cling to thee. 
 
LEANING UPON THE BELOVED. 151 
 
 I Far from her home, fatigued, oppress'd, 
 Here she has found her place of rest ; 
 An exile still, yet not unblest 
 
 While she ean cling to thee. 
 
 II Without a murmur, I dismiss 
 
 My former dreams of earthly bliss : 
 My joy, my consolation, this— 
 
 Each hour to cling to thee 
 
 " What though the world deceitful prove, 
 And earthly friends and joys remove ; 
 With patient, uncomplaining love, 
 
 Still would I cling to thee. 
 
 " Oft when I seem to tread alone 
 Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, 
 Thy voice of love in tenderest tone, 
 
 Whispers, " Still cling to Ma * 
 
 ** Though faith and hope awhile be tried, 
 I ask not, need not, aught beside ; 
 How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 
 
 The soul that clings to thee 
 
 " They fear not Satan, or the grave, 
 They feel thee near, and strong to save, 
 Nor fear to cross e'en Jordan's wave, 
 
 Because they cling to thee 
 
 " Blest is my lot, whate'er befall ; 
 What can disturb me, what appal, 
 Whilst as my rock, my strength, my all, 
 Jesus ! I cling to thee I* 
 
€jit Wtml iCjjtlt 
 
 Purely I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of 
 his mother : mv soul is even as a weaned child." — Psalm cxxxi. 2. 
 
 There are few lessons taught in God's 
 school more difficult to learn, and yet, when 
 really learned, more blessed and holy, than 
 the lesson of weanedness. The heart resem- 
 bles the vine, which, as it grows, grasps and 
 unites its feeble tendrils to every support 
 within its reach. Or, it is like the ivy, which 
 climbs and wraps itself around some beautiful 
 but decaved and crumbling ruin. As our 
 social affections develop and expand, they 
 naturally seek a resting-place. Travelling, 
 as it were, beyond themselves, breathing love 
 and yearning for friendship, they go forth 
 seeking some kindred spirit, some " second 
 self," upon which they may repose, and 
 around which they may entwine. To detach 
 
THE WEAXED CHILD. 153 
 
 from this inordinate, idolatrous clinging to 
 the animate and the inanimate creatures and 
 objects of sense, is one grand end of God's dis- 
 ciplinary dealings with us in the present life. 
 The discovery which we make, in the process 
 of his dealings, of the insufficiency and inse- 
 curity of the things upon which we set our 
 affections, is often acutely painful. Like that 
 vine, we find that we grasped a support at the 
 root of which the canker-worm was secretly 
 feeding, — and presently it fell ! Or, like that 
 ivy, we discover that we have been spreading 
 our affections around an object which, even 
 while we clung to and adored it, was crum- 
 bling and falling into dust, — and presently it 
 became a ruin ! And what is the grand les- 
 son which, by this process, Grod would teach 
 us ? The lesson of ivea?iedness from all and 
 everything of an earthly and a created na- 
 ture. Thus was David instructed, and this 
 was the result : " Surely I have behaved and 
 quieted myself as a child that is weaned of 
 his mother : my soul is even as a weaned 
 child." It may be profitable, tried and suf- 
 
151 THE WEAXED CHILD. 
 
 fering reader, briefly to contemplate this holy 
 state, and then the way by which the Lord 
 frequently brings his people into its experience. 
 Every true believer, whatever may be the 
 degree of his grace, is an adopted child of 
 God. It is not the amount of his faith, nor 
 the closeness of his resemblance to the family, 
 that constitutes his relationship; it is the act 
 of adoption by which his heavenly Father has 
 made him his own. If he can only lisp his 
 Father's name, or bears but a single feature 
 of likeness to the Divine image, he is as 
 much and as really a child of God as those 
 in whose souls the lineaments are deeply and 
 broadly drawn, and who, with an unfaltering 
 faith, can cry, " Abba, Father !" Doubtless 
 there were many of feeble faith, of limited 
 experience and of defective knowledge — mere 
 babes in Christ — in the church to which the 
 apostle inscribed his letter ; and yet, address- 
 ing them all, he says, " Behold, what manner 
 of love* that we should be called the sons of 
 God." But it is the character of the weaned 
 child w T e are now to contemplate. All be- 
 
THE WEANED CHILD. 155 
 
 lie vers are children, but are all believers 
 weaned children ? From what is the child 
 of Grod thus weaned ? 
 
 The first object from which our heavenly 
 Father weans his child, is — -himself. Of all 
 idols, this he finds the hardest to abandon. 
 When man in paradise aspired to be as God, 
 Grod was dethroned from his soul, and the 
 creature became as a deity to itself. From 
 that moment, the idolatry of self has been the 
 great and universal crime of our race, and 
 will continue to be until Christ comes to re- 
 store all things. In the soul of the regenerate, 
 divine grace has done much to dethrone this 
 idol, and to reinstate Grod. The work, how- 
 ever, is but partially accomplished. The dis- 
 honored and rejected rival is loath to relin- 
 quish his throne, and yield to the supreme 
 control and sway of another. There is much 
 yet to be achieved before this still indwelling 
 and unconquered foe lays down his weapons 
 in entire subjection to the will and the author- 
 ity of that Saviour whose throne and rights 
 he has usurped. Thus, much still lingers in 
 
156 THE WEAXED CHILD. 
 
 the heart which the Spirit has renewed and 
 inhabits, of self-esteem, self-confidence, self, 
 seeking, and self-love. From all this, our 
 Father seeks to wean us. From our -own 
 wisdom, which is but folly ; from our own 
 strength, which is but weakness ; from our 
 own wills, which are often as an uncurbed, 
 steed ; from our own ways, which are crooked ; 
 from our own hearts, which are deceitful ; 
 from our own judgments, which are dark ; 
 from our own ends, which are narrow and 
 selfish, he would wean and detach us, that 
 our souls may get more and more back to 
 their original centre of repose — God himself. 
 In view of this mournful exhibition of fallen 
 and corrupt self, how necessary the discipline 
 of our heavenly Father that extorts from us 
 the Psalmist's language : " Surely I have be- 
 haved and quieted myself as a child that is 
 weaned of his mother." Self did seem to be 
 our mother — the fruitful parent of so much 
 in our plans and aims and spirit that was dis- 
 honoring to our God. From this he would 
 gefctJiy and tenderly, but effectually, wean us, 
 
THE VTEAXED CHILD. 157 
 
 that we may learn to rely upon his wisdom, 
 to repose in his strength, to consult his honor, 
 and to seek his glory and smile supremely 
 and alone. And how effectually is this 
 blessed state attained when Grod, by setting 
 us aside in the season of solitude and sorrow, 
 teaches us that he can do without us. We, 
 perhaps, thought that our rank, or our tal- 
 ents, or our influence, or our very presence 
 were essential to the advancement of his 
 cause, and that some parts of it could not pro- 
 ceed without us ! The Lord knew otherwise. 
 And so he laid his hand upon us, and with- 
 drew us from the scene of our labors, and 
 duties, and engagements, and ambition, that 
 he might hide pride from our hearts — the 
 pride of self-importance. And 0, is it no 
 mighty attainment in the Christian life to be 
 thus weaned from ourselves ? Beloved, it 
 forms the root of all other blessings. The mo- 
 ment we learn to cease from ourselves — from 
 our own wisdom, and power, and importance 
 — the Lord appears and takes us up. Then 
 
 his wisdom is displayed, and his power is put 
 14 
 
158 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 forth, and his glory is developed, and his 
 great name gets to itself all the praise. It 
 was not until God had placed Moses in the 
 cleft of the rock that his glory passed by 
 Moses must be hid, that God might be all. 
 
 Our heavenly Father would also wean us 
 from this poor, perishing world. In a pre- 
 ceding chapter we touched upon the great 
 snare which the world presented to the child 
 of (rod. It is true Christ has taken him out 
 of, and separated him from, the world; assailed 
 by all its evils, and exposed to all its corrupt- 
 ing influences. The intercessory prayer of 
 our Lord seems to imply this : " They are not 
 of the world, even as I am not of the world. 
 I pray not that thou shouldst take them out 
 of the world, but that thou shouldst keep 
 them from the evil." And what an evil 
 does the Christian find this world to be ! In 
 consequence of the earthward tendency of 
 his affections, and the deep carnality with 
 which the mind is imbued, things which Grod 
 designed as blessings to soothe and soften and 
 cheer, become, by their absorbing and idola- 
 
THE WEANED CHILD. 159 
 
 trous influence, powerful snares. Rank is a 
 snare, wealth is a snare, talent is a snare, 
 friendship is a snare. Rank may foster pride 
 and ambition ; wealth may increase the thirst 
 for worldly show ; talent may inspire a love 
 of human applause ; and friendship may 
 wean the heart from Christ, and betray us 
 into a base and unholy compromise of Chris- 
 tian profession. Xow from this endangering 
 world our heavenly Father would shield, by 
 withdrawing us. It is not our rest, and he 
 agitates it ; it is not our portion, and he em- 
 bitters it; it is not our friend, and he some- 
 times arms it with a sword. It changes, it 
 disappoints, it wounds ; and then, thankful to 
 expand our wings, we take another and a 
 bolder flight above it. Ah ! beloved, how 
 truly may the Lord be now sickening thine 
 heart to the world, to which that heart has 
 too long and too closely clung. It has been 
 thy peculiar snare ; thy Father saw it, and 
 wisely and graciously laid his loving, gentle 
 hand upon thee, and led thee away from it, 
 that from a bed of sickness, or from a cham- 
 
160 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 ber of grief, or from some position of painful 
 vicissitude, thou mightest see its sinfulness, 
 learn its hollowness, and return as a wan- 
 derer to thy Father's bosom, exclaiming with 
 David, " My soul is even as a weaned child." 
 This weanedness, of which we speak, often 
 involves the surrender of some endeared ob- 
 ject of creature affection. The human heart 
 is naturally idolatrous. Its affections, as we 
 have previously remarked, once supremely 
 centered in God. But now, disjoined from 
 him, they go in quest of other objects of at- 
 tachment, and we love and worship the crea- 
 ture rather than the Creator. The circle 
 which our affections traverse may not indeed 
 be a large one ; there are perchance but few 
 to whom we fully surrender our heart ; nay, 
 so circumscribed may the circle be, that one 
 object alone shall attract, absorb, and concen- 
 trate in itself our entire and undivided love — 
 that one object to us as a universe of beings, 
 and all others comparatively indifferent and 
 insipid. Who cannot see that in a case like 
 this, the danger is imminent of transforming 
 
THE WE AXED CHILD. 161 
 
 the heart — Christ's own sanctuary — into an 
 idol's temple, where the creature is loved and 
 reverenced and served more than he who gave 
 it ? But from all idolatry our God will cleanse 
 us, and from all our idols Christ will wean 
 us. The Lord is jealous, with a holy jealousy, 
 of our love. Poor as our affection is, he asks 
 its supreme surrender. That he requires our 
 love at the expense of all creature attach- 
 ment, the Bible nowhere intimates. He 
 created our affections, and he it is who pro- 
 vides for their proper and pleasant indulgence. 
 There is not a single precept or command in 
 the Scriptures that forbids their exercise, or 
 that discourages their intensity. Husbands 
 are exhorted to "love their wives, even as 
 Christ loved his church." Parents are to 
 cherish a like affection towards their children, 
 and children are bound to render back a filial 
 love not less intense to their parents. And 
 we are to " love our neighbors as ourselves." 
 Nor does the word of God furnish examples 
 of Christian friendship less interested and 
 devoted. One of the choicest and tenderest 
 14* 
 
