Sabado, Oktubre 29, 2022

HOPE (John MacDuff, 1818-1895)

 

Psalms 130:7

“Let Israel hope in the LORD: for with the LORD there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption.”


Isaiah 28:12

“To whom he said, This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest; and this is the refreshing: yet they would not hear.”

Hope opens its bright vista-view through the Elim palms—the morning dewdrops drenching their fronds and sparkling with diamond luster in the rising sun!
"Hope!" Who is insensible to the music of that word? What bosom has not kindled under its utterance? Poetry has sung of it, music has warbled it, oratory has lavished on it its enchanting strains. Pagan mythology, in her vain but beautiful dreams, said that when all other divinities fled from the world, Hope, with her elastic step and radiant countenance and lustrous attire, lingered behind. The weeping Hebrews, in the day of their exile, did not unstring the harps of Zion or break them to pieces. No; they hung them, tuneless indeed and mute, but still undamaged, on the willowed banks of the streams of Babylon. Why? because Hope cheered them with the thought that these silent melodies would once more awake, when God, in His own good time, would "turn again their captivity as streams in the south."
"Hope!" well may we personify you lighting up your altar-fires in this dark world, and dropping a live coal into many a desolate heart; gladdening the sick room with visions of returning health; illuminating with rays brighter than the sunbeam the captive's cell; crowding the broken slumbers of the soldier, by his campfire, with pictures of his sunny home and his own joyous return.
"Hope!" drying the tear on the cheek of woe; as the black clouds of sorrow break and fall to the earth, arching the descending drops with your own beautiful rainbow! Yes, more, standing with your lamp in hand by the gloomy realms of Hades, kindling your torch at Nature's funeral pile, and opening views through the gates of glory! Beautifully says a gifted writer of the sister country—
"Where'er my paths
On earth shall lead,
I'll keep a nesting bough
For Hope—the song-bird, and, with cheerful step,
Hold on my pilgrimage, remembering where
Flowers have no autumn-languor, Eden's gate
No flaming sword to guard the tree of life."
Yes, if hope, even with reference to present and finite things, is an emotion so joyous; if uninspired poetry can sing so sweetly of its delights, what must be the believer's hope, the hope which has God for its object and heaven for its consummation? "I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait, and in His word do I HOPE." "Let Israel HOPE in the Lord."
This lofty grace, indeed, at times, requires stern discipline to develop its noble proportions. It is often the child of tribulation. The apostle traces its pedigree, "Tribulation works patience; and patience experience; and experience HOPE" (Rom. 5:3, 4). It would appear as if (recurring to the figure already employed), like the rainbow in the natural heavens, Hope specially loves to span the moral firmament with its triumphal arch, in the cloud of tribulation.
But, heaven-born, it is heavenward, too, in its aspiration. It is generally represented by the sculptor's chisel as a beautiful female form, with wings ready to be extended in flight. The safety of the timid bird is to be on the wing. If its haunt is near the ground—if it flies low—it exposes itself to the fowler's net or snare. If we remain groveling on the low ground of feeling and emotion, we shall find ourselves entangled in a thousand meshes of doubt and despondency, temptation and unbelief. "How useless to spread a net in full view of all the birds!" (Prov. 1:17; marginal reading). "Those who wait (or hope) in the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles" (Isa. 40:31). "I will hope continually," says David, "and will yet praise You more and more" (Ps. 71:14).
Again using a similar emblem—the bird in the tempest rushing for shelter under the mother's wing—"You have been my help, therefore under the shadow of Your wings will I rejoice" (Ps. 63:7). The Believer is a "prisoner," but a "prisoner of hope." The gospel is a "gospel of hope." Its message is called "the good hope through grace." The "helmet of salvation" is the helmet of hope. The "anchor of the soul" is the anchor of hope. The believer "rejoices in hope." Christ is in him "the hope of glory." Hope peoples to him the battlements of heaven with sainted ones in the spirit-land. He "sorrows not as others, who have no hope."
When death comes, Hope cheers the final hour—"Now, Lord, what do I wait for? my hope is in You." Hope stands with her torch over his grave, and in the prospect of the dust returning to its dust, he says, "My flesh shall rest in hope." Hope is one of the three guardian graces that conduct him to the heavenly gate. Now abides these three, "Faith, Hope, and Love;" and if it be added, "the greatest of these is Love," it is because Hope and her companion finish their mission at the heavenly door! They proceed no further; they go back to the world, to the wrestlers in the earthly conflict. Faith returns to her drooping hearts, to undo heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free. Hope goes to her dungeon vaults, her beds of sickness, her chambers of bereavement and sorrow. To take Faith or Hope to heaven, would be to take the physician to the well man, or to offer crutches to the strong, or to help to light the meridian sun with a tiny candle. Faith is then changed to sight, and Hope to full fruition. Love alone holds onto her infinite mission. Faith and Hope are her two soaring wings. She drops them as she enters the gates of glory. The watchman puts out his beacon when the sun floods the ocean; the miner puts out his lamp when he ascends to the earth. Hope's candle-light is unneeded in that world where "the sun will never set again, and the moon will wane no more; the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end."
"I dwell here in content,
Thankful for tranquil days;
And yet my eyes grow dim,
As still I gaze and gaze
Upon a mountain pass
That leads—or so it seems—
To some far happier land
Beyond the world of dreams."
"On we haste, to home invited,
There with friends to be united
In a surer bond than here:
Meeting soon, and met forever!
Glorious HOPE! forsake us never,
For your glimmering light is dear.
"All the way is shining clearer,
As we journey ever nearer
To the everlasting Home.
Friends who there await our landing,
Comrades, round the throne now standing,
We salute you, and we come!"
"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

