APRIL 1

“Blessed be the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ, which according to His abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope”—1 Peter 1:3.

The writer being called upon in the providence of God to attempt to speak to a gathering of the Lord’s people one stormy Sabbath evening, with these words on his mind, and finding on arrival at the Chapel that the boisterous elements prevented nearly all the elderly people from walking the country roads, and the congregation—still a goodly gathering in the circumstances—proving to be almost entirely one of young people, this thought, during the singing, was borne solemnly upon his mind: Here is a gathering of young people, all (comparatively speaking) entering upon the threshold of life—all looking forward to a future—their thoughts all bent with hope and anxiety upon what their future shall be: here (in the text) is a future to look forward to, and to have the affections set upon! The time was a solemn one to him. Eternity, perhaps, alone may reveal how far the Lord was pleased to hear his silent petitions that He would by His own power rivet the word upon the hearts of those present. And if this thought was of solemn importance then, is it not to us all? Are we looking for a future? O, what is the future our hopes and affections are set upon? What future have we in view? Let us each ask ourselves the solemn question today. E’re these words are read—if ever published—perhaps some of those dear young people—perhaps the writer—may be in heaven—or in the place where hope never comes. What is our hope? Have we any worth possessing? At least, have we such a blessed one as this—such a blessed future as this to look to? If the Lord has set our affections upon, and implanted in our hearts a lively and living hope of, this future, is it not truly “according to abundant mercy?” If so, let us further consider the character of it. To even faintly indicate it, “living tongues are dumb at best,” and even the greatest revelation is only limited. But there is one sure indication: one reliable measure of it revealed to us. As the begetting to the hope of it, so is this future itself, “according to”—and to be measured by “His abundant mercy” and love. When we recall what His unfathomable and eternal love has already done and shewn itself to be (which we cannot here further refer to—but see especially Ephesians 1, and the word generally) have we not a reliable measure of it? Which is, that it will be in accordance with the character of that great love. The Lord in His abundant mercy grant us this hope—this future. And if this living hope is ours, to the praise of His grace (Eph. 1:6) be the meditations of our hearts (Ps. 19:14) today.

“In Christ’s obedience clothe,
And wash me in His blood;
So shall I lift my head with joy.
Among the sons of God.” (Gadsby’s, 471).

APRIL 2

“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters”—Ps. 29:3.
[sixth meditation]
(See March 20 to 25)

Upon few of the seas through which the voyage of the Christian lies are the dangers so seductive and numerous as upon the waters of temptation. Added to all the ordinary dangers of the Ocean, these waters abound in swift and sudden currents. Satan is especially busy upon this sea, and here his evil talent of cunning is powerfully employed. It is one of his special devices—as likewise of his many ministers whose voices are constantly heard here—to lure the vessels of mercy out of the beaten tracks marked on the heavenly Chart, into one or another of these dangerous streams. Their danger may be best gathered when it is known that at the end of some of them is a great and fatal whirlpool, and that when once any bark is fairly caught in one of these particular currents there is no power on earth which can prevent it from being carried on into the dreadful vortex and destroyed: nothing but divine power can rescue such a vessel. These—some more and some less—powerful currents are so abounding upon this sea; the voices luring voyagers into them are so many, various and subtle, that it is in reality a wonder any whatever escape: and were it not for a divine voice which is able to overpower all others, even the vessels of mercy would themselves be everyone engulfed and sink to rise no more. Some of these voices have at times a music of strange melody in them, which charms the ears even of the most wary. So everywhere enveloping are the dangers of this sea, that it would be a place of total and universal perdition but for one ray of Salvation: the fact that the voice of the Lord is upon the waters. The effect of this sometimes is such that it renders the ears of redeemed voyagers dumb to all other voices. Sometimes the Lord’s words are: “What is this, my redeemed child, what is this sinful thing, this wicked person, this unholy design, this sinful pursuit, by which thy desires are being drawn? Lovest thou me? Dost thou begin to love this? Which lovest thou: it or me? Thou whom I love—for whom I died—I ask thee again: Lovest thou me?” At such times especially the voice of Satan dies away unvictorious. At such a season especially a host of Satanic voices surrounding a redeemed voyager have been known to be put to flight: for though the princes of Satan’s kingdom were there, “the voice of the Lord was upon the waters,” and there was the victory and the calm of divine love. O, the perpetual, the soul-wearying and at times soul-dismaying dangers of this sea! Yet even here the sweet promise is sometimes heard:

“Fear not, I am with thee; O, be not dismayed;
I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand.” (Gadsby’s, 329).

APRIL 3
“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters”—Ps. 29:3.
(seventh meditation)

There is an extensive expanse of waters covering a dark and cloudy region, where the sun seldom shines, the winds are unpropitious and cold, and the voyagers are consequently afflicted with cold, fevers and other weaknesses and their strength is much weakened: so much so that some seem at times to lose all spirit. The devil calls it his playground: for he knows that the vessels here are never in vital danger, but he is able to harass them in a sometimes terrible manner. The travellers have another name for it and amongst these mariners it is known as the Sea of Doubts and Fears. One reason why Satan calls it his playground is because he and his ministers frequently indulge in unholy mockery of the poor travellers whom they are perpetually harassing and whose barks are constantly tossed up and down by seemingly alarming billows, whilst mock-thunder and lightnings are at times thrown about them by him and his agents; and because he and they yet know that the poor and alarmed mariners are in no vital danger. Satan and his regiments are aware that these voyagers have an almighty protector, who has pledged Himself for their safety, and has never been known to lose one of them upon these waters, or to fail in his word, when once given. The unfounded alarm and sadness of the voyagers, therefore, causes much gratification to their satanic foes, who, as they know they cannot sink them in this sea, seem all the more inflamed to harass them. It is a cheerless sea and Satan and his busy legions have brought the travellers there by blinding them: one of the greatest afflictions here prevailing amongst them being temporary blindness. But there are some refreshing and sometimes—indeed often—joyous scenes witnessed on this sea, for at times the voice of the Lord is upon the waters, declaring as of old: “Let there be light!” and then the scales fall from many a sad mariner’s eyes: his face is lighted up with peace; he sings praises to his deliverer, abhors himself often for listening to Satan at the time when he blinded him, for forgetting his Lord’s covenant oath and promises, and laughs at his former tormentors, smites them everywhere with the sword of the spirit (Eph. 6:17) and at the voice of the Lord sails swiftly out of the unhallowed waters into another and heaven-lit sea, concerning which we may perhaps on another day be permitted to meditate.

“He is my soul’s bright morning star,
And He my rising sun;
In darkest shades, if He appear,
My dawning is begun.”

