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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:28:38 GMT -5
Henry Law...MonergismThe Prophet
"The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me
from among your own brothers. You must listen to him." Deut.
18:15
All fullness dwells in Christ. Reader, come ponder—praise—admire
—adore Him. Those who know Him, never can commend enough.
Ignorance alone neglects—despises—disesteems Him.
The neediest of needy sinners find all supply in Him. He is
salvation's overflowing well. He fills all vessels, so that they can
hold no more. He is a treasure-house, in which gold never fails.
Let the surface of this truth be touched. You are sin-soiled. Here is a
fountain of all-cleansing blood. Wash, and be whiter, than the
spotless snow. Satan, and SELF, and life-long trespasses condemn
you. Here is Jesus' wounded side, presenting an acquitting plea.
Your best obedience is a filthy rag. Here is the righteousness of God
—a perfect covering—a glorious robe. Your heart by nature is a
lifeless stone. Christ sends His Spirit, and the entrance is life. He is
a PRIEST, offering His blood—living to intercede—pouring down
blessings. He is a KING—ruling above—within—around. He is
a PROPHET, giving all knowledge—leading in wisdom's paths—
diffusing floods of light—teaching salvation's lessons.
It is this latter office, which now claims special thought. Let us
approach it by enquiring, what man's state must be, unless rays
beam from heaven?
When sin invaded earth, knowledge of God was slain. That lovely
plant was blighted to the root. That beauteous column fell a
shattered ruin. The mind lost power to fly aloft. Its wings were
clipped. The eye was dim to pierce the skies. The wish and skill to
find out God were utterly extinct. Man's intellect—alert to grovel in
the dust—could never scale this height. Here mental shrewdness
slobbered, as a fool. Witness the silly failures of philosophy's most
boasted efforts.
Unless, then, some revelation had been given, God and His essence
must have been shrouded in impenetrable night. Man could not dig
such a jewel out of his own quarry. He could not find it in his own
empty chambers. Along a brief career of blindness he must have
gone down to that deep prison-house, where darkness ever darkens,
and God is never seen. The world by wisdom knows not God.
The case of need, then, is most clear. But all is met by Jesus. He
undertakes to save, and undertakes to teach. The Church's Savior is
the Church's Prophet. He is not slow to enter on His work. In Eden's
garden, where the light expired, He strikes a new spark. There He is
quick to speak of remedy and rescue—of a woman-born Savior—and
His final triumphs. As time rolls on, He adds fresh light. By types,
by prophecies, by figures, and by signs, He pictures redemption. He
raises holy men, and puts His words into their mouths. He shakes a
torch of truth in the world's night. He shows His Calvary through
vistas of long time—and so guides many a benighted pilgrim in the
path to heaven.
Thus the Prophet's voice is early heard—the Prophet's school is
early open. But in appointed time, the Prophet-God must come in
person. Moses thus states the fact. "The Lord your God will raise up
for you a prophet like me from among your own brothers. You
must listen to him." Let us now mark the marvelous fulfillment.
1. Our Prophet shall be of our brethren—one of our house.
Here is considerate wisdom. If He were solely God, His mission
must be death, not life. Humanity must perish at the sight. If He
stooped only to angelic order, how could He mix with inhabitants of
earth? How could we hang upon His lips? But our Prophet truly is
man. He dwelt here as one of our family. He hid His glories in our
tent of clay. He trod life's walk, as our very brother. Therefore, with
fearless love, we may approach. We may sit down, with Mary, at His
feet. We may recline, with John, upon His breast. As the disciples
on the way to Emmaus, we may cling to His side. We may
confidingly disclose the history of our souls. A brother will not
scorn a brother's tale. When we seek counsel, He will gladly—fully—
tenderly impart. As a near kinsman, He invites, "Take my yoke upon
you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart—and you
shall find rest unto your souls." Matt. 11:29.
2. But more. The Prophet shall not be only man. He shall be
man marked with a wondrous sign. He shall appear as ANOTHER
MOSES. Israel's leader shall revive in Him. As face to face, He shall
respond to a conspicuous type.
This similitude must now be traced. The search, amid a mass of
profit, distinctly proves, that an omniscient mind pervades all
revelation's story. No 'mere chance' could frame a close resemblance
between distant men. Infidelity cannot maintain such folly. Christ,
then, foreshown as Moses, coming as Moses, stamps His
commission with a divine seal. In Him this type is realized—and in
Him alone. For until He appeared, there was no counterpart to
Moses. Since He ascended, none such has arisen.
See, how the pictures correspond. Moses is born. No peaceful
cradle rocks the child. No mother's arms securely clasp him. A
tyrant dooms him to immediate grave. He is cast to the Nile's waves.
Jesus is born. He, too, reposes in no tranquil home. No rapturous
welcomes greet the heaven-sent babe. In Herod another Pharaoh
plots. Massacre casts a wide-spread net to catch Him. Thus He is
Moses-like in early persecution.
Moses at the appointed time goes forth from Egypt. Jesus is
banished to the selfsame spot, that out of Egypt God may call His
Son. Hos. 11:1. Egypt sends out the human type. The heavenly
antitype leaves the same country.
When Moses hastens to avenge his nation, what is his
welcome? It is rejection. Derision scorns his claims. Jesus, the
mighty Savior, comes. There is deliverance in His heart and in His
hand. But His own receive Him not. He is despised and reviled. The
cry pursues Him, 'Away with Him, Away with Him!' Jesus and
Moses are alike thrust out.
Moses retires awhile. The wilderness conceals him. At last, as the
sun issuing from a cloud, he breaks from darkness. Thus Jesus
passes many years in deep seclusion. Unknown in Nazareth the
God-man toils. Earthly obscurity could not be more obscure.
When Moses shows himself again, astounding wonders
prove his high commission. Nature at his command changes its
course. Prodigies attest, that God is with him. So Jesus moved as
God on earth. He willed, and the blind saw—the deaf heard—the
dumb spoke—the dead lived—each form of sickness fled—
abundance fed the hungry crowds—the water turned to wine—the
sea became a pavement for His feet. In form He stood as man. In
power He worked as God.
Moses must die before the people can pass Jordan's
waters. He must endure a signal penalty for his offence. And must
not Jesus die, before His people can pass heaven's gates? Yes. Their
vile sins were all on Him, and on the cross due suffering must be
paid. As Moses was at birth—in life—in death—so Jesus at birth—in
life—in death, responded.
Moses mediated between heaven and earth. From the mount
he brought down God's commands. He offered Israel's prayers. He
made intercession and prevailed. Thus Jesus is our great
intercessor. He represents His children before God. He represents
our God to us. He gives the Gospel-law. He ever prays, and ever is
He heard.
Moses was favored with most close communion. While
dreams and visions taught the other seers, God communed with
Moses face to face. Thus Jesus in counsel—purpose—will—ever was
Jehovah's fellow. From all eternity He was "by Him, as one brought
up with Him, and He was daily His delight, rejoicing always before
Him." Prov. 8:30. All salvation's scheme was spread as a chart
before Him.
Such is the resemblance. But the DIFFERENCE is infinite. Moses is
but a twilight gleam. Our Jesus is the midday splendor. Moses is a
tiny rill. Our Jesus is the shoreless ocean. Moses appears a little
bud. Jesus is the full fragrance of the opened flower.
From contemplation of these outward signs, let us now enter
within THE PROPHET'S SCHOOL—and drink in His amazing
lessons. What grand instructions meet us! Behold! His mighty
hands draw back the curtain, which hides God. He holds a textbook, bright with saving truth. This text-book is His own
cross. Jehovah is there displayed as loving sinners, and yet hating
sin—just, yet forgiving—righteous, yet pardoning—holy, yet peopling
heaven from unholy earth.
The Prophet leads onward to knowledge of Himself. He bids faith
come, and read His heart. There are the names of all His chosen
seed indelibly inscribed. There is love, preceding and out-living
time. He shows the virtue of His blood to obliterate the crimson dye
—to wash out deepest stains of guilt—so to pay debts, that Justice
has no further claim—so to acquit, that accusations cease.
Wondrous lesson! It calms the conscience into peace. It kindles the
flame of love. It changes the whole heart into devoted service.
He teaches the marvel of His righteousness—a robe so bright,
that God Himself cannot sufficiently admire—so pure, that angels
are unclean beside it. He assures, that His redeemed may take it—
plead it—wear it. He tells of His prevailing prayer—ever encircling
the mercy-seat. He teaches faith to hear its constant cry, Father
forgive them, for my blood is shed—spare them, for I have suffered
—remember the Covenant, and pour all blessings on them.
Lessons are added revealing the Spirit's grace. He melts the stony
heart. He turns the perverse will. He stills the rebel-passions. He
opens the blind eye to see that sight of sights—the Christ of God. He
opens the deaf ear to hear the music of that voice—Come unto Me.
The Prophet teaches, too, the righteous path, which leads to
Zion's rest. He tells, how saints obey and please their God. He
imprints the truth, that holiness is evidence of faith—and that the
living tree must bear good fruit. Such is a scanty outline of the
Prophet's lessons.
Reader, do you eagerly exclaim, I sincerely would be a pupil! Then
take up your Bible. Here Christ comes to teach. Throughout it His
voice sounds. He speaks in every verse. Make it your constant study.
Think every hour to be lost, in which you glean not from it. Draw
near with reverence, as to a speaking God. The ground is holy, let no
proud thoughts intrude. Approach with prayer, beseeching the
Prophet to cause His Spirit to illumine the page. Approach with
faith, not doubting, that your soul will thrive. Call on Him to fulfill
His office. Tell Him your ignorance and ardent thirst to learn. He
will be true. He will instruct you unto profit. All Zion's "children
shall be taught of God." Join then the happy scholars of this school.
These lessons cast out every care. They are eternal life. They work
conformity to heavenly image. As we imbibe His truth, our souls
put on His image.
You ministers, it is your work to propagate the lessons of this
school. Come then to Christ for every thought. Obtain from Him
your every word. Let your instructions always echo Him. Sad! when
a teacher stands before his flock to unsay what the Lord has said—to
contradict His simple verities—to set some fiction in the place of
truth—to scatter base coin in the room of gold. Beware! beware! Let
all your sermons flow in the one channel, "Thus says the Lord." In
every pulpit let the great Prophet's voice be clearly heard.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:33:05 GMT -5
The Curse
"Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse." Deut.
21:23
This is a dreadful sentence. It shows the misery of miseries—the
inmost core of agony—the very soul of anguish—the sting of woe—
despair's extremity. This sum of evil is the Curse of God.
When God blesses, sorrow is joy—pain has sweet ease—and burdens
lose their weight. Beneath His smile, the bed of sickness is repose,
and death's approach is welcomed. If He is absent, there is a void,
which nothing can supply. But if He frowns, what horrors multiply!
What shall be said, then, of that Curse, which is His uttermost
display of wrath! Better, far better, not to have been born, than to
meet this. O my soul, whatever be the cost, escape it.
With this resolve approach the text before us. The outside casket
may seem rough, but it contains a precious jewel. "He, that is
hanged, is accursed of God."
The meaning must be primarily sought. Mark, this is no statement,
that criminals uplifted on a cross thereby pass into deeper guilt.
There was, indeed, most extreme ignominy in this mode of death. It
was the brand of utter loathing. But man's contempt entails
not divine curse. Earth may abhor, while heaven approves. The
cross could never be the cause of Curse. A saint might rise to heaven
from that tree. It is not meant, then, that a man, by being hanged,
becomes accursed of God.
This word describes not malefactors in the mass. It is particular. It
has a prophet's voice. It is a Gospel-sign. It eyes exclusively the
Crucified Jesus. It only tells the fact, that He, who came to bear
God's Curse, should hang upon the tree. It pictures His especial
mode of dying. A cross shall be the evidence, that Jesus thereon
sustains the law's full threat.
Reader, this brings us to ponder closely the Lord's work. From all
eternity it was decreed, that He should bear His people's sins. This
is the essence of the covenant of peace. He willingly consents. The
guilt is all transferred to Him. Each violation of the law is charged to
His account. He stands the guilty one. Thus all His ransomed are
released from blame. Their penalties—their curse—are wholly
claimed, received, and borne by Him. A substitute suffers all, that
they may suffer none.
These are the terms arranged in everlasting counsels. The Savior is
to be a substitute. The saved are to be free, because He pays. The
law remits no due. It takes all from another's hand. Jesus is a
vicarious Curse.
Such is God's grace—such the Redeemer's love—such the simplicity
of Salvation's scheme. This text, then, gives a signal mark, whereby
the Curse-sustaining Surety shall be known. Already had a typal
picture taught the truth. A brazen serpent, hanging on a pole, had
shown the Savior hanging on a tree. But here plain words speak
plainly. Hanging is now distinctly named. The voice cries, He, who is
hanged, is the Curse of God. No doubt remains. It stands
announced, that when the true Deliverer shall appear, upon the
cross He shall expire. A pledge is given, too marvelous for man's
invention—too clear for man to misinterpret.
If this should fail, faith loses her sure ground. If other death makes
Christ its prey, Christ takes not the Curse away. The Gospel-fabric
crumbles into dust.
But this fails not. Outside the city's gate, the cross is raised. To it the
Lord is bound. On it He is upraised, a spectacle to God, to angels,
and to men.
But wondrous steps lead to this wondrous end. It seemed, as though
it could not be. While Israel's power remained supreme, the cross
was not a Jewish malefactor's death. If Jesus die, then, by their rule,
He will not die with pierced hands and feet. Stones will crush. But
difficulties vanish before God's decree. The scepter, therefore,
passes from the ancient people. The Roman law prevails. It must
condemn and execute. But, when the Romans slay, they crucify.
Hence Christ, sentenced by Pilate, is hurried to the tree. Hence on
the cross He hangs. The prophecy is thoroughly fulfilled. And faith,
pointing to Calvary, shouts, Our God is true—Jesus completely
saves—"Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse."
Reader, here for a moment take your meditative seat. But vain the
cross, except the Spirit gild it with His light. Therefore send forth
the fervent cry, 'Come, Holy Spirit, teach me the glory of Calvary's
scene!'
The prominent truth is this. Jesus there hanging is the Curse of
God.
Fully to realize the joy of this, we must distinctly understand the
Curse. Whence springs it? What kindles this fierce flame?
Disobedience is the one cause. If all men loved their God—if His
one law ruled in each heart—beamed in each look—spoke in each
word—moved in each step—then earth would not have known the
name of Curse. The loving child, walking with God, would only bask
in smiles, and feast on blessings.
But ah! how different is the case! In Adam's fall the human family
pass into rebellion's realm. The fountain-head, being poisoned, only
can send evil from it. Hence wrath arises. Hence the Curse
thunders.
Reader, make this truth practical. For until ruin be discerned,
Christ's shelter never will be sought. Boldly then ask, 'Is this Curse
mine?'
Let God reply. Behold His mirror. View yourself therein. Take His
true standard. Measure yourself thereby. Produce His faultless
scales. There weigh yourself. The Spirit from His lofty throne thus
speaks, "Cursed is every one, that continues not in all things, which
are written in the book of the law, to do them." Gal. 3:10.
Oh! solemn word! But it is plain as solemn. Hear it, you sons of
men. Sift carefully its several parts. What is written in this edictbook? The terms are brief and exact. They ask for love to God—to
man. This is the one demand—and this must reign in every
movement of the heart from cradle to the grave. All thought must
flow in one broad channel—love. All words must sound one echo—
love. All works must have this spring—this course—this end.
Exception there is none. This rule's enclosure holds our total race.
No rank ascends above it. No poverty descends below it. Gold
cannot purchase license. Poverty cannot evade. Talent and learning
cannot frame excuse. All, who have breathed life's breath, from
Adam's day to this hour—all, who shall breathe, until the Lord's
return—are under the distinct command of love. If there be failure
in one single thought, the law is broken, and the Curse accrues.
But eyes are slow to open to this giant-truth. Could silly earth be
one wide scene of unconcern, if this reality were felt? Could giddy
crowds thus laugh and sport, if once they saw the hand of Curse
upon them?
Reader, perchance you fondly reason, The law is broken, but the
Curse will not fall on me. My pleas are many. They will land me on
some rock. Well, then, produce your pleas. The law says, 'Give me
unsullied love', and points to your defects. You cannot deny guilt,
and thereby you allow the Curse to be your due. But you reply, 'I
erred in early days, with unformed mind and thoughtless heart'. Be
it so—early transgression is transgression still, and therefore you
are Cursed. You add, 'but I was sorely tried. Could human nature
stand, when so assailed?' The law knows nothing of an extenuating
cause. To err—be the occasion what it may—to err is to be Cursed.
But perhaps you plead your penitence—your broken-heart—your
streaming eyes—your smitten breast—the floor worn out by your
knees. Can penitence recall the past, or undo what is done? It
cannot. Offence remains offence, and each offence is Curse.
Do you betake yourself to cries, and humbly supplicate mercy—
reprieve—space for reform! Do you say, Let me commence my
course afresh—blot out the debt, and let me enter on a new career!
It cannot be. Past deeds have earned their wages. The wages must
be paid, and they are Curse.
Reader, do not evade this reasoning. Whatever be your age or state,
to this point you are brought—in self—by nature—by your own deed
—you stand accursed of God. There is no hour, in which love has not
failed. Therefore each hour has linked you to the Curse.
But perhaps you ask, 'What is this Curse?' You feel no present
wrath. The canopy of heaven is bright above. Shelter, and food, and
friends, abound. Unnumbered comforts cheer your path. It may be
so. But this present will not be always present. The future is
drawing near. Death presses at your heels. And judgment follows
death. Then sin's deserts must be received. And the deserts are
Curse.