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The Grace of Christ, or Sinners Saved by Unmerited Kindness (William S. Plumer, 1853)

Acts 15:11

“But we believe that through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ we shall be saved, even as they.”


Justification. Christ's righteousness is imputed to believers
As our works are the works of sinners—we must either stand before God, covered with the filthy rags of our own righteousness, or we must obtain some better righteousness than we are capable of working out for ourselves. We must either be justified by God without any cause, and this would be both connivance at sin—and approbation of it, to assert which of God would be blasphemy; or by works in their nature imperfect and sinful, as all ours confessedly are—and that would be an admission that the law had once demanded too much; or by the all-perfect work and infinite merit of Jesus Christ. This last is God's published plan.
Christ is "the Lord our righteousness." The end of his life on earth was that he might be the end of the law for righteousness to every one who believes. His righteousness is not imparted, but imputed to us. It does not cure our corruption, but it covers our nakedness. It is not infused into us, but it is reckoned to us. It is not inherent in us, but it is set down to our account. We do not imbibe it, but we are invested with it. We are not imbued, but endued with it. It does not give us a fitness for heaven, but a title to it. It is not Christ's work in us, but his work and sufferings for us—which give us an indefeasible title to the privileges of sons of God.
To enter the kingdom of God without a right would make us stand before him as presumptuous intruders, called by Christ "thieves and robbers, who had climbed up some other way." To enter it with a title less perfect than the law requires would be exalting mercy at the expense of justice, and relaxing all the bonds of God's moral government. To enter it with a title based upon our own merits would be a public and bold denial of our guilt and ruin. But here is Jehovah's way. "The grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, has abounded unto many." "Those who receive abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ." "By the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life." "By the obedience of one shall many be made righteous." "Our righteousness," says Calvin, "is not in ourselves but in Christ."
"As by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous." What is placing our righteousness in the obedience of Christ, but asserting that we are accounted righteous only because his obedience is accepted for us as if it were our own?" Such Scriptures and such reasonings settle to the satisfaction of the great mass of God's people, the truth of the imputation of Christ's righteousness to his people.
The righteousness by which a sinner stands accepted is called the righteousness of God, because it is in opposition to the righteousness of men, because God provided and approves it and none other, and because he puts great honor upon it. It is called the righteousness of Christ, because our Lord Jesus being made under the law, was obedient to all its precepts, and suffered its dreadful penalty for us, and so he himself brought in everlasting righteousness for us. It is called the righteousness of faith, because it is apprehended and appropriated by faith. It is not a righteousness secured by working, but by believing. "We are justified by faith." This righteousness is at least once called the righteousness of the law, because in its absolute perfection it is all that the moral law, spotless and eternal, demands for the justification of a sinner in the sight of God.
It may well excite amazement that the doctrine of the imputation of Christ's righteousness should be so violently opposed as it sometimes is. Owen says: "In our day nothing in religion is more maligned, more reproached, more despised, than the imputation of righteousness unto us, or our imputed righteousness." Thomas Scott says, "the proud heart of man is prone to deny, or object to it, even with blasphemous enmity." And Archibald Alexander says: "No part of evangelical doctrine has met with a more determined opposition than the doctrine of imputation. It has been loaded with reproaches, as a doctrine the most unreasonable, the most dangerous, and the most impious. It is a remarkable circumstance, however, that all the objections, which have been made to it, are founded on a misapprehension or a misrepresentation of the true nature of imputation."
It is said that a divine of our own country has been so far left to himself as to say publicly that "imputed righteousness is imputed nonsense." The motives of those, who revile this doctrine, will be judged by Him, who cannot err. No human tribunal is competent to pronounce upon them. But the pretended arguments brought against the doctrine of the imputation of Christ's merits to his people, as they have often been, so they should again and again be fully and fairly answered. He who defends, and he who assails, this doctrine are busied at a vital point of Christianity. Some have really held and taught the substance of this doctrine, and yet rejected the term, imputation. If any ask, why we should insist on the use of the term and not yield it to such people and others, the answer is ready.
First, we have the example of inspired men on our side. Psalm 32:2, and 2 Cor. 5:9; Romans 4:6, 11, 23-25. If David and Paul use the word, why may not we also? If any man should propose to banish the word redemption from our theological vocabulary, what friend of truth would consent to it? Imputed righteousness is and ought to be just as dear to millions of God's people as redemption.
Secondly, we could not get on well without this term. It conveys the very idea we wish to present in the pulpit and in our writings. If a man gives due notice that henceforth he will always call a hat a spade, it cannot fairly be said that he deceives any one by such a misnomer, but surely he will give trouble both to himself and his friends. Nor will he gain any good, unless he esteems the reputation of singularity such. And he may mislead some one.
Thirdly, good theological terms are not easily obtained and agreed upon; and when they are settled they become out-posts to important truths, and should not be surrendered. The man, who asks that the people of the United States shall no more use the phrases, republican government, union, federative system, rights of the States—would be very confusing. It is an old art of enemies to assault, and of traitors to surrender the out-posts.