APRIL 4
“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters”—Ps. 29:3.
(eighth meditation)

How many are the waters in which the vessel of mercy is called upon to travel; and as with the waters of the earth, so it is with these: the seas adjoin each other; and when it is the purpose of Jesus to lead from waters of sadness, or waters of trial, or into waters of new blessing, it is the voice of the Lord upon the waters which guides the travellers from one into another. Some voyage for many years in the sea of Death and it is the voice of the Lord heard upon its waters with the same creative and life-giving power as at the old creation which alone leads them forth from these waters of death into the different seas of spiritual life. And upon each of these the same gracious guiding, protecting and life-giving voice is the life long blessing of them all. As it is this upon which they are dependent whilst travelling on each expanse, so is it this blessing which guides them, calls them, and enables them to travel from one to the other. Thus it is that a voyager is often found travelling upon one trying sea, where—notwithstanding all the buffetings of its waves—his life and being have been sustained by the Lord’s mercy, and he has, indeed, perhaps, been signally blessed. Nevertheless, he is longing for deliverance from it and is waiting and praying for the moving of the voice of the Lord upon the waters to lead him forth. Presently the divine voice puts forth its power, and by its sometimes plain, sometimes mysterious, operations, he finds himself in more favoured waters, where divine light and heavenly music, peace of spirit, the breathings of love, and the communion of saints dwelling in the light of the Lord, reign. Thus it is seen that as the voice of the Lord is their mercy whilst travelling all the seas which lie in the voyage to the heavenly shore, it is the voice of the Lord upon the waters which graciously leads them from sea to sea, and will finally lead them from the last great deep into the eternal company of Jesus and the redeemed where it is declared that God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; (Rev. 7:17), and in prospect of this they are sometimes heard singing:

“Yes, I shall soon be landed
On yonder shores of bliss;
There, with my powers expanded,
Shall dwell where Jesus is.
O, that in Jordan’s swelling
I may be helped to sing,
And pass the river telling
The triumphs of my King.” (Gadsby’s, 483).

APRIL 5
“Hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you”—1 Pet. 1:3, 4.

It is a misleading idea generally prevalent in the mind of the unregenerate that (as it is called) our “life” is the brief period during which we inhabit our corruptible bodies. The real position of matters of course is that—properly speaking—it is quite incorrect to call this our life. It is only a portion—and a trifling portion—of it. Our life has at present begun, and will go on now without end. Our bodies will change as to duration—but not our life. That (as to length) will continue from now, straight on, without change, for ever. The spirit is the real person—not the flesh and bones. We see this on beholding a dead body. The flesh and bones are there, but the person is not. The person himself or herself is gone away, and is somewhere else—as is a person who is gone to Australia, whom we expect never to see again. True, they in the latter case have taken their body with them, whereas in the former case the mere flesh and bones have been left behind. But in both cases—the person gone to Australia and the person who has left the body—the persons are living, only elsewhere, instead of with us. Any inheritance, then, to really suit our needs, must be one capable of lasting during the whole of our lives—which is for ever. If the inheritance would last 500 years and then decay, it would be really valueless, for we need it for ever. Do we not thus realize the mercy of—if such a hope be ours—an inheritance which can never corrupt and which the never ending ages of eternity can never cause to fade away, seeing that any others are insufficient and therefore valueless? As the incorruptible blessings purchased for the redeemed are more and more viewed by precious faith does not the “abundant mercy” of God afresh quicken the sight of such to humble thanksgiving for this “love beyond degree?” Where is the inheritance reserved? “In Heaven—for you.” How solemn are these two words: “for you.” Who is “you?” Is not the question borne upon us: is it “for you?” How favoured, therefore, to be amongst those who can feelingly sing, as could (even whilst passing into eternity) one whose gracious death two days ago has only a few minutes since been related to the writer:

“In heaven my choicest treasure lies,
My hopes are placed above the skies;
’Tis Christ, the bright and Morning Star,
Draws my affections from afar.” (Gadsby’s, 482).

APRIL 6
“The inheritance of the saints in light”—Col. 1:12.

We sing—and truly—“poor and afflicted Lord, are thine.” But, on the other hand, do we not sorely neglect the occupation of counting up our mercies? We dwell much—both in speech and in our minds—upon the prosperity of the wicked, and especially of the rich and noble, till it would almost at times appear that in all vital circumstances, and on all chief occasions, they step into the first and most privileged places—that they always have, so to speak, the first choice of everything, and that the poor people of God are left to make the best of what remains. But what a short-sighted view, in which faith alone comes to our relief. If a great and beautiful estate is to be purchased, we know the rich and noble generally step in first; if a position of great power is to be obtained, it is these who have generally the first choice; if an office of high honour is to be bestowed, the first opening of the doorway to it is usually to them: and the poor child of God does not expect to compete with them. But in a vast array of competitions, though many may be lost, it is the winning of the greatest and the highest prize which forms the test of victory and privilege. Then how stands the Christian in all the great competitions of life? To a superficial observer of the scene it frequently looks as though he is losing all along the line and hopelessly outdistanced, being meanwhile also unceremoniously pushed on one side by the competitors. But now, finally, comes the great prize to be striven for. The great competition is to be decided, and the whole world see that before its importance all the previous ones vanish into comparative trifles. How are fareing the rich, the noble, the cunning, the powerful, the mighty? Do the first places in the race now open to them? A mighty and glorious, and as indestructible as mighty and glorious, inheritance is at stake. Do gold and power remove the obstacles in the way for them and make, as before, a royal road for them? Now their chariots drag, the road is impassable, they fall by the way. How changed is the scene. But what is this golden chariot yonder coming with royal speed? Does it not contain some rich noble of the land? It contains a child of God. He is being borne firmly along the road in the golden chariot of the Love of God, to the possession of the great prize of all—the inheritance of the saints in light. And now shine forth the great councils of God, which he is on the way to praise for ever. The first place is not to the great—but to one greatly beloved.

“Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
’Midst flaming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.” (Gadsby’s, 103).

APRIL 7
“The inheritance of the saints in light”—Col. 1:12.
(second meditation).

This is reserved in heaven. (1 Pet. 1:4). Yet some of its benefits are received here, in advance; though if we ever forget that a child of God does not receive all his good things in this world, we shall soon begin to be discontented with our, perhaps, trying lot, and look possibly with lingering and rebellious eyes upon those whom we see enjoying amplitude of the good things of this life, forgetting the reason—that they are receiving all their good things here. Nevertheless, some of the benefits of this inheritance are received now. A sweet thought with regard to them, too, is that these are all stamped with a precious mark, which it does the heart good to notice and think of when receiving them, viz: they are all tokens of good things to come. Though not quite comparable perhaps to the “shadows” of the Old Testament dispensations, betokening the coming of the promised Messiah, yet they are at best but faint tokens of the immortal blessings of the heavenly inheritance held in reserve. How sweet, however, to regard these advance goodnesses of God as the harbingers of the “abundant mercies” (1 Pet. 1:3) which only the fulness of glory awaits to reveal. In a sense there is even the present possession of the blessings of this inheritance of the saints—indeed in more than one sense. The substance is reserved in the bank of Heaven, as the gold which is the substance of bank notes is held in reserve in the Bank of England, which some of us have probably often passed. We at present hold the bank notes. But as surely as a bank note will be cashed when taken to the Bank of England, so will be these when finally presented at the great Bank of Heaven, where the gold—the substance of what they betoken—is “reserved for you” (1 Pet. 1:4). These bank notes—issued on the Bank of Heaven (where the substance to meet them is held in reserve) are the covenant and eternal promises revealed to the eye of faith in the word of God. How comforting is the examination from time to time of these divine bank notes, when prompted and enabled by the operation of the Holy Spirit in the heart. “Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises”—(2 Pet. 1:4)—bank notes of large value.

“His every word of grace is strong
As that which built the skies;
The voice that rolls the stars along
Speaks all the promises.” (Gadsby’s, 14).

APRIL 8
“And increasing in the knowledge of God”—Col. 1:10.

