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DAY UNTO DAY—January
E. Littleton, JR.
JANUARY 1
“Give ear to my prayer, O God; and hide not Thyself from my supplication”—Psa.
55:1.
May I not examine myself this morning in an especially solemn
manner? A new period in the lives of myself and of those around me has
begun this day. Another seemingly long measurement of time has ended,
and a new one in its place is begun. Whatever be my years—and even
should I live to the ripest age which human nature may expect—these
annual measurements of time will soon be over. And then? Notes of interrogation
vary much in importance. Here is one of weighty moment. What is the answer
to the question—“AND THEN?” May I not gain encouragement
on this the very first morn of a fresh year, by endeavoring in His fear
to fulfill the Lord’s inspired command: “Use all diligence to
make thy calling and election sure;” and that, in the present instance,
by asking my heart another question, viz., “What is my prayer, what
is my supplication, this morning?” The answer which the Spirit of
the Lord witnessing in my spirit may give to that question may shed a
sweet and divine light on the first enquiry.
In the unerring sight of an all-seeing God, is my petition that I may
this day and this year grow in His fear? That I may this day and this
year be increased in the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?
That I may be conformed to His image, seeing that all those whom He has
foreknown are predestinated to be thus conformed, and all those who are
“called” are thus conformed? Is my love set upon such things
as the fear of the Lord, upon the knowledge of the Lord Jesus, upon such
things as both spring from and lead unto this conformity? Then it appears
that I already possess some of it; that I already have within me some
of the fear of the Lord; which is a good beginning of the year; for, “He
will perfect that which concerneth me.” I have the promise of His
help to all such in “following on to know the Lord.” And He
Himself declares that such knowledge is eternal life. If all this be so,
it does truly appear that the reply to my solemn enquiry, “And then?”
is: Life eternal with Him who gave and promises to perfect this knowledge.
May I therefore be enabled to commence the year with thanksgiving to a
gracious Lord for having “sought me when a stranger, wandering from
the fold of God, and to save my soul from danger, interposed His precious
blood.”
May my prayer and my petition of this morning be heard, for it is indeed
for the things before-mentioned, and these He declares to be an assurance
of life for evermore.
JANUARY 2
“My times are in Thy hand”—Psa. 31:15.
Yesterday we meditated upon the hope within us that when time shall be
no more it will be well with us. “But we have to live now; we have
to battle with the world now; what about that?” are remarks we sometimes
hear. And in reply to such exclamations, whether from an atheist, a worldling,
or a tried and perhaps hard-pressed heir of the eternal kingdom, let us
for our own encouragement, and our Lord’s glory, make reply. And
in this manner our response may surely be well framed: If we have begun
another year, as we believe we did yesterday, with the prayer and supplication
then uttered, who like unto our God is able to assist us to “live
now?” The present life is made up of times, of experiences, and of
circumstances; and at the close of this second day let us ask ourselves
and each other if we know of any time, any experience or circumstance,
which is outside or beyond either the sight or the power of our God. Or
did the poet make some sad mistake when he wrote:
“All must come, and last and end,
As shall please my heavenly Friend?”
What is failing to our assurance, then? We admit His sight and power are
not to be mistrusted—or do we even harbor at times (when our great
foe is present with us) suspicions that something may be beyond His power—or
that evil circumstances, evil men or evil devils, at least, may be past
its grasp? Or is it that we fully credit His other perfections, but doubt
His wisdom? Or is His graciousness the theme of our doubt? Or do we fear
that that which must animate all or we are lost, viz., His love, may be
sometimes hot and sometimes cold, and sometimes disappear altogether?
O, our poor miserable hearts! That is not the kind of God we supplicated
yesterday. He is not to be our comfort through the coming year. That is
no true portrait of Him. The poet drew His divine lineaments in fairer
lines, and may they this morning be afresh impressed upon our hearts,
with gracious encouragement.
“Sovereign Ruler of the skies,
Ever gracious, ever wise;
All my times are in Thy hand,
All events at Thy command. (GADSBY’S 64).
JANUARY 3
“Be ye therefore followers of God as dear children”—Eph.
5:1.
Have we the hope of eternal life? Then we are followers of God. For He
dwells in eternity, and it is our hope in Him which makes the thought
of eternity precious to us. We began the year with this hope, and today
still trust that we are humble followers of Him. It is our desire to begin
the year, and to go through the year, following Him, weak, “yet pursuing.”
But how? This is only our third morning, and the enquiry appears profitable
at what is still the threshold of the year. How? Our morning text informs
us. As dear children. How does a dear child follow its parents? It begins
and ends the day with its eye constantly looking unto them. Does it pride
itself upon its strength? It is too conscious of feebleness for that.
But it nevertheless rests in strength—the strength of its parent.
Is it conscious of dangers? That is what prompts the constancy of its
eye. Does it often fear where no fear is? Yes. But not when it catches
their assuring eye and nestles closely up to them. Is it weak? But what
matters that to it when its father’s strong arm is put around it.
Is it conscious of any needs? Yes. Of how many? It could not tell us,
but if gifted with sufficient power of expression would inform us it is
full of needs. But does this bear its spirit down to the earth? No. And
why? Because it is sure that its loving parent will “supply all its
needs.” But is this life an unreasonable one? Who would say so, considering
its basis, the reliable assurances, and also the frequent confirmations
it has of its parents’ ability and love? Then what kind of a life
in general does this child lead—which we are constrained to admit
is founded on just grounds of assurance and hope? It is a life of faith
upon its parent. And if we are followers of God as “dear children,”
the life dear to us is “a life of faith upon the Son of God, who
loved us and gave Himself for us,” and presently we hope to follow
Him “within the veil,” where our hope is at present cast, and
“whither He, the forerunner, is for us for ever entered,” and
where the manifestations of His love will never end. And is not this worth
following after? As a dear child, how would this be? Would it not be in
a manner always desiring its parent’s smile? Such a walk of love
and tender obedience does the Apostle set before us in the following verses.
To enable us unto this difficult and otherwise impossible walk and conversation
during the coming year.
“May the grace of Christ our Saviour,
And the Father’s boundless love,
With the Holy Spirit’s favour,
Rest upon us from above.” (GADSBY’S 500)
JANUARY 4
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth”—Gen.
1:1.
That is to say, He brought into being what was non-existent before. What
is that compared with the new creation, instinct with the Creator’s
glory though the former be, and past the conceptions of the loftiest—even
the atheist’s— intellect as it is? It is the new creation, in
which infinite love finds its great rest, and over which divine love “joys
with singing” (Zeph. 3:17). Still at the threshold of this year,
let us ask ourselves if any part of it is found in us, and if not, may
the Author of immortal life fill our hearts with solemn concern, and grant
that this concern may be such that it shall give us no rest till God be
pleased to “shew unto us His salvation.” But what is the new
creation? Is it something which I can perform? “In the beginning
God created the heaven and the earth,” and “in the beginning,”
and throughout, the new one is equally His work. Then does this render
us hopeless? Does our heart appear to be without form and void? and does
darkness appear to be on the face of it with no sign of the Creator’s
hand visible there? How encouraging are the depths of divine compassion!
How did the old creation arise out of formlessness, darkness, chaos, sterility,
and universal death? How? “The Spirit of God moved upon the face
of the waters.” Perhaps our solemn concern this morning is the “moving
of the Spirit of God“ upon the dark chaos of our hearts. Have we
become praying souls?
“Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.” (GADSBY’S 1002).
And this is a fire which the devil never can, never did, and never will
create. Yet it is a creation—a part of the new creation: certainly
a result of it, and shows that the “Spirit of God has moved on the
face of the waters.”
“O Thou by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,”
say within our souls, “Let there be light!” The old and the
new creation are something which were non-existent before. “And God
called the light day,” upon which there was no doubt that creation
had become a fact. Has the day of the love of God dawned upon our hearts?
Has the new light chased away the love of the darkness of sin, and taken
the blinding veil off our eyes and revealed to us some of the treasures
of the new Creator’s will in His word? and made it a “lamp unto
our feet,” “a light unto our path,” and by His Spirit a
fire within us and a source of life to our hearts? and has the day of
His own preciousness risen upon us? Perhaps the poet has after all expressed
our case?