Do you still ask, 'What is the Curse?' Words cannot fully tell.
Thought cannot grasp the magnitude. No images can paint the
boundlessness of this anguish. But it cannot fall short of this. God
puts forth all His might—stirs up His utmost strength—strains every
effort—all for one purpose—to assert His majesty—to avenge His
broken law—to heap perdition on the offender's head. In brief, the
Curse is Hell. Ah! what is here implied! Conscience is tortured by
the undying worm. Remorse inflicts unmitigated
stings. Memory upbraids with bitterest reproach. The body writhes
in all intensities of pain. Each sense gapes, as inlet of agony. God is
far off. Blackness of darkness thickens all around. Satan insults.
Wretched companions deepen the horror by their wails. The woe
increases by full knowledge of eternal hopelessness. Years will roll
on, but misery will be misery still. Ages will follow ages, but respite
will not dawn. The present will be ever present, an infinity of
suffering. Such is an outline of the Curse—just—merited—and sure.
It must be. The broken law demands it. It will be. God's truth
declares it.
But why is this picture drawn? The purpose is to endear the tidings
of escape. The motive is to magnify the glorious truth, ""He who is
hung on a tree" even Jesus "is accursed of God." The desire is, to
win all thoughts to Him—the substituted Curse.
With this intent let us return to Calvary. The cross is there erected.
The mighty God-man is dragged to it. The nails affix Him, and He
there expires. Thus He becomes the Curse of God. Thus the whole
vengeance falls on Him. He there bears all the anguish, which
would have been His people's doom, if they had tossed forever on
flame-beds. No grain of misery is withheld. No pity spares Him. The
Curse—the dreadful Curse—the total Curse—in all its boundless
length and breadth, pours its whole weight upon Him.
Surely, then, all, who are contained in Christ, may now confront the
law. Let it bring forth their guilt. They own the justice of the charge.
Let it cry, 'Take my Curse'. They point to Jesus taking all. The plea is
valid. They cannot suffer what their Surety has first borne. They are
secure and free, simply because He has endured for them.
Believer, will you not live beside the cross! Can you withdraw your
eyes! Read its clear language. Take its rich comfort. Clasp its full
joy. Doubt not—be verily assured—that it absorbs your Curse. Drink
its deep streams of peace. And bless your precious Lord, who thus
vicariously saves. Give all your heart—give all your life—to Him. Is
He not worthy! Think, that, without His love, your endless state
would have been endless Curse. Think, that, through His curse bearing death,
your present state is blessing—your eternal home is glory.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:35:08 GMT -5
Jesus Very Near
"The word is very near unto you, in your mouth, and in your
heart, that you may do it." Deut. 30:14.
Here the Gospel beams forth brightly. This is a picture with Christ
in the foreground. Here is a compass needle, pointing to Him—the
pole. There is no place for doubt. Cavils are silenced. For the Spirit,
who thus speaks by Moses, interprets also by the mouth of Paul. He
draws back every veil. He rolls away all clouds; and shows the Lord,
as the heart and marrow of this record.
This passage, then, is rich in exceeding worth. As such, it should be
studied with exceeding care. Paul thus unfolds it, "Moses describes
the righteousness, which is of the law, that the man, who does those
things, shall live by them." Rom.10:5. Mark, you who fondly dream
of human merit. The legal covenant is clearly stated. Fulfill the
terms—perform the works—bring an obedience without one
blemish—an unbroken whole—and then the recompense is earned.
Then life eternal is won as a rightful due. But if transgression be
incurred, the mouth is closed—the plea is gone—reward is forfeited.
Who can say, 'pay me, for my task is incomplete! or, give me the
prize, although it is unwon! or, crown me, though I am vanquished
in the race!' But such is the language of self-righteous men. Can
folly be more foolish—blindness more blind! Thus meritclaimants grope down this dark path to a darker night.
Paul proceeds to state the contrast. "But the righteousness, which is
of faith, speaks this way." Rom. 10:6. Blessed be God! All glory to
His sovereign grace! There is a righteousness pure—perfect—
wrought not by man, but by Christ. It is declared to be "of faith,"
because faith's happy sons receive it—wear it—plead it; in it they
stand and prosper; by it they mount to heaven. This righteousness is
here introduced, as a person uttering a glorious voice "Say not," O
anxious sinner, "in your heart, who shall ascend into heaven? (that
is to bring Christ down from above) or, who shall descend into the
deep? (that is to bring up Christ again from the dead.) But what
does it say? The word is near you, even in your mouth and in your
heart, that is, the word of faith, which we preach."
"The word is near you." Do any ask, What word? The answer is, "The
word of faith." The Gospel-tidings about Christ; that word, which
faith bears—prizes—welcomes—clings to—lives by—that record,
from which delightedly it draws strength—peace—joy—comfort—
glory.
We here are plainly told, that this word was very near to Israel's
sons. Their knowledge was comparatively twilight, but still
abundant gleams broke on them from the Sun of Righteousness.
Their every rite was Christ, in shadow. He was the soul of every
ordinance. He was reflected by the tabernacle in all its parts. The
altars stood His graphic form. He died in every dying lamb. He bled
in all the flowing blood. He groaned in every victim's groan. The
curling incense was His fragrant prayer. The veil portrayed His
flesh. The priest in the resplendent robes—in every sacrificial act—
in the uplifted hands—in the grand words of blessing, showed Him,
as He ministered below, and as He ministers above. The leper
preached the malignity and cure of sin. The true instruction from
Mosaic lips was Christ—His grace—His person—and His perfect
work. The outstretched finger of each part pointed to Him. A
constant voice called to one sight—"Behold the Lamb of God, who
takes away the sin of the world"—turn to the promised seed—the
bruiser of the serpent's head—the great High-priest—the efficacious
blood. Leviticus was a mirror, in which our elder brethren might
read the full salvation, which the Father planned, and which the Son
in due time achieved. Thus Gospel-truth was very near to Israel's
sons.
Reader, learn hence to study Moses with mind intent on Christ. Dig
in this mine, as miser eager for pure gold. The flowers of this garden
all breathe heavenly fragrance. As salt is in each ocean's drop, so
Jesus is in each portion of these rites. You lose the prize, except you
find Him. Never take only superficial chaff from fields of such rich
grain.
But if the Lord was "very near" in ancient signs, is He not more than
near to those, on whom the full light shines? Believer, come then
and realize your favored state. Bask on your sunny hill. Luxuriate in
your abundant pastures. Walk up and down your spicy gardens. To
you there should not be a desert-spot. The whole scene should
blossom as a rose.
Jesus, indeed, is more than near. He came from heaven—He took
our flesh, that He might unite us, as living members, to Himself, the
living Head. Nearness has become oneness. The separating wall is
broken down. The intervening distance is removed. He asks our
hearts, that He may dwell therein. He opens wide His arms, that we
may there repose. "Abide in Me, and I in you."
Precious truth! There is no place, nor time, nor state, when faith
may not uplift the eye—open the ear—put out the hand—and realize
a present Savior. Friends may depart—death may sever tightest
bonds. But He, who ever lives, is ever living by our side. Solitude is
not too lonely for His visits. Crowds exclude Him not. The morning
and the evening hours—the busy day—the silent night—alike admit
Him. Climate is no hindrance. In realms of snow or plains of
scorching heat, the Savior journeys and tarries with His faithful
servants. The rich man's hall is not above His reach—the poor man's
hut is not below it. He, whom the heaven of heavens is narrow to
contain—He, whom space cannot hold—He, from whose sight the
angels veil their eyes—He, who sits enthroned co-equal on
Jehovah's throne, always is "very near" to the poor worms, who take
Him, as their all.
Believer, here is your never-failing help. Let some cases, well known
in Christian life, lend their aid to make this truth more
clear. Conscience will often tremble on the review of sin. Iniquities
will rise, as spectres from their long-closed graves. They will pass by
in terrible array. Their hideous forms will point to torment, as their
due. Their taunting voice will ask, 'What hope can dwell in hearts so
stained!'
But turn from such terrors to your present Lord. He, too, is "very
near," showing His hands—His side. You may there read with open
eye the total ransom paid. There is no need of distant wanderings to
escape these alarms. The wells of everlasting peace are open at your
feet. "The word is very near unto you, even in your mouth and in
your heart." It shouts, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be
as white as snow—though they be red like crimson, they shall be
white as wool." It adds, "There is redemption through His blood,
even the forgiveness of sins." Who can be sad, with such a volume
full of pardons in his hand! Who can despair, while he can eye a
guilt-removing Jesus!
When Satan ragingly assaults—when he puts forth his utmost
might to thrust you headlong into depths of sin—when his
ensnaring net encompasses your feet—when the betraying heart
offers the key to let the murderer in—when the weak flesh begins to
slide down the alluring slopes—when the world tenders its most
fascinating and alluring charms—is there not peril? There is! Sad
annals testify, how easily saints fall. But fall not. There is a staff
near. "The word is very near unto you—in your mouth, and in your
heart." Listen to the sweet encouragements—"The Lord knows how
to deliver the godly out of temptation." "The God of peace shall
bruise Satan under your feet shortly." "Resist the devil and he will
flee from you—draw near unto God, and He will draw near unto
you." These mighty rocks are "very near." Set your feet fast upon
them, and your stand is firm.
Sometimes afflictions roll wave upon wave. Your eye on all sides
rests on woe. The dearest relatives are hidden in the grave.
Bereavement sits your solitary guest. Pains rack the frame. Vigor
and health decline. The nights are wearisome. The days bring
anguish. Poverty can scarcely obtain the needful clothing and the
daily bread. Your best designs are blackened by suspicions.
Reproach and taunt ply their thick darts. Earth seems one widespread desolation. But in these troubles faith faints not. Christ's
voice "is very near unto you, in your mouth and in your heart." A
very chorus of support swells happily around—"The Lord is my
Shepherd, I shall not lack." "The Lord is good, a stronghold in the
day of trouble." Surely these consolations will uplift the head above
all threatening billows.
You may be called to duties, which surpass your strength. You feel,
that you are weak to bear the burdens, and to scale the heights. You
fear, that you must yield—defeated—crushed. And truly you must be
overwhelmed, if you are alone. But alone you cannot be, while Jesus
lives. If only you be really called, you may advance high above
trembling. His voice "is very near unto you, in your mouth and in
your heart." Grasp the ready promises—"As your days, so shall your
strength be." "I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying
unto you, fear not, I will help you. Fear not, you worm Jacob, and
you men of Israel—you shall thresh the mountains, and beat them
small, and shall make the hills as chaff." Who can faint—who will
not rather be courageous, with help divine so near!
A trying hour comes on apace. Death still exercises universal sway.
"It is appointed unto all men once to die." None should think lightly
of an event so solemn. Momentous change! Time ceases—eternity
arrives. Its accompaniments, too, are humbling. The powers droop.
A languid body scarcely holds a languid mind. Beloved friends must
all be left. Satan sees his last hope, and therefore musters his whole
force to barb his final thrust. He draws with craftiest skill
his farewell bow. This passage would indeed be dark and perilous,
without a Savior "very near." But the believer grasps a reviving word
—"Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil—for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff they
comfort me."
Jesus, now gone to fit mansions in the heavenly home, then comes
to receive His people, that where He is, there they may ever be. He
draws the nearer, as the need increases. His everlasting arms are
underneath. Thus the cold waters cannot drown. Thus martyrs' fires
have been welcomed, and the excruciating stake been rapturously
clasped. Believer, dread not death. Hope, rather, that Jesus will be
"very near." Expect His presence—and it will be given. Ask His
support, and it will surely come.
But after death, what meets you then! To die is to be with Christ. To
soar from earthly scenes is to escape the clouds of sense—the mists
of partial glance—the darkness of a prison-state. Then faith expires,
and eternal sight expands. Then Jesus in very presence is forever
"very near."
Surpassing blessedness! amazing joy! perfection of all glory! The
very thought is rapture. What must be the full reality! The
expectation dazzles. What will be full enjoyment! The Lord—the
Lord Himself—is near in all the brightness of His Deity. Separation
never can occur. Nothing can ever part. Jesus—Jesus in seen glory—
is now "very near."
Some read these lines, whose conscience warns, that they possess
no title to such bliss. Christ is not theirs by faith. They have not fled
to Him for refuge. They cling not to His cross. Their hearts have
never opened to admit this inhabitant. Sirs! tremble. But why tarry
thus? Arise—make haste—draw near. The penitential prayer of faith
soon reaches Him—for He is "very near."
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:36:22 GMT -5
The Tribe of Reuben
"Let Reuben live and not die—and let not his men be few." Deut.
33:6
Reuben was Jacob's firstborn. From him one section of the Jewish
nation sprang. One tribe called him their father. When these words
were uttered by Moses, the patriarch Jacob had long been numbered
with the dead. But his descendants had reached Canaan's border—a
mighty portion of a mighty people.
Let every father, who reads this, reflect what multitudes may flow
from him. He may be seed of a vast forest of immortal plants. From
him, as center, wide circles may expand. Children's children may be
a swelling stream. By prayer, then, let him bequeath to each this
Reuben-blessing. Let his lips often ask, that each may live, an heir
of grace—that none may die the death of never-ending woe.
Recall the day, when Moses thus spoke. His eager wings were
spread to fly from earth. His noble race was run. His valiant fight
was fought. His place—so profitably filled—must now be vacant. The
people—served so long—must see his face no more.
God in His providence calls faithful men to guide, and teach, and
rule His flock. When His designs are ripe, He brings them forth, as
the fit instruments. But their allotted course must have its end.
Their longest space is brevity. While they are spared, let their good
help be prized. Let them be honored—for honor is their due. Let
them be loved—they are entitled to affectionate requital. But they go
hence. All flesh is grass. God alone, never fails.
But of the men, who have done service in their day, where can be
found the peer of Moses? He has pre-eminence, which few have
reached. He has renown, which outshines every fame. His life was a
grand blessing. His parting words are blessing. Living and dying, he
is a tree, whose branches drop good fruit.
He long had toiled for Israel's welfare. And now his closing eye
looks with intense affection on each tribe. He sees by faith their vast
inheritance of mercies—and his last breath delights to draw the
chart.
In this we have the very spirit of Salvation's Captain. Jesus left
heaven—assumed our flesh—dwelt on this earth, that He might
bless. When the redeeming price was paid, He ascended in the
attitude and act of blessing. And from His throne, His glory-life is
ever the self-same employ. He is one eternal—unfathomable—everflowing blessing. As from the sun light only streams, so from Him
one flood of good descends.
Believer, pause at this point, and meditate your high distinction.
You, too, are filled, that you may be enabled to dispense. You are
enriched, that you may help. Doubtless, exalted station and vast
talents enlarge the hands of usefulness. In this respect all may not
stand on the same vantage-ground. All are not called, as Moses, to
rule tribes. But all may strive to follow him by living a blessing life—
by dying a blessing death.
Let us draw nearer now to his amazing legacy of blessing. The first
view shows the last testament of Moses, as enumerating earthly
treasures of honor—excellence—pre-eminence—abundance.
The happy tribes are here endowed, as rich, renowned, and mighty
upon earth. Splendor and prowess are their promised crown. Their
sons are to surpass in arts and arms. Their fields shall wave with all
luxuriance. But beneath this outward mantle, faith sees the inner
form of better and more lasting gifts. The farewell words begin,
indeed, with time-estate; but they conclude not there. They are a
ladder set on earth, but mounting to the skies. These images have
wide-spreading meaning. The truth, which runs throughout, looks
to eternal good. The real substance is not of the earth, and earthly—
it is of heaven, and heavenly.
Thus, of the eldest, it is said, "Let Reuben live and not die—and let
not his men be few." We instantly are led to remember this tribe's
exposed position. It stands a frontier-barrier. Thus it lies open to the
onset of invading foes. There is then danger, that it may soon be
trodden down—that hostile attack may lay it low—that it may
dwindle and become extinct. But let Reuben live—live a vast host.
The blessing, at first, seems a shield against diminishing
catastrophe.
But this is only the first fold. As we unwrap the words, the better
portion is discerned. This is the surface; as we descend, a mine of
richer ore is found. This is the shell—a precious kernel is within. A
life is intimated longer than temporal—even reaching through
eternal time. A death is here deprecated, worse than the body
mouldering in dust—even soul-ruin. The multitudinous increase
here mentioned foreshows the innumerable throng around the
throne of God and of the Lamb.
Thus the true significance of the Reuben-blessing unfolds a
threefold joy.
1. Life for evermore, and heaven won.
2. Death abolished, and hell escaped.
3. The expansive circle of the countless congregation of the saved.
Next we must banish far the narrow thought, that this inheritance
was limited to Reuben's tribe. It is no by-gone wish. Far otherwise.
It stands a wide-spreading oak, beneath which saints of every age
may happily repose. It flows a ceaseless stream, from which God's
sons may ever drink. Reuben's hand plucked the earliest produce,
but still the flower blooms, the fragrance sweetens, and the ripe
fruit courts our touch.
Behold, then, here is the heart—the mind—the will of God, to all the
chosen seed. Here is no partial legacy only to the elders of the
house. Succeeding children may claim it too. We have this
explanation recorded by the Spirit's pen. The Gospel principle is, "If
you are Christ's, then are you Abraham's seed, and heirs according
to the promise." Gal. 3:29. Faith here obtains a key—and by it enters
the spiritual treasury of ancient promise. The blessings are all free
to all the family of God.