This is one only of the manifestations of grace which the Apostle prayed might be bestowed upon the saints at Colosse, but in it what a great contrast to their—and our—condition by nature is presented. Formerly they and we made a daily increase in knowledge—but our increase was a constant accumulation of darkness. And how great (especially in some of our cases) did this gathering, this storing up of darkness become. So thick did it become that whilst from the beginning the motions of our minds, and the influences in which they were pleased to move, were darkness, it then, as our knowledge of these things increased, became gross darkness. (Is. 60:2.) Here we see a picture of the condition we were in. So thick, so gross, was this darkness, that nothing but the sovereign might of God could penetrate it. It lay upon our affections—we loved darkness and not light; upon our desires—we desired the things of darkness and the things of light had no charm for us; it lay upon our understandings—we could not comprehend them; upon our wills—for we were determined to follow the things of darkness, and deliberately turned with repugnance (more or less strong) from the things of light. And in the knowledge of God lies the knowledge of the things of light. We moved in a world of darkness—our beings were enveloped with darkness. We knew no light. Neither did we desire it. Only divine light could pierce this darkness, and causing it to lift, remove the veil from divine things—in which are the knowledge of God—(2 Cor. 3:16) and thus displaying to our new-born faculties the desirableness of this knowledge, and causing us with “open face” to there behold “the glory of the Lord” (2 Cor. 3:18) started us, with divine drawings, in the pursuit of the knowledge of the Lord. This is the cause of any seekings for it and our—we hope—desires for its increase. But how great is the contrast here presented. Is it not thus seen to be nothing less—as elsewhere put (Col. 1:13) than a translation from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God’s dear Son—which is light? For all increase of this knowledge and for every continued inclination and seeking for its increase, may we be enabled to offer with praise our acknowledgements to God.

“I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.”
(Gadsby’s, 295).

APRIL 9
“For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man, as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever”—I Pet. 1:24. 25.

The writer not long ago met a friend whom he had known from his youth, who was remarking along with him upon the many changes of the intervening years, and those still in progress, in the locality. All things, it was mutually remarked, were changing and changeable; whereupon the writer felt unable to refrain from remarking to his friend: “Yes. But what a mercy that there is something somewhere to be found which does not change—something which is firm; which amidst all this shifting sand, will not sink when we stand upon it.” True it is that—as the apostle here sets forth—“all flesh is as grass;” that all things about us change, move, alter, disappear and constantly elude our grasp. Everything is moving and the scene is one as of shifting sand. Everything except one. Is there really something amidst all this painful and depressing scene—this multitude of disappearing things—which is firm? Yes, there is. But what is it? There are a world-wide multitude of things. Tell me, says the seeker for happiness, that I may know if it is what I seek; tell me, says the rich man, that I may find it; tell me, says the skeptic, that I may know if it is what will suit my heart’s desires; tell me, says the profligate, that I may know if it will suit mine; tell me, say a crowd of others, that we may know if it will suit ours: tell us, for so far we have found nothing which will not sink away and disappear from us. To all of them the reply must be; “no; it is nothing which will give any pleasure to you—nothing which will give any gratification to your desires. Many though your objects are, it is none of them. It will support none of your hopes.” We turn to the child of God. He is as anxious as the rest. More so. Because all his hopes are centred upon one thing and one alone. If this fails him all is gone. All his desires have been turned to one thing. If this one thing fails him, he has no second or third, or any other resource. He is a man undone. But so it is—and blessed be the Lord—that this one thing upon which he has come to rest his all is that only one in the world which is firm, and changeless. It is the divine substance of the word of God; and whilst everything else fades away and is as the shifting sand, “the word of the Lord endureth for ever.” This is the one thing which alone in the world will stand for ever. Happy is the man who has been brought to build upon this foundation. And such is the child of God. It might have been that this one thing upon which all his hopes have been led to rest was also shifting sand. But to the praise of the eternal love of God, such is not the case.

“What cheering words are these;
Their sweetness who can tell?
In time and to eternal days.
’Tis with the righteous well.” (Gadsby’s, 412).

APRIL 10
“And he said unto him, if they hear not Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead”—Luke 16:31.

That which will savingly affect the hearts of men and draw them unto God and divine realities is divinely implanted faith joined to the word of God. The clearest demonstrations to the intellect—working alone—will not. The carrying of conviction to the judgment will not, of itself. There is something in heavenly and divine things which the heart will not go out to and embrace as living, loved and eternally reliable realities, without a drawing beyond and past the power of intellectual consent and the conquest of the judgment. Speaking for himself, the writer can say that even the deliberate effort of the person himself to so grasp these matters is in vain, unless, and until, a divine help is granted—in other words, until faith is bestowed. And faith is that divine operation in the heart which enables it to so grasp them and to go out towards them, with an inwrought persuasion of their solemn verity as the foundation of a blessed hope: as that upon which the immortal yearnings of the spirit may with safety and satisfaction rest. The writer’s carnal reason has at times said: “If, when the Lord’s crucifiers said: ‘Let Him now come down from the Cross and we will believe Him’ (Matt. 27:42), if only Christ could then have come down, how the mouths of the whole world would have been stopped!” But their intellects and natural capacities had an even stronger and more startling proof (of His God-head) than this. He did more than come down from the Cross upon which He was still alive. He arose from the dead. Yet even this did not—working alone—draw their hearts. We see, then, how nothing will do for us but the power of God working by faith operating upon and through the word of God as its foundation, food and guide. This causes sadness at the flippant references to so-called faith by many of the popular religionists of the day on the part of those who have the solemn—though unspeakably precious—experience of that faith which is of the operation of God.

“Faith, ’tis a precious grace,
Where’re it is bestowed;
It boasts of a celestial birth,
And is the gift of God.
To Him it leads the soul,
When filled with deep distress;
Flies to the fountain of His blood,
And trusts His righteousness.” (Gadsby’s, 252).

APRIL 11
“The thieves also which were crucified with Him, cast the same in His teeth”—Matt. 27:44.

Have we ever been called upon to suffer reproach or indignity on behalf of the cause of Christ, or on account of our professed hope in Him? Has it also been heightened because we—for certain reasons, perhaps—could not explain ourselves or our reproachers were incapable of having matters explained to them and unable to understand them? Even compared with Christians of former days, the times and lot of the Lord’s disciples in these days are relatively easy. But what are any of our reproaches compared with those of our suffering Lord? Picture this scene—not to refer to any others whatsoever. “They that passed by reviled Him, wagging their heads” (ver. 39). “The chief priests mocking Him, with the scribes and elders, said: He saved others; Himself He cannot save” (ver. 42). “He trusted in God; let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him: for He said, I am the Son of God” (ver. 43). Others said: “Thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in three days, save thyself.” “If thou be the Son of God come down from the Cross” (ver. 40). Think of the awful irony of this: the horrible blasphemy of it to the one who was the darling of the Most High, King Immortal, and could have smitten them all to the earth and could also have come down from the Cross, and knew Himself to be the God Eternal—upon whom, nevertheless, they spat and whose face they smote with their hands. Why did He bear these reproaches? To carry out a divine and gracious purpose and from love to His dear people. The 53rd chapter of Isaiah and all the prophecies and promises were to be fulfilled. Are our reproaches hard at all? When we think of all the foregoing, does it still seem hard for us to bear His reproach from love to Him, because His designs are to be carried out (many little or not at all, understood by us), and because His word must be fulfilled? Doubtless according to the flesh it may still remain hard, but contemplation of the reproaches of our suffering Lord for us and of bygone saints in their fellowship with His, may strengthen faith and love amidst them, and be the gracious instrument of comfort rendering their weight less or even the bitter sweet.