Fourthly, this phrase has long been in use, is incorporated into many symbols of faith, into many manuals of Christian doctrine, and into nearly all bodies of divinity, and so ought not to be given up. Those who have objected to it have suggested no better, indeed none so good. The Swiss Reformers in the Confession of Helvetia say: "God imputes the righteousness of Christ unto us for our own: so that now we are not only cleansed from our sin, and purged, and holy, but also endued with the righteousness of Christ. To speak properly, then; it is God alone who justifies us, and that only for Christ, by not imputing unto us our sin, but imputing Christ's righteousness unto us." Romans 4:23-25. The Augsburg Confession says: "When therefore we say, that 'we are justified by faith,' Romans 5:1, this is our meaning: that we do obtain remission of sins, and imputation of righteousness, by mercy showed us for Christ's sake." The confession of France says: "Casting away all opinion of virtues and merits, we do altogether rest in the only obedience of Jesus Christ, which is imputed to us, both that all our sins may be covered, and that we may obtain grace before God." The Confession of Saxony says: "Christ himself is our righteousness, because that by his merit we have remission, and God does impute his righteousness to us, and for him does account us just." The Confession of Belgia says: "Christ himself is our righteousness, which imputes all his merits unto us; faith is but the instrument, whereby we are coupled unto him." The Church of England says: "We are accounted righteous before God only for the merits of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ by faith; and not for our own works or deservings, therefore, that we are justified by faith alone—is a most wholesome doctrine and full of comfort." The Church of Ireland says: "We are accounted righteous before God, only for the merit of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, applied by faith. And this righteousness, which we receive of God's mercy, and Christ's merits, embraced by faith, is taken, accepted, and allowed of God, for our perfect and full justification." The Confession of Wirtemburg says, that "man is made acceptable to God and accounted just before him for the only Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, through faith; and when we appear before the judgment-seat of God, we must not trust to the merit of any of those virtues which we have, but only to the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose merit is ours by faith." The Confession of Sueveland says: "This whole justification is to be ascribed to the good pleasure of God, and to the merit of Christ, and to be received by faith alone." John 1:12, 13, Eph. 2:8-10.
The Savoy, the Cambridge and the Boston Congregational Confessions, and the London and Philadelphia Baptist Confessions hold forth these very words: "Those, whom God effectually calls, he also freely justifies, not by infusing righteousness into them, but by pardoning their sins, and by accounting and accepting their persons as righteous; not for anything wrought in them, or done by them—but for Christ's sake alone; not by imputing faith itself, the act of believing, or any other evangelical obedience to them as their righteousness, but by imputing Christ's active obedience unto the whole law, and passive obedience in his death, for their whole." It is well known that all branches of the Presbyterian Church in North America and in Great Britain and her colonies, with the exception of a few Arians in Ireland and a few Unitarians in England, who for some reason wear the Presbyterian name, use almost verbatim the same formula on this subject.
The Heidelberg Catechism thus speaks:
"56. What do you believe concerning the forgiveness of sins? "That God, for the sake of Christ's satisfaction, will no more remember my sins, neither my corrupt nature, against which I have to struggle all my life long, but will graciously impute to me the righteousness of Christ, that I may never be condemned before the tribunal of God.
"59. But what does it profit you that you believe all this? "That I am righteous in Christ, before God, and an heir of eternal life.
"60. How are you righteous before God? "Only by a true faith in Jesus Christ; so that, though my conscience accuses me that I have grossly transgressed all the commands of God, and kept none of them, and am still inclined to all evil; notwithstanding God, without any merit of mine, but only of mere grace, grants and imputes to me the perfect satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ; even so, as if I never had had, nor committed any sin; yes, as if I had fully accomplished all that obedience which Christ has accomplished for me; inasmuch as I embrace such benefit with a believing heart.
"61. Why are you are righteous by faith alone? "Not that I am acceptable to God on account of the worthiness of my faith, but only because the satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ is my righteousness before God, and that I cannot receive and apply the same to myself any other way than by faith only."
The Welch Calvinistic Methodists' Confession says: "Justification is an act of the grace of God, judging and proclaiming man to be righteous, through imputing to him the righteousness of Christ, which is received by the sinner through faith." "Justification includes in itself a forgiveness to the transgressor of all his iniquities, so that he shall not die on their account; an exaltation of the person to the favor of God; and a bestowing on him a lawful right to enjoy never-ending happiness."
We are made the righteousness of God in Christ, in the same sense in which he was made sin for us. As his receiving the curse for us did not defile his soul, or make him personally ill-deserving; so our receiving the blessing does not make us pure or personally meritorious. We are made righteous in Christ in the same way, in which we are made sinners in Adam. In neither case is there an identity of person. In neither case do the personal acts or qualities of these our representatives become our acts or qualities. In both cases are we counted, reckoned, regarded, held and treated in law—as if they were ours. As Christ did none of the acts which were imputed to him for expiation, so we have done none of the acts, which are imputed to us for justification.
Men sometimes say—How can we be justified by a righteousness not our own? It is freely admitted that our justifying righteousness is not inherently ours. Nor is it in any sense so ours that we can proudly boast of it, and so deny that in ourselves we are perishing sinners. Nor is our justifying righteousness ours by any hereditary right, nor until God imputes it to us, and we receive it by faith. But if the objectors mean that when we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and God imputes his righteousness to us, it does not become ours in the eye of the law, then they do contradict God's word and the sense of God's people in all ages. How is he "Jehovah our righteousness," (Jer. 23:6,) if his merits in no sense become ours? If these objectors are right, what sense is there in such passages of Scripture as those already quoted from the fifth chapter of Romans? or what is the meaning of these words: "Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes?" Romans 10:4; or of this, "Christ is of God made unto us righteousness?" 1 Cor. 1:30; or of this, "He has made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him?" 2 Cor. 5:21. See also Romans 4:5, 6, and Gal. 3:6, 9, 22.