162 THE WE AXED CHILD. 
 
 blessings with which (rod can enrich us, next 
 to himself, is such a friend as Paul had in 
 Epaphroditus, a " brother and companion in 
 labor, and fellow-soldier ;" and such an affec- 
 tionate friendship as John, the loving disciple, 
 cherished for his well beloved G-aius, whom 
 he loved in the truth, and to whom, in the 
 season of his sickness, he thus touchingly 
 poured out his heart's affectionate sympathy : 
 " Beloved, I wish above all things that thou 
 may est prosper and be in health, even as thy 
 soul prospereth." Count such a friend, and 
 such friendship amongst God's sweetest and 
 holiest bestowments. The blessings of which 
 it may be to you the sanctifying channel, are 
 immense. The tender sympathy — the jealous 
 watchfulness — the confidential repose — the 
 faithful admonition — above all, the interces- 
 sory prayer, connected with Christian friend- 
 ship, may be placed in the inventory of our 
 most inestimable and precious blessings. It 
 is not therefore the use, but the abuse, of our 
 affections — not their legitimate exercise, but 
 their idolatrous tendency — over which we 
 
THE WE AXED CHILI). 163 
 
 have need to exercise the greatest vigilance. 
 It is not our love to the creature against 
 which Grod contends, but it is in not allowing 
 our love to himself to subordinate all other 
 love. We may love the creature, but we 
 may not love the creature more than the 
 Creator. When the Griver is lost sight of and 
 forgotten in the gift, then comes the painful 
 process of weaning! When the heart burns 
 its incense before some human shrine, and the 
 cloud as it ascends veils from the eye the 
 beauty and the excellence of Jesus, — then 
 comes the painful process of weaning! When 
 the absorbing claims and the engrossing atten- 
 tions of some loved one are placed in com- 
 petition and are allowed to clash with the 
 claims of Grod, and the attentions due from 
 us personally to his cause and truth, — then 
 comes the painful process of weaning ! When 
 creature devotion deadens our heart to the 
 Lord, lessens our interest in his cause, con- 
 geals our zeal and love and liberality, de- 
 taches us from the public means of grace, 
 withdraws from the closet, and from the 
 
164 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 Bible, and from the communion of the saints, 
 thus superinducing leanness of soul, and rob- 
 bing God of his glory, — then comes the pain- 
 ful process of weaning ! Christ will be tha 
 first in our affections — (rod will be supreme 
 in our service — and his kingdom and right- 
 eousness must take precedence of all other 
 things. In this light, beloved, read the pres- 
 ent mournful page in your history. The 
 noble oak that stood so firm and stately at 
 thy side, is smitten, — the tender and beauti- 
 ful vine that wound itself around thee, is 
 fallen, — the lowly and delicate flower that lay 
 upon thy bosom, is withered — the olive 
 branches that clustered around thy table, are 
 removed — and the il strong staff is broken 
 and the beautiful rod;" not because thy God 
 did not love thee, but because he desired thine 
 heart. He saw that heart ensnared and en- 
 slaved by a too fond and idolatrous affection, 
 — he saw his beauty eclipsed and himself 
 rivalled by a faint and imperfect copy of his 
 own image, and he breathed upon it, and it 
 withered away ! " The day of the Lord of 
 
THE WE AXED CHILD. 165 
 
 hosts shall bo upon all . . . pleasant pictures" 
 "When an eminent artist, who had concen- 
 trated all the powers of his genius upon a 
 painting of our Lord celebrating the last sup- 
 per, observed that the holy vessels arranged 
 in the foreground were admired to the exclu- 
 sion of the chief object of the picture, he 
 seized his brush and dashed them from the 
 canvass, and left the imago of Jesus standing 
 in its own solitary and unrivalled beauty. 
 Thus deals our God oftentimes with us. 
 solemn words ! " The day of the Lord of 
 hosts shall be upon all .... pleasant pic- 
 tures," — all pictures that veil and eclipse the 
 beauties of him who is the " brightness of 
 the Father's glory, and the express image of 
 his person," God will obliterate. 
 
 Filial submission to God's will, is, per- 
 haps, one of the most essential features in 
 this holy state of weanedness of which we 
 speak. " Surely I have behaved and quieted 
 myself as a child that is weaned of his 
 mother/' There are some beautiful examples 
 of this in God's word. "And xlaron held his 
 
166 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 peace." Since God was " sanctified and glo- 
 rified," terrible as was the judgment, the holy 
 priest mourned not at the way, nor complained 
 of its severity, patient and resigned to the 
 will of God. He " behaved and quieted him- 
 self as a child that is weaned of his mother." 
 Thus, too, was it with Eli, when passing 
 under the heavy hand of God: "It is the 
 Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." 
 He bowed in deep submission to the will of 
 his God. Job could exclaim, as the last sad 
 tidings brimmed his cup of woe, " The Lord 
 gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed 
 be the name of the Lord." And David was 
 "dumb and opened not his mouth, because 
 God did it." But how do all these instances 
 of filial and holy submission to the Divine 
 will — beautiful and touching as they are — 
 fade before the illustrious example of our 
 adorable and blessed Lord: " my Father, if 
 this cup may not pass away from me, except 
 L drink it, thy will be done." Ah ! how did 
 Jesus, in the deepest depth of his unutterable 
 sorrow, "behave and quiet himself as a child 
 
THE WE AXED CHILD. 167 
 
 that is weaned of his mother ? his soul was 
 even as a weaned child." Such, beloved, be 
 the posture of thy soul at this moment. "Be 
 still." Rest in thy Father's hands, calm and 
 tranquil, quiet and submissive, weaned from 
 all but himself. the blessedness of so re- 
 posing ! 
 
 " Sweet to lie passive in his hands, 
 And know no will but his." 
 
 " God's love /" It is written upon your 
 dark cloud — it breathes from the lips of your 
 bleeding wound — it is reflected in every frag- 
 ment of your ruined treasure — it is pencilled 
 upon every leaf of your blighted flower — 
 M God is love." Adversity may have impover- 
 ished you — bereavement may have saddened 
 you — calamity may have crushed you — sick- 
 ness may have laid you low — but, "God is 
 love." Gently falls the rod in its heaviest 
 stroke — tenderly pierces the sword in its deep- 
 est thrust — smilingly bends the cloud in its 
 darkest hues — for, "God is love." Does the 
 infant, weaned from its wonted and pleasant 
 fount, cease from its restlessness and sorrow. 
 
168 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 reposing calmly and meekly upon its mother's 
 arms ?- — so let thy soul calmly, submissively 
 rest in Grod. How sweet the music which 
 then will breathe from thy lips in the midnight 
 of grief: " Surely I have behaved and quieted 
 myself as a child that is weaned of his moth- 
 er: my soul is even as a weaned child." 
 
 And who can bring you into this holy posi- 
 tion? The Holy Spirit alone can. It is his 
 office to lead you to Jesus — to reveal to you 
 Jesus — to exhibit to your eye the cross of 
 Jesus — to pour into your heart the grace and 
 love and sympathy of Jesus — to bend your will 
 and bow your heart to the government of 
 Jesus, and thus make you as a weaned child. 
 The work infinitely transcends a power merely 
 human. It is the office and the prerogative 
 of the Divine Spirit — the " Spirit of holi- 
 ness" — who only can sever between flesh and 
 spirit, to bring you into the condition of one 
 whose will in all things is completely merged 
 in Grod's. And what is his grand instrument 
 of effecting this ? The cross of Christ ! Ah ! 
 this is it. The cross of Christ! Not the 
 
THE WE AXED CHILD. 169 
 
 cross as it appeared to the imagination of the 
 Mahomedan Chief, leading the imperial army 
 to battle and to conquest ; not the cross pic- 
 tured — the cross engraved — the cross carved 
 — the cross embroidered — the cross embossed 
 upon the prayer-book, pendant from the maid- 
 en's neck, glittering on the cathedral's spire, 
 and springing from its altar : not the cross as 
 blended with a religion of Grothic architecture, 
 and painted windows, and flaming candles, 
 and waving incense, and gorgeous pictures, 
 and melting music, and fluttering surplices : 
 no ! but the cross — the naked, rugged cross 
 — which Calvary reared, which Paul preached, 
 and of which he wrote, " Grod forbid that I 
 should glory save in the cross of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, by which* the world is crucified 
 unto me, and I unto the world." Faith, pic- 
 turing to its view this cross, the Holy Spirit 
 engraving it on the heart in spiritual regene- 
 ration, the whole soul receiving him whom it 
 lifts up, as its ." wisdom, and righteousness, 
 
 * " Whereby." See versions of Tyndale, Cranmer, and 
 Geneva, as collated in Bagster's English Efoxapla. 
 
170 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 and sanctification, and redemption," gently 
 and effectually transforms the spirit, that was 
 chafened and restless, into the " meekness and 
 gentleness of Christ." what calmness steals 
 over his ruffled soul ! what peace flows 
 into his troubled heart ! what sunshine 
 bathes in its bright beams, his dark spirit, who 
 from the scenes of his conflict and his sorrow, 
 flees beneath the shadow and the shelter of the 
 cross. The storm ceases — the deluge of his 
 grief subsides — the Spirit, dove-like, brings 
 the message of hope and love — the soul, tem- 
 pest-tossed, rests on the green mount, and one 
 unbounded spring clothes and encircles the 
 landscape with its verdure and its beauty. 
 Child, chastened by the Father's love, look to 
 the cross of your crucified Saviour. And as 
 you fix upon it your believing, ardent, adoring 
 gaze, exclaim — 
 
 " Wearily for me thou soughtest, 
 On the cross my soul thou boughtest; 
 Lose not all for which thou wroughtest." 
 
 What is thy sorrow compared with Christ's ? 
 What is thy grief gauged by the Lord's? 
 
THE WEANED CHILD. 171 
 
 Thy Master has passed before thee, flinging 
 the curse and the sin from thy path, paving it 
 with promises, carpeting it with love, and 
 fencing it around with the hedge of his divine 
 perfections. Press onward, then, resisting thy 
 foe resolutely, hearing thy cross patiently, 
 drinking thy cup submissively, and learning, 
 while sitting at the Saviour's feet, or leaning 
 upon his bosom, to be like him, "meek and 
 lowly in heart." Then, indeed, shall "I have 
 behaved and quieted myself as a child that is 
 weaned of his mother : my soul is even as a 
 weaned child." 
 
 " Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, 
 Make me teachable and mild, 
 Upright, simple, free from art; 
 Make me as a weaned child. 
 From distrust and envy free, 
 Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 
 
 " What Thou shalt to-day provide, 
 Let me as a child receive ; 
 What to-morrow may betide, 
 Calmly to Thy wisdom leave. 
 'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, 
 Why should I the burden bear ? 
 
 "As a little child relies 
 
 On a care beyond its own ; 
 
172 THE WEANED CHILD. 
 
 Knows he's neither strong nor wise — 
 Fears to stir a step alone — 
 Let me thus with Thee abide, 
 As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 
 
 " Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, 
 Safe from dangers, free from fears, 
 May I live upon thy smiles 
 
 Till the promised hour appears ; 
 "When the sons of God shall prove 
 All their Father's boundless love," 
 
<0nfo, Cnmfnrttng ns a 3#ntjjw. 
 
 u As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." 
 