“How bitter that cup, no heart can conceive,
Which He drank quite up, that sinners might live;
His path was much rougher and darker than mine;
Did Christ, my Lord, suffer, and shall I repine?”
(Gadsby’s, 232).

APRIL 12
“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters”—Ps. 29:3.
(ninth meditation)

Although our meditations on these words have chiefly dealt with troubled waters, it is our mercy that the voice of the Lord is not heard upon those only. Truly, were it not that it is found there, we should be destroyed upon some of them. Yet there are others which we should never see at all, were it not that His voice leads us to them and is the means of our blessing when in them. Such is the sea of faith, upon whose waters the voyagers are often found full of the vigour of life, expert in the wielding of the sword of the spirit (Eph. 6:17) and frequently seen to bestow upon Satan and his sneaking emissaries such heavy blows with it that the latter are dismally maimed, constantly retire disabled and make but little progress. In fact, they frequently increase the health of the voyagers by bringing into strengthening exercise their spiritual powers, especially in the invigorating employment of wielding the Sword of the Spirit and the soul-establishing use of the Shield of Faith (Eph. 6:16). Upon these gracious waters the voice of the Lord is a sustaining presence heard often with divine majesty in the souls of many of the stalwart voyagers, and is the means by which is produced that inspiring bloom of health which frequently here dwells upon their spirits and lights their countenances. Such things as these are here heard. Satan shouts into their ears as He did upon the sea of Doubts and Fears, with a dismal roar: “You are lost!” But a voice of celestial strength and music—the voice of the Lord—is heard upon the waters: “The Lord shall be thine everlasting light’” (Is. 60:20), and the voyager smiles at the discomfited and enraged tempter. “Your sins will sink you for ever!” “It is finished!” is heard upon the waters, and, behold, there is a heavenly calm of love and peace. The voice of the Lord in a thousand blessed manifestations is here upon the waters and the voice of Satan at its utterance is powerless. The Sea is a blessed one and the reason is because the voice of the Lord upon the waters is its animating life: and that, too, which can bring us into them is that same divine voice. The poet knew this who said:

“Afflicted saint, to Christ draw near,
Thy Saviour’s gracious promise hear;
His faithful word declares to thee
That as thy days thy strength shall be.”
(Gadsby’s , 328).

APRIL 13
“The voice of the Lord is upon the waters”—Ps. 29:3.
(tenth meditation).

One of the most beautiful seas which lie in the voyage of the vessel of mercy—whose beauty is animated by the rich presence of the voice of the Lord upon its waters—cannot be omitted as a sweet subject of our meditations. It is often not reached till many troubled, and some much-varying waters, have been passed. But on arriving there the voyagers’ ears have become much attuned to listening for the voice of the Lord. It is the sea of Gospel Liberty. Here the sight becomes strong: the faculties firm; the voice clear; the memory powerful; the mind penetrating; the spirit instinct with divine life; there is divine sunshine; and the animating cause of the whole is the penetrating efficacy of the voice of the Lord which is heard upon the waters of this ocean, and which fills the gracious regions covered by it. On the voyagers’ arrival here, the same voice which once upon earth caused the impotent to stand forth in strength, now, in a differently manifested dispensation, speaks life-giving power, and the weak, the lame and the halt, stand upright; the dumb speak; the deaf hear; the blind, receiving sight, are enabled to see things which rejoice their hearts. Amongst other things they become able to read. How sweet the things they are now able to read: amongst the chiefest being they can “read their title clear to mansions in the skies;” they can read their names written on many precious promises, can see it imprinted in some of the grandest assurances of Jehovah, can behold it written in sweet letters upon the Eternal Covenant itself, and see it recorded in characters of unspeakable preciousness in the Book of Life. Such is the sight given them at the command of the voice of the Lord upon these waters. And so powerful does this sight become that they can pierce within the veil and behold seated there as their ever prevailing Intercessor their beloved Redeemer, who “was dead and is alive for evermore” (Rev. 1:18) with the heavenly assurance spoken by the same voice into their spirits that because He lives, they shall live also; and that, notwithstanding the former threats of Satan, He has assuredly brought in for them an “everlasting righteousness” (Dan. 9:24), that they shall one day come into the full fruition of “the inheritance of the saints in light” (Col. 1:12) having obtained “redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of their sins” (Col. 1:14) and therefore “an inheritance which is incorruptible and undefiled and that fadeth not away” (1 Pet. 1:4). Is it surprising, therefore, that they love the voice of the Lord which is heard upon the waters and that their souls sometimes here consequently bask in the sunshine of heavenly peace? This is the sea referred to at the conclusion of our meditation of April 3rd, and one of the sweetest sounds heard upon it is the name of Jesus, which sometimes when it reaches their ears, and is spoken into their hearts and thoughts, and is reflected in their memories, has many precious effects of grace:

“It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
’Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.” (Gadsby’s, 135).

APRIL 14
“Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience”—Eph. 2:2.

Something was walked in: this was sin—described as “trespasses and sins” (ver. 1). It was walked in after a regular, well known, and well ascertained course or manner; this was “the course of this world.” And this was done evidently under a strong government whose impulse was that which regulated the whole and forced us along. Further, and to complete the description—though living, we were dead. It is distinctly stated that we were dead—dead to God and to spiritual life. And our concern is to know whether we are living. For certainly the spiritually dead are not to be found dwelling in heaven with God and with the “saints in light” (Col. 1:12), where it is our hope to dwell. Can we conceive of a heaven of perfect love, peace, purity, affectionate harmony and blessedness, made up of a holy God, a dear Redeemer “separate from sinners,” saints made like Him; and also of millions of others whose spirits still walk after the course of this world (with all its inbred corruptions, hates, strifes, violences, rivalries, and murderous competitions) and, though in heaven, governed by the Devil? Heaven, instead of being the rest of the blessed, would become a fresh place of horror; and as our powers will there become all mightily magnified, it would become an abode of infernal misery and of perpetual conflict between good and evil incomparably worse than this present evil world. Only the spiritually living—i.e. new-born, evidently can hope to be there. Therefore, are we now alive? or are we still dead ? A test of this is before us. If still dead, we are still walking as we did: according to the course of this world, i.e. according to the prince of the power of the air—for it is clearly stated that in the dead (the “children of disobedience”) this spirit still governs. This is not a question of mere morality and outward smoothness of behaviour—of absence of outward and flagrant sin before men; but it is a question of spirit and nature. How then is this spirit manifested? If it still governs us, are we not still “dead in trespasses and in sins?” (ver. 1) and “by nature the children of wrath even as others?” Is not its manifestation thus: It prompts us to “fulfil the desires of the flesh and of the mind” (ver. 3). It seeks to fulfil them, seeks opportunities to fulfil them, and even fondles and cultivates the desires themselves. In the opposite case, the new-born spirit is one which prompts us (if possessed) to a holy hatred of and opposition to these desires, instead of an inclination to fulfil them—with a true and natural longing to counteract them, though they may be present, and often strongly, in us; and is an operating principle whose object is not merely to please man, or make an outward show in the world, or even merely to appease by its efforts the wrath of an angry God; but it is a spirit possessing a motive which springs from a positive nature. And where it is absent, what evidence have we that we are not still “dead in sins” and walking “according to the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience?” (ver. 1, 2).

APRIL 15
“God, who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us”—Eph. 2:4.