“Our quickened souls awake and rise
From the long sleep of death;
On heavenly things we fix our eyes,”
And soon, if not now, may
“Praise employ our breath.” (GADSBY’S 190).
JANUARY 5
“The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God” —Psa.
14:1.
I hope that I am amongst those who love God, and I know He is my sole
dependence. Where should I be this morning if the fool’s statement
were true: if what is his heart’s desire, even where he does not
go the length of the statement in our today’s text, were true? No
God! And can there be such a desire in the human breast? Many of us have
known by shameful experience in the past that it was so in our own breasts.
If the fool’s statement were true, what would be our condition this
morning? Should we not, instead of rejoicing, be “of all men most
miserable?” To whom should I bend the knee in prayer today? To whom
would my eyes—trembling it may be, but trembling with blessed hope—rise?
To whom should I tell the silent sorrow which today I cannot utter to
another fellow creature? To whom should I breathe that fullness of it—that
unreserved completeness of it which could not be imparted to my most loved
or most intimate fellow? From whom should I expect sympathy in it which
passes the sympathy of a brother, and help where my dearest one could
yield me no succor? Where should I turn for heavenly guidance, and whom
should I ask for strength in my weakness? Who would, with the finger of
hope, wipe away today the tear which rises to my eye when none besides
can see; or lift from my spirit the heavy burden which no one else can
touch? What should I do, if today that heavenly throne of grace were vacant,
and there were no God? I cast my eye into eternity; it is filled with
hope. My faith sweetly considers the mansion which I have believed a gracious
Lord has gone to prepare for me. But what of eternity, and what of my
mansion, if there were no God? How should I dwell with Him, and be like
Him, and see Him as He is, if there were no God? O, what a morass of misery
is that heart which hopes that there is no God! And now I see today a
little of the blessings He has performed for me. He has made me to desire
Him. He has made Himself to me the altogether lovely. He has provided
for me, and fixed my heart upon, a centre of help and mercy in time, and
of love and blessedness in eternity. He has assured me that there is a
God; that He is God; and has given me a hope that He is my God!
“O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be;
Let that grace, Lord, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.” (GADSBY’S 199).
JANUARY 6
“Open Thou mine eyes”—Psa. 119:18.
Has the Lord opened my eyes to see my condition as a lost sinner, and
has He given and opened for me the eye of faith to see Him as Redeemer
of such? Then what great things He has done for me! “Neither would
He have shewed us all these things” (Judges 13:23) if he had not
purposed to do many other gracious ones for us; and amongst those we need
from Him is the daily opening of our eyes. He has once more opened my
eyes to see the light of day. May He open them to a sense of His mercy,
and may this view of His mercy be increased by an increased beholding
of my unworthiness. I am today to go forth to another day’s duties,
it may be in the world, it may be to pass through the cares of home duties,
it may be in toils, it may be in sorrows, it may be in peace, it may be
in conflict, it may be in health, or it may be in pain and affliction—who
knows but it may be to change worlds? Whatever may be the vicissitudes
of my allotted path this day, may “He open mine eyes” afresh
to see my need of Him, to preserve me in His fear, to guide me, to help
me, and to protect me from all evil, danger, and enemies. He has opened
my eyes to see some “wondrous things out of His law;” and may
He this day open them to see some fresh wonder in His illimitable grace,
or some sweet fresh discovery of the comfort of His love. Today may He
newly anoint my eyes to see and realize the craftiness of my great foe,
and the endless deception of my own heart, and consequently my great need
of watchfulness and prayerful walking. May He open my eyes afresh to see
that even the most gracious child of God is not all Spirit, and as I am
by means the greatest—and it is my mercy if I am one at all—that
the flesh is very powerful in me, that it is a potent instrument of Satan,
and so that I am again today in vital need of the Spirit of the Lord for
preservation and help; that in my flesh dwelleth no good thing, and that
I must today, therefore, continue my pilgrimage looking outside of myself—even
“unto Jesus.” Am I in difficulties? May He open my eyes to see
that “He sitteth in the heavens.” Can I see no way of escape?
May He open my eyes to see Him as the Author of the plan of salvation,
and then to consider if my difficulty is greater than the one He overcame
for me when He reconciled justice and mercy. Am I cast down? May I see
Him saying, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord.” What is my darkness
today? Lord, open Thou mine eyes.
JANUARY 7
“And He led them forth by the right way”—Psa. 107:7.
If we who read these lines today are like many of those who hearts have
been turned toward Zion, we are at times much inclined to an unsanctified
criticism of God, both with regard to His Word and with regard to His
dealings. This is an occupation which, though it may be intellectual,
is very unprofitable. And if any amongst us are the possessors of an especially
analytical intellect, may the Lord sanctify its courses to His own glory,
and restrain its daring ways; may He, indeed, save us from the besetting
snares into which Satan will by it otherwise lead us; and perhaps with
a dangerous rush past our best control. Our meditation today concerns
an assuring, and at the same time consoling, truth suggested by the Lord’s
dealings with His ancient people, referred to in our morning’s text.
And it is this: That there never was a way, however strange or difficult,
into which the Lord led, and which he marked out for, one of His purchased
children, which was not the right way. One or two considerations, if He
will graciously sanctify them, may tend to strengthen our faith in this
consolatory truth. We may search the earth, we may search the seas, we
may search the secrets of the air, of liquids and solids, by all the aids
of science; we may search human life and the life of brutes, the life
of vegetation and of trees; we may search the courses of the winds, of
the sun, the moon, and the stars; and in them all, or in any one of them,
we cannot find that God has made a mistake. Every field of examination
which we can propose to ourselves yields proof—and nothing but proof—wherein
it is perfectly demonstrated that He cannot miscalculate or make a mistake:
wisdom unerring and wholly reliable, is stamped upon them all. Then, is
it likely that He can do so concerning those whom He loves as never man
loved? Or is it that His only mistakes have been left for His dealings
concerning His dear children? Deep with pain or mystery as may be the
path or present circumstances of one who may read these lines today, may
these considerations, amongst those many deeper ones dealing with the
foundation of the believer’s hopes, help to steady the well-nigh
down-smitten glance of faith; and in those cases where heavy trial has
not been permitted, may they further implant hope, that in all untrodden
steps, a hand which is both wise and loving, and adds almighty power to
the whole, is guiding them, and will make no mistake. If He can guide
the stroke of lightning, He can guide the stroke of all our surrounding
circumstances. He who rules in the heavens, also rules in the earth, although,
“blind unbelief is sure to err,” and with all its most microscopic
attempts will “scan His work in vain.”
JANUARY 8
“And confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims in the earth,
For, they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country”—Heb.
11:13,14.
The way to the eternal city has one thing in common with the way of darkness—it
contains travelers of all ages; and perhaps some of varying ages may read
these words today. But here the comparison ends. The travelers—not
to speak of the difference in the roads themselves—differ in conditions.
And there is one difference which is of a vital nature. The travelers
in the former all confess that they are strangers and pilgrims in the
earth. They seek a country; and all the geographical maps of this world
do not contain it. For it is eternal in the heavens. On the contrary,
the travelers in the latter way desire to stay here. You may reckon upon
them to do the best that lies in their power to cling to the last to this
earthly clod and all the delusions which flourish upon it. We hope we
are humble pilgrims whose steps have been started by the Lord. Seven more
days in a new year have passed in our pilgrimage, and let us review them.
Let me lean upon this stone by the wayside which I have put up and which
I have marked “Ebenezer,” and meditate a little. A see a long
way back in the road, but not much forward, therefore may well look back
to see if the past seven days’ steps show any evidences that I am
in the right road. I may be near the end of my pilgrimage—may end
it this day—and do not wish to suddenly step into the bottomless
pit. In the divinely inspired guide to this road, I read of one reliable
indication, viz: I find it set down, more than once, that when a would-be
traveler finds a certain prevalent disposition fixed within him, he may
know he is in the road, or it is implanted by the gracious King of the
highway, whose operations deal with the spirit. He is said to confess—and
to feel and find—HIMSELF A STRANGER AND A PILGRIM IN THE EARTH.
Have the past seven days shown me any felt evidence of this prevalent
disposition? “For they that say such things declare plainly that
they seek a country;” and my divine chart states in the same place
that this country is a heavenly one, where the King has prepared for them
a city, for He is not ashamed to be their God. (Heb. 11:14,16). Do I wish
to? Would I if I could? Could I give myself the mind if I would? To all
this both the guide and my heart say no and that “plainly.”