Believer, now draw near. Hear Moses' voice, as if addressed directly
to yourself. It tells the blood-bought portion of all Christ's family. It
shows your vast inheritance—your golden wealth. To every one the
legacy is left, Let this man live, and not die. Of the redeemed it is
immutably decreed, Let not their men be few.
Come, then, and with appropriating faith review the wondrous gifts.
Life—soul life—first shows its head. "Let Reuben live." How grand
this mercy! All men are spiritually dead-born. Sin entered with a
murderous hand. It planted deep its dagger in the inner man.
Knowledge of God—love of His name—delight in holy communion—
sweet fellowship with heaven—the happy worship of unsullied
praise—the blissful gaze on the Creator's smile, and all the circle of
pure joy, were buried in a deep grave. The soul became a total wreck
—a withered tree—a dried-up stream—a wilderness of weeds—a
starless night—a chaos of beclouded thought—a rebel's camp—the
shattered home of misery—the region in which death reigned. The
eyes were dim and saw not God. The face was turned away. Each
step led downward. The hands were lifted in defiance. The mouth
was opened to blaspheme. Man was a dying body holding a dead
soul. He moved an unmixed evil—a sin-spreading pest. All this is
sad—but there are sadder things behind. This is tremendous woe—
but deeper woe comes on. This is dark night—but darker shades will
deepen yet. This is full wretchedness—but still the cup may hold
more drops.
This fleeting scene must end. The earthly mansion must be left.
Death comes. It drives poor sinners to their final home. And what is
that? Reader, shrink not—withdraw the darksome veil. Look down
into the dread abode. Ponder the lost in their low cells. Hell is their
everlasting doom. Do not think that hell is the mere phantom of a
brain-sick thought. It is no fable fondly framed to scare weak minds.
It is a near reality. It is a gigantic certainty. It is the sure conclusion
of a godless life. It is the gulf, to which transgressing streams rush
hopelessly. And it is not far away. It gapes before the feet. Another
step may plunge the ruined into this abyss.
But what is hell? Ah! reader, may you never know. It is described by
what is absent—what is present.
The negative misery declares, that God is not there. It is
"everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the
glory of His power." 2 Thess. 1:9. Where God is absent, there is no
light—no joy—no pure repose of heart. But in that darkness God is
never seen. Therefore all is one blank of dreary wretchedness.
The faithful word moreover brings to view mountains upon
mountains of active torment. From this immensity of agony let one
element be drawn. The tender Jesus thus describes the end. "The
Son of Man shall send forth His angels, and they shall gather, out of
His kingdom all things, that offend, and them, which do iniquity—
and shall cast them into a furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and
gnashing of teeth." Matt. 13:41, 42. Fire shows pain's uttermost
extreme. It has a pungent sting, maddening with all that is most
hotly fierce. Hence hell is agony in all its might. Wailing denotes the
bitter grief. Gnashing of teeth proclaims the deep remorse. And, as
the suffering proceeds, it swells. There is no distant ray of possible
relief. Forever will the smoke ascend. Forever will the anguish burn.
Forever will the misery endure.
Eternal is hell's night. Such is it to lack life. Such is it to be heir of
death.
But hearken, you, who through rich mercy yet inhabit earth. A voice
cries, "Let Reuben live and not die." There is a Savior, who delivers
from this death. There is a friend, who bestows heavenly life. Jesus
appears, and on the cross endures the death, and by His
righteousness brings in new life. The Father fully satisfied, says of
each true Reuben, "Deliver him from going down to the pit, for I
have found a ransom." Let him not die, but live.
But what is this life? Believer, you must enter heaven to know. We
read—we speak—we meditate—we hear of heaven; and bright and
lovely is the prospect. But what thoughts—what words can estimate
the actual bliss! Sin and temptation are outside forever. God and the
God-man are there clearly displayed. There is no cloud—no veil—no
distance—no separation—no departure. The ransomed, ever happy,
ever hymning praise, float on wide oceans of delight.
And are there many joying in this joy? "Let not his men be few."
The Father's love—the Savior's grace—the Spirit's tenderness are
large, and embrace many. A great multitude, whom no man can
number, shout hallelujahs round the throne.
O my soul, seek to inherit Reuben's blessing. Give up all for heaven.
It will immeasurably repay each sacrifice. The door is not yet barred.
Press to enter in. Take it by violence. Jesus is the way. Walk in it.
Jesus holds the key. Flee unto Him, and He will open wide the
gates. He has spoken, and it must be—"Him that comes to Me, I will
in nowise cast out." John 6:37. Many of Israel's true children there
rejoice—will not you be among them? Draw life and energy from the
partriarchal promise, "Let Reuben live and not die—and let not his
men be few." Rest not, until you can say, "Through grace, I live—
through grace, I shall not die—through grace, I have my lot among
the sons, who are not few."
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:38:15 GMT -5
The Tribe of Judah
"This is the blessing of Judah—and he said, Hear, Lord, the
voice of Judah; and bring him unto his people—let his hands be
sufficient for him—and be a help to him from his
enemies." Deut. 33:7.
Judah is the royal tribe. To it the throne, the scepter, and the
authority belong. It is the cradle of the nation's kings. This is great
honor. But its main glory is its connection with the God-man Jesus.
He is "the Lion of the tribe of Judah." A maid of Judah bears the
wondrous babe. In Judah's house, the King of kings, the Lord of
lords, puts on our flesh. Hence expectation eagerly surveys the
blessing cast into its lap. Surely signal favors will deck the tribe so
signally exalted. Surely the mercies in his crown will have
transcendent luster.
Let us now turn to listen. These sounds go forth—"Hear, Lord, the
voice of Judah." One fact is instantly made clear. Judah is loud in
prayer. That must be uttered, which is to be heard. Mute lips gain no
reply. The silent tongue arrests no notice. Judah's voice then
encompasses the mercy-seat. In spirit and in cry he often visits
heaven. The opening words stamp him, as a praying tribe.
Prayer is the heart-home of each child of God. This is the first sign
of new birth. This draws his morning-curtain. This wakens with his
earliest thought. This is the atmosphere, which his soul breathes.
This is the staff, on which he leans. Thus every act begins—proceeds
—and ends. This bolts the evening door. This is the pillow, on which
the head reclines. Trials—temptations—troubles—and life's
countless ills, here find their refuge. When sins prevail, here is
relief. When dangers threaten, here is sweet shelter. When mercies
beam, they beckon to this sunny hill. Each place, and company, and
time, promote this gainful traffic. The child of grace lives, as Judah,
crying unto God "Hear, Lord, the voice of Judah."
But what is prayer? The question is not vain. Many are prayerless,
who seem prayerful. All glittering tinsel is not gold. It is not a vain
attitude—nor repetition of unfelt words. It is not copious phrase. It
is not the uplifted eye—the outstretched hand—the bended knee—
the prostrate form—the smitten breast—the heaving sigh—the
falling tear. All these may be, and yet no prayer.
It is reality, not external show. It is the soul in earnest wrestling
with God. It is the inner man's intensest agony. It is a mighty grasp
clinging to Jehovah's strength. It is a struggling effort. It is the
heroic cry, "I will not let You go." It is divine in origin—in
confidence—in plea. The Spirit from on high kindles, and fans, and
cherishes the flame. The covenant of grace is its strong rock.
Standing on such vantage ground, it boldly shouts the name of
Jesus and never shouts in vain.
But is not such prayer rare? O my soul, what is the answer of your
secret hours? If you hang down a conscious head—pause, and take
shame, that you are not more Judah-like.
Think of the motives calling to this exercise. A mercy-seat stands
ready. An open path invites. The door is never shut. The golden
scepter courts your touch. Calvary gives you an unfailing plea.
Commands impel you. It is sin to hesitate. Promises, too vast to
measure or to count, come forth in crowds to fill your hands. All
blessings wait to be received. In this art, misery learns to smile—
peace flows into the conscience—weakness becomes strong—faith
matures—and every power to do and bear expands into a vigorous
tree. Whatever be your age—state—frame—need—circumstance, be
wise, and pray. Pray more. Cease not. Faint not. Judah's Son—the
glorious Jesus—is your example, model, lesson. On earth, His life
was prayer. In heaven, His intercession ceases not.
Mark, too, what rich encouragement pervades the first note of
this blessing. "Hear, Lord, the voice of Judah." Fear not. No prayer
was ever lost. It is the Spirit's voice within. God will not turn away.
It sounds a name, which must be heard—all heaven will listen with
delight. It is the child's entreaty—the Father's heart will melt. Grace
is no grace—truth fails—and mercy hardens into flint, if this cry
prospers not. If all the annals of all saints were spread, as an open
page, their testimony would be this, true prayer will speed.
But this text belongs primarily to Judah's story, in which we read
prayer's mightiest exploits. Mark David. We have a volume of his
prayers. And with expiring breath he witnesses, "In my distress I
called upon the Lord, and cried unto my God—and He heard my
voice out of His temple, and my cry entered into His ears." 2 Sam.
22:7. Call Solomon; he begs, "Give me now wisdom and knowledge."
2 Chron. 1:10. Was he not heard? "Wisdom and knowledge are
granted unto you." Go to Abijah's day. "When Judah looked, behold
the battle was before and behind—and they cried unto the Lord."
Instantly "the men of Judah gave a shout, and as the men of Judah
shouted, it came to pass, that God smote Jeroboam and all Israel,
before Abijah and Judah." 2 Chron. 13:14, 15.
Proceed to Asa. The Ethiopians—a thousand thousand—threaten to
destroy. The king sends forth this arrow—"Lord, it is nothing with
You to help, whether with many, or with those who have no power;
help us, O Lord our God, for we rest on You, and in Your name we
go against this multitude. O Lord, You are our God, let not man
prevail against You. And then the Lord smote the Ethiopians before
Asa, and before Judah—and the Ethiopians fled." 2 Chron.14:11,
12. Jehoshaphat used well this weapon, and thus repelled the
myriads of Ammon. Hezekiah thus wrestled against the Assyrians.
An angel was sent forth to help—and the vast host became a pile of
slain. He thus contended against malady—and sickness bloomed to
health. 2 Chron. 32:21, 24.
Jesus, this tribe's high pride, when on earth, gives the like witness
—"I know that You hear Me always." John 11:42.
Believer, lift up your eyes. Pierce heaven with faith's keen gaze. You
see your Jesus by the throne. What is His employ? He prays for you
—for all His needy flock. And is He heard? Yes—every petition is
success. He asks and gains all that His blood purchased—all that the
covenant secures. Here is the spring of your soul's being, health,
and prosperity. You thrive—you prosper—you prevail, because your
mighty Advocate mightily pleads. Your inward life is proof, that His
intercessions triumph. "Hear, Lord, the voice of Judah." Judah's
voice is ever heard.
The blessing thus continues—"And bring him unto his people." The
tribes were often called to war. The quiet hearth must then be left.
Their feet must tread the tedious march. But in these cheering
words they catch the hope of safe return. Here seems a promise,
that their corpses shall not strew a distant land—but that a peaceful
home again shall welcome the victorious troops. This primary
message floats upon the surface.
Believer, there is, moreover, something here for your support. You
have a home. It is not this polluted scene. It is far off—in peace—in
light—in purity—in heaven. And you shall safely reach it. The way
may be both rough and tedious. But advance. The end is sure.
Waves and storms may threaten to engulf the bark; but you shall
enter the haven. The hill may be a wearisome ascent; but you shall
gain the summit. Pluck this assurance from the word, "Bring him
unto his people." The Lord's hand led you out from the world. The
Lord's power will bring you to the company of the saved.
It is not altogether a strained thought, which applies these words to
Jesus. He has a people, and greatly do they need His coming. This
blessing seems a pledge of His arrival. The good Shepherd's flock is
widely scattered. They wander far on hills, and valleys, in every land,
and every climate. Some pant beneath a tropic sun. Some shiver in
perpetual snows. A watchful eye sees all. And in fit time each is
approached. Jesus Himself draws near. He wins the heart. He enters
in. He takes the throne. He shows His smile. He melts the rock. He
turns the enmity to love. He sits a conqueror in a once rebel camp.
All given by the Father come to Him, because He comes to them.
They follow, because He calls. They run, because He draws. He
opens out His arms—and then they flee quickly to the shelter. Thus
faith finds an accomplishment of the words, "Bring him unto his
people."
It follows—"Let his hands be sufficient for him." Judah was called to
work and war. But there is comfort in each struggle. His hands shall
not hang down. His vigor shall not droop. His energies shall still
suffice. Is the task heavy? His strength shall bear unto the end. Is
the fight long and fierce? He shall hold out.
Believer, to you each day brings burdens. Act faith, then, on this
heaven-sent support—"Let his hands be sufficient for him." So long
as work remains to be performed—so long as conflicts last, your
streams of power will not be drained. Their fountain cannot fail.
David's triumph will be yours. "He teaches my hands to war, so that
a bow of steel is broken by my arms. I have pursued my enemies
and destroyed them, and turned not again, until I had consumed
them." 2 Sam. 22:35, 38.
Here, too, again behold your Lord. Were not His hands sufficient
for Him? Hell arose with all its hosts—kings of the earth, and
godless men conspired. But He strode over them to victory.
And still His arm is strong as Deity in your defense. It is most true,
that you require unlimited aid. But you have it all in Him—your
ever-present sustainer. If for one moment His hands fail, you sink.
But rejoice—give thanks. His hands are braced with all sufficiency.
The blessing thus concludes—"Be a help to him from his enemies."
All the true sons of Judah are thus made more than conquerors.
What are they in themselves? There is no image weak enough to
show their weakness. Their strength is feebler than the tottering
reed—the wind-driven dust—the storm-tossed chaff. But all their
enemies—countless in number—principalities in might—cannot
destroy. And why? Only because the Lord of Hosts is with them—
the God of Jacob is their refuge. Jehovah-Jesus is their shield and
sword.
Reader, such is Judah's blessing. Let not the picture be a blank to
you. See what rich clusters hang from this tree's boughs. See what
wealth sparkles in this mine. Do you not long to share these mercies
—to repose beneath this shade—to feed in these sweet pastures—to
drink of this deep stream? Read it again. "Hear, Lord, the voice of
Judah; and bring him unto his people; let his hands be sufficient for
him; and be a help to him from his enemies." Mark the praying
tribe addressing a prayer-hearing God. Mark the safe convoy to
their home. Mark their sufficiency for every need. Examine well this
chain of good. Can you desire, can you conceive, a happier lot? And
may it not be yours? Did ever any ask, and not receive? When
sinners knock in penitence and faith, the portals ever open. A
blessing God—a blessing Savior—a blessing Spirit are at hand. Let
not indifference turn scornfully away. Take Judah's God, as yours—
and Judah's heritage will surely be bestowed.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:42:06 GMT -5
The Tribe of Levi
"Of Levi, he said, Let Your Thummin, and Your Urim be with
Your holy one, whom You tested at Massah, and with whom
You contended with at the waters of Meribah—who said unto
his father and to his mother, I have not seen him—neither did
he acknowledge his brethren, nor knew his own children—for
they observed Your word and kept Your covenant. They shall
teach Jacob Your judgments and Israel Your law—they shall
put incense before You, and whole burnt-sacrifice upon Your
altar. Bless, Lord, his substance, and accept the work of his
hands—smite through the loins of those who rise against him,
and of those who hate him, that they rise not again." Deut.
33:8-11.
Levi was peculiarly the Lord's. This tribe toiled not in military
service. Its happy hours revolved in holy duties. Its life was round
the altars. The tabernacle was its charge, and its employ looked
always unto God.
Thus it appears a ministerial type. We see in it the pastor's portrait.
It represents that heaven-born, heaven-sent band, which stands
apart to deal with man for God.
This is life's highest privilege—earth's grandest dignity—honor,
which angels do not share—glory, which drives all other heroes into
shade. The greatest minister is our greatest man. His words achieve
the noblest triumphs on the world's stage.
What then, will Moses' lips pour forth, when Levi's tribe comes for
its blessing? Reader, draw near to hear! Spirit of God, draw near to
teach!
Choice servants are addressed—therefore, choice gifts will be
bestowed. Levi's outline is first drawn. Three bold characteristics are
displayed. These threefold marks are, holiness—acquaintedness
with trial—impartial zeal.
1. The tribe is HOLY. "Let Your Thummin and Your Urim be with
Your holy one." Holiness! What is it, but the image of our God—
conformity to Christ—the stamp of heaven upon the soul. It is God
living in the heart—moving in each step—breathing in each breath—
heard in each word—pervading the whole man. It is the Spirit's
presence, saying, let there be light, and there is light—let there be
love, and there is love—cleaving sin's roots, and they decay—sowing
pure seed, and it bears fruit. It is an upward course—leaving the
world behind—eschewing evil—hating what Jesus hates—panting to
be godlike. It is that lofty state, which springs from reception of the
Gospel. Truth sanctifies. Error is darkness in mind and life. Christ
seen—Christ loved—forms the new man. So, too, it is happiness
without alloy. The holy man alone is happy. All sin is misery.
Departure from it is the path of peace.
Servants of Christ, seek holiness. Let this crown sparkle on your
brow. From head to foot let this robe clothe you. Inhabit earth as
Zion's citizens. So will your life preach louder than your lips. So will
your walk have magnet-influence, attracting unto heaven. A holy
shepherd wins a holy flock.
2. Next, Levi had conflicted with TEMPTATION—"Whom You
tested at Massah, and with whom You contended with at the waters
of Meribah."