This is a statement by the Apostle. We know he had many reasons for asserting the fact embodied in these words. But what is the present one which calls forth his unctuous language concerning the great love, and the wealth of the mercy, of God? It is this. We were—as the “children of disobedience” still are (ver. 3)—“dead in trespasses and sins,” and held in the chains of the Prince of the dead, and were unable to move hand or foot in the way of spiritual progress towards God. We had nothing of that which constitutes the qualities of the spirits of “the saints in light” (Col. 1:12) had no capacity for communion with God or them, had none of that which would make us congenial inhabitants of heaven, had only everything fitting us for hell, and had no more of the stamp of glory upon us than a murderer has of an angel of light. We were, as to being considered subjects of a heavenly future, in a state of complete hopelessness. But even whilst in this condition, the love and mercy of God went out towards us, even in our helplessness and raised us from the pit of death—translated us out of death into life—removed us from darkness into light—and “raised us up to sit together in heavenly places in Christ” (ver. 6). To do this (effectually) he spoke the word of the New-Creator—even when we were dead, when “darkness was on the face of the waters” (Gen. 1:2) of our spirits, when we were “without form and void” (Gen. 1:2), and quickened us, and even of us He—thereupon—“saw the light, that it was good” (being His own creation) and “the light He now calls day” (Gen. 1:4), for the “darkness” of the fall He brought us out of: though its dire mists still cling to the remains of the fall within us. This was done in eternity in Covenant purpose, was performed when our Redeemer rose from the dead—for we rose with Him—and was worked effectually in our spirits when they were quickened into life by the operation of the Holy Ghost. And all this Paul declares to be the result of a mighty and adorable originating cause: namely, rich mercy and great love. This he sees to be a blessed theme for a fresh exclamation of affection towards God, and is that which seems to now seize his spirit and implant in it a sudden expansion of the sense of divine love; and so he is impelled to exclaim—and may we be sweetly enabled by grace to join him: “God, who is rich in mercy, for the great love wherewith He loved us” has done all this—and even for such sinners as we.

APRIL 16
“…enter thou into thy chambers…until the indignation be overpast”—Isa. 26:20

Where shall my thoughts strong comfort seek,
My soul where find its stay,
Should towering tempests o’er me break,
Or dangers bar my way?

Should fears, storms, dangers, all unite
My spirit to dismay,
The Chamber of His Power, how bright—
And thither lies my way.

How great so e’re the dangers be:
Dark as the clouds my fear;
No foe less than infinity
Can overcome me here.

Should dire perplexity surround,
And riddles everywhere,
His wisdom shall my rest be found,
And I will haste me there.

But should impossible appear
The way He leadeth me,
His faithfulness my trust shall cheer,
And shall my chamber be.

Should I once doubt if He observe
My path and my despair,
This rest be mine, and hope preserve:
The Chamber of His Care.

But if my fears should still prevail,
With fleetness may I move
To where sure safety cannot fail:
The Chamber of His Love!
—E. L.

APRIL 17
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures”—Ps. 23:2.

If we have been enabled to do this, it is a measure of blessing worthy of our dwelling upon to His praise. This marks not merely a knowledge of the pastures of the Gospel; not, either, a hurrying amongst them as strangers and foreigners, with that superficial or passing concern felt by them in a foreign country. It does not mark the lying down in indolence or the hiding and trespass of a robber; nor even the walking in these gracious pastures by the true sheep. Something more than even this it seems to indicate. Would it not seem to set forth that condition in which one of the sheep is brought to a sense of Gospel rest: to feed in peace upon the pastures of the Gospel, to dwell amongst them with a sweet assurance of a family inheritance in them, and with that gracious ease of spirit born of a sense of a family interest in all the good things and soul-sustaining food and prospects around him. There is that in the Gospel and all its precious promises when applied to the spirit by a sweet sense of appropriation—by a sense of restful faith: there is then that in these things which produces rest in the things of God. Whilst this is in duration, is it not a lying down in green pastures? When the wide expanse of tender grass of many a sweet promise is set before us as our own; when all that God is is set before us as our covenant inheritance; when pardon and acceptance are felt in the heart; when the smile of God shines to us through His word on many a soul-quickening page; and when the field of divine truth and gospel inheritance, as spread forth in the book of life, stand to us as our own? When sweet communion with God concerning these things, accompanied with the spirit of adoption, is granted; when child-like familiarity and reverent freedom in prayer are granted concerning them, and faith in them is quickened and warmed by the spirit of the Lord: Is not this a lying down in the green pastures of the kingdom? But some tried heart will reply: “Yes. But this is high language; it is too great for me, and for many others whom I know—it is nothing less than the full liberty of the Gospel!” True. But is anything too hard for the Lord? (Jer. 32:27) David was enabled to “lie down in green pastures.” May they become such to us, our visits to them less unfrequent and less short, not confined to walking in them—though for this the Lord be thanked—but be so conveyed to us by faith as our own that we may be able at times to rest in them with that peace which passeth all understanding. Do I feel “the Lord to be my Shepherd?” May He then enable me to lie down in that green pasture. Has He promised me that He will love me and keep me for ever? O, may I be enabled today to lie down in that green pasture! How wide is the field of these green pastures. How blessed are those whom the Shepherd grants to lie down in them.

“O that I had a stronger faith,
To look within the veil;
To credit what my Saviour saith,
Whose words can never fail.
He that has made my heaven secure
Will here all good provide;
Whilst Christ is rich, I can’t be poor:
What can I want beside?” (Gadsby’s, 247).

APRIL 18
“Hear my voice, according unto Thy lovingkindness”—Ps. 119:149.

If we had before us a fuller view than at times we have of loving-kindness and what it embraces, surely our prayers would often be different to what they are, many of our disappointment’s with regard to them would be removed, and our views of the dispensations of God towards us and others, would be much changed. Loving-kindness is often construed to mean acting towards us in the manner in which an affectionately, but unwisely, indulgent parent acts towards his child, often to its hurt, and sometimes to its ruin. In this there is the tenderest lovingness. But it is not loving-kindness. Rather, it is loving-unkindness. It is largely love, but is love mixed with unwisdom; deep love, mixed with weakness; either of judgement or of self control; or mixed with weakness taking the form of a lack of self-denial. For is it not hard—where there is much love—to refuse that which a loving parent knows would bring the sweet smile of grateful affection into the face of a loving child? Does it not require a greater strength of love to refuse at such a time, for the child’s good, knowing that the refusal will give pain and perhaps lessen love—lessen that love which is so dear to the parent’s heart? Is it not easier—often much easier—to grant the child’s desire, and so win his or her affectionate thanks of heart and increase of affection? But this is not loving-kindness. God is loving-kindness: love pure, blessed, great, tender, compassionate and boundless; but unmixed with unwisdom, or any other of the human weaknesses, named. If God will “hear our prayers,” and deal with us—“after His loving-kindness,” how thankful we ought to be. For then He will use not only His great love, His great power, but also His great wisdom, and great (if we may reverently so call it) self-control, and grant us that which He knows (and how great is His wisdom!) is good—and refuse what He knows is not; which a weak and short-sighted, erring, though loving, human parent would grant. Our forgetfulness of the blessing bestowed by God in using not only His great love, but also His great kindness and wisdom with regard to our prayers, causes us much misconception and also frequent lack of a sense of His goodness. It is great to have such a kind God, who, even at the cost of our misunderstanding Him, of our repining against Him, and of our harsh instead of loving thoughts concerning Him, still from true love to us executes His unmoved and gracious counsels on our behalf. For such a God of loving-kindness may our hearts be moved with gratitude.