 Isa. lxvi. 13 
 
 It would appear from the Bible, that all 
 the relations and affections of our humanity 
 were really impressions of the Divine. All 
 doubt, indeed, as to the correctness of this 
 idea would seem to be removed by the inspired 
 history of man's creation. We read: " God 
 created man in his own image, in the image 
 of God created he him." The human soul, 
 cast as it were in this Divine mould, comes 
 forth imprinted and enstamped with the like- 
 ness of Grod. There is the transfer of the 
 Divine to the human. The creature starts 
 into being, a reflection of its Creator. Marred 
 by sin though this image is, yet not utterly 
 effaced are the lines and traces of the sacred 
 original. The temple is in ruin, but it is still 
 15* 
 
174 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 a temple, and beauty lingers round it, and 
 G-od re-enters it. The splendor of the crea- 
 ture is spoiled, but it is still God's offspring, 
 and he disowns not his child. Man is fallen, 
 but God, looking down upon the spoiled and 
 scattered parts of the ruined structure — like the 
 strewn fragments of a broken mirror — beholds 
 in each the dim and multiplied but real re- 
 semblance of himself. Trace each feature of 
 this resemblance. Is it the parental relation ? 
 God is a Father. Is it the filial ? Christ is 
 a Son. Is it the conjugal? Oar Maker is 
 the Husband of his church, and ihe church is 
 the Lamb's wife. And is not Christ described 
 as a Friend and a Brother, and his church 
 called by him his sister? Thus, then, would it 
 appear that the different relations in which we 
 stand each to the other, and the affections 
 which these relations foster, have their coun- 
 terpart in God ; — copies and impressions of a 
 Divine original. 
 
 But there is yet another relation still more 
 tender and holy, which would seem to be 
 equally a reflection of the Divine character; 
 
AS A MOTHER. 175 
 
 we allude to the maternal. God represents 
 himself as clothed with the attributes of a 
 mother! " As one whom his mother com- 
 forteth, so will I comfort you." In all the 
 similitudes which we have employed in the 
 preceding pages, illustrative of the Christian's 
 consolation and support, is there any one that 
 transcends, or that equals, this ? Would it 
 not seem that in adopting this impressive 
 figure, in appropriating to himself this endear- 
 ing relation, with which he would express 
 the great depth of his love and the exquisite 
 character of his comforts, God had surpassed 
 himself? Has he before reached a point of 
 tenderness like this ? Could he have exceeded 
 it? " As one whom his mother comforteth, 
 so will I comfort you." Let us not obscure 
 the beauty, or weaken the force of these 
 words, by an extended exposition. A few 
 thoughts will suffice. 
 
 God's family is a sorrowing family. " I 
 have chosen thee," he says, "in the furnace 
 of affliction." " I will leave in the midst of 
 thee a poor and an afflicted people." The his« 
 
176 GOD, COMFORTIKG 
 
 tory of the church finds its fittest emblem in 
 the burning yet unconsumed bush which Mo- 
 ses saw. Man is "born to sorrow;" but the 
 believer is " appointed thereunto." It would 
 seem to be a condition inseparable from his 
 high calling. If he is a " chosen vessel," it 
 is, as we have just seen, in the " furnace of 
 affliction." If he is an adopted child, " chas- 
 tening" is the mark. If he is journeying to 
 the heavenly kingdom, his path lies through 
 " much tribulation." If he is a follower of 
 Jesus, it is to " go unto him without the 
 camp, bearing his reproach." But, if his suf- 
 ferings abound, much more so do his consola- 
 tions. To be comforted by God, and to be 
 comforted as a mother comforts her child, 
 may well reconcile us to any sorrow with 
 which it may please our heavenly Father to 
 invest us. 
 
 God comforts his sorrowful ones with the 
 characteristic love of a mother. That love is 
 proverbial. No line can fathom it, no elo- 
 quence can depict it, no poetry can paint it. 
 Attempt, if you will, to impart brilliance to 
 
AS A MOTHER. 177 
 
 the diamond, or perfume to the rose, but at- 
 tempt not to describe a mother's love. Who 
 created the relation, and who inspired its 
 affection ? That God who comforts his peo- 
 ple with a love like hers. And what is a 
 mother's affection — fathomless and indescriba- 
 ble as it is — but as a drop from the infinite 
 ocean of God's love ! Did ever a mother love 
 her offspring as God loves his ? Never! Did 
 she ever peril her life for her child? She 
 may. But God sacrificed his life for us. 
 See the tenderness with which that mother 
 alleviates the suffering, soothes the sorrow of 
 her mourning one. So does God comfort his 
 mourners. there is a tenderness and a 
 delicacy of feeling in God's comforts which 
 distances all expression. There is no harsh 
 reproof — no unkind upbraiding — no unveiling 
 of the circumstances of our calamity to the 
 curious and unfeeling eye — no heartless expo- 
 sure of our case to an ungodly and censorious 
 world ; but with all the tender, delicate, and 
 refined feeling of a mother, God, even our 
 Father, comforts the sorrowful ones of his 
 
178 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 people. He comforts in all the varied and 
 solitary griefs of their hearts. Ah! there 
 may be secrets which we cannot confide even 
 to a mother's love, sorrows which we cannot 
 lay even upon a mother's heart, grief which 
 cannot be reached even by a mother's tender- 
 ness ; but God meets our case. To him, in 
 prayer, we may uncover our entire hearts ; 
 to his confidence we may entrust our pro- 
 foundest secrets ; upon his love repose our 
 most delicate sorrows ; to his ear confess onr 
 deepest departures ; before his eye spread out 
 our greatest sins. " As one whom his mother 
 comforteth, so will I comfort you." 
 
 God comforts the penitential sorrows of his 
 backsliding children with a mother's change- 
 less love. With our hearts c bent upon back- 
 sliding,' how many, how aggravated, and how 
 mournful are our departures from God ! But 
 does he disown and disinherit us for this ? 
 Nay, he still calls and receives us, and wel- 
 comes our return as children. " Turn, 
 backsliding children, saith the Lord." " Re- 
 turn, ye backsliding children, and I will heal 
 
AS A MOTHER. 179 
 
 your backsliding?." k> As one whom his 
 mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.'' 
 Inextinguishable, undecaying, and deathless 
 is a mother's love. " It may be autumn, yea, 
 winter, with the woman ; but with the mother, 
 as a mother, it is always spring." When has 
 the door of her heart or her dwelling been 
 closed and fastened against her wayward one ? 
 He may have quitted the roof that sheltered 
 his early years, and, tearing himself from the 
 influences and the attractions of home, have 
 become a wanderer upon life's troubled sea ; 
 he may have made shipwreck of. character, of 
 fortune, and of happiness, and become an out- 
 cast of society, with the stamp of infamy and 
 outlaw branded upon his brow, — yet, should 
 he in his far-wandering come to himself, and 
 his soul be humbled within him, and his 
 heart burst with penitential grief, and, think- 
 ing of his sin, his baseness and ingratitude, 
 resolve to arise and go to his mother, and sue 
 for forgiveness at her feet, think you that that 
 mother could close her heart against her re- 
 pentant child ? Impossible ! She would be 
 
180 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 the first, and, perhaps, the only one, who 
 would extend to him a welcome, and proffer 
 him a shelter. In the depth of her quench- 
 less love, she would hail his return with glad- 
 ness, forgetting all the bitterness of the past 
 in the sweet joy of the present ; and whilst 
 other eyes might look coldly, and other hearts 
 might be suspicious, and other doors might be 
 closed and barred, the bosom which nursed 
 him in infancy, and the home which protected 
 his earlier years, would expand to receive 
 back the poor, downcast, penitent wanderer. 
 And see how she comforts ! With what 
 words of love she greets him ! with what ac- 
 cents of tenderness she soothes him ! with 
 what gentleness she chases the tear from his 
 eye, and smooths his rugged brow, and has- 
 tens to pour into his trembling heart the 
 assurance of her free and full forgiveness. 
 This is the figure to which God likens his 
 love to his people. " As a man* whom his 
 mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." 
 Acute is the penitential grief of that child 
 * Thus it may be rendered from the original. 
 
AS A MOTHER. 181 
 
 which has strayed from its heavenly Father. 
 Deep and bitter the sorrow when he comes 
 to himself, resolves, and exclaims, " I will 
 arise and go to my Father." Many the trem- 
 blings and doubts as to his reception. " "Will 
 he receive back such a wanderer as I have 
 been ? Will he take me once more to his 
 love, speak kindly to me again, restore to me 
 the joys of his salvation, give me the blessed 
 assurance of his forgiveness, and once more 
 admit me with his children to his table?" 
 He will, indeed, weeping penitent! Yet 
 again, listen yet again to his words, — "As 
 one whom his mother comforteth, so will I 
 comfort you." Is not this declaration well 
 calculated to create the sweetest midnight 
 harmony in the gloomy season of your con- 
 trition and grief? Surely it is. In the valley 
 of your humiliation there is open to you a 
 " door of hope," and you may enter and " sing 
 there as in the day of your youth, and as in 
 the day when you came up out of the land 
 of Egypt," and in the first love of your 
 espousals, gave your heart to Christ. God 
 16 
 
182 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 will comfort your present sorrow by the to- 
 kens of his forgiving love. He invites, ho 
 calls, he beseeches you to return to him. He 
 is on the watch for you, he advances to meet 
 you, he stretches out his hand to welcome 
 you, he waits to be gracious, he yearns to 
 clasp his penitential, weeping Ephraim to his 
 heart. " When he was yet a great way off, 
 his father saw him, and had compassion, and 
 ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." 
 Will a mother's love live on, warm and 
 changeless, amid all the long years of her 
 child's rebellion, forgetfulness and ingrati- 
 tude ? Will she, when he returns, and gently 
 knocks at her door, and trembling lifts the 
 latch, and falls, weeping and confessing, upon 
 the bosom he had pierced with so many keen 
 sorrows, press him to a heart that never 
 ceased to throb with an affection which no 
 baseness could lessen, and which no dishonor 
 could quench ? And will (rod our Father, 
 who inspired that mother's love, who gave to 
 it all its tenderness and intensity, and who 
 made it not to change, turn his back upon a 
 
AS A MOTHER. 183 
 
 poor, returning child, who in penitence and 
 confession sought restoring, pardoning mercy 
 at his feet? Impossible! utterly impossible ! 
 The love of God to his people is a changeless, 
 quenchless, undying love. No backslidings 
 can lessen it, no ingratitude can impair it, 
 no forgetfulness can extinguish it. A mother 
 may forget, yea, has often forgotten, her 
 child ; but God, never! " Can a woman for- 
 get her sucking child, that she should, not 
 have compassion on the son of her womb ? 
 Yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget 
 thee." How touching, how impressive the 
 figure ! It is a woman, — that woman is a 
 mother, — that mother is a nursing mother, — 
 and still she may forget and abandon her 
 little one : " yet will I not forget thee," says 
 your God and Father. Touching, heart-melt- 
 ing, heart- winning truth! " Lord ! we come 
 unto thee in Jesus' name ! We have sinned, 
 we have gone astray like lost sheep, we have 
 followed the devices of our own hearts, we 
 have wandered after other lovers, we have 
 wounded our peace, and have grieved thy 
 
184 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 Spirit : but, behold, we come unto thee, we 
 fall down at thy feet, we dare not so much 
 as look unto thee, we blush to lift up our 
 faces, — receive us graciously, pardon us freely, 
 so will we loathe ourselves, hate the sin thou 
 dost pardon, and love and adore and serve the 
 God that forgives and remembers it no more 
 forever ! As one whom his mother comfort- 
 eth, so do thou comfort us !" 
 
 "Who can supply a mother's place? There is 
 one, and only one, who can, and who promises 
 that he will; it is the God who removed that 
 mother. " As one whom his mother comfort- 
 eth, so will I comfort you." "Acquaint now 
 yourself with him, and be at peace." The 
 fond, affectionate, confiding mother sleeps in 
 the dust. The most beautiful light of thy 
 home is extinguished. The sweetest voice 
 that echoed through thy dwelling is silent. 
 The kindest and brightest eye that beamed 
 upon thee is closed in death. The author of 
 thy being, the guide of thy youth, the confi- 
 dant of thy bosom, the joy of thy heart is no 
 more. Now let God enter and take her plaoe. 
 