It was one of Israel's darkest days, when the camp murmured,
because water failed. We lack clear evidence, that Levi was not
tainted with this guilt. But from this mention, we take hope, that he
stood firm, when others fell. But whether he resisted or gave way,
the temptation put him to the test. Massah proved him. Meribah
sifted his principles.
All Adam's sons live tempted lives. Satan is not yet chained. There is
no place—no heart—which he infest not. His wily crafts exceed all
power to count. And his wrath increases, as the time grows less. But
the Lord's ministers are his especial hate. Against them every dart is
hurled. For them all snares are laid. And why? Their fall brings
many to the dust. The sheep will wander, when the shepherd strays.
But still his weapons often wound himself. For frequently
temptation proves to be a purifying furnace, and a brightening file.
The tempted lose their dross, and gain more brilliant polish. So, too,
it is a school of discipline. Here ministers drink deeply of
experience's cup. They thus become expert to sympathize with
others' woes—to open out the adversary's arts—to point to
strongholds of defense—to stay the slipping feet, and to pour balm
into the stricken soul. Thus trials give ability and skill. Satan uses
them; and the result is injury to himself.
3. Levi has, too, the praise of honest ZEAL—"Who said unto
his father and to his mother, I have not seen him—neither did he
acknowledge his brethren, nor knew his own children." These words
again remind of dreadful evil in the camp. Moses was absent in the
mount. The impatient people ask for gods to lead them on. A golden
calf is made. They worship it. The air echoes with festive noise.
Moses in haste comes down, and cries, "Who is on the Lord's side?
let him come unto me. And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves
together unto him." Ex. 32:26. They draw their swords. They rush to
vindicate the cause of God, They spare not friend nor relative. No
ties of kindred or of blood screen from due vengeance. Where they
find sin, there they deal death. God gave the zeal, and braced their
nerves, and smiled upon their deed, and thus applauds it.
You ministers, mark this. Your office calls you to reprove—rebuke—
condemn. Evil is evil, wherever it is seen. You must stand flint like before all the world.
If relatives and friends transgress, they
must be boldly checked. You speak for God. You must be honest,
fearing no man's face.
Levi, thus portrayed in threefold character, then receives a sixfold blessing.
1. A grand distinction first appears. "Let your Thummin and your
Urim be with your holy one." The message is distinct. Let Levi ever
stand a priest before his God. Let the breast-plate, with its
mysterious contents, ever gird him. These contents, though
shrouded in some mist, intimate perfection and light. At once we
see the foremost ornaments of ministerial life.
PERFECTION! Nothing inferior may be sought. The walk may have
no stain. The garments must be purely white. The keen observer
may detect no fault. Oh! what vigilance—what care—what prayer are
needed! Lapses in those who guide, produce extensive ruin. Lord,
lead Your servants in a perfect way! Be a protecting shield around!
Adorn them beauteously with every grace!
LIGHT! Father of lights, be their light! May they forever dwell
beneath Your rays, and, as reflecting mirrors, scatter radiance
around! May they go forth, as champions clad in armor of light!
Thus may true Thummin and true Urim ever be the glory of those,
who are ambassadors for Christ!
2. Next, "They shall teach Jacob Your judgments and Israel Your
law." Here is the pastor's solemn dignity. He occupies a pulpitthrone. Thence he announces the decrees of the eternal kingdom.
The flock sit round to hear God's judgments—to receive God's law.
Preacher, take heed. Your volume is heaven-inspired. Add not—it is
impiety. Detract not—it is sacrilege. It is not yours to frame a
system or devise a code. Your message is prepared. Your text-book is
divine. Read and proclaim. Let all your teaching flow in one clear
stream—"Thus says the Lord." The Gospel committed to your trust
is God's glory—His wisdom in the highest—the transcript of His
mind—the mirror of His love—the power, which drives out
darkness, softens hearts, gives new birth to dead souls, breaks
Satan's chains, snatches from hell, uplifts to heaven, converts bold
rebels to devoted friends, and plants a paradise in the world's waste.
Then PREACH THIS WORD—only—clearly—fully. Be faithful. Be
distinct. Signs of salvation will then surely follow. The seed of truth
is never lost. It has an innate life. It is impregnate with divinity.
Who can destroy it? Truth long since would have died, if Satan or
man's hate had power to slay.
3. Honors are added. "They shall put incense before You—and
whole Burnt-sacrifice upon Your altar." They shall cause sweet
savor to ascend. The Gospel-savor is the sweet merits of Christ's
fragrant work. They shall pile victims on the altar. The Gospel has
but one victim—the God-man slain.
These words are as a trumpet-voice to warn each minister. The
pulpit stands his golden altar, from which precious fragrance should
never fail to rise. Sermons should all be redolent of Jesus's worth.
Each utterance should be, as curling incense, filling heaven and
earth with joy. The pulpit stands, too, his brazen altar, on which
victims bleed. The congregation should be led to sit around the
cross. The dying Jesus should be the one grand sight—giving
Himself a willing offering, that guilt may thus be cleansed, and sins
obliterated, and debts paid, and curse removed, and God appeased,
and hell's gates closed, and heaven's throne won.
4. It follows—"Bless, Lord, His substance." Levi had no allotted
lands. "I am your portion, and your inheritance," said God. Numb.
18:20. The tabernacle-offerings are their supply. A special
maintenance is their lot. Special servants are specially sustained.
They must be well fed, whom God thus supplies. Let then no
faithful pastor fear. He may not have—he covets not—abundance of
earth's pelf. But the barrel will not fail. The cruise will still suffice.
In God he has incalculable wealth. "The Lord is the portion of my
inheritance and of my cup—you maintain my lot." Paul testifies, "I
have all, and abound—I am full." Phil. 4:18.
5. It is encouragingly added—"Accept the work of his hands." Smile,
Lord, when Levi thus draws near. Turn not from the prayer, the
service, and the praise, which he presents upon Your altar.
Here is the joy, the hope, the strength, the victory of the faithful
servant. He knows, that truth proclaimed by life and lip—in public
and in private—cannot but prosper. The Gospel-sickle reaps not in
vain. Harvests of saved souls will be brought in. Heaven's garner
will be filled. He will present before God's throne children begotten
by his words—jewels drawn by his efforts from nature's quarry, and
polished as pillars for the palace of the King. The labor is not in
vain. The Lord accepts.
6. Lastly—"Smite through the loins of those who rise against him,
and of those who hate him, that they rise not again." A Korah—a
Dathan—an Abiram rose to assail. But their defeat was signal. They
died not the common death of men. The gaping earth devoured them. Numb. 16:32.
So faithful ministers must always expect the adversary's rage. They
foil him most. Therefore he most desires their ruin. As against
Christ—so against them—he marshals his whole force. But while he
mightily assails, Omnipotence protects. While his many legions
harass, an infinity of love defends. Thus they hold on. Thus they
hold out. Thus they will ever bloom, like Aaron's rod, until the last
saint is gathered in. Their teaching voice will sound on earth, until
the hallelujah is full-toned above. They go on conquering, for Jesus
fights beside them.
You ministers, turn not from Levi, without many a solemn thought.
There is no work like yours—so holy—so exalted—so godlike! There
is no help like yours. Jesus, who sends you, goes forth by your side.
There are no hopes like yours. The brightest crown is that, which
sparkles with redeemed gems. Bless God—take courage—work.
Uplift the cross with prayerful hands. Preach the true Christ. Live
the true life of faith. Then Levi's full inheritance will raise you high.
How high, God only knows! Christ's fellow-workers will not be low
among Christ's fellow-heirs.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:46:10 GMT -5
The Tribe of Benjamin
"About Benjamin he said: "Let the beloved of the Lord rest
secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the one the
Lord loves rests between His shoulders." Deut. 33:12
Benjamin! Thoughts of love are quickly kindled by the very name.
Affection folded Benjamin in its embrace. He closed the line of
Jacob's sons, and thus no younger rival moved him from his fondled
place. He was endeared, too, as the expiring Rachel's child. She died,
when he began to live. Thus, all the feelings, which have softest
sway, enshrined him eminently in his father's heart.
When then this tribe appears, our minds anticipate much tender
favor. And it is so. A designation of endearment is adjoined—"Of
Benjamin he said, The beloved of the Lord."
Reader, here pause. A wondrous truth refuses to be put aside. Give
it glad welcome. Listen fully to its cheering tale. Imbibe the precious
draught of its delight. Let its sweet fragrance perfume all your
hours. The truth is this. The name pertains to every member of
God's family—"Beloved of the Lord." Each child of God is loved, as a
Benjamin, in heaven's palace.
What! loved of God! Love is the soul of feeling. It is the blazing of
the heart in warmth. It is a current of resistless strength. It places a
dear object above self. It is intense desire for fellowship. It weeps,
and joys, and thrives, in unison with anther's sorrow and delight. It
is the strongest impulse of the breast. It holds the rudder of the life.
It is the principle, which many waters cannot quench, neither can
floods drown it. Song 8:7.
Is there such feeling in the realms of light towards inhabitants of
earth? Yes, truly. Each of the heaven-born seed is loved with perfect
love by the Triune Jehovah.
The FATHER loves—and writes His loved ones in the book of life—
and chooses them to be the spouse, and crown, and glory of His Son
—and sends His Christ to buy them out of ruin's grasp—to cleanse
their filth in efficacious blood—to fit them to dwell, as partners of
His throne.
JESUS so loves, that He puts on our flesh, and takes the place of the
condemned, and bears in His own body all the just penalties of sin,
and undergoes the uttermost of wrath, and drinks the very dregs of
anguish. Attend Him through His painful walk on earth—approach
the garden-mysteries—stand by the shameful cross mark all the
signs of infinite distress—hear the deep groans wrung from His
agonized mind. The language of these sufferings reveals, how much,
how truly, and how constantly He loved. Next raise the eye of faith,
and see Him now at God's right hand. Whence those incessant
prayers—those mighty pleadings—that watchful eye—those
outstretched hands—that life devoted to one cause? His present acts
repeat, that He still loves.
The SPIRIT loves. It must be so. This feeling draws Him to a
sinner's heart. He ever finds that spot all ice—all death—all enmity
to God. But still He enters in, and works a saving change. He exerts
renovating might. He creates new life, and light, and holy powers.
He discloses the activity, the vileness, and the end of sin. He thus
stirs up the trembler to flee unto redeeming arms. He gives him
faith to take the title-deeds of heaven. He leaves not, nor forsakes,
until grace expands into full glory. Such is the Spirit's work. And is
not every part a manifest display of love?
Thus God is love. He never was, and never will be, but one ocean of
eternal love. The truth, then, is most clear. Each real believer ever
was, and ever will be a Benjamin. His is the title, "Beloved of the
Lord."
Believer, ponder the value of this fact. Its preciousness exceeds
worlds upon worlds of treasure. Our present scene is full of change,
of coldness, and of hate. Friends die, or kindly feeling withers. A
frown may freeze, where smiles were used to cheer. But here is our
solace. We look above. Heaven's love knows no eclipse. In that
unfailing brightness we forget surrounding gloom. Here, too, we
find a mighty magnet drawing us to holiness. We must love Him,
who so loves us. We cannot love God, and not desire to please Him.
Hence His pure law becomes our true delight. The slavish chains
fall off, and willing service is our joyful walk. Sense of God's love
thus cheers and sanctifies.
Through this prelude we approach the BLESSING assigned to
Benjamin. It proves, that God's love is a vast treasure of gracious
gifts. It shows a threefold front. It strikes a triple cord. It brings the
pledge of safety, constant shelter, and fellowship with God.
1. Safety. "The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him."
Survey the picture. It is lovely in repose. We seem to see a child
without one care seated securely by a parent's side. No anxious fears
disturb. Undoubting trust spreads its calm influence. A Father,
strong and watchful, is at hand. An arm is ready to defend. The
happy son knows it, and confides.
The image tenderly depicts the true believer's blessed state. He sits
in peace beside his God. Faith's wings have borne him upwards. His
heart and thoughts have settled in a tranquil realm. The restless
wanderings of former days are past. There was a time, when he was
tossed about on stormy waves. He wandered hopelessly in search of
peace. But now he rests in God. His home is by his Father's side.
"The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him."
This seat is safety. For think, how high it is upraised! It is with God.
What foe can now assail? Satan's darts are very many, and impelled
with mighty force. His arms, too, have exceeding skill. But these are
heights above his reach. The arrows from his strongest bow have
but restricted wings. The shafts fly not to those lofty seats, where
God's dear children cluster. They dwell in safety, for they dwell by
Him.
A tender voice is ever heard, "Fear not, you worm Jacob, and you
men of Israel—I will help you, says the Lord, and your Redeemer
the holy one of Israel." Is. 41:14. Again it sounds, "I give unto them
eternal life—and they shall never perish, neither shall any man
pluck them out of My hand. My Father, who gave them to Me, is
greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of My
Father's hand." John 10:28, 29. Each tranquil Benjamin may realize,
"If God be for us, who can be against us?" Rom. 8:31. They dwell in
safety by Him.
2. Constant shelter. This is a sweet phase of safety, and this is
thus graphically promised—"The Lord shall cover him all the day
long." The warrior is sheltered, whom a broad shield surrounds. The
sword may deal fierce blows—the spear may roughly thrust—all
weapons may attack. But the assaults touch not. He stands unhurt.
The inhabitants of a well-built house are protected. The hurricane
may rage. The hail may beat. The rain may pour down floods. But
the roof spreads a sheltering defense. The strife of elements is
warded off. So when the feathered mother spreads her sheltering
wings, the hawk may soar above—the gathering clouds may menace
—but the downy refuge covers. The young birds nestle free from
harm.
Thus for each Benjamin a constant refuge is provided. He needs it.
No warrior is more sorely pressed. The whole artillery of hell seeks
his destruction. No traveler is more exposed. Satan outside—the
world around—a treacherous heart within—assail his path. No
infant bird is more beset with perils. A preying beak is ever ready to
devour.
But he defies this multitudinous array. How is it? Is he not weak in
self. Yes. His strength is feebler than a bruised reed. Alone he
cannot face one single foe—much less the myriads of earth and hell.
Here is his shelter—"The Lord shall cover him all the day long."
It would have been abundant favor to have given some shield—or to
have raised some roof—or to have spread some wing. But mercy
provides more for Benjamin. The Lord Himself is the constant
covering. The Lord, whose arms are infinite, ever hides him in
Himself. "Our life is hidden with Christ in God." Who, then, can
injure? "All the day long" the enemy may watch. "All the day long"
the shelter protects.
But the believer is more than sheltered from these perils. He is,
moreover, covered from the condemning eye of God. His life must
always be a mass of sin. What hateful filth defiles him! But this may
all be buried from God's sight. O my soul, ever realize the covering
robe, which Jesus wrought and offers. It is righteousness—perfect—
spotless—divine. This He delights to cast around you. Adorned with
this, you fearlessly may meet Jehovah's scrutiny. No blemish can be
found. This imputed beauty makes you fairer than angelic purity.
Put on by faith this precious mantle, and then sing aloud, "Blessed
is he, whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." Ps.
32:1.
3. Fellowship with God. Benjamin's lot has this especial blessing.
"He shall dwell between his shoulders." The shoulders are the
borders—the outward coasts—the confines of the land. Thus, "they
shall fly upon the shoulders of the Philistines toward the west." Is.
11:14. Here, then, it is pledged, that Benjamin's land shall just
contain God's earthly courts. What the Lord says shall surely be.
Therefore in appointed time the Temple, that hallowed structure,
rose on the mount, which skirted this tribe's line. Such is the literal
fulfillment. This promise, then, in its first sense, assigns the
position of the consecrated house.
But the grand import of this word is spiritual. The Temple is the
symbol of a present God. In it true worshipers drew near. In it God
met the souls, which sought Him. The pledge, then, of this dwelling
in Benjamin's domain promises access to God. It pictures prayer
ascending—answers returned—constant communion. And is it not
the saint's delight to have this heavenly union! This is his constant
feast—he dwells in God, and God in him—he is one with God, and
God with him.
This fellowship is based in Christ. He is the connecting link. He is
the Mediator. He has a divine hand, which touches God. He has a
human hand, which man may touch. Thus He unites the holy
Father and the holy flock. This communion is very paradise. It is the
foretaste of heaven. It passes beyond the veil, and penetrates the
inner sanctuary. Faith, leaning on Christ's arm, lives in this
happiness. With filial confidence it brings each trial—trouble—
sorrow—need—affliction—doubt—distress, to a Father's ear. And
God is near to cheer—to bless—to wipe the weeping eye—to soothe
the wounded heart—to raise the drooping spirit—to send the pilgrim
singing on his way. As the Temple was in the lot of Benjamin, so
God is in the midst of Zion's sons. "He shall dwell between his
shoulders."
Reader, do not you long to be an heir of Benjamin's large portion?
Do you not feel, that it must be the crown of bliss to be thus safe—
thus covered—thus free to heavenly communion! This becomes
yours, when you are one with Christ. Is such your case? If not, why
linger in peril, an unsheltered outcast? Draw near in faith. Wrestle
in prayer. Invite Him to come in. He will not hesitate, and His
entrance brings Benjamin's triple blessing—safety—constant shelter
—fellowship with God
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:47:29 GMT -5
Joseph
"Of Joseph he said, Blessed of the Lord be his land, for the
precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for the deep that
couches beneath, and for the precious fruits brought forth by
the sun, and for the precious things put forth by the moon, and
for the chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the
precious things of the lasting hills, and for the precious things
of the earth and fullness thereof, and for the good will of Him,
who dwelt in the bush. Let the blessing come upon the head of
Joseph, and upon the top of the head of him, who was
separated from his brethren. His glory is like the firstling of his
bullock, and his horns are like the horns of wild oxen; with
them he shall push the people together to the ends of the earth—
and they are the ten thousands of Ephraim, and they are the
thousands of Manasseh." Deut. 33:13-17.