“Often I feel my sinful heart
Prone from my Saviour to depart;
But though I have Him oft forgot.
His loving-kindness changes not.” (Gadsby’s, 9).

APRIL 19
“Mine enemies would daily swallow me up: for they be many that fight against me, O Thou most high”—Psa. 56:2.

Few of us have the same number of outward enemies that David had. But apart from the quantity or power of our outward foes, we have all a number of inward enemies, to whom these words well apply. It is well for us if a resource in these circumstances has been revealed to us by the eye of faith. If we have truly entered on the pilgrim’s path, we feel the need of a refuge to whom we may go for protection from them, and for help against them. It is true even of these enemies at times that “They gather themselves together, they hide themselves, they mark my footsteps, when they wait for my soul” (ver. 6). They seem to know our footsteps, and certainly constantly follow them; and how easy it is for them to trip us up or to obtain the advantage over us. In this respect, every soul “knoweth its own bitterness” and its own special need of concern. True it is that “they be many that fight against us,” and at times so much are they in activity, that it seems as though they “‘would daily swallow us up.” Especially do they swallow up our comfort in divine things: often our communion with the Lord—and certainly will if we are not found prayerfully fighting against them—how? Trusting in the Lord (ver. 11). Sometimes they would appear to be bent upon swallowing up all our evidences of being children of the most High. As much as David did do we need with respect to them to betake ourselves to his great deliverer. And there our hope is similar to his: “When I cry unto Thee, then shall mine enemies turn back” (ver. 9). May the Lord enable us to make this our resource, and sweetly grant to us the experience that it is an availing one.

APRIL 20
“They hide themselves”—Ps. 56:6.

This refers to David’s enemies, who, he says (ver. 2), were many, and “would daily swallow him up” (ver. 2). And is not this very true of our inward foes? They lie in wait for our footsteps, they follow us, and suddenly they spring up in our path and overthrow us, sometimes before we are aware, or have time to recover ourselves and put ourselves on guard. On such occasions we are shown afresh the need of being constantly on our guard, and in a spirit of habitual watchfulness and prayerfulness to the Lord concerning these lurking foes of “our own household.” We pride ourselves that we know our dispositions well; that we have studied our hearts and their habits carefully. We admit, perhaps, that our dispositions are treacherous, and that our hearts are even cunningly and loathsomely bad. But we think we have been very diligent students of them. We, even, perhaps have deeply felt the duty of examining them habitually, so as to be on our guard against them; and having diligently done so, Satan has told us how good and godly we have been for doing it. Doubtless the occupation was godly, though this pharisaical pride in it was not. But now, up springs before our feet suddenly one of our strongest enemies. He was in hiding. Up springs suddenly in our path, some almost forgotten foe from within. He had hidden himself. Up springs—and perhaps this dismays us—an enemy whom we did not know we possessed within us at all till now—till some special circumstance has occurred to uncover his evil head, which for long years had hidden itself. What is a poor enemy-pursued pilgrim to do in such a foe-abounding path? There is no other resource but that of David: “Thou hast delivered my soul from death: wilt not Thou deliver my feet from falling, that I may walk before the Lord in the light of the living?” (ver. 13). To Him the discouraged heart must make its way, saying: “I will cry unto God most high; unto God that performeth all things for me” (Ps. 57:2).

APRIL 21
“What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee”—Ps. 56:3.

This is an expression of experience; not a mere parrot-cry: nor a mere amiable recitation of a popular religious phrase. It comes from, and expresses the workings of, a heart which has had dealings of a practical and experimental character with the living God: with a God who has been resorted to and tested. It is the expression of one who knows what it is to be in a state of walking with God and holding filial converse with Him. It cannot be conceived to be the expression of the stay of any other pathway. There is sweet and consoling truth in it; but before receiving it, the soul of the recipient has been brought into this path of the living, and to start on the pilgrim’s journey. Whether he has in every case a conscious assurance of having so started, is another matter. One thing is surely evident: If this is the heart-felt expression of his experience, he is uttering the cry of a traveller to Canaan. Such language is not the language of the sons of Belial. Such a lying down for rest and comfort beneath the shadow of His wings is not the habit of the multitude hurrying along the broad and balefully glittering road of death. The words, therefore, are not made to be thrust into the mouths of everyone promiscuously. Only the Lord in reality can fill the mouth with them. How favoured is that one into whose mouth they have been feelingly put. Yea, “Blessed is that man that maketh the Lord his trust” (Ps. 40:4).

“Faith is by knowledge fed,
And with obedience mixed;
Notion is empty, cold, and dead,
And fancy’s never fixed.
True faith’s the life of God:
Deep in the heart it lies;
It lives and labours under load;
Though damped, it never dies.”
(Gadsby’s, 236).

APRIL 22
“What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee”—Ps. 56:3.
(second meditation).

There were many occasions of David’s expression of trust in the Lord. When God gave him victory, he renewed his expression of faith in God. When He granted Him deliverance, he called upon others also to trust Him. In one place he said, in the exuberance of faith: “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall be continually in my mouth.” “O magnify the Lord with me and let us exalt His name together” (Ps. 34:1, 3). On such occasions he was not in a condition of fear. Now he is “afraid”: and it is in that condition where he is at present confessing his faith in God. It is one thing to trust God in the sunshine—and that, too, a sweet one. But it is not the same as to trust Him when in circumstances covering us with fear, with apprehension: when clouds threaten us, difficulties hedge us about, and we look upon this thing and that and the other in the future (either soul or temporal) with fear—when we are “afraid.” Then is the time when that manifestation of faith here spoken of is needed and which is calculated, in the hands of the Lord, to be encouraged by these words. It is not in the power of the writer to know what such occasion of fear may today exist in the experience of any reader of these words—what at present there is to make him or her “afraid.” David was in such a position, and was probably expectant of being so again, and he says: “What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.” It was the experience of one who “knew whom he believed “ (2 Tim. 1:12). Well is it for us if in such circumstances it be ours. There is much to tempt us to a very different condition of mind. In some such situations to exercise David’s present faith is a matter of great difficulty, and can only be done by that grace which comes from Him who can give “grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16) even such as the poet speaks of in forcible language:

“Then to maintain the battle
With soldier-like behaviour;
To keep the field, and never yield,
But firmly eye the Saviour;
To trust His gracious promise.
Thus hard beset with evil,
This, this is faith will conquer death,
And overcome the devil.” (Gadsby’s, 235).

APRIL 23
“What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee”—Ps. 56:3.
(third meditation).

These words set forth to the heart whose dealings are with a Covenant God thoughts which seem still to dwell with savour upon the writer’s mind. We will, however, confine our additional meditation upon them to a brief consideration of some grounds adduced by David for his faith on the present occasion. As they were those of a deeply experienced, and severely tried, saint of God, and are penned by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, they may prove encouraging to some other tried and perhaps despondent traveller of Zion. He says of the Lord (ver. 13) “For Thou hast delivered my soul from death: wilt Thou not also deliver my feet from falling?” “If such a mighty and convincing proof of His care and love for me” (he seems to say) “has been vouchsafed, is there not the clearest ground of assurance given that I may trust Him for all the rest?—Trust Him to keep me in all the steps of my journey, even when I am obliged to walk through places and circumstances which produce fear in my heart, and make my spirit to be ‘afraid’?”—“Trust Him to keep my feet from being overthrown: from these clouds and dangers and trials destroying me?” In another place he says: “The steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with His hand” (Ps. 37:23, 24). If a loving father had rushed into the flames of a burning house and saved his child, might not that child trust his love to save it (if he had the power) in the other trifling dangers of life, so comparatively insignificant in their character? It is a common saying that the greater includes the lesser. And David’s gracious contention is that the eternal act of God’s redeeming love and power assure him of every lesser needful exercise of love and power. He is also convinced that these eternal acts of power and love having brought him into the light of the living, He will not thereafter allow him to fall back, and into the land of the dead. Even in divine realities and grounds of faith “the greater includes the lesser,” and of this the Psalmist is convinced. Hence one of the substantial supports of his faith and hope in the Lord here enabling him in darkness and trial to exclaim: “What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.”

