Gathering Jewels Part 31

Christ Himself will administer this rest to the believer in the Heavenly Kingdom. Just as He is the source of peace and quiet here on earth, so is He at this moment surrounded with the saints triumphant in glory, imparting perpetual peace in the paradise of G.o.d to all the bright spirits who loved Him on earth, and kept His commandments.

Yonder they enjoy eternal Sabbathism.

Let us fear, therefore, lest haply a promise being left of entering into rest, any of you should seem to come short of it through unbelief.

For indeed we have good tidings preached unto us, and we which believe do enter into that rest.

Alford, in speaking of the rest on earth that resembles the rest of Heaven, says: "Our Lord does not promise (here below) freedom from toil or burdens, but rest to the soul." The rest and joy of the Christian soul is to become like Christ. To the young men, who surrounded her dying couch, she said: "_Avoid bad company, learn of Christ_; seek to be like Him, little by little." It is no wonder King David said, "As for me I will behold Thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness."

But we are to behold the royal dignity of the Redeemer, and be brought forth into a large place because He delighted in us. Yes! to die is gain. Oh! wondrous change: To behold His illimitable power and partake of His consummate wisdom and knowledge. One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; "that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple, for in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion. The Christian is secure at death; he has a building of G.o.d, an house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens."

Here we have a continual conflict; but yonder we are made more than conquerors through Him who loved us. Here we are sinful and short-sighted; but yonder we shall partake of His perfect holiness and inexhaustible love and Divine penetration in the Heavenly Kingdom. Yes to die is infinite gain.

The spiritual enjoyment of the soul in the land of light is indescribable. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which G.o.d hath prepared for them that love Him." Yonder you shall behold the glory of G.o.d in the face of Jesus Christ.

You know this was a portion of the parting prayer of Jesus for His disciples. He said: "Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory." There is but a step between us and it. There is but a thin veil that parts us from the beatic vision of the blest.

I once entered the beautiful harbor of Cronstadt, in Russia, and I distinctly remember that the entrance was so narrow and land-locked, that we could scarcely discern its precise location until we had suddenly entered it. The pa.s.sage from earth to Heaven is not unlike the ending of the voyage of a ship, even although many of them reach the harbor in a dismantled condition. Many a storm has been encountered, and while sails have been torn to shreds, yet the gallant bark has outweathered the gale and has escaped rocks, and quicksands, and whirlpools of destruction. But now the gale is hushed forever, the sails are all furled, the anchor is cast out, and she rides securely in the harbor where storms cannot affright. Glorious port of peace! Oh, blessed and triumphant entry! To go no more out forever; where the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them and lead them unto living fountains of water, and G.o.d Himself shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.

Beautiful valley of Eden, Sweet is thy noon-tide calm, Over the hearts of the weary, Breathing thy waves of balm.

Home of the pure and blest; How often amid the wild billows, I dream of thy rest, sweet rest.

It was the glimpse of this rest beyond the river that lit up the pale cheek of our dear, dying sister, with seraphic brightness and beauty.

"All my fountains are in thee," said the Psalmist. G.o.d is the author of holiness. In John's vision of Heaven, he describes the four living creatures, having each of them six wings, round about and within, and they have no rest day and night, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord G.o.d Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come."

The great object therefore of the Gospel of the blessed G.o.d is to transform us into the Divine image. Another of our sister's dying utterances was very forcible, "_Now I have got to the edge of the river._"

"Only just across the river, Over on the other side."

We all with open face beholding as in a mirror, the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image.

It is thus G.o.d's people become meet for the holy inheritance. Here we have to cry out, "Oh, wretched man, who shall deliver me from the body of this death;" yonder the Spirit's work has gloriously triumphed. The believer's holiness is effectually accomplished in Heaven. Blessed are they that wash their robes, that they may have the right to come to the tree of life and may enter in by the pearly gates into the city.

Heaven is called the land of light. What is light? "Hail, holy light, offspring of Heaven's first-born." Light is pure. "G.o.d is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. Darkness, in G.o.d's Word, is an emblem of sin. They love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil, and every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved."--John iii. 19-20.