AS A MOTHER. 185 
 
 All that that mother was — a refuge in every 
 sorrow, an arbiter in every difficulty, a coun- 
 sellor in every perplexity, a soother in every 
 grief, the centre that seemed to unite and en- 
 dear all the other sweet relations and associ- 
 ations of the domestic circle — Grod made her. 
 She was but a dim reflection, an imperfect 
 picture, a faint image of himself. All the 
 loveliness, and all the grace, and all the wis- 
 dom, and all the sweet affection which she 
 possessed and exemplified, was but an emana- 
 tion of God. Make him your mother now. 
 Take your secrets to his confidence, take your 
 embarrassment to his wisdom, take your sor- 
 rows to his sympathy, take your temptation to 
 his power, take your wants to his supply. ! 
 acquaint yourself with him as invested with 
 the holy character, and clothed with the en- 
 dearing attributes of a mother. He will guide 
 you, shield you, soothe you, provide for you, 
 and comfort you, as that mother, upon whose 
 picture — as it smiles mutely upon you from the 
 wall — you gaze with swimming eyes, never 
 could. In vain you breathe before it your 
 
186 GOD, COMFORTING 
 
 complaints, exclaiming, " as one that mourn- 
 eth for his mother" once so touchingly did, — 
 
 " that those lips had language ! Life has pass'd 
 With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
 These lips are thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, 
 The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; 
 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, — 
 * Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away !' " 
 
 Go and breathe your sorrows into God's 
 heart, and he will comfort you, oh ! with more 
 than a mother's love. Blessed sorrow, if in 
 the time of your bereavement, your grief, and 
 your solitude, you are led to Jesus, making 
 him your Saviour, your Friend, your Counsel- 
 lor, and your Shield. Blessed loss, if it be 
 compensated by a knowledge of God, if you 
 find in him a Father now, to whom you will 
 transfer your ardent affections, upon whom 
 you will repose your bleeding heart, and in 
 whom you will trust, as you have been wont 
 to trust in that mother, — 
 
 " Who has reached the shore, 
 Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar." 
 
 How sweet is the thought that Jesus once 
 
AS A MOTHER. 187 
 
 felt the throbbings of a mother's bosom. And 
 with what filial affection did he commit that 
 mother to the care of the beloved disciple in 
 the darkest hour of his woe. Acquainted with 
 your loss, sympathizing with your sorrow, 
 compassionating your loneliness, in all respects 
 capable of entering into the circumstances of 
 your case, he invites you to repair to him for 
 comfort, the tender sanctifying comfort, which 
 not even a mother could pour into your heart. 
 He can guide your youth, he can solace the 
 cares of your riper years, he can strengthen 
 and soothe the weakness and sorrow of declin- 
 ing age. But let your heart be true with him. 
 Let faith be simple, childlike, unwavering. 
 Cling to him as the infant clings to its 
 mother. Look up to him as a child looks up 
 to its parent. Love him, obey him, confide in 
 him, serve him, live for him; and in all the 
 unknown, untrod, unveiled future of your his- 
 tory, a voice shall gently whisper in your ear : — 
 
 " As ONE WHOM HIS MOTHER COMFORTETH, SO 
 WILL I COMFORT YOU." 
 
188 GOD, COMFORTING AS A MOTHER. 
 
 u Act but the infant's part, 
 Give up to love thy willing heart ; 
 No fondest parent's melting breast 
 Yearns, like thy God's, to make thee blest: 
 Taught its dear mother soon to know, 
 The tenderest babe its love can show ; 
 Bid thy base servile fear retire, 
 This task no labor will require. 
 
 "The sovereign Father, good and kind, 
 Wants to behold his child resign'd ; 
 "Wants but thy yielded heart — no^more — 
 With his large gifts of grace to store : 
 He to thy soul no anguish brings, 
 From thy own stubborn will it springs. 
 But crucify that cruel foe, 
 Nor pain, nor care, thy heart shall know. 
 
 " Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelmed, opprest, 
 Th' encumbering load that galls thy rest, 
 That wastes thy strength in bondage vain ; 
 With courage break the enthralling chain. 
 Let prayer exert its conquering power, 
 Cry in the tempted, trembling hour — 
 'My God, my Father, save thy son !' 
 'Tis heard, and all thy fears are gone."* 
 
 * From the German of Martin Luther. 
 
Stsns onltj. 
 
 u And when they had lined up their eyes, they saw no man, save 
 Jesus only." — Matt. xvii. 8. 
 
 There were occasions in our Lord's won- 
 drous history when the drapery of his humil- 
 iation could but ini perfectly conceal the in- 
 dwelling splendor of his Godhead. Profound 
 as that humiliation was — and to fathom its 
 depth, we must scale the infinite height from 
 whence he stooped — it could not intercept all 
 the rays of the shekinah which slumbered 
 within. Here and there a beam would dart 
 forth from beneath the enshrouding cloud, 
 often overwhelming with its effulgence those 
 upon whom its brightness fell. Such was 
 one of those occasions, a single incident in 
 which has suggested the subject of the pres- 
 ent chapter. Our Lord was now transfigured 
 — the unveiling of his glory overpowered the 
 
190 JESUS ONLY. 
 
 three disciples who were with him in the 
 Mount, who, when the bright cloud over- 
 shadowed them, and they heard a voice out 
 of the cloud which said, " This is my beloved 
 Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye 
 him," " fell on their face, and were sore 
 afraid. And Jesus came and touched them, 
 and said, Arise, and be not afraid. And 
 when they had lifted up their eyes, they saw 
 no man, save Jesus only" Blessed company 
 in which now they found themselves alone ! 
 Moses — the type of the Law — and Elias — 
 the representative of the prophets — had passed 
 away, and no one was left " save Jesus only." 
 All their fears had subsided — for Jesus had 
 calmed them. All their happiness was com- 
 plete — for Jesus was with them. And is not 
 this still the motto of every true believer — in 
 the matter of his salvation — in the spiritual 
 circumstances of his history — in the yearn- 
 ings of his heart — in the hour of death — and 
 amidst the solemn scenes of the final judg- 
 ment — " Jesus only ?" Let us reflect awhile 
 upon each of these particulars. 
 
JESUS ONLY. 191 
 
 In the believers salvation, it is ^ Jesus 
 only." The salvation of man is an embodi- 
 ment of God himself. We will not merely 
 say that it reveals his love, or that it reflects 
 his wisdom, or that it displays his power, or 
 that it unveils his holiness, — it does all this — ■ 
 but much more. Salvation is not merely a 
 demonstration of the divine perfections ; it is 
 a demonstration of the Divine Being. The 
 essence — the heart — the mind — the attributes 
 — the character — the government of (rod, are 
 all embarked, embodied, and exhibited in the 
 salvation of man. It is a work so sur- 
 passingly stupendous, glorious, and divine, 
 we can account for its vast and unique char- 
 acter, and its transcendent results, upon no 
 other principle than its essential demonstra- 
 tion of Deity — " God manifest in the flesh." 
 To mix, then, anything extraneous with this 
 great and finished work, to add to it aught of 
 human device, would seem a crime of deepest 
 dye — a sin, the pardon of which might well 
 extend beyond the provision of its mercy. 
 G-od has, at every point, with a jealous regard 
 
192 JESUS OKLY. 
 
 for his own glory, exhibited and protected 
 this great truth. Over the cross beneath 
 which as a sinner I stand, — inscribed upon 
 the portal of the refuge into which as a sin- 
 ner I flee, — above the fountain within which 
 as a sinner I bathe — upon every object on 
 which as a sinner I believingly gaze, God has 
 written one sentence — solemn, pregnant, and 
 emphatic — " Jesus only." Let us briefly 
 confirm and illustrate it. 
 
 Jesus only could stoop to our low estate. 
 He only could stand between justice and the 
 criminal — the day's-man between God and 
 us. He only had divinity enough, and merit 
 enough, and holiness enough, and strength 
 enough, and love enough, to undertake and 
 perfect our redemption. None other could 
 embark in the mighty enterprise of saving 
 lost man but he. To no other hand but his 
 did the Father from eternity commit his 
 church — his peculiar treasure. To Jesus only 
 could be entrusted the recovery and the keep- 
 ing of this cabinet of precious jewels — jewels 
 lost, and scattered, and hidden in the fall, yet 
 
JESUS ONLY. 193 
 
 predestinated to a rescue and a glory great 
 and endless as God's own being. Jesus only 
 could bear our sin and sustain our curse, 
 endure our penalty, cancel our debt, and 
 reconcile us unto God. In his bosom only 
 could the elements of our hell find a flame of 
 love sufficient to extinguish them, and by his 
 merit only could the glories of our heaven 
 stand before our eye palpable and revealed. 
 Jesus must wholly save, or the sinner must 
 forever perish. Listen to the language of 
 Peter, uttered when ' filled with the Holy 
 Ghost,' and addressed with burning zeal to 
 the Christ-rejecting, self-righteous Sanhedrim : 
 " This is the stone which was set at naught 
 of you builders, which is become the head of 
 the corner. Neither is there salvation in any 
 other: for there is none other name under 
 heaven given among men whereby we must 
 be saved." Thus, in the great and moment- 
 ous matter of our salvation, Jesus must be 
 all. He will admit no coadjutor, as he will 
 allow no rival. The breach between God and 
 man he will heal alone. The wine-press of 
 17 
 
19-i JESUS OXLY. 
 
 divine wrath lie will tread alone. The battle 
 with the power of darkness he will fight 
 alone. The bitter cup of Grethsemane he 
 will drink alone. The rugged cross to Cal- 
 vary he will bear alone. The last conflict 
 with the power of hell he will sustain alone. 
 The passage through the grave he will tread 
 alone. Man's sin and sorrow, the 'sinner's 
 curse and woe, he will endure singly and 
 alone; ' of the people there shall be none with 
 him.' 
 
 "What majesty gathers around the work and 
 conquest of Jesus, thus accomplished and 
 achieved single-handed and alone ! What an 
 impressive view does the fact present of the 
 inconceivable mightiness of the work, and of 
 the unparalleled almightiness of him who 
 wrought it ! Salvation was a work distancing 
 all created power. It could only be secured by 
 a power essentially and absolutely divine. Jesus 
 undertook the work alone, and alone he ac- 
 complished it. What is the deduction, rigidly 
 logical, and scripturally true ? Jesus is di- 
 vine. Here is the key to the mystery of the 
 
JESUS ONLY. 195 
 
 whole. Deity in alliance with, humanity — the 
 deity supplying the merit, and the humanity 
 the vehicle of atonement — singly and un- 
 aided wrenched the prey from the destroyer, 
 broke the chain of the captive, and brought 
 salvation and glory within the reach of the 
 vilest of Adam's race. And because the Son 
 of Grod wrought the stupendous achievement 
 alone, alone " he shall bear the glory." Not 
 a note shall swell to the praise, not a monu- 
 ment shall rise to the honor, not a beam shall 
 irradiate the brow of another, from the work 
 of our redemption. To Jesus only shall the 
 anthem be sung, to Jesus only shall the honor 
 be ascribed, to Jesus only shall the glory re- 
 dound, Jesus only shall wear the crown. Hark ! 
 how they chaunt his high praises in the heav- 
 enly temple: "Worthy is the Lamb that was 
 slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom 
 and strength, and honor and glory, and bless- 
 ing." yes, in heaven it is " Jesus only." 
 