“The God I trust is true and just;
His mercy has no end;
Himself has said my ransom’s paid,
And I on Him depend.” (Gadsby’s, 355).

APRIL 24
“Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation”—Matthew 26:41.

These, as will be remembered, are the words of our Lord to His disciples. They set before us the truth that we are surrounded by temptations, and that not only now, but as we travel on, temptations will still surround our steps. The great author of the work of salvation and the divine conductor of the work of grace in our hearts, issues, not to them only, but to all His people, a word of divine wisdom, advice and command. It is not a temporary one, just fitting that occasion, as some might suppose, but one holding good throughout our own pilgrimage. It should be written on our hearts and ever present in our thoughts, memory and desires. We are not only to pray. No lover of the Lord who knows the blessing of the throne of grace, we know, will lightly value prayer. But the injunction here is that watching must accompany prayer. To pray for preservation from temptation, and then, knowing temptation surrounds our every step, to rush heedlessly amongst it, without a careful and anxious watchfulness, is manifest presumption. His command is clear, and in keeping of His commands His smile and assistance are to be expected. (Ps. 19:11). Temptations are here, and more will arrive. They often cannot be seen, till we are actually upon them, or they upon us. Then, like the officer on outlook upon a ship in a dense fog at sea, how needful to be watching for a danger ahead which we may come to at any moment? But there is this advantage we possess, which the ship, does not. If it comes upon a danger, it is bound to run into it, unless seen beforehand. The watching child of God even in such a case may be preserved—may surely hope to be, if graciously watching with prayer. For he may be preserved from entering into it, though it come right upon him. And these are the three things we are commanded to both watch and pray concerning: first, that when temptation is met with, we may not enter into it; and the command further involves seeking not to walk near it at all, and also seeking for divine help and wisdom to withstand entering into it and for the wary avoidance of it. Concerning these things we are commanded to both watch and pray and the golden rule is spoken by divine wisdom.

“Alas, what hourly dangers rise!
What snares beset my way!
To heaven O let me lift my eyes,
And hourly watch and pray.” (Gadsby’s, 1051).

APRIL 25
“Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation”—Matthew 26:41.
(second meditation)

What is to be the object of our watching? That we enter not into temptation. To this end what are we to watch especially? We are to watch our hearts, for “out of them are the issues of death.” Even if outward temptation is not present, our heart will run after it, and attempt—too often successfully—to carry us to it. A minister of the Gospel was on horseback in the country, riding an old hunting horse. Suddenly the animal heard the hounds and the blast of the hunter’s horn, and by force of old instinct bolted after the hounds, in spite of all his rider’s efforts, and arrived with his master, before any of the other huntsmen, at the fox. Such is the old nature of the heart. It is a born and swift hunter after sin, and if not watched, with prayer, will bolt with us after the objects of its chase. It is to be sedulously watched. Its hunting instincts are not confined to one sinful object, but extend to an endless variety of such quite past either our fathoming or our previous anticipation. It is a perpetual fountain of impulses—but all of them death. Death, as a fountain, resides there, and out of it are the issues of deathward impulses. When we consider that outside of us and all around us are objects suited to these sinful impulses, what a condition of perpetual danger of temptation we see ourselves to be in, and how manifest it is that our heart is especially to be watched, that we enter not into these temptations. We are to watch our path, and to watch our footsteps in it when we see temptation approaching, or anything likely to lead to it—so as to either endeavour to walk from it, or seek strength in prayer if compelled to pass by or grapple with it. We are especially to watch all those things which we know to be particularly tempting to us. Each child of God knows what these are, and some of them—when he is in a tender and gracious state of feeling—make him tremble to think of them at times, and then especially he both watches and prays, his prayer frequently then being: “Oh Lord uphold my footsteps, that I slip not.” How wide is the field of our necessary watching. How great, consequently, is the need of prayer for strength to avoid or to fight with that which we are all called upon to watch concerning. In our brief meditation only a few of the objects of our watching can be dwelt upon, and only in a general manner the need of joining to it prayer for preservation, guidance, wisdom and strength.

“O watch against trusting to your native strength;
Behold Peter boasting, but o’ercome at length;
Your strength will forsake you, and leave you to fall.
Unless the Lord make you to trust Him for all.”
(Gadsby’s, 644)

APRIL 26
“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak”—Matthew 26:41.

There are two senses in which doubtless these words apply to the Christian. At times there are either christian duties or christian privileges to be attended to, but owing to physical weakness or fatigue of mind or body, they cannot be performed or entered into as we would—perhaps not at all. This is very different to carelessness and indifference of walk before God; and where it is really the case, the Lord knows well all about it, and even in this respect the words of the Psalmist comfortingly apply: “He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust” (Ps. 103:14), and He is not a hard taskmaster, which is our great mercy. But there is another sense in which the words apply. The new man, (Eph. 4:24) which is the spirit of life implanted in regeneration, especially when the believer is “strengthened with might in the inner man” (Eph. 3:16) is the fruitful ground of spiritual actions and operations of life. It is from hence that all good things towards God in the soul proceed. It is enabled by His might (Eph. 3:16) to be “strong in the Lord” (Eph. 6:10) and its natural impulses are all divine, and God and heavenwards. Were it not for the flesh, there would be no other impulses found within us—for the new man is naturally “willing.” But the flesh wars against it. It is weak, and a source—the source—of all weakness. That—from the point of view of the spiritual man—is wherein its great weakness to him lies: it is the source of his weakness—his sinful weakness. It is also weak in the sense that it possesses no spiritual strength whatever. The flesh can perform nothing spiritual, and to expect it to do so is vain, and the foundation of far-reaching religious delusions. It is weak in every sense, and is therefore the perpetual spring of death to all the spiritual prosperity of his soul. Only as grace is mercifully caused to super-abound (Rom. 5:20) is this constant injection of deadly “weakness” upon the life of the soul counteracted and overcome. The new man is willing, but the flesh is a body of weakness and death (Rom. 7:24) and—instead of aiding us in our motions towards God and divine life, things, privileges and duties, is constantly “bringing us into captivity to the law of sin which is in our members” (Rom. 7:23). Who can deliver us? Our strength is in “Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom. 7:24, 25). Our position is that of the Apostle Paul, and in no way improved; and he—like us—was a “wretched man,” owing to this “weakness of the flesh.” But his comfort was that with the “spirit” he “served the law of God” (Rom. 7:25).

APRIL 27
“The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that hope in His mercy”—Ps. 147:11.