The more we increase in the likeness of G.o.d, the greater and stronger will our light shine in this dark world, and the more will we enjoy basking in the sunshine of the light of His countenance. We are partakers _now_ of the Divine nature, but in Heaven we shall continually walk before Him who is the enlightener and the light. Oh, the gain, the bliss of dying! For we shall see His face and His name shall be in our foreheads.

Paul's prayer for the church at Colosse was "that they might be filled with the knowledge of His will, increasing in the knowledge of G.o.d, giving thanks unto the Father, who made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light."--Col. i. 12.

Oh, that a view of the pure, and the great, and the good ones around the throne may be as a golden chain to bind our hearts to that home beyond the skies, where there is no night, and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord G.o.d giveth them light, and they shall reign forever and ever.--Rev. xxii. 5.

Dearly beloved, this is the "Night of Weeping;" but oh, remember, that it is written in His Holy Word that G.o.d shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.

As we stand by the bedside of our loved ones, and watch them wasting away with disease, and as we behold their love, their patience, and Christian fort.i.tude, we think of earth's bitter trials and earthly relationship, and of the strong tie that binds heart to heart. How touching the parting words to her only son she so tenderly loved, "_Be faithful, humble, meek, and constantly keep at the Master's feet, until He calls you up higher. Be kind and gentle to your sister Esther._" To her Pastor she said: "Preach the Gospel uncolored!" We look upon the sinking form of a dear wife and mother, or brother, or sister, or husband, or friend, and as we sadly muse upon the fact that we held sweet counsel together and walked to the House of G.o.d in company; and we softly whisper to the physician is there no hope of recovery? Can you not save that young and precious life, so dear to us, so gentle, so loving, so kind, so sympathetic, so hopeful? And as in response to our inquiry, we receive the look of pity, and the sorrowful shake of the head, it is then, in our deepest agony, amid blinding tears, and hearts almost crushed to despair, we turn to our great Father above, and we ask, why must we part? Oh, G.o.d, can you not spare him? How can I live without him?

Providential bereavements are sad scenes in life, for the scythe of death stops not to ask if they be sweet and precious to some fond wife, or mother, or brother, who knows? whom their heart chose. On! on! he pursues his desolating work, amid their sighs, their cries, and tears.

But beloved, there is no tearing of heart from heart in Heaven. There is no death there; there is no sorrow there; there is no sin there. I often think of the words of the Apostle as peculiarly appropriate to us in the hour of sad bereavement: "These light afflictions are but for a moment, but they work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

I have had persons tell me when G.o.d has suddenly removed loved ones from their midst, that G.o.d had forsaken them, that He had forgotten to be gracious. But ah, to such let me say that the Lord loveth whom He chasteneth. G.o.d is love. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.

But what is the object G.o.d has in view in thus breaking the family circle by death? It is that our attention may be attracted to the saints above, and that we may by faith behold the beauties of the Celestial city.

You know, David says, "It was good for me that I was afflicted; before I was afflicted, I went astray." We not unfrequently forget that this is not our home. But that we are strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

G.o.d has to put us in remembrance of it. Beautiful as this world is, there is a fairer and brighter, and infinitely more lovely world above our heads. Lovely as human friendships and fellowships are here below, what are they in comparison to the felicitous condition of society in heaven?

"I would not live alway, I ask not to stay, Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way."

There are no estranged feelings in heaven. There are no misunderstandings there. No sickness there. All, all is peace and joy and love!

Our faith in G.o.d, and in the existence of Heaven, and the possibilities of the future life, can enable us to triumph over the trials and bereavements in this vale of tears.

Dr. Guthrie asks: "Why should we not lie as calmly in the arms of G.o.d's Providence, as we lay in infancy on a mother's breast? Having an ever-living, an everlasting, an ever-loving Father in G.o.d, how may we welcome _all_ providences, sweetly submissive to the will of G.o.d. Shall it not fare with us as with the pliant reeds that love the hollows and fringe the margin of the lake, and bending to the blast, _not resisting it_, raise their heads anew, unharmed by the storm that has snapped the mountain's pine and rent the hearts of oaks asunder." "All things work together for good to them that love G.o.d; them who are the called according to His purpose."