Augustine says: "There is a righteousness of God, which is made ours, when it is given unto us. It is called the righteousness of God, lest man should think that he had a righteousness of himself." Cowper says: "The righteousness of Christ is ours, and ours by as great a right, as any other thing which we possess; to wit, by the free gift of God; for it has pleased him to give a garment to us, who are naked, and to give us, who had none of our own—a righteousness answerable to justice." A. Alexander says: "Whatever Christ has done or suffered for our salvation, in order that it may be available to us, must in some way become ours." Again: "When God imputes the righteousness of Christ to a sinner, he actually bestows it upon him for all the purposes of his complete justification."
The doctrine commonly held by the Church of God is, that what Christ has done and suffered for his people becomes actually and legally theirs, in the sight of God, in virtue of their union with him. So that we do not, we dare not teach that a man is justified by a righteousness in no sense his own. The great difference between saints and sinners in the matter of justification is, that the former are partakers of the righteousness of Christ, and the latter are not. This is our title to life and immortality. This is the believer's claim to the infinite merits of Christ.
The doctrine maintained is simply that God looks upon believers in Christ as one with the Savior, that Christ's righteousness is counted, reckoned to them for righteousness; or that as their surety he meets all the demands of the law on them as transgressors, and makes over to them his perfect obedience as ground of their acceptance with God.
It is sometimes said that the doctrine of imputed righteousness sets aside the fulfillment of the law. But this is surely a mistake. Paul says, that God sent his Son to the very end "that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us." And Dr. Gill well says that "though righteousness does not come by our obedience to the law, yet it does by Christ's obedience to it. Though by the deeds of the law as performed by man, no flesh shall be justified; yet by the deeds of the law as performed by Christ, all the elect are justified." So that now "if we confess our sins, God is faithful and JUST to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9. On any other scheme than that which is here contended for—what sense is there in the word, just, in the text last quoted?
If the import of the objection is that the doctrine is unfriendly to the promotion of holiness among men, the answers are ready. In Romans 6:1, 2, Paul meets this objection thus: "What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? God forbid; how shall we who are dead to sin, live any longer therein?" In that and the next chapter he says much more to the same effect. Besides, the whole gospel plan goes on the supposition that the strongest motive, which can incline man's heart to holiness, is love. Now "love is the fulfilling of the law." "We love him because he first loved us." "The love of Christ constrains us, because we thus judge—that if one died for all, then were all dead, and that he died for all, that those who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him that died for them." And the facts are all on one side. It would be impossible to find in any age an eminently holy man, who did not openly declare that his hope was in God's mercy—not in his own doings; in the righteousness of Christ—not in his own deservings.
There was as much agreement among the Reformed churches, for more than two hundred years from the days of Luther and Calvin, in receiving this doctrine, as that of the divinity of Christ, or the personality of the Holy Spirit. Some say, if we are justified on the ground of the merits of Christ, where are the grace and mercy of the gospel? The answer is that God's rich grace and abundant mercy shine forth in the whole work of salvation from first to last. The whole devising, execution, application and crowning of redemption flow from God's boundless grace, and infinite, eternal, and unchangeable love. Grace is not connivance at sin. Mercy is not contempt of law. The grace of Christ vindicates the justice and government of God, while it brings salvation to the guilty. Hear the language of the Baptist and Congregational Confessions, which have been already quoted in this chapter: "Christ by his obedience and death did fully discharge the debt of all those who are justified, and did by the sacrifice of himself, in the blood of his cross, undergoing in their stead the penalty due unto them, make a proper, real and full satisfaction to God's justice in their behalf; yet inasmuch as he was given by the Father for them, and his obedience and satisfaction accepted in their stead, and both freely, not for anything in them, their justification is only of free grace, that both the exact justice and rich grace of God might be glorified in the justification of sinners."
The Presbyterian Confession has nearly the same words. To the question, "if our justification be thus purchased by the perfect obedience and satisfaction of Christ, how is it of free grace?" Thomas Boston replies, "Very well; for 1. God accepted our surety, when he might have held by the sinner himself, and insisted that the soul that sinned might die. Romans 5:8. God did this freely.
2. God himself provided the Surety. John 3:16. The Father gives the Son, and the Son assumes man's nature and pays the debt. What is there here but riches of grace to the justified sinner?
3. God demands nothing of us in payment for it. It is a rich purchase, a dear purchase, the price of blood; but the righteousness and justification are given to us most freely through faith. That is, we have it, for 'take-and-have.' And the very hand, wherewith we receive it, namely faith, is the free gift of God unto us. Eph. 2:8. So that most evident it is that we are justified freely by his grace."
Calvin says: "It betrays ignorance to oppose the merit of Christ to the mercy of God. For it is a common maxim, that between two things, of which one follows or is subordinate to the other, there can be no opposition. There is no reason therefore why the justification of men should not be gratuitous from the mere mercy of God, and why at the same time the merit of Christ should not intervene, which is subservient to the mercy of God." Thus the doctrine has been explained, it has been proven from Scripture, it has been shown to be interwoven with our best formulas of doctrine, and objections to it have been answered. In the next chapter some additional testimonies in its favor will be given.