I find in me a constraint which makes it impossible and the guide says
the King never permits that constraining power to wholly die. I do not
feel so full of hope as I would be, but I think I will begin another day’s
journey, endeavoring to listen to His voice, for I cannot but hope He
has made me hear it. And I would today go on my journey enquiring:
“Why was I made to hear His voice,
And enter while there’s room?
Whilst thousands make a wretched choice,
And rather starve than come?” (GADSBY’S 440).
JANUARY 9
“So shall we be separated, I and thy people, from all the people
that dwell upon the face of the earth”—Exod. 33:16.
The feeling here expressed is very different to the popular sentiment
of the day. The world exclaim “charity” and “union”—even
those who make no actual profession of being “religious.” But
the same cries are also the watchwords of the popular religionists of
the time. Is the religion popular?—Does it draw crowds? Are the real,
if not the avowed, tests largely applied? If not, there is felt to be
something wrong with that religion. But if this morning those are the
chief tests we are applying to ours, may the Lord open our eyes. These
are not the union and charity of God’s Word. Union with and charity
towards everyone and everything bearing the label of religion are not
there inculcated. Swallowing wood, stone and stubble with and for corn
is not the “charity” of the Bible. The dominant note of the
Gospel is separation; and if it is not of our Gospel, woe betide us on
the great day of separation. But is not the separation involved a sweet
one? Many we be enabled to contemplate a few of its blessings and feel
today a few of its comforts. If we are God’s separated Israel, what
are we separated from? From our sins. What a commencement! For God has
put them behind His back. From the damning cry: “Do this and live!”
whereas we could do nothing of that demanded and all has been done for
us by one who could do it all. From the scales which once veiled our eyes
with the blindness of Satan’s bestowal. From the darkness and death
which once covered all our faculties, and from our consequent incapacity
to worship God in spirit and in truth. From our incapacity to love Him,
and our great capacity to love the baits of our greatest foe. From our
inability to either love, discern or understand divine things. The result
of all which is that we are vitally separated from the chains of Satan
and enveloped with the drawings of divine love. We are separated from
the love of sin and from the dominion of sin and inspired with a desire
after holiness and brought under the dominion of heavenly grace. Do we
regret the separation and do we desire the old “union?” Ah!
We are separated from Egypt by a Red Sea of Sovereign power and can never
repass it. We are separated from the gates of the second death by the
same power. We are not yet separated from our doubts and fears; neither
are we separated from unbelief and the distresses which the old man still
bring upon us. But our glory is that we are separated—and that that
separation means separation from death unto life; from sorrow to eternal
joy; from conflict to eternal peace; from miserable mortality to immortality
and glory; and from faith to the open vision of Him that dwelleth within
the veil. We have reason today to thank the Lord for SEPARATION.
JANUARY 10
“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together
in unity” —Psa. 133:1
This is a union differing with the union referred to in our yesterday’s
meditation; and the charity (or love, as the word means) which is a leading
feature of it, differs widely from the “charity” which we then
dwelt upon; and in considering the words before us we may have brought
to our minds the character of true Christian union and charity, or love.
What is the unity suggested in our today’s text? For it is a sweet
and godly one, upon which the smile of Jehovah rests. Is it a unity between
followers of the Lamb and the world? A unity between spirituality and
carnality? A unity between “the faith once delivered to the saints,”
and the inventive finesse of eloquent moral philosophers dressed as ministers
of spiritual truth which “the natural man receiveth not” neither
“can know” because it “is spiritually discerned?”
(Jude 3; 1 Cor. 2:14). Let us not be thought “uncharitable;”
we only desire our comforts to be drawn from realities; and it is plainly
stated that “the carnal mind is enmity against God” and that
“to be carnally minded is death.” (Rom. 8:6,7). It is thus plain
that godly unity is not a unity with things having such bases as these,
or upon an amiable agreement—as we noticed yesterday—to swallow
wood, stones, stubble and corn indiscriminately. “Behold how good
and how pleasant it is!” Behold how the smile of Jehovah rests upon
it! And behold how, if it dwells in our little circle this morning as
we read or as we bend the knee together in prayer—how this morning
the divine complaisance rests upon it in our midst! What is it? but the
unity of peace, in the bond of love—in which lies its great contrast
to the strife of the world; for by His word the Centre of the union enjoins
upon His followers to “seek peace and pursue it” (Psa. 34:14.)
though it be “first pure and then peaceable.” It is a unity
in the love of the Lord, and of spiritual love, benevolence and goodwill
towards each other; of personal humbleness and tender lowliness, and of
Christ exaltation; of steadfastness in the faith and zeal for the truth.
In short, it is unity in the faith and with the Author of it, the Lamb
of God once slain. It is the union of hearts all warmed with the love
of a dear Redeemer. It is the union of spirits responding to a sense of
divine compassion. It is the union of hearts crumbled by divine love.
It is the union of breasts seeking pardon; of souls which have obtained
it; of hearts seeking from one source help and strength, heavenly sympathy
and heavenly light. It is the union of spirits supported by hopes kindled
at the mercy seat, fed by the word of life, and created by the spirit
of the Lord. It is a union founded in eternity and which will last through
eternity, for it centres in the Lamb of God, who is Life Eternal. If such
is our unity, we have sweet reason today to thank the Lord for UNION.
“In union with the Lamb,
From condemnation free,
The saints from everlasting were,
And shall for ever be.” (GADSBY’S 921).
JANUARY 11
“And he commanded the most mighty men that were in his army to bind
Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego“—Daniel 3:20.
This was Nebuchadnezzar, as we know. But did he not in this act strikingly
resemble a far greater antagonist to the children of God than the foe
whose might was arrayed against the three distressed ones in question?
Is it not the case that when once turned, in regeneration, to a set rebellion
against Satan’s hitherto undisputed dominion, the new-born follower
of Jesus has launched upon his path the despairing spite of his former
King? How comforting are the examples of God’s dealings recorded
in the scriptures. The mighty Nebuchadnezzar was a mere man, but Satan
is a spirit with terrific weapons, power and resources which are in reality
little seen and realized by us. These may be compared with Nebuchadnezzar’s
mighty men, though the comparison is faint. How shall we stand against
them?—whether today newly entered upon the conflict, or far on in
the pilgrimage to the wanderer’s eternal rest? We are this day subject
to them; we shall be tomorrow—if still here—and for how much
longer the conflict may last, we do not and would not know. Many are these
mighty men. They surround us at every turn. They each have the power to
“bind“ us and cast us helpless we know not where and into we
know not what, unless circumvented. We cannot master them. Behold the
example and experience recorded before us. “Our God whom we serve
is able to deliver us,—and he will deliver us out of thy hand, O
king. Did we not cast in three men bound?“ “Lo, I see four men,
loose, walking,— and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.”
This divinely inspired record of the power of an omnipotent helper granted
to His dear children, and of not only His power bestowed, but of His walking
with them in the conflict and in the furnace speaks to us for itself.
May we today be encouraged by it in our journey. He walks with His lambs
in the road we are on today, as He walked with Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego
in the fiery furnace in Babylon, and to Him may our look be directed;
for He is “the same yesterday, and today and for ever.”
“Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty;
Guide me by Thy powerful hand.”
JANUARY 12
“But now, thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he
that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have
called thee by thy name; thou art mine”—Isa. 43:1.
Israel, and every one of the spiritual seed of Israel, are here exhorted
not to fear. Amongst the strongest grounds for this, is not that last
given one of the most powerful? Thou art mine! Is the Almighty God likely
to lose such an one? Of what use is it for all the powers of darkness
to set upon Him? To what purpose is it if they all conspire against him?—If
they all hedge his path—if they plant themselves behind him and before
him? Will they be able to possess themselves of him? Examine his position.