This blessing is an overflowing stream. Gift follows gift, as if
beneficence left bounds behind. Treasures are scattered with
unsparing hand. The grant seems to say,' Take, until no more can be
received.'
Joseph is the tribe thus signally enriched. He sparkles as the
brightest jewel of his father's house. His early grace—his persecuted
youth—his rescue from the pit—his firm resistance of enticing evil—
his prison-sufferings—his exaltation to be a prince in Egypt—his call
to be a savior to his house—with all the tender incidents of his
affecting tale, are verdant spots in the first Bible-pages. He lived no
common life. No common blessing passes to his seed.
While faith, too, journeys by his side from scene to scene—from
early hatred until knees bowed before him—from the low dungeon
to the lofty throne—it quickly sees a living type of Jesus. The
varying lights and shadows graphically show the Lord. Hence it is no
surprise, that special honors crown him. The lips of Jacob gave him
an exceeding share. Gen. 49:22-26. The lips of Moses add new
stores. It is fit, that those who trace out most of Christ to men,
should stand pre-eminent in heavenly favor. Hence Joseph enters
on this goodly lot.
His CHARACTER is first described. This claims, then, primary
regard. It is a simple portrait. All is comprised in this one praise—he
is the "separated from his brethren." He differs, and because he
differs, he is cast out. He will not walk in evil ways. And evil men
despise him. He loathes their vices, and they loathe his grace. He
cannot live, as one with them. And they conspire, that he shall live
no more. But while the wicked frown, God smiles. While scales of
enmity are full, the scales of recompensing favor far outweigh.
Reader, while you survey this feature of God's child, ask, 'Is your
likeness here?' Do not forget, that two families inhabit earth. In
principle—in taste—in habit—in desire, they are as separate, as light
from darkness—cold from heat—pole from pole—life from death.
There is the serpent's seed. There is the heaven-born race. There is
the world. There is the little flock of grace. There is the broad road.
There is the narrow way. There are the sheep. There are the goats.
Hence the importance of the question, Have you escaped from
nature's thraldom? Do your feet tread the upward path of life? Do
you belong to Belial, or to Christ?
Be wise, and ascertain your real position. Rest not a slave among
slaves—a worldling among worldlings. Tarry not in the doomed
plain. Come out, like Joseph. He was separate. And did he lose
thereby? Let his blessing now give reply.
The BLESSING is so worded, as to exhibit the fullest measure of
earthly fertility. All causes, which concur to multiply and ripen
fruits, shall lend their congenial influence. The land shall blossom,
as an Eden. The canopy of heaven shall pour down softening rains.
The gentle dew shall ever sparkle in refreshing drops. Springs from
beneath shall permeate the clods. The annual and the monthly
produce shall periodically bloom. The ancient mountains shall
supply their tribute. Their caverns shall be rich in ore. The lasting
hills shall slope luxuriant in olives and in vines. Joseph shall know
no scarcity or dearth. Its borders shall abound in "the precious
things of the earth and the fullness thereof." The corn shall widely
wave in golden wealth. The grass shall spread its verdant carpet. All
cattle and all flocks shall browse. Thus earth shall bring her every
treasure—and Joseph's sons shall feast at nature's overflowing
table.
Such is the superficial view. Thus the first aspect shows abundance
of terrestrial goods. But these strong images are bright with higher
significance.
Surely this is a vivid scene of better wealth. Our precious Bible—the
book of every age and climate—often culls nature's field to
impress spiritual ideas. Things visible portray invisible possessions.
This principle leads us to look from the outward landscape, and to
seek deeper lessons for the soul.
The parallel is quickly found. Obvious illustrations soon occur. For
instance, the heart is often parched and dry. But Jesus can sweetly
soften. "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass—as
showers, that water the earth." Ps. 72:6. Each morning opens on a
scene of need. Each morning finds supplies. "I will be as the dew
unto Israel." Hos. 14:5. The roots of grace are planted on a flinty
soil. There must be constant nourishment, else the leaves wither.
Fear not, believer, "You shall be like a watered garden, and like a
spring of water, whose waters fail not." Is. 58:11. "He shall be as a
tree planted by the waters, and that spreads out her roots by the
river, and shall not see when heat comes, but her leaf shall be green,
and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease
from yielding fruit." Jer. 17:8.
The inner man, once profuse with every noxious weed—where
thorns and briers raised their fruitless heads—when cheered by
heaven-sent rays, smiles as a garden, blossoms as a rose. The
promise stands, "I will plant trees—cedar, acacia, myrtle, olive,
cypress, fir, and pine—on barren land." Isaiah 41:19. Then precious
crops of holy words, and holy works in due succession come. Then
fruits of godliness ripen in turn. Faith stands a noble
tree. Hope raises high its richly laden boughs. Love scatters
fragrance all around. Clusters of righteousness bear witness, this is
the vineyard of the Lord—the field watered by grace—filled with the
Spirit's seed—and cherished by heaven's brightest beams.
Believer, turn not from this spiritual landscape, without the
thought, 'Is your soul thus?' The test of state is always one—"By
their fruits you shall know them." The word is true, "He who abides
in Me, and I in Him, the same brings forth much fruit." John 15:5.
Do you thus abide in Christ? Do you draw fertilizing sap from that
rich stem? Do you sit ripening beneath the sunny smiles of God? So
only can your heart be Joseph's fertile land.
Joseph has more than promise of this large prosperity. There
is assurance of divine good will. This is his crowning blessing.
He inherits "the good will of Him who dwelt in the bush."
Observe, how Moses cherished to his last hour that early revelation
of his Lord. He can look back on much, and close, and dear
communion—but that display is still most splendid in the
retrospective view. No time can dim its luster.
Believer, what can obscure on memory's mirror your first clear view
of Jesus! What can deaden on your retentive ear the voice, which
first assured you of His love! Your heaven began, when you had
evidence of His good will. Cherish this sweet assurance. Open your
eyes more clearly to discern it. Clasp tight your hands around it.
Through every day—in every day's concerns—think, what high favor
hovers round you! From all eternity good will regarded you. To all
eternity it will warmly burn, and through all time it will remain your
guard. It was good will to undertake your full redemption.
It was good will to leave heaven's glories in your service. It was good
will to live and die in your behalf. The low estate—the sufferings—
the groans—the agony—the cross—the streaming blood—the death—
the grave—all manifest good will. And now this favor enriches you
with daily grace. It will not fail, while life endures. It will watch by
your dying bed. It will receive your fleeting breath. It will present
you faultless before the Father's throne. It will rejoice over you,
while endless ages roll. Nothing can quench—nothing can part from
—"the good will of Him who dwelt in the bush."
Joseph's blessing still flows on. Distinctive evidence, that he is the
heir of good will, follows. Thus it abounds. "His glory is like the
firstling of his bullock." He shall stand stately—beauteous—strong,
as the prime offspring of the herd. He shall move the admiration of
the plain.
Here, again, the deepest truth is spiritual. Where shall we find the
glory of the human race? It can be only in the realms of grace. There
is no loveliness in this world's slaves. They are polluted—tainted—
marred by sin—crippled in power—impotent for good. But when the
Spirit leads them to a Savior's blood, and thus obliterates each filthy
stain—when faith puts on the robes of divine righteousness—when
power from heaven renews the nature—when they receive the
lineaments of Christ—when they reflect the God-man's image; then
weakness and deformity are followed by strength and beauty—then
this grand pledge is fully redeemed—"His glory is like the firstling of
his bullock." Deut. 33:17. It is ever true, that each Joseph is made
strong in a Savior's strength, and beauteous in a Savior's beauty, and
moves among his fellow-men, the salt of the earth, the light of the
world.
Again, Joseph shall do valiantly. His prowess shall crush every
foe. His conquering power is thus described—"His horns are like the
horns of wild oxen—with them he shall push the people together to
the ends of the earth." Deut. 33:17.
Thus faith's life is one triumphant conflict. Who can recount the
adversaries checking the upward march! But opposition is in vain.
There is a Captain, who implants courage, girds up the loins, and
cheers His followers onward, until the everlasting palms are waved,
and everlasting hallelujahs sound. The blood-washed troops prevail,
strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might.
Lastly, his numbers shall exceedingly expand. "They are the
ten thousands of Ephraim, and they are the thousands of
Manasseh." The child of God often mourns his solitude. He seems
to be as a lonely cottage in the deserted vineyard. Is. 1:8. But when
the total flock is gathered in—when the whole body is complete—
when Jesus brings the collected sheaves to heaven's garner; then
how vast will be the circle upon circle of saved souls! The ransomed
multitude is numberless. The death of Jesus gives birth to countless
life.
Reader, think of the world's tinsel gifts—weigh Satan's wages, as
earned in time, and paid in the eternal world. Then turn and
contrast the blessing, which "comes upon the head of Joseph—and
upon the top of the head of him, who was separated from his
brethren." Shall this bright crown be yours? Jesus's hands bestow it.
Seek it. Ask it. None seek—none ask—in vain.
Ah! wretched worldling, when will you be wise! Come and display
your treasure. Your best is but a fading flower—a fleeting shadow—a
tottering reed—a failing brook. And how long can your hands retain
it? How long!—You startle. You tremble. You turn pale. How long! It
perishes, while you strive to grasp it. What will then follow! Hell is
at hand to answer.
Happy Christian, show your treasure. You produce Joseph's portion
—abundance of all grace. How long! A bright eternity is the measure
without measure.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:50:29 GMT -5
The United Tribes
"Moses said this about the tribes of Zebulun and Issachar: May
the people of Zebulun prosper in their expeditions abroad. May
the people of Issachar prosper at home in their tents. They
summon the people to the mountain to offer proper sacrifices
there. They benefit from the riches of the sea and the hidden
treasures of the sand." Deut. 33:18-19
Two tribes come hand in hand. They are descendants of one mother,
Leah—and they inherit neighboring lots. Here they are colleagues in
a common blessing—and drink, as fellows, of one enriching cup.
It is a lovely sight, when brothers are co-heirs of grace. The Gospelrecords brighten with such pictures. Andrew and Simon are united
by more than kindred-ties. John has a fellow-laborer in James, his
parent's son. Jude, and the other James, born of one father, are
newborn of one Spirit.
Do not these instances exhort each pious brother to seek especially
a brother's good? Do not they bring the animating hope, that the
door of success will open readily to such loving touch? Let then no
gracious brother rest, while any son of the same mother treads the
downward path. In prayer—by gentle example—by winning
counsels, let him persevere, until union be cemented in one center
—Christ. God wills the effort. Will He be slow to bless?
How great, too, is the gain! For where is treasure like a brother
plucked from the quarry of the world, and placed a jewel in the
diadem of Christ! Sweet is the walk, when such move side by side to
one eternal home.
Another thought stands at the threshold of this case. The younger
ranks before the elder. This cannot be without design. The same
occurs, when Jacob's dying lips address them. Zebulun precedes.
Issachar, the first by birth, gives place. Similarly Jacob's right hand
rests on the younger, Ephraim. Manasseh has inferior honor. And
other instances occur.
Reader, learn hence, that God sits supreme upon His throne.
He holds a scepter swayed in love—in wisdom—and in sovereign
will. He raises one. He places others in a lower grade. Here showers
of grace descend. Here the dew falls in tiny drops. We see the fact.
We know, that there is purpose. But we trace not the origin of these
decrees. In humble reverence we bow and we adore. All must be
wise, and just, and right. The day draws near, when clearer light
shall show consummate skill. The structure of the Church will then
appear wondrous in perfection. Each part is fixed by an unerring
hand.
Let us now heed THE BLESSING. The first word sounds,
"Rejoice." This ever is our Gospel's note. Joy is the gift, which
Jesus's hands extend. This is the feast, to which true ministers
invite.
When will a blinded world unlearn that silliest of fictions, that ways
of faith are cheerlessness and gloom! Let faithless men be honest,
and they must confess, that their career is restless care—keen
disappointment—and self-wrought vexation. They pluck the thorn—
not the flower. They feed on husks—not on rich fruit. Their cup is
wormwood—not the vine's juice. Their present is distress—not
peace. Their future is dismay—not hope. How different is the newborn heart! There constant joy keeps court—joy in the Lord, who
washes out all sin—who gives the key of heaven, and title-deeds of
endless bliss, and pledge of a weight of glory, and strength for the
journey, and triumph at the end. The mandate is not an unmeaning
word, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, Rejoice." Phil.
4:4.
But Zebulun has his peculiar place—so, too, has Issachar. Their
calling differs. Zebulun's line extends around the coast. His ships
traverse the seas. His commerce is across the waves. While Issachar
reposes in inland scenes—and dwells in meadows and in valleys. His
life is rustic tranquillity. But whether in turmoil or in peace, joy is
the heritage of both. "May the people of Zebulun prosper in their
expeditions abroad. May the people of Issachar prosper at home
in their tents."
They have the happy knowledge, that all their labors are in
appointed course—they go out, or they tarry, under heavenly
directive, and therefore with glad hearts.
This leads us to observe, how varied are the stations of man's
calling! How diverse are positions! Some reign in palaces—some
toil in cottages. Some feast at plenty's table—some pine in poverty's
contracted cells. Purple and splendor deck a Dives—Lazarus lies a
beggar at the gate. Some work at looms—others in fields. Some
climb the mast—others handle the spade. Some exercise the mental
powers—others strain the muscles of the body. Some soar in
literature's highest flights—some crawl unlettered to the grave.
Some guide a nation's counsels—others are instruments to execute
these laws. Some are exalted to far higher work. They are
ambassadors for Christ. Their office is to tell aloud His wondrous
love—to rouse the slumbering—to feed Christ's flock—to uplift
thoughts from earth—to spread soul-renovating truths—to build up
saints in their most holy faith.
But perfect wisdom rules these varieties on life's stage. No being
enters or recedes, but in accordance with God's will. He speaks—
they live. He speaks—they die. Entrance and exit are in His hand. At
His decree all kings, all beggars, breathe and expire. Both times and
stations are allotted by His mind. He raises to the pinnacles of earth
—or veils in seclusion. He leads to walks known and observed by all,
or hides in garrets of obscurity. Let then the child of God live,
rejoicing in his day and lot. No change would be improvement. He
best can serve his generation, and advance his soul-concerns, by
working cheerfully in his assigned position.
Believer, when you distinctly see the beckoning cloud; when you set
forth, or rest, submissive to clear guidance; banish fears—cast out
all doubts—lift up the happy head—clap the exulting hands—rejoice
—give thanks. A heavenly Father cannot set you in wrong place. A
loving Savior cannot lead you in wrong paths. A gracious Spirit
cannot endow you with wrong gifts. All is well. Look up and follow,
and, as you follow, sing, "Rejoice, Zebulun, in your going out—and
Issachar in your tents."
Next, there is WORK, in which these tribes concur. They are
described as zealous to bring others to know God—"They shall
call the people unto the mountain—there they shall offer the
sacrifices of righteousness." These words exhibit missionary
features. We seem to see them mourning for ignorance, and longing
to impart truth—hating darkness, and yearning to infuse light;
loving the one true God, and ardent to call the wandering to His fold
—the heavy-laden to His rest—the worshipers of stocks and stones
to Zion, the Gospel-mount.
Grace had made them to differ from the world around. Revelation
had taught them the way of life. They had received Christshadowing ordinances. Their worship was not degraded rites of
ignorance. Their altar and their victims were typal of the sinremoving Lamb. Their services were bright with God's own truth.
Thus, with burning hearts, they called the people unto the
mountain, where they offered the sacrifices of righteousness. They
would not know, and love, and serve, alone.
Believer, catch hence a gale to fan the fire kindled in your soul. Each
child of God—in heart—in lip—in life—should be a flame of
enterprising zeal. Is he enlightened—called—selected—converted—
pardoned—comforted—sanctified—saved—only that SELF may live?
Away with such unworthy thought. Let the low slaves of Satan, let
poor paltry worldlings, shiver in the freezing atmosphere of SELF.
Let their desires, with unplumed wing, hang heavily around their
ease—their profit—their indulgence—their debasing lusts. But let
faith soar in higher regions, and break forth in grander efforts, and
spread in more ennobled work. Surely its sympathies should grasp
the total family of man! Surely its love should travel round the
circuit of the globe! Surely its cry should ever call poor sinners to
the cross!
Awake, then, arouse; be up, be doing. What! shall souls perish,
while you sleep? Shall hell enlarge its borders, while you loiter?
Shall Satan push on his triumphs, and you look on indifferent?
Shall superstition thrive, and you be silent? Shall ignorance grow
darker, and you care not? Forbid it, every feeling of pity—tenderness
—humanity—compassion. Forbid it, every thought of a soul's
boundless worth. Forbid it, all the unutterable wonders wrapped in
the name, eternity. Forbid it, every pious wish to snatch immortals
from undying woe—and to upraise them to undying bliss. Forbid it,
all your love to Jesus' glorious name—all your deep debt to His
atoning blood—all your delight in His appeasing cross. Forbid it, all
your hope to see His face in peace—and sit beside Him on His
throne—and ever bask in heaven's unclouded sunshine. Forbid it,
your deliverance from hell—your title-deeds to heaven. Forbid it,
your constant prayer, "Hallowed be Your name—Your kingdom
come—Your will be done." Forbid it, your allegiance to His rule—the
statutes of His kingdom—the livery, which you wear. Forbid it, His
awakening example—His solemn and most positive command.