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Counsel and Promise! (James Smith, 1802-1862)

 

Proverbs 3:6

“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”


The counsel of the wise should be regarded, especially when it is given under the inspiration of the Spirit of God. It is intended for our good, and cannot be neglected without loss. The Christian's path is often . . .
difficult — being through a dreary wilderness;
dark and perplexing — so that he knows not which path to choose;
all strange — for he has never trodden one foot of it before!
But his God . .
is always present with him,
is always ready to attend to him,
and is willing to direct him.
Therefore, "in all your ways acknowledge Him." As His beloved child — you are dependent upon Him. You should therefore acknowledge Him:
1. by consulting His Word — which gives you general rules to be applied to particular cases;
2. by believing His promise — in which He engages to be with you, to help you, to guide you, and to crown you with His blessing;
3. by praying for direction — God loves to be consulted by us, and we should never purpose, plan, or attempt to go anywhere without seeking His direction;
4. by watching His hand — it is not enough to read, believe, and pray; we must expect God to answer prayer, and look to see His hand working for us, clearing our way, and supporting us in it;
5. by submitting to His will — His will is not only regulated by wisdom, but love; He only wills our sanctification and salvation, and it is our duty to submit to His pleasure with patience, prayer, and faith;
6. by gratitude for favors already received — all our comforts are from God, to Him we are indebted for all we enjoy, and we should acknowledge the same with grateful praise.
The Christian who acknowledges God by . . .
consulting His Word,
believing His promise,
praying for direction,
watching His hand,
submitting to His will, and
praising Him for His mercies —
will never be allowed to go far astray, or be long left in suspense.
Hence the promise, "He shall direct your paths." Man cannot even direct himself! This the prophet knew when he cried, "O Lord, I know that our lives are not our own. We are not able to direct our own steps!" (Jeremiah 10:23.), "A man's heart devises his way — but the Lord directs his steps!" (Proverbs 16:10.), "A man's steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?" (Proverbs 20:21.) Therefore, "Commit your way unto the Lord; trust also in Him — and He shall bring it to pass." For, "the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord; and he delights in His way." (Psalm 37:5, 23.)
He will preserve you from wrong paths — He will shine upon the right path — or He will lead you step by step, as He has said, "I am the Lord your God, who teaches you to profit, who leads you by the way that you should go." (Isaiah 48:17.) And if at any time you feel bewildered, and are uncertain about the way, "Your ears shall hear a voice behind you, saying, This is the way, walk in it!" (Isaiah 30:21.)
When God directs your paths and your ways please Him . . .
you will have peace of mind before Him,
you will become increasingly acquainted with Him,
and you will feel growing confidence in Him.
Therefore see the propriety of this counsel, and act upon it, for . . .
you are but a child, and are liable to be misled;
God is your Father and your Guide, and He expects you to consult Him;
He is willing to guide you by His counsel, until He receive you to glory.
You will not walk in the right path — unless He leads you; therefore acknowledge the Lord in all your ways, in the prosperous — and adverse, in the plain — as well as the difficult. He will guide you and conduct you right, for He says, "I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." (Isaiah 42:16.) If the Lord leads you through the wilderness — He will bring you right; if He takes you along the longest road — you will find it is the safest; and be at length constrained to say, "He led me by the right path — to go to a city where I could live."