 It follows, then, from all this, that salvation 
 is a finished work. Precious is this truth to 
 the believer's heart. And yet, how much is it 
 
196 JESUS ONLY. 
 
 practically overlooked. The judgment une- 
 quivocally admits it, but the doubts and trem- 
 blings which enslave and agitate the heart, 
 and which, like ripples upon the surface, im- 
 part an unevenness to the peaceful serenity 
 of the Christian's life, too evidently betray the 
 feeble hold which his faith has upon this truth. 
 But the doctrine remains substantially and un- 
 changeably the same. The obedience with 
 which Jesus honored the law, the satisfaction 
 with which he answered the claims of justice, 
 formed the two cognate parts of that mighty 
 and illustrious work, of which, when he bowed 
 his head in death, he exclaimed, " It is fin- 
 ished." Believer in Jesus ! remember all your 
 confidence, all your hope, all your comfort 
 flows from the finished work of your Saviour. 
 " Jesus only." See that you unwittingly add 
 nothing to the perfection of this work. You 
 may be betrayed into this sin and this folly by 
 looking within yourself rather than to the per- 
 son of Jesus ; by attaching an importance too 
 great to repentance and faith, and your own 
 doings and strivings, rather than ceasing from 
 
JESUS ONLY. 197 
 
 your own works altogether, and resting foi 
 your peace and joy and hope, simply, entirely, 
 and exclusively in the work of Jesus. Re- 
 member, that whatever we unintentionally 
 add to the finished work of Christ, mars the 
 perfection and obscures the beauty of that 
 work. " If thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou 
 hast polluted it." Nothing have we to do but, 
 in our moral pollution and nakedness, to 
 plunge beneath the fountain, and wrap our- 
 selves within the robe of that Saviour's blood 
 and righteousness who, when he expired on 
 the tree, so completed our redemption, as to 
 leave us nothing to do but to believe and be 
 saved. "It is finished !" — words, pregnant 
 of the deepest meaning ! words, rich of the 
 richest consolation ! Salvation is finished ! 
 " Jesus only." Look from fluctuating frames, 
 and fitful feelings, and changing clouds, to 
 " Jesus only." Look from sins and guilt, from 
 emptiness and poverty, to " Jesus only." 
 
 The veil of the temple is rent in twain, and 
 you may pass into its holiest, and lay upon 
 the altar the sacrifice of a broken and a con- 
 17* 
 
198 JESUS ONLY. 
 
 trite heart, which shall be accepted through 
 him who " gave himself for us an offering 
 and a sacrifice to Grod, for a sweet-smelling 
 savor." "It is finished !" Let devils hear 
 it, and tremble ! let sinners hear it, and be- 
 lieve ! let saints hear it, and rejoice ! All is 
 finished. " Then, Lord, I flee to thee, just 
 as I am ! I have stayed away from thee too 
 long, and i am nothing bettered, but rather 
 grown worse.' Too exclusively have I looked 
 at my unwotthiness, too absorbed have I been 
 with my penury, too bitterly have I mourned 
 having nothing to pay. Upon thy own finish- 
 ed work I now cast myself. Save, Lord, and 
 I shall be saved !" Before this stupendous 
 truth, let all creature merit sink, let all 
 human glory pale, let all man's boasting 
 vanish, and Jesus be all in all. Perish forms 
 and ceremonies — perish rites and rituals — 
 perish creeds and churches — perish, utterly 
 and forever perish, whatever would be a sub- 
 stitute for the finished work of Jesus, what- 
 ever would attempt to add to the finished 
 work of Jesus, whatever would tend to neu- 
 
JESUS OXLY. 199 
 
 tralize the finished work of Jesus, whatever 
 would obscure with a cloud, or dim w T ith a 
 vapor, the beauty, the lustre, and the glory of 
 the finished work of Jesus ! It was " Jesus 
 only" in the councils of eternity, — it was 
 u Jesus only" in the everlasting covenant of 
 grace. — it was " Jesus only" in the manger 
 of Bethlehem. — it was ,; Jesus only" in the 
 garden of (xethsemane. — it was " Jesus only 1 ' 
 upon the cross of Calvary, — it was " Jesus 
 only" in the tomb of Joseph, — it was " Jesus 
 only*' who. M when he had by himself purged 
 our sins, sat down on the right hand of the 
 Majesty on high." And it shall be "Jesus 
 only" — the joy of our hearts, the object of our 
 glory, the theme of our song, the Beloved of 
 our adoration, our service, and our praise, 
 through the endless ages of eternity. stand 
 fast in life and in death, by the finished work 
 of Jesus. 
 
 1 ' Tis finished P see the Victor rise, 
 Shake off the grave, and claim the skies. 
 Ye heavens, your doors wide open fling ; 
 Ye angel-choirs, receive your King. 
 
200 JESUS (XNXY. 
 
 " ' 'Tis finished F — but what mortal dare 
 In the triumph hope to share ? 
 Saviour, to thy cross I flee ; 
 Say, ' 'Tis finished !' and for me. 
 
 u ■ Then will I sing, The Cross ! The Cross V 
 And count all other gain but loss : 
 I'll sing the cross, and to thy tree 
 Cling evermore, blessed Calvary." 
 
 In the spiritual exercises of the believer's 
 soul, still it is " Jesus only." In the corrod- 
 ings of guilt upon the conscience, in the cloud 
 which veils the reconciled countenance of 
 God from the soul, whither are we to look, 
 save to " Jesus only ?" In the mournful con- 
 sciousness of our unfaithfulness to Grod, of 
 our aggravated backslidings, repeated depart- 
 ures, the allowed foils and defeats by which 
 our enemies exult, and the saints hang their 
 heads in sorrow, to whom are we to turn, 
 but to "Jesus only?" In the cares, anx- 
 ieties, and perplexities which troop around 
 our path, in the consequent castings down 
 of our soul, and the disquietude of our spirit 
 within us, to whom shall we turn but to 
 " Jesus only ?" In those deep and mysteri- 
 
JESUS ONLY. 201 
 
 ous exercises of soul travail, which not al- 
 ways the saints of (rod can fully under- 
 stand — when we see a hand they cannot see, 
 and when we hear a voice they cannot hear ; 
 when we seem to tread a lone path, or tra- 
 verse a sea where no fellow-voyager ever 
 heaves in sight; the days of soul-exercise 
 wearisome, and its nights long and dark — Oh ! 
 to whom shall we then turn, save to " Jesus 
 only ?" AYho can enter into all this, and un- 
 derstand all this, and sympathize with all 
 this, but Jesus ? To him alone, then, let us 
 repair, with every sin, and with every burden, 
 and with every temptation, and with every 
 sorrow, and with every mental and spiritual 
 exercise, thankful to be shut up exclusively 
 to " Jesus only." 
 
 And whom does the heart in its best mo- 
 ments, and holiest affections, and intensest 
 yearnings, supremely desire ? Still the answer 
 is, " Jesus only." Having by his Spirit en- 
 throned himself there, having won the affec- 
 tions by the power of his love and the at- 
 tractions of his beauty, the breathing of the 
 
202 JESUS ONLY. 
 
 is, " Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee, and who is there on earth that I desire 
 beside thee ?" Blessed is that soul the utter- 
 ances of whose heart are the sincere and fer- 
 vent expression of a love of which Christ is 
 the one and supreme object. to love him 
 more ! "Worthy, most worthy is he, of our 
 first and best affections. Angels love him 
 ardently and supremely; how much, more 
 should we who owe to him a deeper debt of 
 love than they ; for whom he has done infi- 
 nitely more than for angels Would tha*t this 
 might be our motto, our principle, our life, — 
 " To me to live is Christ " Let the love of 
 Christ, then, constrain us to love him in re- 
 turn with an affection which shall evince, by 
 the singleness of its object and the unreserved 
 surrender of its obedience, that he who reigns 
 the sovereign Lord of our affections is — 
 " Jesus only." 
 
 And when the time draws near that we 
 must depart out of this world, and go unto 
 the Father, one object will fix the eye from 
 which all others are then receding, it is — 
 
JESUS ONLY. 203 
 
 "Jesus only. 5 ' Ah! to die, actually to die, 
 must be a crisis of our being quite different 
 from reading of death in a book, or from hear- 
 ing of it in the pulpit, or from talking of it 
 by the wayside. The world fading in the 
 view — life congealing at its fount — the brain 
 swimming — the eye fixing — and yet conscious 
 that in a few hours, or moments, the soul will 
 take the tremendous leap, and bound away to 
 a world unknown ; rushing through suns and 
 systems and scenes all new and strange and 
 wondrous — it is a solemn, an appalling 
 thing to die ! But to the believer in Jesus, 
 how pleasant and how glorious! "Absent 
 from the body/' he is " present with the 
 Lerd." Jesus is with him then. The blood 
 of Jesus is there, cleansing him from all his 
 guilt ; the arms of Jesus are there, supporting 
 him in all his weakness ; the Spirit of Jesus 
 is there, comforting him in all his fears: and 
 now is he learning, for the last time on earth, 
 that as for all the sins, all the perils, all the 
 trials, and all the sorrows of life, so now as 
 that life is ebbing fast away, and death is 
 
204 JESUS OXLY. 
 
 chilling, and the grave is opening, and eter- 
 nity is nearing, " Jesus only" is all-sufficient 
 for his soul. 
 
 And when the trumpet of the archangel 
 sounds — waxing louder and louder — and the 
 dead in Christ arise, and ascend to meet their 
 Saviour and their Judge, as he comes, in 
 majesty and great glory, to receive his Bride 
 to himself, — then, then, will every heart, 
 and every thought, and every eye, of that 
 ransomed church, be fixed and fastened and 
 centred upon one glorious object — " Jesus 
 only." Believer! look # to him — lean upon 
 him — cleave to him — labor for him — suffer 
 for him — and, if need be, die for him. Thus 
 loving and trusting, living and dying for— 
 " Jesus only." 
 
 " Why should I fear the darkest hour, 
 Or tremble at the trumpet's power ? 
 Jesus vouchsafes to be my tower. 
 
 " Though hot the fight, why quit the field, 
 Why must I either flee or yield, 
 Since Jesus is my mighty shield ? 
 
 " When creature comforts fade and die, 
 Worldlings may weep, but why should I ? 
 Jesus still lives and still is nigh. 
 
JESUS OKLY. 205 
 
 " Though all the flocks and herds were dead, 
 My soul a famine need not dread, 
 For Jesus is my living bread. 
 
 ■ I know not what may soon betide, 
 Xor how my wants may be supplied ; 
 But Jesus knows, and will provide. 
 
 " Though sin would fill me with distress, 
 The throne of grace I dare address, 
 For Jesus is my righteousness. 
 
 41 Though faint my prayers and cold my iovij, 
 My steadfast hope shall not remove, 
 While Jesus intercedes above. 
 
 Against me earth and hell combine, 
 But on my side is power divine ; 
 Jesus is all, and He is mine." 
 
 18 
 
i|f Snrrnst nf frnijtr. 
 
 " Let my prayer be set before thee as incense."— Psalm cxli. 2. 
 
 (xod has a temple out of heaven. Not all 
 the worship, nor all the worshippers, are con- 
 fined to that blissful world where he imme- 
 diately dwells. He has another sanctuary 
 upon earth — other worshippers and other ser- 
 vices, where, with whom, and with which, 
 the beams of his presence are as strictly 
 promised and as truly shine as in the general 
 assembly of the church gathered around him 
 in glory. It is not the magnificent structure 
 made with hands, with its splendid ritual and 
 its ponderous ceremonial, flattering to the 
 pride and captivating to the sense of man, but 
 a temple, and a temple-service far more beau- 
 tiful in (rod's eye is that of which we speak. 
 " Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is my 
 throne, and the earth is my footstool: where 
 
THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 207 
 
 is the house that ye build unto me? and 
 where is the place of my rest? For all these 
 things hath mine hand made, and all these 
 things have been, saith the Lord : but to this 
 man will I look, even to him that is poor and 
 of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
 word." " Thus saith the high and lofty One 
 that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, 
 I dwell in the high and holy place, with him 
 also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to 
 revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive 
 the heart of the contrite one." This is God's 
 temple upon earth, this his worshipper, and 
 this his worship. The material structure is 
 nothing, — the magnificent service is nothing, 
 •—the formal worshipper is nothing ; u but to 
 this man will I look, even to him that is poor 
 and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at 
 my word." most solemn truth ! most 
 precious words ! " Lord ! engrave them upon 
 my heart by thy blessed Spirit. Be my body 
 thy temple — my heart thy sanctuary — thy 
 presence my life — my life thy service." 
 