When John was in the spirit on the Lord's Day, he heard a great voice saying, "He that hath an ear, let him hear what the spirit saith unto the churches. To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth save he that receiveth it."

How can we best overcome the l.u.s.ts of the flesh, the l.u.s.ts of the eye, and the pride of life but by deep and continued meditation on the blessed change that takes place at the hour of death. The shadows of earth are instantly dispelled when we set our affections on things above.

"Who are these arrayed in white robes, and whence came they? These are they who have come out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." I remember once standing at the grave of Richard Cameron, in Ayrs Moss, and as I read the names of other martyrs engraved on the tomb-stone, I thought of the general a.s.sembly of the Church of the first-born in Heaven, and as I read G.o.d's Word there and sang a sweet Psalm of praise to Jehovah, and offered a prayer to the Father of lights, the G.o.d of Israel, I thought of the prayer of Peden, the prophet, as he sat on Cameron's grave.

Lifting up his eyes steadfastly to Heaven, he prayed: "Oh, to be wi'

Ritchie!"

"Often at the shades of evening, When I sit me down to rest, One by one, I count them over, They who are in glory blest."

Dearly beloved, I have a _Ritchie_[7] in Heaven, for I have recently learned of the death of the spiritual guide of my youth, who, in years gone by, at the close of a cottage prayer-meeting, requested me, for the first time in my life, to speak a word for Jesus. Pulling a flower from the hill-side, he said as he held it up, "I can see G.o.d in that gowan."

Taking me to his room, he said, "This is my study; these are my books, I am going to be a minister of the Gospel, and then go to China."

[7] The late Rev. Hugh Ritchie, of Formosa, China.

Handing me a neat, little, precious volume, he said, "Take this book and study it, and commence speaking for Jesus, and help me in my meetings." Surely to such to die is gain.

Who; who, would live alway away from his G.o.d--away from yonder Heaven, that blissful abode where the noontide of glory eternally reigns, and the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul?

Dearly beloved, we may well ask, "Who are these arrayed in white robes?" Oh, what celebrated personages are above! The prophets, the apostles, the reformers, and the martyrs of Scotland are there. For in a dream of the night I was wafted away to the moorland and moss, where the martyrs lay. When the minister's home was the mountain and flood.

When they dared not worship G.o.d in daylight. Only at the dead of night, when the wintry winds raved fierce, and the thunder-peal compelled the men of blood to crouch within their den. Then the faithful few--true followers of the blessed Jesus--would venture forth to some deep dell by the rock o'er canopied; then, amid the glare of sheeted lightning, those men of G.o.d would open the sacred Book and words of comfort speak.

Ah, it cost something to be a Christian in those days, when from the high foaming crest of Solway to the smoothly polished breast of Loch Katrine, not a river nor a lake but has swelled with the life's tide of religious freedom. From the bonnie highland heather of her lofty summits to the modest gowan on the lea, not a flower but has blushed with the martyr's blood. But, beloved, the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the Church. What holy, loving lessons does G.o.d teach us by the history of the true Church, and a thoroughly consecrated people--lessons of love, hope, fort.i.tude, and long-suffering!

"Oh, Jesus, our Master, command to beat faster These weary life-pulses that bring us to Thee."

Our dear departed sister had the true missionary spirit. She feared not the things she was called on to suffer for Christ in her great work in this city. Let us who are left behind catch her magnanimous and heroic disposition in working for the blessed Jesus. Oh, that the spirit of our n.o.ble ancestry might come upon us! Oh, that the Holy Spirit of G.o.d may enter into all our hearts to-day, that we may be more humble, more loving, more zealous, more sympathetic, and more sincere in our toil for Christ and His Church; _then to die will be gain!_ and to Him shall be all the glory, world without end. Amen.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

TESTIMONIALS AND LETTERS OF CONDOLENCE.

I've found a Friend; oh, such a Friend!

So kind, and true, and tender, So wise a Counsellor and guide, So mighty a Defender!