Forbid it, every motive swelling in a Christian heart.
Up, then, and act. Soul-death meets you at each turn. The world in
its vast wideness perishes untaught. The spacious fields are neither
tilled nor sown. The many millions are heathen—and therefore
rushing hell-ward. Help, then, the missionary cause. You may—you
can—you should. The need is for men—for means. Can you go
forth? Let conscience answer. If not, you yet can pray, and give.
Write shame—write base ingratitude—write treason to Christ's
cause on every day, which sees no effort from you for the heathen
world.
Read not in vain how Zebulun and Issachar subserved this cause.
They called the people to the mountain. They strove to increase the
sacrifices of righteousness.
The blessing adds, "They benefit from the riches of the sea and the
hidden treasures of the sand." God will enrich them. Their traffic
shall collect plenteous store. They trade for their God, and their
trade shall be full wealth. Who ever lost, who worked for Him!
Remember, that all gain is gainless, if unconsecrated. The
worldling's bags have holes—his barns soon empty—his coffers
have no locks. Treasure laid out for God is laid up in safe keeping.
Believer, come then, restore to God what He entrusts to you. It will
be paid back. But with what interest? God only knows. And on what
day? When the returning Lord shall reckon—when the applauding
voice shall say, "Well done, good and faithful servant—enter into the
joy of your Lord." Matt. 25:21. But now you may have happy
foretaste.
Will any put these humble lines aside, without much inward
search? Let it not be so. Let every heart enquire, Lord, am I Yours?
Is my inheritance among Your chosen flock? Do I lie down in their
fair pastures? Do I draw water from their wells of life? Am I Your
Zebulun—Your Issachar? Is my life a clear testimony, that I serve
Christ? Do I show, that I am alive by many infallible proofs? Acts.
1:3.
If not, oh! let the prayer be heard, 'Lord, make me Yours, and keep
me Yours forever. If other lords have held me in their chains, may
the vile bondage cease. Accept me, worthless as I am. "Draw me—we
will run after You." Fit me—enable me—and my whole life shall be
delighted service. Supply me with the oil of grace, and then the
flame of glowing toil shall blaze. A Zebulun and Issachar in privilege
will always be a Zebulun and Issachar in zeal
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:52:11 GMT -5
The Lion Tribes
"Of Gad he said, Blessed be he, that enlarges Gad—he dwells, as
a lion." "And of Dan he said, Dan is a lion's whelp." Deut.
33:20, 22.
Moses said this about the tribe of Gad: "Blessed is the one who
enlarges Gad's territory! Gad is poised there like a lion to tear
off an arm or a head.
Moses said this about the tribe of Dan: "Dan is a lion's cub,
leaping out from Bashan." Deut. 33:20, 22
Our God omits no mode to impress holy lessons on His children's
hearts. At one time simple precepts manifest His will—and plain
injunctions guide to duty's path. Now, nature's volume
lends similitudes. We learn to avoid evil—to seek ornaments of
grace—from objects open to our sense.
There is much wisdom in this figurative teaching. It speaks a
language known in every climate. It introduces thoughts alike
familiar in the scholar's hall, and in the poor man's cottage. It
strikes a note, which every class, and state, and grade have ears to
hear.
Examples throng the Bible-page. Thus lambs, which innocently
sport, are chosen, as fit emblems of meek humility and gentle
patience. The serpent's subtlety supplies the pattern of intelligence
—"Be wise, as serpents." The dove adjoins the model of sweet
inoffensiveness—"And harmless, as doves." The eagle's lofty flight
teaches, how faith should soar on high—"Those who wait on the
Lord, shall renew their strength—they shall mount up with wings,
as eagles." Is. 40:31. To inculcate courage, and a noble front,
the Lion shows its form. And that the lesson should take deeper
root, two Tribes illustrate it. Gad "dwells, as a Lion." "Dan is a Lion's
cub."
Believer, this picture has a voice—at all times needed—and not least
so in our compromising day. Hear it. And may the mighty Spirit help
you, while you listen, to put on strength, as a belt, and courage, as a
heroic panoply! The Lion is the forest's KING. He moves preeminent above all beasts.
He is as monarch among lower tribes.
Superiority is his conceded right.
Such is the Christian's stand among earth's sons. It is a mighty word
—"He has made us kings and priests unto God and His Father." Rev.
1:6. It is a glorious title—"You are a chosen generation—a royal
priesthood." 1 Pet. 2:9.
The mass of human race reach not this rank. They raise not this
elevated brow. They show not this princely demeanor. Their tastes
are groveling and vile. They only care to sip the vulgar cup of time
and sense. Their sin-soiled garments and polluted feet prove, that
they wallow in defiling mire. Even liberty is unknown. The clash of
heavy chains attests their bondage. Satan drags them—and they
must obey. The world gives laws—they tremblingly submit. They
crouch the slaves of many an insulting tyrant.
Believer, you only are the freedman of the Lord. You have found
liberty in Christ. "If the Son shall make you free, you shall be free
indeed." John 8:36. You serve a Prince, who calls His subjects to be
kings. You are a royal citizen of heaven. Then live as heir of glory.
Walk Lion-like in holy majesty of grace.
We thus are led to mark the glory of this kingly animal. It is his
strength and courage.
1. Strength. His sinews are as iron. His limbs are braced with
might. All, who resist him, fall an easy prey. To him to fight is
victory. Assailed, he vanquishes. Assailing, he subdues. Throughout
the plain—the forest—and the hill, there is no power, which can
match with his.
Here, again, is the believer's image. He is endued with inward
prowess. But this is not poor nature's gift. All enter life alike—feeble
in heart, in spirit, in resolve. All are the victims of an enervating
sickness—sin. This plague weakens, as a palsy. It undermines the
total fabric. The inner man, under its touch, is worthless, as a
tottering reed—a broken bow—a quivering leaf—the empty chaff—
the bubble's froth.
What has sin done? Ruin follows in its rear. Through it, the vessel,
once so noble, crumbles as a wreck—the tree, once so stately, lies
low—the fortress, once so strong, is robbed of gates—spoilers may
enter—none drives them back.
Believer, I appeal to you. You alone are able to reply. Are these dark
colors darker than the truth? Look back. Let unregenerate days tell
their sad tale. What was your unconverted state? Had you ability to
vanquish evil? Did you present indomitable front against the
enemy's attacks? Did you stand firm, as adamantine rock, against
the lashing surges of iniquity? Conscious memory and downcast
shame confess, no strength was in you.
This is the common case throughout our race, until help comes
from heaven. How easy is the proof! How sad! Take any worldling. A
temptation meets him. A gilded bait allures. A sweet indulgence
opens its inviting arms. What follows? The silly moth is caught.
Pleasure whispers, 'Come and partake'. Desire acquiesces. Nature
surrenders. No godly principle forbids. Conscience is mute. Thus
yielding frailty proves, how frail is man. Thus Satan leads his crowds
down misery's downward slope. Quickly—easily—they glide along.
The rolling pebble has no power to stop. The sinking vessel has no
buoyancy to rise. The downhill torrent is incapable of turning.
Here is the one reply to the inquiry—'Why is this world such a wide
sea of evil? Why do earth's multitudes roll so easily to hell?' Satan
assails and wins. The weak heart weakly yields. The mind—the
passions—lack firmness to resist. Thus the strong foe takes
strengthless man a captive at his will.
Believer, I look again to you. Is such your present case? I mark the
grateful adoration of your soul. I hear your praises swelling to the
skies. I see your eye sparkling with thanksgiving love. You testify,
"Once I was feeble, as feebleness can be. Weakness is a weak
description of my nothingness of power. But now I am made strong,
and all my strength is in my Savior's arms, and by my Savior's side,
and through my Savior's help, and from my Savior's Spirit. He now
works with me—in me—for me. And so I work and prosper. He is my
battle-axe—my bow—my spear—my sword. He nerves my muscles.
He fortifies my breast. He frames my armor, and He girds me with
it. He bids me to go forward, and He Himself precedes. Thus my
poor worm-like heart becomes in Christ a Lion. If I sink not—if I
prevail—if I subdue—the power is His—the grace is His—to Him I
give the praise, and on His brow I place my victory's crown."
But you deny not, that the fight continues to be very fierce.
Temptations have not ceased to tempt. The world remains the
world. Flesh still is flesh. Traitors still dwell within. Satan still
hates. His wrath increases. With craftier stratagem he marks his
opportunities, and lays his snares. There is no day, when allurement
spreads not some net. Woe would be yours, if Jesus were not ever
near. But He is near, ministering real strength. Thus you hold on.
Thus you hold out.
It is a miracle of grace, when thus the little flock gains trophies,
"strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might." It is divine
empowerment, when thus experience shouts, "I can do all things
through Christ, who strengthens me." Aid from heaven is supplied,
and then the old serpent flees. Victory comes, because the Lion of
the tribe of Judah helps. Wonder of wonders! In Jesus' might, the
weakest heart—the feeblest will—with Lion's strength, beats back all
hell.
Believer, ever remember, then, where your true power lies. Take not
one step, approach no work, except armored in a Savior's grace.
Appalling instances record, how saints have stumbled, when they
have ventured forth alone. Abraham flinched. Noah sinned foully.
Jacob stooped to fraud. David tumbled into filthiest mire. Peter
acted a coward's part.
Seek not excuse for such vile falls in nature's frailty, or in evil's
power. Nature is frail. Evil is mighty. But here is the fault—Faith did
not grasp the ready sword. Prayer did not ask the ready aid. Learn
from these instances to meet Goliath in the name of God. And then
fear not. You will stand Lion-like in strength.
Does any poor sinner, pierced by many a wound—bemired by many
a fall—tottering at each step beside a precipice's edge—read these
lines? Sir, turn not from the encouragement of this Gospel-truth.
You yet may obtain strength to trample down your perils and your
foes. You live. Your many wounds have not brought death. In these
present words another warning meets you. Is not this the Savior's
call? Come, then, and join yourself to Him, and all His might is
yours—and you will triumph with those, who, through His blood,
have overcome. Cease to grovel a crushed worm. Become a
Christian Lion.
2. Courage. Lions to their strength add courage. They never know
timidity. Valiantly they face all danger. Fearlessly they rush to the
attack. No multitude of beasts or men alarm them. As power is in
their limbs, so bravery fills their hearts.
This quality again portrays the child of God. When heavenly
commands are clear, unflinchingly he obeys. He confers not with
flesh and blood. Despite all threats, he steadfastly advances. His
only fear is, lest he should fear. He only trembles, lest he should
tremble.
See the three captive youths. The tyrant menaced. They stood alone
against an empire. What! shall they yield? No, rather, welcome the
furnace—the agony—the flame. They failed not God. God failed not
them. He made them bold as Lions. And their fame lives among
faith's heroes.
See Daniel. Command is urgent. Shall his knees leave their beloved
employ! Shall he address a worm, though king, in prayer! The
thought is keener torture, than the Lion's teeth. With open window
bravely he worships. His courage conquers. The lions' mouths are
closed. The tyrant's heart is turned.
See, too, the Baptist. He fears not Herod's might. Fearlessly he drags
to light the darling sin. He chooses truth and prison, and death;
rather than unfaithfulness and ease. Where he sees error, there his
mouth is open to reprove.
Believer, let it be so with you. What though falsehood's guise be
specious—and high authority endorse it—and brilliant gifts
commend it—and pliant worldlings fondle it—and gilded honors
follow in its rear—if the cup holds one poison drop—if statements
swerve one hair-breadth from Gospel-truth, then, with Lion valor
let your voice scare the traitor. Thus Paul resisted Peter to the face.
So, too, courageously confess Christ. This often needs a martyr's
spirit. When friends desert—and the world sneers—and blight
descends on prospects—and Gospel-truth seems linked with trouble
—it needs a Lion's heart to testify, 'None but Jesus—none but
Jesus!' But thus the Apostles, menaced with near death, preached
Christ more fully and more clearly. Their hearts were faith. Their
faith was courage. Their courage was success.
A noble army of confessing saints beckon us onward in this path.
Ignatius moved with a Lion's heart to meet his grave in lions' jaws.
May his bold words be cherished, while the world endures! "Now do
I begin to be a disciple of my Master Christ." Luther stands with
Lion's courage re-echoing Paul's resolve. "None of these things
move me." In this grand spirit he exclaimed, "Though there were
devils many as the tiles on the roofs of Worms, I shall go forward."
Come, then, believer, be you, too, as a Lion for your Lord. Boldly
devise great plans. Heroically act them out. Let neither earth nor
hell intimidate. Your cause is good. Your call is from God's throne.
Your help is sure. What promises encourage! What triumphs are at
hand! Only be very courageous. Be not a coward in the camp of
Christ—for Judah's Lion expects Lion-followers.
Gad dwells as a Lion. Dan is a Lion's cub. Will you be less?
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:55:45 GMT -5
The Last Tribes
"Of Naphtali he said, O Naphtali, satisfied with favor, and full with
the blessing of the Lord, possess the west and the south. And of
Asher he said, Let Asher be blessed with children; let him be
acceptable to his brethren; and let him dip his foot in oil. Your
shoes shall be iron and brass; and as your days, so shall your
strength be." Deut. 33:23-25.
Naphtali and Asher now appear. They are the last in order—not the
least in favor. Their blessing proves again the truth often stated,
that the treasury of God is a vast mine. It bestows much—but much
ever remains. The sun has poured down floods of rays on a long
train of generations, but the streams cease not—the fountain is not
impoverished. The elders of faith's house have been most
plenteously enriched, but we may still as plenteously obtain. Store
upon store—wealth upon wealth—grace upon grace—still fill the
heavenly coffers. There is no end, no limit. Full hands are ever open
to dispense. Abundant gifts in ages past still leave abundant gifts for
present and for future days.
My soul, if you are poor, it is not because God's blessings fail. Let
faith not cease to bring its empty vessels, they will not cease to be
supplied. "He gives more grace." Jam. 4:6.
Mark, how Naphtali's rich portion confirms this. This tribe is
"satisfied with favor, and full with the blessing of the Lord."
Possession of the west and south is also granted. Their lot is fixed in
fertile and healthful spots. The goodly fruits, which crowned their
baskets—the choice position of their lands—their sheltered valleys—
their inland sea, fulfilled this promise. Nurtured, in nature's richest
lap, they reveled in favor and in blessings.
But the possession thus granted seems to hint at nobler gain. When
Jesus put on our flesh, and trod our earth, this tribe was chosen as
His frequented home. Here stood Capernaum—the scene of His
most mighty works. Here He displayed the brightness of those
glorious deeds, which testified divine commission. Here the Godman moved—healing disease—allaying pain—soothing deep misery
—reviving drooping hearts—uttering pure wisdom—fulfilling the
long line of prophecy—lifting high the Gospel beacon. This was
surpassing honor. This was privilege exalting to the very heavens.
"O Naphtali, satisfied with favor, and full with the blessing of the
Lord," your eyes were privileged to see incarnate Deity.
Believer, come now and trace in NAPHTALI'S distinguished lot,
the features of your happy case. Is not this picture drawn, that you
may realize your plenteous treasures? You, too, are "satisfied with
favor." You, too, are "full with the blessing of the Lord."
"Satisfied with favor." You once were dead in trespasses and sins.
You moved a living carcase with a lifeless soul. Your every step was
hellward. Your every moment hurried you towards endless woe.
Your life was ignorance—rebellion—slavery—disgrace. But now the
darkness is dispersed, and true light shines. You see the cross. You
use the blood. You stand in a new world of spiritual delight. You are
a new creation of thought—affection—hope—desire. You live for
God—to God—with God—in God.
But whence the change? Did it result from nature and your own
resolve? Did rolling years beget this wisdom? Oh! no. You owe the
whole to sovereign grace. God, of His own free will, looked down
with favor on your ruined soul. His favor gave you, as a jewel, to His
Son—and gave His Son to be your uttermost salvation. His favor
sent the Spirit to make you one, by faith, with Christ. Thus all things
are yours. Child of grace, do you not rapturously sing, I am indeed a
Naphtali, "Satisfied with favor!"
"Full," too, "with the blessing of the Lord." Happy state! The Father
ever lives to bless. Jesus ever reigns to bless. The Spirit ever works
to bless. The morning dawns, that blessings may descend. The day
goes on, that blessings may proceed. The clouds, which seem to
portend storms, bring showers of blessing. Life is a blessing, while it
lasts. Death is a blessing, when it comes. Trials—afflictions—losses
—temptations—are blessings, because they wean from earth. When
time is left behind, and eternity reviews life's journey; then will the
truth stand prominently out, that each saint's cup was "full with the
blessing of the Lord."
But Naphtali's distinction was, that Jesus chose it as His earthly
dwelling. Believer, have not you similar delight? Your soul is
Jesus' home. He, whom no heavens can hold—He, to whom infinity
is a mere speck—scorns not to abide within you. "I am come into my
garden, my sister, my spouse." You may always realize His present
smile. You may always hold sweet communion. You may ever
whisper to His ready ear, and catch the joy of His replying voice.
You may always lean upon His arm, and rest upon His breast. Christ
dwells in your heart by faith.
Moses looks on from Naphtali to ASHER. His is the final blessing.
It is largely bounteous. It seals again the truth, that God delights to
scatter favors with unsparing hand. It has a voice still calling
believers to a treasure-house, where they may ask with open mouth,
and take with open hand.
"Let Asher be blessed with children—let him be acceptable to his
brethren—and let him dip his foot in oil. Your shoes shall be iron
and brass—and as your days, so shall your strength be." Deut. 33:25.