 The believer in Jesus is a royal priest, or- 
 
208 THE INCENSE OF PEAYEE. 
 
 dained to offer up spiritual sacrifices to Grod. 
 He is called and consecrated, clothed and 
 anointed, to a high and holy service. His 
 calling is divine — his consecration is holy — his 
 clothing is costly — his anointing is fragrant. 
 Before the standing and the glory and the ser- 
 vice of one of the royal priesthood, all the 
 pomp and gorgeousness of Aaron's priesthood 
 fade into nothing. Called according to Grod's 
 purpose, consecrated and set apart by sove- 
 reign grace, invested with the righteousness 
 of Christ, anointed with the Holy Spirit, and 
 offering up the spiritual sacrifice of a " broken 
 and a contrite heart," — is it surprising that 
 Grod should look with an eye of ineffable de- 
 light upon such a worshipper ? But of a sin- 
 gle one only of these many interesting points 
 must we allow ourselves at present to speak. 
 We refer to the incense which every true be- 
 liever in Jesus, in his character of a royal 
 priest, offers to the Lord. The subject pre- 
 sents the Christian to our view in his holiest 
 and most solemn feature — drawing near to 
 Grod, and presenting before the altar of his 
 
THE INCENSE OF PKAYEK. 209 
 
 grace the incense of prayer. The typical 
 reference to this is strikingly beautiful. " Thou 
 shalt make an altar to burn incense upon. . . . 
 And Aaron shall burn thereon sweet incense 
 every morning; when he dresseth the lamps he 
 shall burn incense upon it. And when Aaron 
 lighteth the lamps at even he shall burn in- 
 cense upon it, a perpetual incense before the 
 Lord throughout your generations."' That 
 this incense was typical of prayer would ap- 
 pear from Luke i. 10: "And the whole mul- 
 titude of the people were praying' without at 
 the time of incense" And David, though dwell- 
 ing in the more shadowy age of the church, 
 thus correctly and beautifully interprets this 
 type. " Let my prayer be set before thee as 
 incense" It is an appropriate and an impres- 
 sive figure. And thankful, dear reader, should 
 we be to avail ourselves of whatever in the 
 divine Word tends to teach us the nature, to 
 illustrate the blessedness, to deepen the solem- 
 nity, and to engage our hearts in the holy 
 duty and sweet privilege of — prayer. Inter- 
 esting and important as are the topics upon 
 18* 
 
210 THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 which we have previously addressed you, all 
 must yield to the interest and importance of 
 this one. Prayer is the vital breath of the 
 living soul; prayer is the mode of our ap- 
 proach to Grod ; prayer is the appointed chan- 
 nel of all blessing. The season contemplated 
 throughout this little volume is especially the 
 season in which prayer is found the most 
 soothing and sanctifying. All the precious 
 blessings which we have endeavored to bring 
 before your sorrowful heart, as calculated to 
 comfort and heal it, are conveyed to you 
 through this one mode — communion ivith God. 
 Once we can persuade you to pour out your 
 heart to him — thus severing you from all other 
 resources of comfort, and shutting you up ex- 
 clusively to prayer ; in other words, shutting 
 you up exclusively to God, — we feel that we 
 have conducted you through the surges of 
 your grief to the rock that is higher than you 
 May the Eternal Spirit be our teacher and oui 
 Comforter while briefly we speak of the in- 
 cense OF PRAYER. 
 
 The believer's censer — what is it? From 
 
THE INCENSE OF PEAYEE. 211 
 
 whence arises the incense of prayer ascending 
 to the throne of the Eternal ? it is the 
 heart. The believer's renewed, sanctified 
 heart is the censer from whence the fragrant 
 cloud ascends. Ah, believer ! there are false, 
 there are spurious censers waved before the 
 throne of grace. There is no precious incense 
 in them — no fire, no cloud. God smells no 
 sweet savor in their offering. True prayer is 
 the incense of a heart broken for sin, humbled 
 for its iniquity, mourning over its plague, and 
 touched and healed and comforted with the 
 atoning blood of God's great sacrifice. This 
 is the true censer; this it is at which God 
 looks. May we not quote his words again, so 
 expressive, so solemn, so precious are they? 
 
 " To THIS MAN WILL I LOOK, EVEN TO HIM 
 THAT IS POOR AND OF A CONTRITE SPIRIT, AND 
 THAT TREMBLETH AT MY WORD.'' This IS God ? S 
 
 own chosen censer. This, and this only, will 
 he regard. ! who can describe the worth, 
 the beauty, and the acceptableness of this 
 censer to him whose ;; eyes move to and fro 
 throughout the whole earth, to show himself 
 
212 THE INCENSE OF PEAYER, 
 
 strong in the behalf of them whose heart is 
 perfect towards him." To this G-od looks. 
 " For the Lord seeth not as man seeth : for 
 man looketh on the outward appearance, but 
 the Lord looketh on the heart/'' (1 Sam. 
 xvi. 7.) Precious censer ! moulded, fashioned, 
 beautified, by Grod. There exists not upon 
 earth a more vile and unlovely thing, in the 
 self-searching view of the true believer, than 
 his own heart. From every other human 
 eye that bosom is deeply, impenetrably veiled. 
 All that is within is known only to itself. 
 What those chambers of abominations are God 
 will not permit another creature to know. But 
 0, how dark, how loathsome, how unholy to 
 him " who knows the plague of his own 
 heart." And yet, — wondrous grace ! — God, 
 by his renewing Spirit, has made of that 
 heart a beautiful, costly, and precious censer, 
 the cloud of whose incense ascends and fills all 
 heaven with its fragrance. With all its in- 
 dwelling evil and self-loathing, Grod sees its 
 struggles, watches its conflict, and marks its 
 sincerity. He has his finger upon its pulse,— 
 
THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 213 
 
 he feels every beat, records every throb. Not 
 a feeling thrills it, not an emotion agitates it, 
 not a sorrow shades it, not a sin wounds it, 
 not a thought passes through it, of which he 
 is not cognizant. Believer! Jesus loves that 
 heart of thine. He purchased it with his own 
 heart's blood, agonies, and tears, — and he loves 
 it. He inhabits it by his Spirit, — and he 
 loves it. It is his temple, his home, his censer, 
 and never can it approach hirn in prayer but 
 he is prepared to accept both the censer and 
 incense with a complacency and delight which 
 finds its best expression in the language of his 
 own word: "I will accept you with your sweet 
 savor." 
 
 And what is the incense pouring forth like 
 a cloud from this precious censer ? 0, it is 
 the incense of prayer ! The most precious 
 and fragrant incense that ever rose to heaven 
 from a mere human heart. How shall we 
 describe the costliness of this incense ? Its 
 materials, like those which Aaron cast into 
 the censer, which the priests burned before 
 the Lord, the offering of which was termed 
 
214 THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 the " incense of spices," ' are most costly. 
 They are divine materials cast into it by God 
 himself ; the heart's conviction of sin — its 
 sense of self-loathing — its sweet contrition — 
 its holy sorrow — its sincere repentance — its 
 ingenuous confession — its full, free, and un- 
 reserved pouring out of itself before God, the 
 Holy Spirit created. And that must in very 
 deed be costly of which the Holy Spirit of 
 Grod is the author. And what shall we say 
 of the fragrance of this incense ? how- 
 much have we yet to learn of the intrinsic 
 sweetness of real prayer. We can but im- 
 perfectly conceive the fragrance there must 
 be to Grod in the breathing of the Divine Spirit 
 in the heart of a poor sinner. It is perhaps 
 but a groan — a sigh — a tear — a look — but it 
 is the utterance of the heart, and God can 
 hear the voice of our weeping, and interpret 
 the language of our desires, when the lips 
 utter not a word ; so fragrant to him is the 
 incense of prayer. And when prayer arises 
 from a heart touched by the Spirit of adop- 
 tion, and is the breathing of a child's love 
 
THE IXCEXSE OF PRAYER. 215 
 
 and confidence and strong desire, in the 
 bosom of God, how rich the incense then ! 
 And is the incense of a praying heart borne 
 down by grief, smitten, and withered like 
 grass, less fragrant to God? No, mourning 
 Christian, prayer is God's appointed and sur- 
 est relief for your sad heart. Give but your- 
 self unto prayer, now in the hour of your 
 sorrow and loneliness, and your breathings 
 sent up to heaven in tremulous accents, shall 
 return into your own disconsolate and deso- 
 late heart, all rich and redolent of heav- 
 en's sweet consolations. The holy breathings 
 which ascend from a believer's heart, gather 
 and accumulate in the upper skies, and when 
 most he needs the refreshing, they descend 
 again in covenant blessing upon his soul. No 
 real, believing prayer is ever lost, even as the 
 moisture exhaled from earth is never lost. 
 That thin, almost invisible vapor, which the 
 morning's sun has caught up, returns again, 
 distilling in gentle dews, or falling in plenti- 
 ful rain, watering the earth and making it to 
 bring forth and bud. That feeble desire, that 
 
216 THE INCEXSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 faint breathing of the soal after God, and 
 Jesus, and holiness, and heaven, shall never 
 perish. It was, perhaps, so weak and trem- 
 ulous, so mixed with grief and sorrow, so bur- 
 dened with complaint and sin, that you could 
 scarcely discern it to be real prayer ; and yet, 
 beloved, ascending from a heart inhabited by 
 God's Holy Spirit, and touched by God's love, 
 it rose like the incense cloud before the throne 
 of the Eternal, and blended with the fragrance 
 of heaven. Around that throne those prayers 
 are gathering, like clustering angels, and al- 
 though the vision may tarry, yet, waiting in 
 humble faith God's time, those prayers will 
 come back again freighted with the richest 
 blessings of the everlasting covenant, " even 
 the sure mercies of David." God will grant 
 you the desires of your heart. Jesus will 
 manifest himself to your soul. To nothing 
 has our Heavenly Father more strongly and 
 solemnly pledged himself than to the answer- 
 ing of the prayer of faith. " Thou shalt call, 
 and I will answer" 
 
 But there is yet one aspect of our subject 
 
THE INCENSE OF PEAYER. 217 
 
 indescribably glorious, unspeakably precious. 
 From whence does the incense of prayer de- 
 rive its true fragrance, power, and acceptance 
 with God ? Ah ! beloved, the answer is near 
 at hand. From whence, but from the incense 
 of our Great High Priest's atoning merit 
 offered upon earth, and by ceaseless interces- 
 sion, presented in heaven. The opening of 
 the seventh seal, in the apocalyptic vision, re- 
 vealed this glorious truth to the wondering 
 eye of the evangelist. " And another angel 
 came and stood at the altar, having a golden 
 censer ; and there was given unto him much 
 incense, that he should offer it with the pray- 
 ers of all saints upon the golden altar which 
 was before the throne. And the smoke of the 
 incense which came with the prayers of the 
 saints, ascended up before God out of the an- 
 gel's hand." (Rev. viii. 3, 4.) 
 