It is all a question of power. The voice of the Almighty, the Redeemer,
the Holy One of Israel (Isa. 41:14) is there, and declares: “He is
mine!” Wonders may have to be performed on his behalf. Perhaps wonders
in the mighty deep. As many of these wonders are done amongst these powers
of darkness which are invisible to mortal sight or tracing—“for
we wrestle not with flesh and blood” (Eph. 6:12),— it is impossible
for poor mortals to know them, though perhaps with regard to many, what
we know not now, we shall “know hereafter” (John 13:7). Though
wonders may have to be performed, is He not “Wonderful, Counsellor,
the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father?” (Isa. 9:6). Is He not a
God “glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders”
(Exod. 15:11). Though these evil “principalities and powers”
(Eph. 6:12) hedge him about, behind and before, is it not with him as
it was with David (with regard to his eternal safety also, as well as
those lesser preservations) who said: “Thou hast beset me behind
and before, and laid Thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful
for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go from Thy
spirit? Or whither shall I flee from Thy presence?” (Psa. 139:5-7.)
His Eternal Preserver is ever His Eternal Keeper, declaring unto these
principalities and powers, “He is mine!”—and if needful
(though it is not, for “where the word of the King is, there is power”—Eccl.
8:4) the blessed words might be added, “I have redeemed him.”
We said it was all a question of power. Such it is, as to effect. But
to this are added eternal love and unchangeable purpose, for the completion
of the security set forth in these gracious words: especially their great
conclusion—“He is mine!” A sense of this justifies us in
singing the poet’s words:
“Amidst the roaring of the sea,
My soul still hangs her hopes on Thee:
Thy constant love, Thy faithful care,
Is all that saves me from despair.” (GADSBY’S 290).
JANUARY 13
“And ye know in all your hearts and in all your souls, that not one
thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord your God spake
concerning you; all are come to pass unto you, and not one thing hath
failed thereof”—Joshua 23:14.
This is not a prophecy. It is not a promise. We are sometimes in such
a condition that prophecy seems too much for us and a promise will not
do for us, because it requires patience to wait for its fulfillment, whereas
our supply seems to have become exhausted, and perhaps has even become
replaced by fretfulness, or downright rebellion; or failing these, by
carnal reason, which, asserting itself, destroys what little faith we
had in the value of the promise. Prophecy is equally lacking to us, because,
like the promise, it requires faith, the thing which seems to have disappeared
from our spirits. All that will suit us is sight. If we can see the end
of what we are in; if we can reason out to our satisfaction how, evidently,
the Lord is about to deliver us; or if deliverance has just been accomplished,
we are valiant soldiers. Substantially, we want sight—and nothing,
at this time, but sight will do for us. It is a sad condition. But here
is sight for us: and perhaps this sight may help to kindle a little our
feeble faith. Here were God’s chosen nation. Here were people to
whom promises of great things, of innumerable manifestations of power
and goodness, and of things past the reasonable expectations of nature
had been given. In all this they were typical of God’s spiritual
family now. Here is a parallel, and three things are provided for our
sight. The prophecies had been made; the promises had been given; all
had been fulfilled. The two first we have now. Is God changed? Or are
we trusting in another God to theirs? It is the same God of Covenants
and He has set before us in this passage what is to be our experience.
Here is sight with regard to the past. May He sanctify it to us to the
uplifting of our so often failing faith in the future: for, as in their
case, the day will surely come when we shall be able to say the words
to which they could not refuse assent, and here recorded.
JANUARY 14
“It may be that the Lord will work for us; for there is no restraint
to the Lord to save by many or by few”—1 Sam. 14:6.
These were the words of Jonathan to his armour-bearer. The enemy were
the Philistines, numbering “thirty thousand chariots, six thousand
horseman, and people as the sand which is on the seashore for multitude.”
Before these the Israelites fled, and “hid themselves in caves, and
in thickets, and in rocks, and in high places, and in pits” (Joshua
13:6). Amongst them they had neither swords nor spears, save Saul and
Jonathan; and great was the “strait“ of Israel. But two things
were there: the power and resources of the Lord, and faith in Him—the
latter residing in the heart of Jonathan. Armed with these alone, and
his own sword and spear, and accompanied by his armour-bearer—to
whom he addressed the words of our text—he went, using faith and
stratagem, against the hostile multitude. The “few” in question
were two. The one to work was to be the Lord; the enemy to be fought were
as the sand for multitude, and all possessing swords and spears. Here
was a prospect with little promise to carnal reason, and scarcely more
to feeble faith; but how often does the position reflect that of many
a distressed follower of the Lord. How precious is a little truly living
faith; how precious is its fuller exercise; how precious is the power
of the Lord with faith bestowed upon it in a season of “strait,”
where according to all outward calculations the spirit must fail, and
reason could not chide it for doing so. Do we often realize what this
means—the power of the Lord? What a heritage of a traveller to Zion,
and faith given to rest upon it! The poor limping wayfarer who writes
trusts he knows something of being obliged to rest upon it, of having
at times nothing else to rest upon; but also of the sweetness of helpless
resting upon it, of unutterable thankfulness that there is such a thing
as the power of the Lord, and that it is promised by eternal covenant
on behalf of poor sinners; and he trusts some reader today does likewise.
In the past, in the present, for the future, how hopeful have been and
are these words: “It may be the Lord will work for us.” The
Lord knows wherein it is necessary for Him to work for us today. In Jonathan’s
case the result was that “behold, the multitude melted away,”
the Lord “turned every man’s sword against his fellow,”
for this purpose granting success to Jonathan’s faith-bedewed stratagem,
and implanting an unaccountable fear in the hearts of the Philistines.
Our Lord is the same as his; “It may be the Lord will work for us.”
JANUARY 15
“What doest thou here, Elijah”—1 Kings 19:13.
This was the voice of the Lord to Elijah. Does the Lord speak to us this
morning? Am I disconsolate today? “What doest thou here?“ Has
not the Lord done that for me which will take me eternity to thank him
for? Has He not by His wonderful constraining grace brought me out of
the broad path of death? Has he not put a light in my heart which the
Prince of Darkness can never put out, and which is the beginning of everlasting
light? Had I not a load of sins enough to sink me past all hope, and has
He not put them behind His back? Has He not reconciled justice and mercy
for me? Has He not bestowed a blessed pardon in my soul? Was it not because
He loved me so very much that He suffered for me? Am I not hoping to presently
see and be with Him who loved me so much, and has not ceased to love me,
and has provided a home for me with Himself eternal in the heavens? Have
I not at times found His word precious? Has He not put it on record for
that very purpose, and may I not hope to do so again? Does it not all
remain the same, though I am disconsolate today? Is not the Throne of
Grace open for me to ask for the vivifying power of the Holy Spirit to
apply its comforts afresh to my heart? Did He not once implant some vital
hopes in my breast which He is able to brighten up for me, and again cause
to shed a divine radiance on my path? Has He not promised to do all things
for me; and is this altered because my frames, feelings and circumstances
alter and are today altered? Have I not always a sympathetic helper to
go to—one whose power is almighty—and is not the eternal God
my refuge? What mortals are so favored as I am? I am in the City of Disconsolation,
and in view of all this array of blessings which are mine, may not the
Lord with justice say: “What doest thou here?”
JANUARY 16
“Where hast thou gleaned today”—Ruth 2:19.
Where have we gleaned during the past twenty-four hours? The enquiry,
honestly made from ourselves, may be profitable. If someone had been out
making purchases, and told us he had been to a draper’s shop, the
information would be enough to assure us that he had not bought tea and
sugar; if to a grocer’s, that he had not bought ribbons, flannels
and calicoes; if to a jeweller’s, that he had not bought beef and
mutton; and if he had been to a turnip-field, we should not expect him
to return with potatoes, or to come from a field of tares with corn. Yet
do we not sometimes proceed on such irrational principles with regard
to our souls? “Where have we gleaned today?” From what fields,
from what emporiums, have our souls been drawing supplies; from what atmospheres
have our spirits been drawing breath; from what illumination have our
eyes been seeking light? Where have we gleaned?—one or the other.
Have we been gleaning for strength, and has the field been ourselves?
Have we been gleaning for comfort, and has the field been carnal reason?
Have our souls needed nourishment, and has the emporium of our gleaning
been the allurements of the things of time and sense? Have they needed
daily manna, and gleaned in and fed upon the world? Have they needed to
be quickened, and have we failed to glean for the true elixir of life,
whose quickening influence David declared was to be obtained divinely
applied through the instrumentality of the word? Did we need to glean
for the spirit, and gleaned flesh? Do we need peace and has our gleaning
been in the field of strife? Did we need breath needing to breathe eternal
things: and did we breathe time? Who superintended our gleanings: Satan,
(perhaps transformed as a spirit of light), or the Spirit of the Lord?