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Rest in Prospect (James Smith, 1861, Glad Tidings of Good Things)

 Time is thickly sown with the seeds of trouble, and the soil appears most prolific. Every day, almost, brings something new to try us, and our trials are not often single, they come in troops. When we are most prosperous — we are often nearest some great trial.

Poor Job found it so. His troubles came unexpectedly, nevertheless he received them as from God, and blessed the Lord's name. But he was flesh as well as spirit, and when in addition to poverty and reproach, he was filled with pain — his heart failed him, and he cursed his day of his birth. He gave up all hope of comfort in this life, and looked forward to the grave, not only with hope — but with a longing desire. How pathetic, how touching are his words, as he looked to the tomb, or the place of graves. "There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary are at rest." Job 3:17.
The Lord's People Are Often a Weary People. They weary — for they have but little strength, either physical, mental, or spiritual — they have a rough up-hill road to travel — and they have a heavy burden to carry.
They are weary of SIN, which is a constant plague and cause of discomfort.
They are weary of SELF, from which they cannot by any means be freed in the present world.
They are weary of the WORLD, to which they are crucified.
They are weary of SATAN, who is incessantly trying to disgrace, distress, and perplex them.
They are weary of the vain PROFESSORS of religion; whose inconsistencies grieve and wound them.
They are weary of OLD MAN, the body of death, the law in the members, which they have constantly to carry about with them, and which often presses them down to the earth.
Weary! O how weary is the believer often — in body and in mind — of almost everything within, and everything without! How is he ready to wish for the wings of a dove, that he may flee away and be at rest; or for his Lord's messenger of death to come, and set him eternally free. Weary one, look up — there is a hope laid up for you in Heaven; and look forward — there is a good, a glorious time coming!
There is a place and time — when the Lord's wearied ones will be at rest. The poor body — wearied and worn out with pain and labor, will find rest in the silent tomb. The soul — wearied with conflicts and disappointments, will find rest in the presence of Christ, with the spirits of God's elect. The body and soul at the resurrection, will find rest in eternal blessedness. The whole church, comprising all God's wearied ones, will find perfect rest in ultimate glory, when the Son shall deliver up the kingdom to the Father, and God shall be all in all.
Rest! Sweet word. Rest! Delightful prospect!
We shall rest from the voice of an accusing conscience, which often causes pain.
We shall rest from all our doubts and fears, which often becloud the mind.
We shall rest from all the temptations, used by Satan to lead us astray — or arising from our inbred lusts, turning us aside from the right way — or employed by the world to allure or alarm, in order to divert us from the right path.
We shall rest from persecution, arising from the malice and hatred of men.
We shall rest from all our toils and labors.
We shall rest from the evil designs of professors of religion.
We shall rest from all our pains and sufferings.
We shall rest in full and holy satisfaction, possessing all we can wish for in the presence of Jesus, the highest object of our desire.
We shall rest in the most delightful employment, for the honor and glory of God.
We shall rest in the sweetest composure of spirit, forever freed from all fear of a change.
We shall rest in the full enjoyment of perfect and perpetual fellowship with God.
We shall rest in the most complete state of perfection, to which such beings can be raised.
Reader, are you one of God's weary ones? Are you weary of earth, of yourself, and especially of sin? Are you looking forward to the rest of the grave, for the poor body; and to the rest of Heavenly paradise, for the emancipated soul? Are you in the midst of your exhausting troubles and trials, taking encouragement from the prospect of the rest that remains for the people of God? If so, cheer up, "There is rest, there is rest!" And you will soon reach it, and that rest shall be glorious.
Weary sinner, there is rest for you in Jesus — but no where else. Unless you find rest in Jesus now, you will find no rest at the end of life — but yours will be a restless spirit to all eternity. There is no peace, no rest, says my God, to the wicked!
When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes!
Should earth against my soul engage,
And Hellish darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan's rage,
And face a frowning world.
Let cares like a wild deluge come,
And storms of sorrow fall,
May I but safely reach my home,
My God, my Heaven, my all.
There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of Heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast!

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The Duty of Forgetting Sorrow (J. R. Miller, 1888)

 Sorrow makes deep scars; indeed, it writes its record ineffaceably on the heart which suffers. We really never get over our deep griefs; we are really never altogether the same after we have passed through them—as we were before.