 This angel is none other than the Angel of 
 the covenant, Jesus, our Great High Priest 
 who stands before the golden altar in heaven, 
 presenting the sweet incense of his divine 
 merits and sacrificial death ; the cloud of 
 10 
 
218 THE INCEXSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 which ascends before God ' with the prayers 
 of the saints.' it is the merit of our Im- 
 manuel, " who gave himself for us an offer- 
 ing and a sacrifice to God, for a sweet-smell- 
 ing savor" that imparts virtue, prevalence, 
 and acceptableness to the incense of prayer 
 ascending from the heart of the child of God. 
 Each petition — each desire — each groan — 
 each sigh — each glance — comes up before 
 God with the ' smoke of the incense' which 
 ascends from the cross of Jesus, and from the 
 " golden altar which is before the throne." 
 All the imperfection and impurity which 
 mingles with our devotions here, is separated 
 from each petition by the atonement of our 
 Mediator, who presents that petition as sweet 
 incense to God. See your Great High Priest 
 before the throne ! See him waving the 
 golden censer to and fro ! See how the cloud 
 of incense rises and envelops the throne ! 
 See how heaven is filled with its fragrance 
 and its glory ! Believer in Jesus, upon the 
 heart of that officiating High Priest your 
 name is written ; in the smoke of the incense 
 
THE IXCEXSE OF PBAYEE. 219 
 
 which has gone up from that waving censer, 
 your prayers are presented. Jesus' blood 
 cleanses them — ImrnanuePs merit perfumes 
 them — and our glorious High Priest thus 
 presents both our person and our sacrifice to 
 his Father and our Father, to his God and 
 our God. wonderful encouragement to 
 prayer! "Who, with such an assurance that 
 his weak, broken, and denied, but sincere 
 petitions shall find acceptance with Grod. 
 would not breathe them at the throne of 
 grace. Go, in the name of Jesus ; go, cast- 
 ing yourself upon the merit which fills heaven 
 with its fragrance; go, and pour out your 
 grief, unveil your sorrow, confess your sin, 
 sue out your pardon, make known your wants 
 with your eye of faith upon the Angel who 
 stands at the " golden altar which is before 
 the throne," and the incense which breathes 
 from your oppressed and stricken heart will 
 11 ascend up before m God out of the angel's 
 hand," as a cloud, rich, fragrant, and ac- 
 cepted. O give yourself to prayer ! Say not 
 that vour censer has nothing to offer. That 
 
220 THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 it contains no sweet spices, no fire, no incense. 
 Repair with it, all empty and cold as it is, to 
 the great High Priest, and as you gaze in 
 faith upon him who is the Altar, the slain 
 Lamb, and the Priest, thus musing upon this 
 wondrous spectacle of Jesus' sacrifice for you, 
 his Spirit will cast the sweet spices of grace, 
 and the glowing embers of love into your dull, 
 cold heart, and there will come forth a cloud 
 of precious incense which shall ascend . with 
 the l much incense' of the Saviour's merits, 
 an " offering and a sacrifice to God of a sweet- 
 smelling savor." Remember, that Jesus 
 offers with the " much incense" the prayer of 
 " all saints." In that number you, beloved, 
 are included. The tried saints — the sick 
 saints — the sorrowful saints — the tempted 
 saints — the bereaved saints — the weak and 
 infirm saints — the wandering and restored 
 saints. Yea, " the prayers of all saints," are 
 " offered upon the golden altar which is before 
 the throne." Nor forget that there is evening' 
 as well as morning incense. " When Aaron 
 lighteth the lamps at even, he shall burn in- 
 
THE INCENSE OF PEAYEE. 221 
 
 your prosperity and joy is past, and the even- 
 ing of adversity, sorrow, and loneliness draws 
 its sombre curtains around you, then take 
 your censer and wave it before the Lord. 
 Ah ! methinks at that hour of solemn still- 
 ness, and of mournful solitude, — that hour 
 when grief loves to indulge, and visions of 
 other days dance before the eye, like shadows 
 upon the wall, — that hour when all human 
 succor and sympathy fails — that then the 
 sweetest incense of prayer ascends before 
 God. Yes, there is no prayer so true, so pow- 
 erful, so fragrant as that which sorrow presses 
 from the heart. betake yourself, suffering 
 believer, to prayer. 
 
 "Art thou a pilgrim, and alone ? 
 Far from the home once called thine own ? 
 From friendship's faithful bosom wrested, 
 In stranger hands thy comforts vested ; 
 Thy life a cheerless wintry day, 
 Unlit by sunshine ! — Eise and pray ! 
 
 ■ Smiled on thee once the bliss of earth, 
 And flittering joys of transient worth ? 
 Hast thou adored some idol shrine. 
 Or bent how many a knee at thine \ 
 
 19* 
 
222 THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 
 
 Faded those creatures of a day, 
 
 What hast thou left ? — Arise and pray ! 
 
 " With tears, with bitterest agony, 
 The Saviour wrestled, Soul ! for thee, 
 Ere he could all-triumphant rise 
 To plead the accepted sacrifice: 
 So, till the world shall pass away, 
 Shall stand his words — ' Arise and pray ! ' " 
 
 Bring forth, then, your censer, sorrowful 
 priest of the Lord ! Replenish it at the altar 
 of Calvary, and then wave it with a strong 
 hand before Grod, until your person, your sor- 
 rows, and your guilt are all enveloped and 
 lost in the cloud of sweet incense as it rises 
 before the throne, and blends with the ascend- 
 ing cloud of the Redeemer's precious interces- 
 sion. Prayer will soothe you — prayer will 
 calm you — prayer will unburden your heart 
 — prayer will remove or mitigate your pain — 
 prayer will heal your sickness, or make your 
 sickness pleasant to bear — prayer will expel 
 the tempter — prayer will bring Jesus sensibly 
 near to your soul — prayer will lift your heart 
 to heaven, and will bring heaven down into 
 your heart. "Lord, I cry unto thee: make 
 haste unto me : give ear unto my voice when 
 
THE INCENSE OF PRAYER. 228 
 
 I cry unto thee. Let my prayer be set forth 
 before thee as incense ; and the lifting up of 
 my hands as the evening sacrifice." " I give 
 
 1 The prayers I make -will then be sweet indeed 
 It thou the Spirit give by which I pray : 
 My unassisted heart is barren clay, 
 That of its native self can nothing feed : 
 Of good and pious works Thou art the seed 
 That quickens only where thou sayest it may : 
 Unless thou show to us thine own true way, 
 No man can find it : Father ! thou mayest lead. 
 Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind 
 By which such virtue may in me be bred, 
 That in thy holy footsteps I may tread ; 
 The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, 
 That I may have the power to sing of Thee, 
 And sound thy praises everlastingly.'* 
 
 * Wordsworth 
 
€\t Biitf Urculthtg. 
 
 H Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the 
 mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense." — Song Sol. iv. 6. 
 
 It is proper that we should now conduct 
 our ' night thoughts' to a close. And with 
 what topic more soothing and appropriate can 
 we terminate our present reflections than the 
 one suggested by the portion of the sweet song 
 just quoted — the arrival of that blessed period 
 when the shadows of our present pilgrimage 
 will all have fled, succeeded by a " morning 
 without clouds," and a day without a night ? 
 That we dwell so much in the region of pres- 
 ent clouds, and so little in the meridian of the 
 future glory, entails upon us a serious loss. 
 "We look too faintly beyond the midnight of 
 time into the daylight of eternity. We are 
 slow of heart to believe all that is revealed of 
 the bliss that awaits us, and do not sufficiently 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 225 
 
 realize that, in a little while, — how soon !— 
 the day will break. — the shadows will flee 
 away, — and we shall bathe our souls in heav- 
 en's full, unclouded, endless light. i Absent 
 from the body.' we shall be ' present with the 
 Lord.' To the consideration of this deeply in- 
 teresting subject let us for a few moments, in 
 conclusion, bend our thoughts. 
 
 "We have already considered the night- 
 season of travel as constituting a great portion 
 of the celestial pilgrimage of the saints. Solo- 
 mon, in the sacred Idyl from which we have 
 selected the sublime stanza at the head of this 
 chapter, again recalls our thoughts to this 
 point. He refers to the " shadows" which 
 gather round the pathway of the believer on 
 his way to the eternal city. Nor is this an 
 exaggerated description of the reality. The 
 portrait of the Christian's life has its lights, 
 bright and glorious : but it also has its shad- 
 ows, deep and long ; and both the light and 
 the shade are essential to the perfection of the 
 picture. 
 
 "We have emerged, beloved, in our conver- 
 
226 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 sion, from the scene of shadows. Divine and 
 sovereign grace has chosen and called us out 
 of a world over which the funeral pall of the 
 ' darkness of the shadow of death' spreads its 
 broad mantle. " Darkness covers the earth, 
 and gross darkness the people." The natural 
 sun illumines, — its beams of light and splen- 
 dor streaming alike through the windows of 
 the palace and the lowly cot; but until Jesus, 
 the Sun of Righteousness, is revealed and 
 known, neither i those who dwell in kings' 
 houses,' nor those who occupy the humblest 
 cottage on the hillside, are guided to eternity 
 by a single ray from heaven. Now, seeing 
 that the path of the " child of the light" 
 lies through this dark world, it is no marvel if 
 shadows, often varied and thick, should brood 
 around his steps. Let us for a moment glance 
 at some of them. 
 
 There are the shadows of spiritual igno- 
 rance thrown upon our path. With all our 
 attainments, how little have we really at- 
 tained ! With all our knowledge, how little do 
 we actually know ! How superficially and im« 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 227 
 
 perfectly are we acquainted with truth, with 
 Jesus, who is emphatically "The truth." with 
 God, whom the truth reveals. "W T e know 
 but in party "We see through a glass 
 darkly" — all is yet but as a riddle, compared 
 with what we shall know when the shadows 
 of ignorance have fled. There are, too, the 
 enshrouding shadows of God's dark and pain- 
 ful dispensations. Our dealings are with a 
 Grod of whom it is said, " Clouds and darkness 
 are round about him." Who often "covers 
 himself as with a cloud," and to whom the 
 midnight traveller to the world of light has 
 often occasion to address himself in the lan- 
 guage of the church, "Thou art a G-od that 
 hidest thyself." Ah ! beloved, what clouds of 
 dark providences may be gathering and thick- 
 ening around thy present path ! Through what 
 a gloomy, stormy night of affliction faith may 
 be steering thy tempest-tossed bark. That 
 faith eying the promise and not the provi- 
 dence — the "bright light that is in the cloud," 
 and not the lowering cloud itself, will steer 
 that trembling vessel safely through the surge. 
 
228 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 i 
 
 Remember that in the providences of Grod, the 
 believer is passive — but with regard to the 
 promises of G od, he is active. In the one case, 
 he is to ' be still' and know that Grod reigns, 
 and that the " Judge of all earth must do 
 right." In the other, his faith, child-like, un- 
 questioning and unwavering, is to take hold 
 of what God says, and of what Grod is, be- 
 lieving that what he has promised he is also 
 able and willing to perform. This is to be 
 " strong in faith, giving glory to Grod." 
 