Or were we careless as to what we gleaned at all? It may be our gleanings
have been in heavenly fields. Perhaps the state of our souls—quickened,
moistened; or decadent and cleaving to the dust— may be explained,
and perhaps instrumentally helped, by obtaining answers for ourselves
to our enquiries as to “where we have gleaned today.” We know
that—especially where our callings compel close attention—we
cannot every moment be reading the word of God; but we are not under compulsion
either to be every moment feeding upon the wind. May we especially be
frequent gleaners at the footstool of divine grace, and from the fountain
of light, life, warmth and love.
“My soul lies cleaving to the dust:
Lord, give me life divine;
From vain desires and every lust,
Turnoff these eyes of mine.” (GADSBY’S 402).
JANUARY 17
“Truly God is good to Israel” —Psa. 73:1.
How did Asaph come to this conclusion? It is in flat contradiction to
his feelings as recorded, and fully confessed, later on in the Psalm;
so much so, that it was with difficulty he refrained from expressing aloud
to God’s people the enormities which assailed his thoughts: enormities
of faith-subverting criticism of God’s dealings. He had refrained,
but with difficulty, from openly declaring the apparently well-nigh infidel
thoughts which were his heart’s companions. The answer to our question
surely is, that he possessed the fear of the Lord. And it appears very
encouraging to weak and little and halting faith to notice how one small
circumstance alone shows it. In the midst of all this turmoil of spirit
and circumstance and the apparent sweeping of his whole religion from
under his feet, he had a tender regard for the welfare of Zion and an
indestructible love for the visible sheep of Christ’s sheepfold,
springing in reality—(though evidently he could not then have known
it) from love to the Shepherd Himself whom he could not see. It was because:
“If I speak thus, behold, I shall offend against the generation of
thy children.” In effect: “I shall wound them, I shall bring
them into bondage, I shall take away their comfort, I shall injure Jerusalem,
I shall dim thy glory in their hearts,” and “I will not do it,
for I love them, and I love Zion, although my own religion is gone!”
But it was not gone—and that was why he was afterwards enabled to
use the words of the text. He possessed the fear of the Lord—a principle
which the attacks of seeming atheism itself could not destroy. A reprobate
would have foundered in these heavy seas. But not this vessel of mercy.
“The fear of the Lord” in him was “a fountain of life to
depart from the snares of death,” and presently the apparently dried
fountain sprang up again. The result was, his spirit, moved by the Lord—the
fear of the Lord, moved by its divine and always living author—went
into the sanctuary of God, where moving in divine illumination, it saw
light in God’s light and was granted a discovery afresh even of the
truth as it is in Jesus (Eph. 4:21) the sum and substance of which is
that God is love: and that “He is too wise to err and too good to
be unkind.” Without the fear of the Lord he would have sunk to the
regions of darkness: with it, he rose once more to the abodes of light.
“Then cry we to heaven, with one loud accord,
That to us be given the fear of the Lord.”
(GADSBY’S 254).
JANUARY 18
“For in Him we live and move and have our being”—Acts
17:28.
How deep and precious are the truths which lie couched beneath these words?
For our present brief meditation one or two observations in the way of
sips from the ocean of truth presented to our view, may be profitable.
Does the passage not forcibly suggest to our minds two, or more, great
divisions of mankind, with reflections upon that one to which we ourselves
truly belong? “As certain of your own poets have said” (stated
in the same verse) provides us with proof that even heathens admit the
words here expressed to be true. So undoubtedly do the bulk of the millions
who inhabit the earth. So, likewise, do the thousands who attend every
kind of place of public worship in this country. So do we this morning.
But in this—(alone)—we, substantially, do not differ from the
heathen poets—(and all other heathens)—referred to by the Apostle,
or from millions of the other persons mentioned. It will be observed that
our remark was not that they all admitted the truth of the words, but
that they admit the words to be true. They do not know the whole, and
the most important part, of the truth, and cannot experimentally admit
what they do not know. They admit the words to be true so far as expressive
of what they know, which is that natural existence depends upon God. But
beyond this their experience does not extend. Another section of the human
race— whilst admitting all they do, apply also a totally different
and deeper meaning to the words, These latter will live with God for ever.
The consideration suggested is whether we belong to them; and if our meditation
should be blessed of the Lord to the giving of some fresh and sweet assurance
on this point we may arise from it comforted.
Have we a being at all spiritually? As otherwise we cannot spiritually
“live and move and have our being” in Him, without which we
are not destined to see His face. What of us “moves” and “has
its being” (thus) in Him? Does our faith live in Him? Have we any
hopes which can live only in and upon Him? Does our light live in Him?
Does our knowledge spring from, move in, and tend towards Him? Have we
any comforts which without Him must die, though we possessed all earthly
comforts? Does our strength centre in Him; and have the renewed faculties
of our souls been brought into a sweet subjection to His will and to heartfelt
and instinctive conflict with sin and a broken-hearted reliance upon Him
for pardon? Does the love of our souls “live and have its being”
in Him? And is our power of continuing the heavenly race solely centered
in Him? May it be our comfort this morning to feel that in these and other
similar respects we “live and move and have our being in Him,”
seeing that if so, it is a being with Him which will never end and one
with a future which tongue has never yet been able to portray, for—
“The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God who called me here below,
Shall be forever mine.” (GADSBY’S 198).
JANUARY 19
“Let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight
before thee”—Prov. 4:25.
This may afford us a practical lesson for the coming day. Look at what?
At the objects set before us, in the first place. And here at the outset
we are confronted with a searching question. What are the objects which
we have before us today? Do they square with God’s word and with
that “Law” which David says the godly man meditateth in day
and night? (Psa. 1:2). It may be taken for a certainty that some of them
do not. If so, let us take our eyes off before going any further and look
“straight on” to those which do. How powerful are the cords
which seem to pull our eyes aside so that we cannot look straight on,
What an instinctive drawing seems to harass our glances and force our
gaze from those objects which it is the delight of the new man to look
upon and follow after, and to draw them on to such as are congenial to
the old man. Such is the case with us today. How the Law of God deals
with the practical condition of the heart! The injunction to us today
is to “look right on.” Surely we have in our hearts some gracious
objects. From day to day we have expressed our hopes that such is the
case. What are they? Hear wisdom’s divine injunction: “look
right on.” Is it our own dispositions which largely hinder us? Is
it the dispositions of those around us—even, in some case, of those
we love? Is it our circumstances? Is it some affliction or the machinations
of some outward enemy? But yet, “notwithstanding all,” to look
right on! How can we? Surely by looking right on to Jesus! It is the great
remedy. To Jesus, who has strength to keep our eyes, and to combat their
aside-twitchings; and who is the grand object in whom is summed up all
the other gracious objects towards which we are to “look straight
on.” “Straight on” to Him and “straight off”
the flesh, Might not this fittingly be our motto today?—Seeking strength
from Him so to act.
JANUARY 20
“He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is
broken down, and without walls”—Prov. 25:28.
A city broken down and without walls was one which was open to the entrance
of every enemy and at the mercy of every foe which should come upon it.
What a hopeless condition for a city to be in. Yet such is ours today,
except one protection be provided. It is that mentioned in the words here
set before us. How needful it is today, therefore, that we should go forth
encompassed with this protection. Our hearts are broken down and without
walls. What a condition to be in today! But who can rule his own spirit?
The man who says he can has a sad conception of the insidious nature of
sin and of its serpentine attacks upon the city of the heart. Let us think
of the nature of that to which we are open; of the nature of our hearts;
of the innumerable evils, and of the sudden and (as to manner, place,
cause and circumstance) unexpected character of their frequent or quite
possible approach; and then consider that to all the attacks of these
foes our hearts as we go forth this morning are “broken down and
without walls.” How needful that we should seek the protection required—the
government of our spirits; which can only truly be by grace obtained from
the Lord. How suitable then is the gracious desire that today the Lord
may “be with our spirits;” for, notwithstanding the best endeavors
made in our own strength, our city will not stand—for it is “broken
down and without walls,” and the enemies notwithstanding, are both
strong and many. True, therefore, it is that “except the Lord keep
the city the watchman waketh but in vain” (Psa. 127:1). How good
in this respect, as in others, to be able experimentally to join with
the Psalmist and say the “Lord is the strength of my life” (Psa.