In one sense, sorrow can never be forgotten. The cares of a long busy life may supervene—but the memory of the first deep sorrows in early youth, lives on in perpetual freshness as the little flowers live on beneath the cold snowdrifts through all the long winter. The old woman of ninety, remembers her grief and sense of loss seventy years ago, when God took her first baby out of her bosom. We never can actually forget our sorrows, nor is it meant that we should do so.
There is a way of remembering grief—that is not wrong, that is not a mark of unsubmission, and that brings rich blessing to our hearts and lives. There is a humanizing and fertilizing influence in sorrow rightly accepted, and "the memory of things precious, keeps warm the heart that once enfolded them." Recollections of losses, if sweetened by faith, hope and love—are blessings to the lives they overshadow.
Indeed, they are poor who have never suffered and have none of sorrow's marks upon them; they are poorer far who, having suffered, have forgotten their sufferings and bear in their lives no beautifying traces of the experiences of pain through which they have passed.
Yet there is a way of remembering sorrow, which brings no blessing, no enrichment—which does not soften the heart, nor add beauty to the life. There is an unsubmissive remembering which brings no joy, which keeps the heart bitter, which shuts out the sunshine, which broods over losses and trials. Only evil can result from such memory of grief. In this sense, we ought to forget our sorrow. We certainly ought not to stop in the midst of our duties and turn aside and sit down by the graves of our losses, staying there while the tides of busy life sweep on. We should leave our sorrows behind us—while we go on reverently, faithfully and quietly in our appointed way.
There are many people, however, who have not learned this lesson; they live perpetually in the shadows of the griefs and losses of their bygone days. Nothing could be more unwholesome or more untrue to the spirit of Christian faith, than such a course. What would be said or thought of the man who should build a house for himself out of black stones, paint all the walls black, hang black curtains over the dark-stained windows, put black carpets on every floor, have only sad pictures on the walls and sad books on the shelves, and should have no lovely plants growing and no sweet flowers blooming anywhere about his home? Would we not look upon such a man with pity—as one into whose soul the outer darkness had crept, eclipsing all the beauty of life?
Yet that is just the way some people do live. They build for their souls houses just like that; they have memories that let all the bright and joyous things flow away—while they retain all the sad and bitter things! They forget the pleasant incidents and experiences, the happy hours, the days that came laden with gladness as ships come from distant shores with cargoes of spices; but there has been no painful event in all their life whose memory is not kept ever vivid. They will talk for hours of their griefs and bereavements in the past, dwelling with a strange morbid pleasure on each sad incident. They keep the old wounds ever unhealed in their hearts; they keep continually in sight pictures and reminiscences of all their lost joys—but none of the joys that are not lost; they forget all their ten thousand blessings—in the abiding recollection of the two or three sorrows that have come amid the multitudinous and unremembered joys. These people live perpetually in the shadows and glooms of their own sorrows. The darkness creeps into their souls, and all the joyous brightness passes out of their lives, until their very vision becomes so stained that they can no more even discern the glad and lovely colors in God's universe!
Few perversions of life, could be sadder than this dwelling ever in the glooms and the shadows of past griefs. It is the will of God that we should turn our eyes away from our sorrows, that we should let the dead past bury its dead—while we go on with reverent earnestness to the new duties and the new joys that await us. By standing and weeping over the grave where it is buried—we cannot get back what we have lost. When David's child was dead, he dried his tears and went at once to God's house and worshiped, saying, "Now he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again?" Instead of weeping over the grave where his dead was not, he turned all the pressure of his grief into the channels of holy living. That is the way every believer in Christ should treat his sorrows. Weeping inconsolably beside a grave, can never give back love's vanished treasure. Nor can any blessing come out of such sadness. It does not make the heart any softer; it develops no feature of Christlikeness in the life. It only embitters our present joys—and stunts the growth of all beautiful things. The graces of the heart are like flowers; they grow well only in the sunshine.
There was a mother who lost a lovely Christian daughter by death. For a long time the mother had been a consistent Christian—but when her child died—she refused to be comforted. Her pastor and other Christian friends sought by tender sympathy to draw her thoughts away from her grief—yet all their effort was vain. She would look at nothing but her sorrow; she spent a portion of nearly every day beside the grave where her dead daughter was buried; she would listen to no words of consolation; she would not lift an eye toward the heaven into which her child had gone; she went back no more to the church, where in the days of her joy she had loved to worship; she shut out of her heart every conception of God's love and kindness—and thought of him only as the powerful Being who had torn her sweet child away from her bosom. Thus dwelling in the darkness of inconsolable grief—the joy of her religion left her. Hope's bright visions no longer cheered her, and her heart grew cold and sick with despair. She refused to leave her sorrow—and to go on to new joys and toward the glory in which for Christian faith all earth's lost things wait.