 The divine withdrawment is another shad- 
 ow, often imparting an aspect of dreariness 
 to the path we are treading to the Zion of 
 Grod. " Wherefore hidest thou thyself?" says 
 Job. " For a small moment," says Grod to 
 the church, " have I forsaken thee, ... In a 
 little wrath i" hid my face from thee for a 
 moment." Ah ! there are many who have 
 the quenchless light of life in their souls, who 
 yet, like Job, are constrained to take up the 
 lamentation, " I went mourning without the 
 sun." There are no shadows darker to some 
 of God's saints than this. Many professing 
 
i^E DAY BREAKING. 229 
 
 Christians dwell so perpetually in the region 
 of shadows, they so seldom feel the sunshine 
 of God's presence in their souls, that they 
 scarcely can discern when the light is with- 
 drawn. But there are others, wont to walk 
 so near with God in the rich, personal enjoy- 
 ment of their pardon, acceptance and adop- 
 tion, that if but a vapor floats between their 
 soul and the sun, in an instant they are sen- 
 sible of it. blessed are they whose walk 
 is so close, so filial with God, whose home is 
 so hard by the cross, who, like the Apocalyp- 
 tic angel, dwell so entirely in the sun, as to 
 feel the barometer of their soul affected by 
 the slightest change in their spiritual atmos- 
 phere. In other words — who walk so much 
 beneath the light of God's reconciled coun- 
 tenance as to be sensible of his hidings even 
 " for a small moment." And then there comes 
 the- last of our shadows, "the valley of the 
 shadow of death." There they terminate. 
 This may be the focus where they all shall 
 meet ; but it is to meet only to be entirely and 
 forever scattered. The sentiment is as true 
 20 
 
230 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 as the figure is poetic, — " the shadow of 
 death." It is but a ' shadow' to the believer ; 
 the body of that shadow, Jesus, the " Captain 
 of our salvation," met on the cross, fought, 
 and overcame. By dying he so completely 
 destroyed death, and him that had the power 
 of death, that the substance of death in the 
 experience of the dying Christian dwindles 
 into a mere shadoio, and that shadow melts 
 into eternal glory. death ! how great was 
 thy triumph, and how overwhelming was thy 
 defeat when Jesus died. Never was thy 
 gloomv domain so dark as when Essential 
 Life bowed his head and gave up the ghost. 
 Yet never was it illumined with .an effulgence 
 so great, as when the Divine Conqueror pass- 
 ed through its gloomy chambers, and with a 
 power and a victory mightier and more glori- 
 ous far than Samson's, tore away its iron 
 gates, and demolished its strongholds ; throw- 
 ing a brightness and a fragrance around the 
 bed of death, in which, " until the day dawn 
 and the shadows flee away," those who sleep 
 in Jesus lie down and rest. " If a man 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 231 
 
 keep my sayings he shall never see death." 
 " Whoso believeth in me shall never dieT 
 
 " Death's terror is the mountain faith removes ; 
 Tis faith disarms destruction, — 
 Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb." 
 
 {i ye timorous souls ! that are terrified at 
 the sound of the passing bell ; that tremble 
 at the sight of an opened grave ; and can 
 scarce behold a coffin without a shuddering 
 horror; ye that are in bondage to the grisly 
 tyrant, and tremble at the shaking of his iron 
 rod, cry mightily to the Father of your spirits 
 for faith in his dear son ! Faith will free 
 you from your slavery. Faith will embolden 
 you to tread on this the fiercest of serpents. 
 Old Simeon, clasping the child Jesus in the 
 arms of his flesh, and the glorious Mediator 
 in the arms of his faith, departs with tran- 
 quillity and peace. That bitter persecutor 
 Saul, having won Christ, being found in 
 Christ, longs to be dismissed from cumbrous 
 clay, and kindles with rapture at the prospect 
 of dissolution. Methinks I see another of 
 Emmanuel's followers trusting in his Saviour ; 
 
232 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 leaning on his beloved, go down to the silent 
 shade with composure and alacrity. ' Know- 
 ing,' says Peter, ' that shortly I must put 
 off this tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus 
 Christ hath showed me.' In this powerful 
 name, an innumerable company of sinful crea- 
 tures have set up their banners and overcome 
 through the blood of the Lamb. Authorized 
 by the Captain of thy salvation, thou also 
 may est set thy feet upon the neck of this 
 ' king of terrors.' Enriched with this anti- 
 dote thou mayest play around the hole of the 
 asp, and put thy undaunted hand on the 
 cockatrice den. Thou mayest feel the viper 
 fastening to thy mortal part, and fear no 
 evil ; thou shalt one day shake it off by a 
 joyful resurrection, and suffer no harm." 
 
 But let us turn from the shadows of night 
 to the day-dawn, by which those shades will 
 presently be succeeded. " Until the day 
 break and the shadow flee away." It will 
 not always be night with the expectants of 
 glory. As the " children of the day and of 
 the light," their present time-state would 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 233 
 
 seem to be but an accident of their being, a 
 temporary obscuration only, through which 
 they are passing to the world of which it is 
 said, " there shall be no night there; and they 
 need no candle, neither light of the sun, for 
 the Lord God giveth them light : and they 
 shall reign forever and ever." xlnd yet we 
 would be far from penning a sentence tending 
 to foster in the Christian mind a spirit of dis- 
 content with his present night-season of hu- 
 miliation and sorrow. We have already re- 
 marked, in a former part of this work, that 
 there are glories revealed by the natural 
 night, which the sun in all its splendor, so far 
 from revealing, only hides from our view by 
 its very brightness. We are as much in- 
 debted to the darkness of night for its mag- 
 nificent unveilings of God's wonderful works, 
 as to the noon-tide splendor which lights up 
 the wonders and glories of earth. How 
 limited had been our knowledge of the uni- 
 verse, and how partial our view of the divine 
 affluence and greatness, had there been no 
 natural night. A world of perpetual sun- 
 20* 
 
234: THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 shine, would have been a world of gross men- 
 tal darkness ! The earth beneath and the 
 sun above us would have been the limits of 
 our knowledge. The beauties spread out 
 upon the dissolving landscapes around us, we 
 might have surveyed with admiration and 
 delight, but the mighty expanse above us, the 
 overspreading firmament, the remote depths 
 stretching far into space, all studded and 
 crowded with suns and systems and constella- 
 tions, would never have burst in grandeur 
 and wonder upon our view. Of astronomy, 
 that most delightful and fascinating of all 
 sciences, we should have known nothing. 
 But when the last lingering ray of the sun 
 retires, and evening, glittering with heaven's 
 rich jewellery, approaches ; and night, wearing 
 her diadem of star and planet, takes her 
 allotted place in the earth's revolution, — then 
 it is we go forth on our wondrous travel, and 
 as we " consider the heavens, the moon, and 
 the stars, which he has ordained," we exclaim 
 with that devout astronomer, the Psalmist^ 
 " The heavens declare the glory of Grod ; and 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 285 
 
 the firmament showeth his handiwork." Thus 
 is it with the dark dispensation of God with 
 his people. Would you pass through a spirit- 
 ual course of perpetual sunshine ? Would 
 you be exempt from the night-season of sor- 
 row and of trial ? how little would you 
 then know of God, and of Christ, and of 
 truth ! We hesitate not to affirm, that as in 
 the natural world we are more deeply in- 
 debted to the instructions of the night than 
 to those of the day, so in the spiritual world 
 we experimentally learn infinitely more in 
 the night-season of deep and sanctified afflic- 
 tion than in the bright, sunny day of gladness 
 and prosperity. It may be a dark and tedious 
 night of weeping and of trial, yet is it often a 
 night in which Christ visits us, as he visits us 
 at no other season. But from this digression 
 let us turn our thoughts to the day-dawn, 
 when the shadows shall all flee away. 
 
 We have alluded to the moral darkness of 
 man, — the spiritual unregeneracy in which 
 he is found by nature. The first light, then, 
 that dawns upon the soul is the day-break of 
 
236 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 grace. When that blessed period arrives, 
 when the Sun of Righteousness has risen 
 upon the long-benighted mind, how do the 
 shadows of ignorance and of guilt instantly 
 disappear ! What a breaking away of, per- 
 haps, a long night of alienation from God, of 
 direct hostility to God, and of ignorance of 
 the Lord Jesus, then takes place. Not, how- 
 ever, strongly marked is this state always at 
 the first. The beginning of grace in the soul 
 is frequently analogous to the beginning of 
 day in the natural world. The dawn of grace 
 is at first so faint, the day-break so gentle, 
 that a skilful eye only can descry its earliest 
 tints. The individual himself is, perhaps, ig- 
 norant of the extraordinary transition through 
 which his soul is passing. The discovery of 
 darkness which that day-dawn has made, the 
 revelation it has brought to view of the des- 
 perate depravity of his heart, the utter cor- 
 ruption of his fallen nature, the number and 
 the turpitude of his sins, it may be, well nigh 
 overwhelms the individual with despair! But 
 what has led to this discovery ? What has 
 
THE DAY BKEAKIXG. 237 
 
 revealed all this darkness and sin? 0! it is 
 the day-break of grace in the soul ! One faint 
 ray, what a change has it produced ! 
 
 And is it real? Ah! just as real as that 
 the first beam, faintly painted on the eastern 
 sky, is a real and an essential part of light. 
 The day-break — -faint and glimmering though 
 it be — is as really day as the meridian is day. 
 And so is it with the day-dawn of grace in the 
 soul. The first serious thought — the first real 
 misgiving — the first conviction of sin — the 
 first downfall of the eye — the first bending of 
 the knee — the first tear — the first prayer — the 
 first touch of faith, is as really and as essen- 
 tially the day-break of God's converting grace 
 in the soul as is the utmost perfection to which 
 that grace can arrive. glorious dawn is 
 this, my reader, if now for the first time in 
 your life, the day-break of grace has come, and 
 the shadows of ignorance and guilt are fleeing 
 away before the advancing light of Jesus in 
 your soul. If now you are seeing how de- 
 praved your nature is ; if now you are learn- 
 ing the utter worthlessness of your own right* 
 
238 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 eousness; if now you are fleeing as a poor 
 lost sinner to Christ, relinquishing your hold 
 of -everything else, and clinging only to him; 
 and though this be but in weakness and trem- 
 alousness, and hesitancy, yet sing for joy, 
 for the day is breaking, — the prelude to the 
 day of eternal glory, — and the shadows of ua- 
 regeneracy are forever fleeing away. And as 
 this day of grace has begun, so it will advance. 
 Nothing shall impede its course, nothing shall 
 arrest its progress. " He which hath begun a 
 good w r ork in you will perform it until the day 
 of Jesus Christ." The Sun now risen upon 
 you with healing in his beams shall never 
 stand still — shall never go back. " He hath 
 set a tabernacle for the sun" in the renewed 
 soul of man, and onward that sun will roll in 
 its glorious orbit, penetrating with its beams 
 every dark recess, until all mental shadows 
 are merged and lost in its unclouded and eter- 
 nal splendor. " The path of the just is as the 
 shining light, that shineth more and more unto 
 the perfect day." 
 
 But there awaits the believer a day brighter 
 
THE DAY BREAKING. 239 
 
 far than this ; such a day as earth never saw, 
 but as earth will surely see, — the day-break 
 of glory. & Until the daybreak, and the 
 shadows flee away." what a day is this! 
 It will be " as the light of the morning, when 
 the sun riseth, even a morning without 
 clouds.*' Grace, which was the day-dawn of 
 glory, now yields its long-held empire; and 
 glory, which is the perfect day of grace, be- 
 gins its brilliant and endless reign. The way- 
 worn " child of the day" has emerged from 
 the shadows of his pilgrimage, and has en- 
 tered that world of which it is said, u there 
 shall be no night there." Contemplate for a mo- 
 ment, some of the attributes of this day of glory. 
 It will be a day of perfect knowledge. 
 "When it is said that there will be no night in 
 heaven, it is equivalent^ to the assertion, that 
 there will be no intellectual darkness in heav- 
 en ; consequently there will be perfect intel- 
 lectual light. It is said that we shall then 
 ' know even as also we are known.' The en- 
 tire history of (rod's government will then be 
 unread out before the glorified saint, luminous 
 
240 THE DAY BREAKING. 
 
 in its own unveiled and yet undazziing bright- 
 ness. The mysteries of providence, and the 
 yet profounder mysteries of grace, which ob- 
 scured much of the glory of that government, 
 will then be unfolded to the wonder and ad- 
 miration of the adoring mind. The miscon- 
 ceptions we had formed, the mistakes we had 
 made, the discrepancies we had imagined, the 
 difficulties that impeded us, the prophecies 
 that bewildered us, the parables that baffled 
 us, the controversies that agitated us, all, all 
 will now be cleared up ; the day has broken, 
 and the shadows have fled forever. blessed 
 day of perfected knowledge, which will then 
 give me reason to see, that the way along 
 which my God is now leading me through a 
 world of shadows, is a right way ; and that 
 where I most trembled, there I had most reason 
 to stand firm ; and that where I most yielded 
 to fear, there I had the greatest ground for 
 confidence ; and that where my heart was the 
 most collapsed with grief, there it had the 
 greatest reason to awaken its strings to the 
 most joyous melody. 
 
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