27:1.) and to find in some measure the evidences that “in Him we
live and move and have our being,” (Acts 17:28) for only so have
we protection.
JANUARY 21
“He shutteth his eyes to devise froward things: moving his lips he
bringeth evil to pass” —Prov. 16:30.
These words are used in regard to a man in a state of violent unregeneracy.
But do they not also impart to those who fear the Lord, but are still
subject to the flesh, a valuable lesson for daily life? The shutting of
the eyes of the man referred to may be said to indicate a determined resolve
to concentrated meditation upon the evil which is hatching within him;
secondly, a purpose to shut out all influences which would conflict with
his evil conceptions; thirdly, a consciousness that he can only hold steadfastly
on to these evil premeditations by shutting out all good influences; which
seems, together, to show how it is that some unregenerate sinners are
able to go to the especially diabolical lengths of sin which are seen
in them, viz: because there is “no fear of God before their eyes.”
(Rom. 3:18). But the whole seems to point out to us the truth that one
of the great means by which, either in their thoughts, or their words,
or their deeds, sinners—regenerate and unregenerate—are brought
to departures in sin is the “shutting of the eyes.” Applying
the lesson to the godly in heart, it is seen that if we can by any means
be brought to “shut our eyes” today to that which pertains to
the fear of God, we are at once on the highway to the commission of sin,
and to the certain way of losing the presence of God in our souls and
the dishonoring of the Lord in our hearts—perhaps in our outward
actions—instead of the adornment of our profession of His name. This
is especially important when we remember the power possessed by Satan
and our corrupt natures for doing this—this shutting of our eyes
and his well-known designs to do it at all times. Each of us, if children
of the Lord, can apply the lesson for ourselves. It may be too severe,
personal and painful a one to discuss with another, however beloved, and
may compel us to go to our closets and there at the throne of grace and
mercy to privately commune with the Lord. What did we do yesterday, what
are we meditating today, which we know it is only possible for us to do
by (as it seems to us) deliberately and perhaps determinedly shutting
our eyes to the Law of God within our hearts (though in reality Satan
is pulling our eyestrings)?—things only possible whilst our eyes
are shut, and not gazing upon the Law of the Lord and cast towards the
face of Him whom we love within the veil? The lesson is one which pierces
deep into each of our hearts, and one capable of deep use and sweet sanctification
there. May the Lord thus sanctify it and enable us in these frequent daily
temptations to cry: “Lord, open Thou mine eyes.”
JANUARY 22
“O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together”—Psa.
34:3.
It was not that David was in bondage of spirit: that he was unable to
praise the Lord. Why, then, does he make this appearance in public, or
amongst his fellows? Why is he not found in his chamber, or walking in
some secluded spot in the palace gardens at Jerusalem, or in the retirement
of the fields or hills which were—and still are—about it, praising
the Lord in sweet secret communion? Was he unaccustomed to this—had
he never learned how to do this yet—and needed the help of others
to teach him and to encourage his efforts to praise the Lord? There were
probably four reasons amongst others why he thus accosts his brethren
in the Lord. He was overflowing with love to God and could not restrain
himself from proclaiming it to them; he felt it to be his duty in Zion,
and determined so far as in him lay, to thus endeavor to kindle the love
of others; he desired probably to so endeavor to raise the spirits of
the downcast in Israel by an unctuous proclamation of the faithfulness
of God experimentally realized; and there was probably a fourth and predominant
reason, namely, that which inspired the apostle when he exhorted the saints
to “forsake not the assembling of themselves together” (Heb.
10:25). He felt that their voices would strengthen his: that his would
strengthen theirs; that their love would inflame his and his theirs; that
his hopes would be further kindled by theirs, and theirs by his; that
the strong would strengthen the weak and the weak still further expand
the thankfulness of the strong; and that so the cause of the Lord would
be advanced, and Zion warmed, “the love of the saints quickened,”
His love shed abroad in their hearts,” and “His name and His
glory exalted in their midst.” This notable and recorded utterance
of his was inspired of God. Is not one of its great influences and purposes
to thus set before us the need for, the blessings designed by, and to
encourage us to observe the divinely instituted means of united worship—either
family or public? Is not the gathering of God’s people together for
united worship and communion with Him thus set before us as a fundamental
means instituted of God for the promotion of His glory and the advancement
of His Kingdom in the midst of Zion? “In keeping of His commandments
is great reward” (Psa. 19:11). May we not, therefore, this morning
and on all occasions, feel encouraged in attendance upon the assemblies
of God’s people for worship?
“How pleased and blest was I,
To hear the people cry,
‘Come, let us seek our God today!’
Yes, with a cheerful zeal, We haste to Zion’s hill,
And there our vows and honours pay.” (GADSBY’S 362)
JANUARY 23
“We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed,
but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed”—2
Cor. 4:8,9.
There are not many of the Lord’s people today whose present position
some portion of these words does not set forth. Is it in any or all of
the respects mentioned so with us? To each there is not only the statement
of our case, but also some measure of comfort supplied, and, on fuller
examination of the words, much more implied. For our encouragement let
us look at two different pictures. First, the position of the world as
it would be set forth if these words had been altered to describe their
case in general, which would be: “we are troubled on every side,
we are distressed; we are perplexed,” “we are in despair; we
are forsaken,” “we are cast down and destroyed.” But our
case is very different. Those last described are without hope, helper
or God in the world: with no supreme helper to whom they may “continually
resort.” On the contrary, if children of God, we have each and all
of these priceless blessings: not one of which could be bought with all
the gold in all the British banks. A gospel, a salvation and a condition
which can meet all the above cases are indeed a blessing. Are we “troubled
on every side?” Many who read these lines today probably are. But
is there not even at the worst, a secret hope, a divinely implanted lingering
trust going out to the fountain and head of all principality and power,
which removes the case from the category of bona-fide distress, and puts
it into the very different list of trouble? For who that lived any considerable
length of years without God does not know the difference between distress
of mind and heart arising from heavy trouble without any solid basis of
hope to sustain the spirit, and heavy trouble with even a lingering hope
in the Lord, not to speak of strong hopes and vigorous actings of faith,
granted to some, enabling the spirit to mount on high with peaceful confidence
in God even in deep trouble? Trouble it is, but the anchorless distress
referred to it is not. Are any this morning perplexed? Probably. But are
we in despair? Never, whilst faith has a blessed Jesus to look unto: faith
polished with a gleam of hope. Are we persecuted—any who here or
elsewhere are reading with us today? We may be indeed: and above all,
by the unseen powers of darkness. But are we forsaken? Never! For our
blessed Helper has declared: “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto
the end of the world” (Matt. 28:20). Are we cast down today? Are
we often so? Yes, doubtless we often are. The Lord knows all about this.
But are we destroyed? Never! whilst the Psalmist’s declaration is
true: “Surely His salvation is nigh unto them that fear Him”
(Psa. 85:9). Never, whilst Jesus is more powerful than Satan; never, whilst
there is “still corn in the land” of Hope, as there ever will
be to the end; never, whilst the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost (John
14:26) continues His sweet work of celestial consolation in the troubled
hearts of travellers on the way to Zion; never, whilst we can say with
the Psalmist: “The Lord is the strength of my life” (Psa. 27:1).
JANUARY 24
“Many sorrows shall be to the wicked; but he that trusteth in the
Lord, mercy shall compass him about”—Psa. 32:10.
What a consoling truth is there in these words. And where shall we seek
consolation if not in God’s word, which is the instrument of the
Holy Spirit, the Comforter? Are these words true? The verse is the declaration
of God. Many sorrows are frequently the lot of His people. But, for our
strengthening, observe the vast distinction drawn. The statement ends
there with regard to the wicked. Not so with regard to the righteous,
for there is a grand saving clause: “Mercy shall compass him about.”
How different to the path of the wicked. O, how consoling is this truth,
uttered by divine inspiration, firm as the everlasting covenant itself.