There seems to be something very sweet in these words. Here are certain persons in whom another person takes pleasure. The words seem—if a spirit of quiet and gracious meditation be granted upon them—to convey the feeling that this person takes a very great pleasure in them: that they are persons upon whom, and upon whose lives, He dwells with, with the out-goings of love and a very precious complaisance. But who is it that takes pleasure in them? We might say of some persons: “It is of little or no consequence about their taking pleasure in me. It matters little, if at all, whether they do or not.” It is therefore all-important to enquire who the person is—whether it is of consequence that He should take pleasure in us or not. We find it is of great importance that He should. The person is none other than the Lord Himself, the person upon whom these people are dependent for everything, both time and eternal. And we find the sweet fact set before us that He is not our enemy; is not a person indifferent to us; not a person incensed against us; not a person working with His great might, against us: but that He takes pleasure in us. We are the objects where His heart’s sweetest thoughts find a resting place: upon whom, and on whose lives, He dwells with tenderness and complaisance. And this notwithstanding many things in them which give no pleasure either to Him or to us. Then there are outgoings of heart from these persons too—and these are towards Him. Their hearts are up unto Him, they take pleasure in Him, their affections move towards and centre in Him. He takes pleasure in them and they fear Him and hope in His mercy. The words, therefore, seem to betoken a condition between the Lord and these persons of mutual communion, mutual intercourse of heart, nature, thoughts and affections. They seem to be fitted for one another. And this which is now going on (as set forth here) between them seems to betoken a closer relationship, and closer mutual pleasure and intercourse, hereafter—the divine satisfactions of an endless communion, when they shall see Him “face to face” and He shall render them glad with His love “without a cloud between.” This is the hope of the Gospel of Free Grace. Has it in mercy been implanted in our hearts? If so—

“Then let us now unite and sing
The blessings of free grace;
Those souls who long to see Him now,
Shall surely see His face.”

APRIL 28
“The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that hope in His mercy”—Ps. 147:11.
(second meditation).

Following our meditation of yesterday upon the blessing of the truth set forth in these words, it seems fitting to enquire who it is in whom the Lord takes pleasure, as here declared. That He should take pleasure in beings such as we are is very remarkable. And there must be something very remarkable in these persons. Love does not love nothing. There is something in the object loved which is dear to the one who loves. What is it in this case? He loves their persons, and loves them because He would love them, because they are His own, and not for any merit of their own. But in addition to this, there is something in them which He loves, implanted by Himself, in which He takes pleasure. The whole of the matter may not be here stated, but fully enough to identify these persons is. It is said that they fear Him. In this, how vital it is seen to be to know what it is to fear the Lord. In one place it is set forth that to fear the Lord is to depart from evil. Then they have departed, and do depart, from evil. And this is indicated to be the fear of the Lord. When we look at our hearts and lives, Satan has good reason to alarm us by pointing out that there is not much ground for the supposition that we have “departed from evil.” Where then, do we stand? For it is not only declared that they are bought and justified by the blood and resurrection of Christ, but that those who fear the Lord have themselves specifically and personally “departed from evil.” Satan in this matter is either very unenlightened, or very dishonest. His contention is plausible, but it is cruelly untrue as launched at the troubled heart of an anxious sin-mourning child of God. There is a new-born man (Eph. 4:24; 3:16) within Him and a governing principle and love which so emphatically “depart from evil” that they hate and abhor it; this new-born man so hates it that its very nature abhors it and is contrary to it. There can be—and is—no fellowship between these two. This is the new spirit in the child of God; and of its workings he is at times sweetly conscious. It is nowhere said that the old man—the flesh—has departed from evil and fears God. It cannot do either the one or the other. So then we find that “when we would do good, evil (to our sorrow) is present with us; for we delight in the law of God after the inward man” (Rom. 7:21, 22), For evil to run after and press its companionship upon us and for us to welcome it as a chosen companion are two different things. But instead of this the new man departs from it, and his love is set on another. To “depart from evil” involves more than mere departing—it involves clinging to and loving something else. What this means we know, thence this “departing from evil” being called fearing the Lord, which is the mark of those in whom He takes pleasure. We mourn a body of sin and death, but one day the departure from sin will be entire, for we shall be wholly freed from it; whilst even now we are perfect in the righteousness of Christ.

“He will present our souls
Unblemished and complete,
Before the glory of His face,
With joys divinely great.” (Gadsby’s, 421).

APRIL 29
“The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that hope in His mercy”—Ps. 147:11.
(third meditation).

If—as is evident from the words—there are certain persons of whom God is not an angry enemy, but in whom, on the contrary, the Lord takes pleasure, the character of those in question (a subject referred to yesterday) is an important matter. They are said to fear Him. We remarked yesterday that whilst to depart from evil is indicated to be the fear of the Lord, it involves something more than departure from evil, viz., a clinging also to, and a love of, something else. The affections are set on heavenly things and upon the fulness and centre of them—the Lord Himself. Departure from evil in the root and principle of it is the manifestation of a cause, viz, a new spirit which loves God and heavenly things. Hence it is that this departure in root and principle from evil is the manifestation of the “fear of the Lord”—arising out of a regenerated spirit bestowed upon a redeemed one in whom “the Lord takes pleasure.” Besides this “departure from evil,” strictly speaking, then, there are other manifestations involved in the fear of the Lord; and our text gives inspired information on the subject. They hope in His mercy. Has this root and principle departure from evil been implanted within us? Has a hope in His mercy been joined to it and become the animating principle of the hope of our spirits? (there being many hopes in the spirits of men which are not thus animated). Then, coupled with that love which the departure from evil referred to implies, what divine grace of the spirit is there which these two things do not embrace? Therefore, having begun with the text, we are, in our conclusion, brought back to it: Are there those in whom the Lord takes pleasure? The word says there are: and comforting it is to poor mortals. Who are they? The word says: those who fear the Lord and who hope in His mercy. Are we able to discover our portrait in this brief portion of the word? Then it may yield us fresh comfort today as we read it recorded on divine authority that: “The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear Him,” and “in those that hope in His mercy,” for though now at times led to exclaim: “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death” (Rom. 7:24), this will not last for ever, and the deliverance will one day be entire:

“Then all the chosen seed
Shall meet around the throne;
Shall bless the conduct of His grace,
And make His wonders known.” (Gadsby’s, 421).

APRIL 30

NO VACANT THRONE

John 10: 28, 29; 18: 9; Col. 3:3, 4; John 17:12; 6: 37, 39; Jude 1; Rev. 20:4.
“And I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand”—John 10:28. • “Your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with Him in glory”—Col. 3:3, 4. • “And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them”—Rev. 20:4.

My faith beholds in Heaven a throne,
Radiant, but vacant still:
Who—by heaven’s host then seen and known—
That eminence shall fill?

“To me alone, enquiring child,
Is known the blessed name
Of him who, with robes undefiled,
That ransomed seat shall claim.”

“Yes, gracious Lord, but see mine eyes,
With strangely moving sight,
Up to Thy Courts, with tears, arise,
And on that throne alight!”

“My weeping child, I know thy thought;
In love I’ll answer thee:
Know then, by mine own blood ’twas bought—
And it was bought for thee!”

“But, Lord, the way to it is hard,
And Satan stands between;
Thou see’st my progress by him barred,
My constant falls hast seen.

Perchance my faith will fail, and then
I ne’er can Thee behold!—
Thou know’st what devils, self, and men,
Within my heart unfold.

What shall I do, then? men declare
I must my steps maintain:
But I shall, fighting singly there,
Upon the road be slain.”

“Thine efforts fail? On me recline!
And I will live in thee,
And give thy feet a strength divine—
For thou My face must see!

My child of fears, these thrones survey,
All dearly bought by me:
Let men nor devils thee dismay:
Not one shall vacant be!” —K. L.