There was another mother who also lost her godly child—one of the rarest and sweetest children that God ever sent to this earth. Never was a heart more completely crushed—than was the heart of this bereft mother. Yet she did not, like the other woman, sit down in the gloom and dwell there; she did not shut out the sunshine and thrust away the blessing of comfort. She recognized her Father's hand in the grief that had fallen so heavily upon her, and bowed in sweet acquiescence to his will. She opened her heart to the glorious truth of the immortal life, and was comforted by the simple faith that her child was with Christ. She remembered, too, that she had duties to the living, and turned away from the grave where her little one slept in such security, requiring no more, any service of earthly affection, to minister to those who still lived and needed her care and love. The result was, that her life grew richer and more beautiful beneath its baptism of sore grief. She came from the deep shadow—a lovelier Christian, and her home and a whole community shared the blessing which she had found in her sorrow.
It is easy to see which of these two ways of enduring sorrow is the true one. We should forget what we have suffered. The joy set before us should shine upon our souls as the sun shines through clouds, glorifying them. We should cherish sacredly and tenderly, the memory of our Christian dead—but should train ourselves to think of them as in the home of the blessed, with Christ, safely folded—waiting for us. Thus the bright and blessed hopes of immortality, should fill us with tranquility and healthy gladness—as we move over the waves of trial.
We should remember that the blessings which have gone away—are not all that God has for us. This summer's flowers will all fade by and by, when winter's cold breath smites them—we shall not be able to find one of them in the fields or gardens during the long, cold, dreary months to come—yet we shall know all the while that God has other flowers preparing, just as fragrant and as lovely as those which have perished. Spring will come again, and under its warm breath the earth will be covered once more with floral beauty as rich as that which faded in the autumn. So the joys that have gone from our homes and our hearts—are not the only joys; God has others in store just as rich as those we have lost, and in due time he will give us these to fill our emptied hands.
One of the worst dangers of inconsolable sorrow—is that it may lead us to neglect our duty to the living—in our mourning for the dead. This we should never do. God does not desire us to give up our work, because our hearts are broken. We may not even pause long with our sorrows; we may not sit down beside the graves of our dead and linger there, cherishing our grief. "Let the dead bury their dead," said the Master, to one who wished to bury his father and then follow him; "but you come and follow me." Not even the tender offices of love, might detain him who was called to the higher service. The lesson is for all—and for all time. Duty ever presses, and we have scarcely laid our dead away out of our sight—before its earnest calls that will not be denied, are sounding in our ears.
A distinguished general related this pathetic incident of his own experience in our civil war. The general's son was an army lieutenant. An assault was in progress. The father was leading his division in a charge; as he pressed on in the field, suddenly his eye was caught by the sight of a dead army-officer lying just before him. One glance showed him it was his own son. His fatherly impulse was to stop beside the dear form, and give vent to his grief—but the duty of the moment demanded that he should press on in the charge; so, quickly placing one hot kiss on the dead lips, he hastened away, leading his command in the assault.
Ordinarily the pressure is not so intense, and we can pause longer to weep and do honor to the memory of our dead. Yet in all sorrow, the principle is the same. God does not desire us—to waste our life in tears. We are to put our grief into new energy of service. Sorrow should make us more reverent, more earnest, more useful. God's work should never be allowed to suffer—while we stop to weep. The fires must still be kept burning on the altar, and the worship must go on. The work in the household, in the school, in the store, in the field, must be taken up again—the sooner, the better. Ofttimes, indeed, the death of one in the family circle—is a divine voice calling the living to new duty. Thus, when a father dies, the mother is ordained to double responsibility; if there is a son of thoughtful age, his duty is not bitter grieving—but prompt taking up of the work that has fallen from the father's dead hands. When our friends are taken from us, our bereavement is a call, not to bitter weeping—but to new duty.
Sometimes it is care alone—which is laid down when death comes, as when a mother puts her baby away into the grave; no work drops out of the little hands for the mother to take up. But may we not then say that, since God has emptied her hands of their own care and duty, he has some other work for them to do? He has set them free from their own tasks—that with their trained skill and their enriched sympathies, they may serve others.
In a sick-room there was a little rosebush in a pot in the window. There was only one rose on the bush, and its face was turned fully toward the light. This fact was noticed and spoken of, when one said that the rose would look no other way but toward the light. Experiments had been made with it; it had been turned away from the window, its face toward the gloom of the interior—but in a little time it would resume its old position. With wonderful persistence it refused to face the darkness, and insisted on ever looking toward the light.
The flower has its lesson for us. We should never allow ourselves to face toward life's glooms; we should never sit down in the shadows of any sorrow—and let the night darken over us into the gloom of despair; we should turn our-faces away toward the light and quicken every energy for braver duty and truer, holier service. Grief should always make us better and give us new skill and power; it should make our hearts softer, our spirits kindlier, our touch more gentle; it should teach us its holy lessons, and we should learn them, and then go on with sorrow's sacred ordination upon us—to new love and better service.
It is thus, too, that lonely hearts find their sweetest, richest comfort. Sitting down to brood over our sorrows—the darkness deepens about us—and our little strength changes to weakness; but if we turn away from the gloom, and take up the tasks of comforting and helping others, the light will come again and we shall grow strong!

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