Does sorrow fall upon the poor, but hoping, pilgrim from the west? Yet
“mercy shall compass him about.” Do sorrow and trial visit him
from the east? Yet “mercy shall compass him about.” Do they
assail him from the north? “Still mercy shall encompass his path.”
Do they present themselves from the south? Let him not give up hope nor
be altogether dismayed, if this is the word of a faithful God, for still
“mercy shall compass him about!” He is a vessel of mercy. He
is a barque of divine compassion. He is a traveller hedged about with
mercy, and
“Not a single shaft can hit
Till the God of love sees fit,”
nor can it hit him any harder than is permitted, neither can it hit him
anywhere but where permitted, nor oftener than permitted, nor longer than
permitted! “Mercy shall compass him about;“ and as a warrior
enveloped in a coat of mail could not be slain by all the arrows or shots
of his assailants, so nothing can vitally wound or destroy this poor traveller
encompassed with mercy: which is a sovereign protection and ensures not
only protection, but consolation, strength, food, and the blessed fruition
of mercy at the end of the path.
“All praise to the Spirit, whose whisper divine.
Seals mercy, and pardon and righteousness mine.” (GADSBY’S
11).
JANUARY 25
“Blessed be the Lord; for He hath shewed me His marvellous kindness
in a strong City”—Psa. 31:21.
If I am a vessel of mercy, how great has been His kindness to me. He has
brought me into (or rather I have ever been in), the strong city of His
love, and there it is that He has bestowed upon me and shown me a measure
of “kindness” and manifestations of “kindness,” which
are marvellous. A multitude of these kindnesses were bestowed upon me
even before I knew that I was in the city. In the margin it is described
as a fenced city. How good that it was fenced! otherwise I should have
assuredly become the never-ending possession of Satan. O, the mercy of
those fences. The adversary of my soul—even “when Satan’s
blind slave, I sported with death” (Gadsby’s, 232) was not able
to scale those fences and drag me out of the strong city of His everlasting
love; and there, by His mercy, I still remain; and He has not yet finished
the kindness which He intends there to show me. Of this I am convinced,
and the word of God assures me of it. I am still waiting and hoping for
and expecting further acts of His marvellous kindness here. Why He brought
me into this great city of His love it is impossible for me to conceive,
except that He loved me; and I am a witness that the word of God is true,
for it declares that “Herein is love, not that we loved Him, but
that He loved us” (1 John 4:10), which is so true that Satan himself
cannot deny it and is the only true reason which my poor finite powers
can adduce in explanation. But what a sweet contemplation—what an
encouraging contemplation—what a sustaining contemplation to rest
in, during the ever-changing scenes of my journey, the contemplation that,
as I truly hope, He has brought me into this great, this fenced, this
strong city of His love, and that there I dwell, and hope to dwell for
ever.
“All glory to mercy we bring,
The mercy that reigns evermore,
The infinite mercy we sing,
The mercy eternal adore.” (GADSBY’S 12).
JANUARY 26
“Into Thine hand I commit my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord
God of truth”—Psa. 31:5.
How many grounds the Psalmist brings forth from time to time as the bases
of his hopes and of the hopes of all followers of the same Lord. The strength
of his hopes varied as that of theirs does. He knew what little hope was
and what the nature and strong satisfaction of great hope. Equally varied
were the reasons adduced for the encouragement of his own and others’
hopes. But did he ever bring up to the gaze of God’s people a stronger:
did he ever hold up to the downcast eye of faith a surer ground than this?
“Thou hast redeemed me!” What more positive ground than this
could be given that the Lord would, and will, see to it—and will
thereto use all His Almighty power—that such an one shall not be
lost, shall not fall fatally into the hands of any satanic robber, that
the precious, preserving and restraining and sustaining work of the Holy
Spirit shall assuredly be vouchsafed to it: especially that it shall not
be withheld when such a soul approaches Him with strong cries and supplications
for it; and that whilst the “whole creation is His charge” such
redeemed ones shall be His peculiar care? He committed His spirit to His
hands because He had redeemed it. What a ground of godly assurance and
hope for any howsoever fearful and trembling soul who has a hope in the
Lord: that his spirit has been redeemed and is thus in the almighty charge
of that loved one who Himself redeemed it with His own precious blood.
Do we fear the assaults of Satan, the inflaming of our spirits under the
violent provocations, and perhaps persecutions, of outward enemies; that
we shall then so act as to dishonor our Lord; that we may even make such
havoc of our profession as shall be visible to all outsiders? Do we fear
our evil natures, our unruly passions, our mutinous tempers, our carnal
inclinations? We have good reason. Do we fear that sin will in the end
prove too much for us, that it will super-abound and finally destroy us?
Where must all this destruction have its operation and be performed? In
and upon our spirits. There is the centre of mischief and danger. David,
so taught in the “deep things of God,” seems by the sudden inspiration
of a well-nigh desperate man to dive down at once to the very foundations
and bedrock of safety: “Into Thine hands I commit my spirit: Thou
hast redeemed me!” My spirit is Thine, bought with a precious price
and an object of precious love; and Thou canst and wilt preserve it. There
is my hope and ground of confidence, O Lord God of Truth! And will not
also all other needful care and blessings, for time and eternity, be bestowed
on a soul, thus redeemed of the Lord?
JANUARY 27
“Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life:
and they are they which testify of me”—John 5:39.
Of what do they testify? That He can see if there is today in my heart
any good thing towards Him. Is there such a thing there? If so, they testify
that it is very precious to Him. Let me take it to Him and ask Him to
increase and strengthen it. They testify that He has promised to do so
and further that He is much known to wait until He is asked before He
does it, for this is their further testimony: “I will yet for this
be enquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them” (Ezek.
36:37). It may be so little a thing that no one can see it. It may be
that even those amongst our little circle as we meet around His mercy
seat this morning do not at all know that it is in me; and that as they
regard and love me, they and the people of God who meet in His house for
worship from time to time, pray, and perhaps with little hope, that He
would in mercy open my eyes and touch my heart and turn it to Himself.
The case may be worse. I may have professed that there is some such good
thing in my heart towards the Lord, but even God’s people—not
to mention the world—believe I am a hypocrite. It is true I do not
shine much and what little appearance of shining there is they take to
be the shining of the hypocrite, and they predict privately, if not openly,
that it will one day be made manifest to be so. Even the minister in our
midst, though ever watchful with sympathy and fervently anxious for the
salvation of immortal souls, does not seem to have found it out. Satan
tells me plainly that it is not there; but sometimes I remember that he
was a liar from the beginning and now know that he is, for I know that
it is there; though worst of all, at times I really cannot believe it
myself. But I am thankful for this text: “They testify of me,”
for they testify that He can see all things—even the deep and hidden
things of the heart; and that whatever my friends or the Lord’s people
do not know, or else think hypocrisy; whatever the minister cannot see
and Satan openly denies, He can see all things in my heart and He can
see that I love Him. The scriptures testify many things of Him, which
is a great reason for my searching them, but this one is especially precious
to me and that is what they testify of Him. O Lord, I offer my poor love
to Thee: be pleased to increase it and make it more manifest in accordance
with that gracious promise which is testified of Thee: “unto him
that hath, shall more be given.”
JANUARY 28
“But after that I am risen, I will go before you into Galilee”—Mark
14:28.
They had partaken of the last solemn supper, had taken at His hands of
the precious emblems, and had sung a hymn (ver. 26) together, and had
then gone over the brook Kedron to the mount of Olives. The writer has
been over the same brook and into the same mount, but has not with his
mortal eyes, as they did, beheld the Lord of life and glory. Yet this
passage suggests some precious thoughts to him and he trusts may to others.
He has not gone before us and promised that when He is risen we shall
see Him in Galilee, But He has gone before us, and is risen and has promised
that we shall see Him in another place; and as surely as the promise was
made that after that time of sweet communion, although they should be
visibly parted from Him awhile, He would go before His disciples and they
should see Him, so surely shall we, after present seasons of sweet and
solemn communion with Him and His disciples here; after separation from
Him for awhile: so surely shall we see Him—risen—in the place
whither He is “gone before us:” not into Galilee, it is true,
but within the veil. “After I am risen, I will go before you into
Galilee.” Though their faith may have been tried and proved feeble,
and their apprehensions were dark, as we know they were, how this assurance
must have comforted them. And what comfort there is for us. He is now
risen and is—according to many promises—as surely “gone
before us and we shall see Him there.” The interval, too, will not
be long. It will soon he passed. What a solemnizing thought! It will soon
be passed, and faith will be turned into sight, and we shall see Him.