Out of this crowded diadem only the last sparkling gem can be
examined. But is it not a jewel far exceeding this world's boasted
wealth! "As your days, so shall your strength be." This promise
intimates the fact, that days will vary. As in nature, clouds screen
the sun—and storms descend—and tempests rage—and hurricanes
sweep fearfully—and rapid changes come—so is it in the life of
grace. The morning brightness often gives way to mid-day gloom.
The mid-day gloom brings in evening wildness. The skies are now
serene—we look above on one expanse of clearest blue—now the
scene varies, and thick darkness frowns, or forked lightning darts its
angry shafts. Faith has no lofty seat, which trials cannot reach—and
no seclusion, which distress cannot invade. But it has a rock, from
which no foes can shake—the rock is Asher's blessing, "As your
days, so shall your strength be."
Strong in this pledge—bold in this might—safe in this safety—
confident in this security—impregnable within this fort—happy in
this happiness, faith feels, "I shall not be injured, or destroyed. Days
may be dark and sad; I may be sorely buffeted; but strength shall be
enough. All earthly props may fall, but I shall stand. All human
friends may flee, but I shall not be left alone. All trials may in turn
assail, but they shall not prevail. Satan may hurl each dart, but a
strong shield shall ward them off. All snares may be most craftily
laid, but they shall not destructively entangle. The world may use its
every enticing art, but I shall be enabled to escape. It may mutter its
threats, but I have a sufficient refuge. I may be tempted—persecuted
—wronged—but not cast down. I often may fear. I often may see a
yawning precipice before my feet. The ground may tremble. But I
am safe. I hold a saving promise—"As your days, so shall your
strength be."
Faith can fly back, and commune with the elder saints. It hears from
all the self-same story. We had a course through stormy seas, where
billows tossed, and rocks were sharp, and quicksands opened their
engulfing jaws. But our barks rode triumphant to the haven. As our
days, so was our strength.
Jacob speaks of an outcast life—and many enemies—and
overwhelming griefs—and lonely tremblings—and inward fears—but
still strength was built up. He held on to the end. He testifies, The
Angel redeemed me from all evil. David presents a painful chart.
What cruel hate of men! what thirstings for his blood! what foul
assaults of Satan! what stumbles! ah! what falls! His soul-life often
seemed trodden in the dust. But he revives. Oil of grace supplies the
flickering lamp. The heaven-lit flame never expires. Others are
bound, and dragged to torturing flames; but they survive. The
menace cannot overcome. The fire cannot consume. Their day is
very terrible, but strength endures. Others are cast a prey to angry
beasts, but their peace is as a placid lake. The outward scene is wild
affright, but their souls never quake. The Lord is with them, and
their strength abides.
View Paul and Silas in the inmost cell. Their wounds are smarting—
the dungeon is deep—the chains clash heavily. But inward comfort
flows in full tide. Thanksgivings swell. They loudly sing, and bless a
loving God.
Mark the heroic calmness of the early preachers of the faith.
Threats and imprisonment are their lot. They feel, as men; but they
rejoice, as saints. They neither faint nor fail. They sit unmoved amid
an earthquake of alarms. As their days, so is their strength. It is
Paul's glad acknowledgment—but not Paul's sole experience
—"Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." "I can do all things through
Christ, who strengthens me." Martyrs and confessors press forward
to give like witness. They joy in anguish—they embrace the stake—
they hug encircling flames. They find, that days are often terrible,
but never without needful strength. Was Stephen left without
support, when, with angelic look, he kneeled down, and, praying for
his murderers, amid a shower of stones, fell tranquilly asleep?
The whole bright throng around the throne attest the same. They
passed through many perils—sorrows—fights—but heavenly
strength braced their loins—sustained their hearts—fanned their
desponding spirits—and made them more than conquerors. From
every lip one testimony sounds. The word is true, "As your days, so
shall your strength be."
Believer, tremble not. Take courage. Go forward. You may be young,
and a long course may open to your view. Foes must infest it. You
have no promise, that trials will not come. Satan spares none. He
grants no Sabbath of repose. But face the worst, bold and serene in
Christ. Hold fast the staff of grace. Trust and fear not. Trust and
pray always. Trust and plead this word. It is not Asher's only. It is
your portion. You will surely find, "As your days, so shall your
strength be."
You may be worn with malady, and tottering down the valley of
years. You may dread Jordan's waves, and the cold touch of death.
But clasp the promise. The greater need brings the more large
support. How many tremblers have gone triumphantly to
rest! Christ's love exceeds all hopes. His merciful fulfillments
surpass each pledge. He cannot fail. He cannot disappoint. Come
what may—this will be true, "As your days, so shall your strength
be."
But faithfulness must add, that these rich mercies are not Israel's
portion only. Those who are Christ's, possess, and claim, and use,
and joy in them. They, who reject Him, see but a casket, which they
open not. Their days have trouble without strength. Their future
will have misery without end. Let not such turn from Naphtali and
Asher until they share what Naphtali and Asher gained from God.
The blessings of these tribes may yet, through grace, be sought and
found.
Eternal Spirit, mighty source of light and inward life, give Your help!
Open each eye to see the beauty, riches, blessedness, and glory of
God's heritage. Stir up each heart to wrestle, until the word is heard
—"Great is your faith, be it done unto you, even as you will."
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:56:38 GMT -5
Israel's God
"There is no one like the God of Jeshurun (Israel), who rides on
the heavens to help you and on the clouds in His majesty."
Deut. 33:26
This is the fervid exclamation of a soul acquainted with its God. The
tongue would adequately praise, but language fails. Struggling
efforts cannot do more than say, "There is no one like Him."
For one moment strive to estimate the worth of this attainment.
Other knowledge is but darkness beside this light. All discoveries of
art and science are low as dust, contrasted with this pearl. Let the
expanded intellect take wing, and soar through all the skies above.
Let the celestial orbs be counted in their course. Let the earth's
depths be traced. Let hidden wonders be brought forth to view. Let
history tell the annals of the past. Let literature spread her storied
page. Let keen investigation scrutinize the intricate machinery of
the human heart. When all is learned, which mental power has ever
grasped, what is the total worth, compared with understanding of
our God!
Other knowledge vanishes with time—and time is but a tiny speck.
This knowledge is ever growing through eternity. It has an endless
life. Other acquirements bring no inward peace, and heal no
conscience-wounds, and gladden no dying beds. This removes every
fear and spreads a holy calm. As is the value of the soul saved, such
is the value of God truly known.
Reader, as you would live in bliss forever, obtain, then, this prize.
But search for it aright. God is revealed. He may be seen. But only in
the Gospel-mirror, and in the face of Christ. Here only, the
concealing curtains are withdrawn. Here only, can distinct display
be found. But here the sun shines forth in perfect beauty and
unclouded glory. Here every attribute appears in proper place, in
just proportion, in blended harmony. The cross is the truth-showing
text-book. Come then to it. The Spirit helping, while you gaze, you
will take up the song, "There is no one like the God of Jeshurun."
Look up—behold the wondrous testimony. First, characters of
glowing light announce—"God is love." This is a truth established
only here. Read through creation's volume. Evidence, indeed, of
mighty wisdom and preserving care abounds. Elaborate effects
prove the consummate skill of the fabricating cause. Arrangements
to promote happiness are clearly, largely, and benevolently made.
But this fair picture has a reverse. Hurricanes and tempests sweep
the earth. The storm destroys. The pestilence extends its desolating
scythe. Disease preys almost upon every frame. We pity the feeble
limb—the moody wanderings of unsound thought—the sorrowing
parent—the bereaved child—the mourning widow. We turn from
tears, and misery, and crime, and ask with a disquiet sigh, "Are
these the orderings of perfect love?"
Approach the page of providence. It is a wheel moved by an
unseen hand. Its constant motion asserts constant agency. But its
results perplex and puzzle. Today events cause happiness to
overflow. Tomorrow witnesses a flood of woe—affliction—loss—
distress. We doubt—we hesitate—we cannot surely say, "This ruling
power is love."
We hear the proclamation of God's law. We listen eagerly. But awe
and terror meet us. It speaks, indeed. But all is the sternness of
inflexible decree. Give unimpaired obedience. Bring righteousness
without one flaw—one speck—one stain. Show a whole course of
strict compliance with strict terms. Then life eternal is secured. But
if there be transgression—then take the curse, and perish
everlastingly; for heaven's doors are closed, and wrath is the fixed
penalty. Offence must reap its wages, where pardon never comes,
and fires never quench, and anguish never ceases. What child of
Adam's blinded race can commune with the law, and thence
conclude, that God is love?
Now place beside these doubts the exhibitions of the cross. There
God surrenders His own Son to shame—to agony—to death. He lays
on Him the crushing burden of His people's sins. He puts a cup of
infinite woe into those blameless hands. He bruises the innocent,
that He may spare the transgressor. He slays the guiltless, that He
may release the guilty.
O my soul, gaze on this fact. Feast on its consolations. Mark well its
story. You need not die, for Jesus dies. You may escape hell-pains. A
substitute suffers in your place. No punishment remains. The storm
breaks on a substituted head. The vials hold no wrath for you. Your
gracious Lord exhausts each drop. But this Savior—so sufficient—so
complete, is God's free gift. What, then, is this giving God? Surely
you shout, He is perfect love. The cross unravels every doubt.
"There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun."
Again, mercy is a sparkling attribute. God is rich in mercy. His
ever-enduring mercy reaches unto the heavens. But where is the
proof? We find it at Calvary. For what is mercy, but tender love
sympathizing and relieving misery, and longing to bring ease? And
is not this the trumpet-language of the cross? Christ thus expiring is
surest evidence, that God's heart yearns to relieve wretchedness—to
chase unhappiness away—to introduce delight and peace.
God also reigns upon a throne of grace. But the cross alone
establishes this truth. For what is grace, but love looking with favor
on undeserving worms—on lost ones, whose whole desert is
punishment—on criminals, whose silent lips can urge no plea—
whose downcast heads confess deep guilt. Grace finds at Calvary an
open door, and free opportunity to enter on this noble work. There
it pardons, and receives, and saves, and snatches from hell the
rebels, who are nothing but iniquity. Faith sees this clearly in the
wounded Jesus, and cries, God is all grace. "There is none like unto
the God of Jeshurun."
Is justice God's essence? Is it so interwoven with His being, that an
unjust God, cannot be truly God? Now justice sternly asks, that
every debt be fully paid, and no demand be set aside? The cross
shows God in all the majesty of unsullied justice—in severity, which
yields no right. He there exacts each due. The sad transgressions of
the chosen race are countless in number—boundless in magnitude.
Each is an incalculable debt. Before the cross the scales are brought;
and a Substitute appears, who more than satisfies. He is supremely
able, for He is divine. He pays a death, in value, far exceeding
thought. Justice cries, "Enough, I am content—Enough, the whole is
paid—Enough, no shadow of a claim remains—Enough, the score is
all wiped out."
Sinner, you cannot enter heaven, if you retain one sin unexpiated.
Justice immovably forbids, and rightly bars the gates.
Believer, no charge remains against you, because your Surety has
infinitely paid. If through eternal ages you had lain in hell, you
might have been forever paying a debt forever great. Jesus by His
one offering clears all away. Now Justice has become your ablest
advocate. That attribute, once so severely adverse, stands your
prevailing friend. God is just and you are justified. Faith reads a full
receipt in Jesus' pierced hands, and intelligently joins in the song,
"There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun."
Holiness, too, is a main pillar of God's government. Unholiness in
Him would overthrow the throne of righteousness, and lower
heaven to hell. But holiness abhors all evil. It cannot look upon an
unclean thing. It frowns iniquity to boundless distance. The impure
cannot face it. Where, then, can the sinner hide? His sin-stains
exclude him from the sight of God. If he should venture near, a holy
voice is heard, "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer
darkness." But at the cross our God is holy, and the sinner saved.
How can it be? Behold the problem solved. Sin is the dire offence.
Let sin but vanish, and holiness is no longer hostile. Its opposition
ceases. But the all-cleansing blood from Jesus' wounds obliterates
each mark of guilt. It changes filth to loveliness—deformity to
beauty—impurity to snow-bright luster. Holiness beholds the bloodwashed multitude. It finds no speck of sin in them. Therefore it
gladly clasps them to its pleased embrace. At the cross, this
holiness, without receding from its loftiest ground, smiles on
transgressors, and welcomes them to God's all-righteous throne.
This is one of Calvary's wonders. Faith clearly sees it—and exults
—"There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun."
Moreover, God must be absolutely true. His word cannot be
shaken. Now truth has clearly spoken. Its edict raises a gigantic
prison round the sons of guilt. Its sentence links them to eternal
death. How then can they escape, who thus are doomed? Come to
the cross and witness. Jesus presents Himself. He asks, O truth,
what is your claim? The answer is distinct. Whatever my lips have
uttered, without one slightest failure, must be done. All, who have
sinned, must take the death denounced. Jesus complies. He lays
down life for each of His redeemed. In Him, His seed all undergo
the uttermost of truth's threat. No tittle is relaxed. Truth remains
true, and a vast multitude ascend to heaven. The cross thus
magnifies this attribute. Faith knows this, and again exclaims,
"There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun."
Another scroll surmounts the cross. It writes the praise of
everlasting wisdom. If any ask, where is wisdom's greatest work;
let him come here and read a scheme, which reconciles seeming
impossibilities. There was a task, before which all created minds
could not but hide their baffled heads. Mercy asks pardon—
Justice demands payment. Grace sues for life—Truth must have
death. Love must admit—Righteousness excludes. But God appears,
leading His Son to the accursed tree—and all are satisfied—
delighted—honored—magnified—exalted—glorified. Not one is
tarnished—not one is set aside. Here is the brightest blaze of
wisdom. The word is true, Christ is the power of God and the
wisdom of God. 1 Cor. 1:24. Again faith shouts, "There is none like
unto the God of Jeshurun."
The real believer adds his individual praise. He can bear witness,
how this incomparable God has sent His Spirit to add personal
experience of these truths. He can record, "This God was once
unknown by me. I lived without Him in the world. But now the
mists are gone. I see Him saving even me in Christ. I claim Him, as
my own. He is my Father. He has brought me to His home—the
bosom of His love. I find Him to be all that Scripture states, and
glowing saints relate, and my enormous need requires. I find Him to
be more. For words from angels' lips cannot tell out half that sea of
grace, on which I float to glory. And now my straining effort is, to
learn more and more. With this desire I meditate and pray at
Calvary. The more I see, the more I love. The more I love, the more I
praise. The more I praise, the more my heart expands. The more my
heart expands, the greater is my peace and joy. "There is none like
unto the God of Jeshurun." How precious is this sight of faith! How
precious will be the sight in heaven!
Happy the soul, whose glad experience thus responds, "There is
none like unto the God of Jeshurun." Reader, is this blessedness
your own? Be well assured, that life is a poor blank, until you know
the peerless God. Let this study be your chief concern. The Spirit
waits to reveal Jesus—and in revealing Jesus, to show Jeshurun's
God. Be not destroyed for lack of saving knowledge. Be not blind
amid abounding light.
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:57:43 GMT -5
God's Israel
"Happy are you, O Israel; who is like unto you, O people saved
by the Lord, the shield of your help, and who is the sword of
your excellency! and your enemies shall be found liars unto
you; and you shall tread upon their high places." Deut. 33:29.
Moses thus speaks—and then on earth his lips forever close. Just as
his spirit spreads enraptured wings—just as he enters into perfect
light—he seems to pause, and take a farewell view of Israel's camp.
He now must leave the flock, for which he long had watched—the
vineyard, in which he long had toiled—the children dearer than his
very life. But he well knows, that they are God's especial care—loved
above all nations of the earth—bound in the bundle of
distinguishing grace. Hence, joying in their joy, and fervent in their
hopes, he cannot check his overflowing heart. His spirit thus finds
vent, "Happy are you, O Israel; who is like unto you, O people
saved by the Lord, the shield of your help, and who is the sword of
your excellency! and your enemies shall be found liars unto you;
and you shall tread upon their high places."
These precious words are obviously, in their first sense, the portion
of those tribes, whose feet now stood on Canaan's confines. But the
treasure is not theirs exclusively. Such thought is far too narrow.
Here is each true believer's lot. This heritage descends to all faith's
sons. It may be claimed by all, who to the end of time, trust in
Christ Jesus—bathe in His blood—put on His righteousness—and
are the temple of His Spirit. Happiness—perfect—heaven-born—
heaven-sent—is their sure property. Here are the pastures, in which
they all are privileged to feed. Happy are you, O child of God, who is
like unto you!
Believer, you, then, are invited to draw out the fragrance, which
these delicious flowers present, and to luxuriate in these pastures of
delight.
What is the first element of this HAPPINESS? What is the richest
savor in this cup? What is the sweetest music in this note? What is
the brightest jewel in this crown? It is salvation—salvation
realized. "Who is like unto you, O people saved." Saved—so that sin
can no more injure, and self no more destroy, and Satan no more
claim—saved, so that soul-misery is infinitely distant—saved, so that
God is your Father—heaven is your home—a throne of glory is your
high seat—and hallelujahs are your eternal song. Is not this
happiness? This joy at once uplifts from earth. Let clouds of trial
gather—let billows of affliction toss—let persecution, threats, and
sneers assail—the heart, which clasps assurance of salvation, sits
high above all other troubles. There is no darkness, where this true
light shines. "Happy are you, O Israel, who is like unto you, O
people saved!"
But assurance of salvation is not firm, unless it rests upon a mighty
rock. This rock is here displayed. It is the Lord—the Lord Himself. It
is Jehovah, strong in omnipotence—"Saved by the Lord!"
Mark well, salvation is the Father's will. He writes the book of
life. He frames the covenant of grace. He cannot change. He cannot
be diverted from His plans. None can obliterate His fixed decrees.
They must be saved, for whom He purposes salvation. Saved by the
Father is sure salvation.
Mark next, salvation is the work of Jesus. He comes, able and
qualified to save to the uttermost. He rescues captive souls from
Satan's grasp. By his blood He puts out the penal flames. By His
strength He shatters every fetter. By His own right hand He tears
down the gates of hell—and clears away all hindrance. He sends His
angels to be guards. He causes all revolving providences to bring
good. He never leaves His happy flock, until the crown is won. They
must be saved, for whom He thus works out salvation. Saved by
Christ is sure salvation.
"Saved by the Lord." No man could help himself. United companies
could bring no aid. The hosts of the angelic world are vain to take
away one sin. Jesus alone is able to achieve such work. Alone He
undertakes. Alone He consummates. Alone He finishes. Thus the
true Israel is "Saved by the Lord."
The eternal Spirit speeds on the wings of love to lend His aid. He
opens blinded eyes to see the glories of the cross. He shows the
grace and beauty of the dying Lamb. He melts the stony heart to
love the precious Lord. He makes the sinner one with Christ by
faith, and so an heir of God. Saved by the Spirit is sure salvation.
This salvation, then, is a sure Rock. Its summit towers above the
heaven of heavens. Its deep foundations cannot be uprooted. It
stands secure—complete—immovable. Nothing can detract from it.
More cannot be added. He must be happy, then, whose feet are set
upon this stable ground. The word is brightly true, "Happy are you,
O Israel, who is like unto you, O people saved by the Lord!"
But perhaps a sigh is heard, 'Will not mighty foes strive to destroy
this happiness?' Foes, indeed, are strong and many. There is SATAN,
hating with terrific hate, and aided with the countless troops of hell.
He comes on, armed with tremendous weapons, each barbed with
venom, each directed with consummate skill, each urged with super
human force. Can he be happy, who hourly stands in such a fight?
There is the WORLD, too, now smiling with seducing arts, now
bitter in sarcastic sneers, now menacing with poverty, contempt,
disgrace, and countless ills.
The FLESH, too, is a restless plague—an Achan in the camp—a viper
nurtured in the breast—a traitor hidden in the recesses of the heart,
ever willing to betray—ever ready to suck life-blood. There must be
danger in such a combat-field—and danger disturbs happiness.
But what, if the defense is so impenetrable—so wide—so near—that
none of these attacks can prosper? What, if a covering shield averts
each point? Then the calm warrior will dwell in blissful peace,
fearless of real hurt.
Now view the fact. Is not a shield prepared for every child of faith?
And that shield, is it not the Lord Himself? Yes, the word loudly
sounds—He is "The shield of your help." He screens. He shelters. He
protects. He keeps unharmed, uninjured, and unwounded.
Adversaries, therefore, must be infinite in number, more than
omnipotent in strength, before they can prevail.
Believer, realize this sure defense. Go forth, brave to encounter
every conflict. Shielded by God, you are as safe, as if the heaven of
heavens were your covert. Behind this panoply you may smile at the
battering rage of the incessant shower, and sing "Happy am I, saved
of the Lord, who is the shield of my help!"
But Zion's warriors are not happy in security alone. They covet
trophies. Laurels must crown their brow. Now to be conquerors they
need offensive weapons. They must give wounds, and smite, and
overthrow. Their hands must wield a sword.
Happy believer! as you have God for a shield, so, too, a sword is
sharpened for your use. It is not of the earth. It is framed by no
human skill. It is from heaven. Therefore it is resistless. It is the
Lord Himself. Therefore it is all-conquering. He is "the sword of
your excellency." Know then your power. Face each opponent.
Advance to the assault. Deal heavy blows. Spare not. The mighty
God strikes with your arm. And when He strikes, each giantadversary must fall low.
Happy are you, so screened! Happy are you, so equipped for
victories! What, though hell's troops move on, proud in their
boastings, swelling in wrathful words of menace! It is added, "They
shall be found liars unto you." Their arrogance shall be, as empty
bubbles. Their vaunting pride shall pass, as the passing wind. Their
threats shall vanish, as the smoke. They may accuse—they may
insinuate a host of doubts—they may suggest, that God will fail, and
your soul perish, before the conflict end. But these vile whisperings
are false. The fight will gloriously end. Your feet shall crush their
necks. The Spirit of truth, by Moses' lips, sounds these grand words
—"Your enemies shall be found liars unto you, and you shall tread
upon their high places."
Reader, I trust, that you now are well taught, where happiness alone
can dwell. Its home is with God's Israel. It is the portion of the
chosen race. It is the heritage of those, who know and love the Lord.
Under the shelter of His wings, His people rest encircled with these
joys. Let such open their eyes to view their happy state. Let them
receive with faith the countless pledges of their God. Is it not said,
"He, that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all,
how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things!" Rom.
8:32. Is it not said, "All things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos,
or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things
to come, all are yours, and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." 1
Cor. 3:21-23. Is it not said, "The ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads—
they shall obtain joy and gladness—and sorrow and sighing shall
flee away." Is. 35:10. Only believe, and become happy in this
happiness. "Happy are you, O Israel." Only believe, and rejoice with
joy unspeakable and full of glory. Faith ever sings, and happy is its
song.
Reader, this tract would sincerely detain you, while it makes a final
effort to impress your heart. Pause, then, and say, is happiness your
lot? Do you arise with morning light to joy? Do you move joyously
throughout the day? Is joy the hand, which bolts your evening door?
Your head hangs down. A sigh tells a sad tale. Your feet have not
attained this happy ground. How is it? You have sought happiness,
but you have sought it, where it never grows. The world, perhaps,
enticed you. It showed a panoramic view of glittering honors—tinsel
wealth—vain titles—empty bubbles of applause—and fading flowers
of visionary peace. You toiled long in the pursuit; and now, wearied
—worn-out—desponding, you confess, the world has been a
miserable cheat.
Perhaps a more refined bait has allured. Perhaps science and
literature's page have courted. For a while you have found
interesting converse with brilliant thoughts, and lofty flights of
intellect. But still you are not happy. There is a void. There is
distress. Conscience is restless and disturbed. The heart finds no
repose on such a pillow. The bark cannot cast anchor on such sand.
"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, and vexation of spirit." Alas! you are
not happy.
Know, then, you never can be, while apart from God. Listen. Turn
not away. Cast not aside these lines. Is it too late? You live. Jesus
still lives. The living word still cries, "Come unto Me, and I will give
you rest." Be, then, persuaded. Approach the cross on bended knees
—with suppliant lip—in deep humility—with earnest prayer. Confess
your need. Avow your willingness to be Christ's. Place your whole
soul and heart in His redeeming hands. Wrestle with Him. Let Him
not go, until your burdens fall, and peace swells like a rising tide. He
can bring back to God. He can assure of pardon. He can reveal His
pierced hands and side. He can bestow the title-deeds of life. He can
admit you, as an adopted child, to the high family of grace. Then you
will fully feel, how true are Moses' last words, "Happy are you, O
Israel; who is like unto you, O people saved by the Lord, the shield
of your help, and who is the sword of your excellency! and your
enemies shall be found liars unto you; and you shall tread upon
their high places."
Holy Spirit, use these humble lines as seed of happiness, now and
ever, to each reader's soul!
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2024 11:58:32 GMT -5
Pisgah
"Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the mountain of
Nebo, to the top of Pisgah." Deut. 34:1.
PISGAH is crowded with instructive thoughts. The scene is solemn,
because death appears, and a wondrous life finds here a wondrous
end. It is holy, for God Himself attends the dying saint, and closes
the dying eyes. But its main interest is the marvel of the distant
prospects thence discerned. Moses ascends the mount. God meets
His faithful servant. All the beauties of the promised land are
spread, as a map, before him. And then he is translated to the
heavenly reality. What annals record similar events!
My soul, with reverence open this treasure-house of profit. Great
Spirit of all light descend, for without Your rays, even Pisgah must
be dark!
Moses lived long. He passed a spacious sea of trial. He trod a
tedious course of trouble. His sighs were many. His spirit was often
pained. But the last step came, and landed him in glory!
Believer, mark this, and gird up your loins. You, too, may experience
a stormy voyage through many billows. But each wave wafts you
nearer to your haven. The last will break—soon—very soon. And
then, where will your sufferings be? Behind—immeasurably distant.
What will be around—before you? Peace—joy—glory. Live, then,
assured, that the end approaches. The hope of rest makes all
disquietudes to fade away. Burdens seem light, when borne for a
brief space. Earth's longest sorrow cannot be long.
Moses goes up with ready step to die. God cheers him with an
outspread prospect. With telescopic glance he is enabled to survey
all the extent of Canaan's lovely land. "And the Lord said unto him,
This is the land, which I swore unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto
Jacob, saying, I will give it unto your seed. I have caused you to see
it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there." Deut. 34:4.
As we thus read, two thoughts arise.
1. God's promises are stable as Himself. His word must be. He
said, "I will give it:" and hands now take the gift.
Believer, watch against UNBELIEF. Hew it to pieces. Tread it to
powder. Give it to the winds. Let no shred survive. It is shame, and
it is folly. It mars your peace. It keeps out floods of joy. Place your
foot firmly on the Word, and rise above all doubts. God's promise,
surely, steadily advances towards fulfillment, as the sun to its
appointed rising.
Add Pisgah to the many proofs. The goodly land, so often pledged,
lies at its base. The happy tribes now reach their lots. So, too, a rest
is promised to the saints of God. There was no failure to Israel.
There will be no failure unto us. Jesus has entered as the
forerunner. He holds possession in His people's name. The keys are
in His hands. He beckons forward. He soon will give the welcome.
The prize is sure to faith.
2. But Moses may not cross the borders. Why? Thoughts of
the heritage had often cheered his heart. His mind with eager wing
had often speeded towards this Canaan. It would have been sweet
joy to have reposed, after long journeyings, in this land. His lips
would have been loud in praise, while witnessing the people settled
in their expected homes. But this cannot be granted. He may behold
from Pisgah's summit. But his feet may not enter.
Why? Sin is the cause. If there be misery, and shame, and
disappointment, these bitter streams may all be traced to sin, as the
sad source. At Meribah his faith had failed. Provoked, he spoke and
acted in unholy haste. His angry words—his blows inflicted on the
rock—dishonored God. He erred in presence of the host. And God
must manifest displeasure. Moses is loved—pardoned—saved. But
he suffers. His death on Pisgah stands as a beacon, warning of sin's
precipice.
Children of God, beware. Be ever on your guard. Watch prayerfully
your spirit, thoughts, and words. We move in midst of wide-spread
nets. Our feet soon are entangled. And then there must be injury.
We may repent, and bitter tears may flow. We may be mercifully
snatched from everlasting pains. We may gain heaven. But still
there always is a sorrow in sin's trail. Let this example settle deeply
in your minds. Moses through sin may not cross Jordan.
This fact is perhaps expressive of another truth. The hands of Moses
brought the tables of the Law. He was its mediating channel. But
this covenant can never convoy souls to heaven. It is weak to open
those bright gates. It is feeble to ascend that lofty hill. Be taught, all
you, who seek acceptance through the code of Sinai. The effort to
fulfill these terms is fool's play. It cannot prosper. It will surely fail.
None enter, with one stain of guilt. None enter, without
righteousness, as pure as God is pure. But the Law never can
remove stains. It never gives a covering for offence. It therefore
admits not to God's presence. It never leads to the celestial rest.
Reader, whatever be your age or state, whatever be your privilege,
one thing is surely true, you are black with countless sins. Turn,
then, from the broken staff of moral guiltlessness to Jesus. He
meets your every need. Leaning on His arm, you may pass Jordan's
waves. Safe by His side you may attain true Canaan's joys. Pure in
His righteousness, you may stand welcome before God.
But Moses on Pisgah not only warns—he also encourages to
rapturous meditation; he leads us by the hand to precious thoughts.
His eye thence traverses a wondrous circuit. Aided by superhuman
power, he roams along the grand expanse of Israel's portion. From
plain to plain—from valley to valley—from hill to hill, he wanders in
entranced delight. What beauty—what fertility—enchant him! He
sees the earthly home, so worthy of God's chosen sons.
Believer, is there no Pisgah, from which you, too, may gaze? There
is. It is the Gospel record. You should by frequent step ascend this
hill. You should release your mind from the poor grovelings of
earthly things. You should seek elevation for your heart in this chart
and picture of the coming bliss.
Jesus invites you to this Pisgah. Without Him, indeed, your daily
walk must be in a squalid marsh. Apart from Him, your horizon is
confined—and hope has no watchtower of survey. But join yourself
to Him. He will conduct you to a lofty seat, and open out a clear
prospective of your sure heritage. Seated by Him, your eye may feast
on promised mansions. He has indeed bought a rich country for
you. And He gives the Gospel as the graphic map.
The Spirit, too, delights to meet you with enlightening aid. He will
give power to apprehend this new Jerusalem; to count the towers;
to go round the buttresses; to mark the palaces. He will confer that
telescopic eye of faith, which scans the valleys, the plains, the
mountains, of your Canaan.
Bright, indeed, is the prospect. It reveals that glorious home, which
is the recompense of Jesus' blood. But what can be a recompense
for divine merit? We estimate things by their price. The price, which
He presents, is infinite. The equivalent, which He wins, is heaven.
This, then, must be a treasure beyond thought.
Again, think by whom these mansions are prepared. Eternal love
suggests their plan. Infinite power executes. Therefore they must be
infinitely perfect. Nothing can be absent, which can contribute to
pure ecstasy.
But Jesus dwells there now, intent on their completion. They are
wondrous words, "I go to prepare a place for you." His grace is an
ocean without shore. Here it flows out in ceaseless employ. His
might is boundless. Here it finds full exercise. Heaven, then, must
be the concentrated blaze of all the happiness, which Jehovah can
contrive and form. My soul, may you reach heaven! Cling to Jesus,
and you cannot fail. Reader, may you reach heaven! Cling to Jesus,
and you cannot fail.
Neglect not, then, the truth, that in the Gospel we are led to a
Pisgah, whence we may survey this home. Let no one say, the
prospect is so dazzling that mortal gaze cannot rest on it. True! the
reality cannot be known by flesh and blood. Bodies, until
transformed into the likeness of the Lord, cannot become
inhabitants. True! heaven in all its blessedness exceeds our present
thought. To know it fully, we must enjoy it for eternal ages. But still
we are encouraged to look forward from our Pisgah's heights.
Believer, strain, then, the eye of faith. Look, look again. No, never
cease to look. There you behold a flood of glory upon glory. There
cannot be improvement. Sin is outside. Temptations have no place.
Tears no more flow. Sighs are no longer heaved. Satan and his
legion are afar in utter darkness. The world has passed away. There
is no longer any fear of grieving God, or falling short, or bringing
shame to Christ's all-glorious name. Righteousness and peace are
the streets and highways. Eternal safety forms the battlements.
Eternal praises sound from all the inhabitants. Eternal glory
sparkles on each brow. Eternal pleasure breathes around. Each
happy saint drinks a cup—so full, that it can hold no more—so pure,
that it cannot be purer—so deep, that everlasting ages cannot
exhaust it. My soul, may you reach heaven! Cling to Jesus, and you
cannot fail. Reader, may you reach heaven! Cling to Jesus, and you
cannot fail.
But when you thus contemplate heaven, especially observe what
is its chief joy. It is God—all—God—everywhere—God manifest,
and gazed on with undazzled eye. It is Jesus ever near—and seen
without an intervening cloud. Here on earth, ofttimes He is hidden,
because sin interposes, and distrust brings mist, and other scenes
attract, and indolence deadens the soul. In heaven there is no
darkening medium. It is eternal vision, and eternal adoration, of
Jehovah, clearly displayed—intensely and entirely loved.
Believer, will you not, then, mount Pisgah, and let thought revel in
anticipating views? Such meditation is heaven on the path to
heaven. It is a foretaste, before earth be left.
Close not this humble volume, without deep resolve. Vow in the
spirit, to consecrate some portion of each day to searchings for
heaven in the Gospel-page. Become knowledgeable of your sure
estate. Be not a stranger to your near country. Often go in, perusing
your own Canaan. And may God meet you, as He met Moses! May
He enlarge your sight to see—your heart to love!
It is true wisdom to cultivate this Pisgah-meditation.
Thus strength is revived, and muscles are nerved to fight and
persevere. The combatant gains vigor, the racer presses on, when he
beholds the crown of victory almost reached. Think much of heaven,
and you will soon be there.
Thus sanctity progresses. Can he love sin, whose soul is ever
conversant with purity? Can he be won by siren-notes of earthly
pleasure, whose ears are ever drinking in the hallelujahs of the
saved?
Thus cares grow light. Can his head hang down, or his breast sigh,
who is by constant thought an inhabitant of the realms of bliss?
Thus death is welcomed as the friend, who comes to change longcherished hope into reality. Thus Jesus more and more is prized
and loved. We bless Him in proportion as we feel, that heaven is the
purchase of His grace, His work, His blood. When we say, He earned
it—He bestows it. Then we add, 'To Him be hourly praise—for Him
let every moment toil.'
Happy they, who gather such rich harvest on Pisgah's summit!
Spirit of God, strengthen my sight for such delightful gaze! Spirit of
God, use these poor pages to attract pilgrims to this mount!
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