Has any poor sinner never been taught the language of Canaan? He will
never see Him. Only such as are prepared by being taught the language
see Him there. May such an one be spiritually brought to fall upon His
face before the God of mercy and beg to be taught this precious language.
We are subject to much harassing fear and doubt, but “after that
I am risen, I will go before you.” We are the subjects of many longings
and the “life that we now live is a life of faith” (Gal. 2:20)
and of trial, and castings down of spirit and of cries and perhaps of
tears; but there will soon be no more tears and no more fears, for “after
that I am risen I will go before you, and there ye shall see me,”
is the sweet gospel assurance. A few more fears, a few more afflictions
and trials, a few more precious hymns and seasons of sweet and hopeful
communion with me and my disciples on earth, and whither, being already
risen, “I am gone before you,” “there you shall see me,”
the Lord would seem to say, “for there ye shall come, where I am
already gone,” and—
“More happy, but not more secure,
Are the glorified spirits in heaven.”
JANUARY 29
“But where shall wisdom be found? And where is the place of understanding”—Job
28:12.
Even a child of God is worried with natural proclivities, one of which
is the ardent reachings of his natural intellect (in some especially)
after the solution of everything. His sight and intellect fret at bounds
being set to them. He does not even remember that the mighty ocean itself
has bounds set to it. He would pierce God’s dealings and wisdom’s
uttermost depths for himself; not in time only, but also in eternity,
both before and after time. Such wisdom reduced to its desire in principle,
is that He would be as wise as God. Probably very few see it so. The intellect
argues: is not reason God’s gift for us to use? This cannot be denied
and Satan—whose operations are in the mind and spirit—knows
too well how to work upon this subtle argument, and to by it encourage
our intellects to a revolt similar, in some essential respects, to his
own revolt in heaven. But the wisdom referred to is the wisdom possessed
by God and is not such as He has anywhere promised to man—even to
His regenerated people. “It is hid from the eyes of all living.”
“He looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven.”
“When He made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning
of the thunder, then He did see it, and declare it“ (Job 28:21,24,26,27).
But “where, then, is the place of understanding?“ Is there no
wisdom for man to comprehend, to delight in, to search into—no sphere
of wisdom for the exercise of reason? “Are we to live as blind bats
and as brute beasts and to cut off the exercise of all reason? Is there
no wisdom and no reason for man?“ asks the restless intellect. Yes.
But not the wisdom we yearn for, which requires knowledge which is infinite,
and to understand the recesses of whose mighty forces infinite mazes and
complicated “wheels“ (Ezek. 1:15-21) requires powers, capacities
and faculties which are not human, and not finite, but infinite. Yes,
there is a wisdom and a sphere of reason for man, and the verse following
our today’s text has a message of pregnant weight to him: “and
unto man he said, Behold the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.” (ver.
28). Here is the sphere which limits the exercise of sanctified reason:
and who can portray the depths and the riches, the divine expanses, and
preciousness of the ocean thus opened up to it? although it has (as the
ocean itself) bounds, depths beyond our limited capacities. Not only is
the knowledge of God true wisdom itself but it, and the “Law of the
Lord” which forms its basis of action, dictates how far, and where
and in what fields, sanctified reason may go which far excel in their
divine expanse and preciousness, all the fields of mere carnal reason,
and even the profoundest philosophy. What practical result and what practical
encouragement and stay to the soul does all this lead us to today? Is
it not this, amongst other things: that that wisdom which is the fear
of the Lord sweetly holds up to us this truth:—It is wisdom to endeavour
to trust Him where we cannot trace Him, and where we cannot follow the
movements of the infinite maze of “wheels” which He works with
such loving and untiring patience for us, and which require a father’s
almighty power to move? The difficulty of so trusting—how well is
it known! But this, surely, is “wisdom” and one of the best
“places” of it, even where a good deal of the “unfolding”
may be invisible.
“His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.” (GADSBY’S 320).
JANUARY 30
“I hate vain thoughts, but Thy law do I love”—Psa. 119:113.
Here is a transformation! And there is no greater transformation to be
found surely in the whole of creation than is to be found in regeneration:
in the old creation than in regeneration, which is the new. Here is a
fallen and undone sinner, born in sin and shapen in iniquity, in whose
soul the state of being has been completely reversed. Such is regeneration:
and the statement is made on the authority of the word of God: and when
one feels to have that clearly as his authority—though he be of the
unworthiest that ever opened his lips or put pen to paper—his language
is at times filled with holy boldness. And the boldest and clearest statement
of this truth is likely to be of comfort rather than a source of distress
to the feeblest follower of the Lord, if the matter be carefully, though
briefly, considered. And so it may be to us perhaps—if enquirers
walking with halting steps this morning. Perhaps such will say: “if
this be regeneration, no such thing is found in me, and the Bible is a
sealed book to me, who have been seeking hope in it. I was a sinner when
I began to seek hope, and am still a sinner, though still seeking hope,
and sin is perpetually at work in me and is the plague of my being: the
bane of my days and the post of my nights. A complete revolution of my
being! It might as well be said that my skin had changed from white to
black, which would be equally false.” Is this so? What do I love?
The Law of the Lord. What still plagues my life? But that is not the question
asked me. It is: what do I love? What did I formerly love? Vain thoughts:
vanity; that which was the opposite to light and eternal reality; that
which is delusion; that of which the natural heart is the fountain, all
of which opposes itself in vain pride against God and is ever fomenting
vain imaginations and searches after happiness from sinful sources opposed
to the law of the Lord, and opposed to the real basis of happiness, and
ever leads on in a whirl of delusion, away from the law of God and on—on—on
in the law of death. But what have I now been brought to love? The law
of the Lord. The other things love me and seek to still possess my heart,
but I hate them and the love is now all on one side. How is this? It is
the creation of God and a complete revolution in the governing principle
of my soul— and this, too, is the cause of the battle which is now
ever being waged there. “It is the work of the hand of a creator.”
It is not my work, but God’s, and is His treasure in an earthen vessel.
I now love divine things; eternal realities; the way of holiness; the
path and all therein that leads to God, and that is—the law of the
Lord. This I have been brought to love. Vain thoughts—the conceptions
and path of sin—I hate, though by no means freed from them. The state
of my soul was formerly the reverse, It is plainly and surely a revolution
of my being, and cannot but be the creation of God. It is surely regeneration
and though the unholy remains of the old creation are still there, and
sometimes lead me to doubt everything, it is my humble hope today from
these encouraging considerations, that He has touched my heart by His
divine operations upon it.
“Our quickened souls awake and rise
From the long sleep of death;
On heavenly things we fix our eyes,
And praise employs our breath.”
(GADSBY’S 90).
JANUARY 31
“At evening time it shall be light”—Zech. 14:7.
The writer has just been to the house of an aged saint who died recently,
and who on her death bed told him that these words had been made sweet
to her, “At evening time,” though many saints have been favored
with a greater abundance of light, it was “light” with her,
and the visit to this house bringing to mind this passage, awakened the
consideration that there are various evening times, and in connection
with those words thoughts of these evening times; particularly that in
the goodness of the Lord we are today brought on our pilgrimage to the
“evening time“ of another month. How much reason we have to
be thankful if it is “light” with our souls. We may be permitted
to see the morning of another month. Today let us briefly close the “evening
time” of the present one. We have been permitted during the month
to meditate upon things which, however feebly and unworthily set before
us by an instrument of deeply felt feebleness and unworthiness—one
who feels himself unworthy to take the name of a holy God upon his polluted
lips— things which, though set before us by such an instrument, are
yet in themselves surely very precious to every soul whose hope is in
the mercies of a covenant God. May it be granted to us at this evening
time of the month to feel the comfort of “light“ upon those
things meditated upon, so far as they accord with “the truth as it
is in Jesus.” Then, remembering the hopeful entering into rest of
the aged saint referred to and of many others whom perhaps we have known,
may we be led forth into a sweet hope that at the solemn “evening
time” which awaits us all, it may be “light” with us.
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