04.04. Meditations 91 to 121 contd
Meditation CXIV.
July 7, 1761. The traveling man has little on the fatiguing road but his weary feet; his heart being set on his family, his friends, his home; his affections on his native country, and his desires terminating on his journey’s end.
Am not I a traveler heavenward—a pilgrim—a sojourner on earth? What then have I here on this perishing earth; or whom have I here, to captivate my affections, and hinder them from being set on high? If I have any treasure, it must be in heaven, for nothing on earth is worthy of the name, seeing all terrestrial things take wings, and fly away; or if they remain, it is but to be consumed in the general conflagration. Though my body should dwell in this world—my heart should be an inhabitant of the better country: and it is highly reasonable that it should be so, for my hope, my joy, my all are there.
1. My eternal Father is there, the beloved of my soul, and the husband of my espousals. The sanctifier of my affections, and the kindler of my love, is there.
2. All my godly friends are there, even the whole family of my heavenly Father—angels, archangels, cherubim, seraphim, and the spirits of just men made perfect. Who would not then dwell in such an assembly, and love such a divine society?
3. My house and home are there, and it must be an estranged heart indeed that never thinks on his own house, and never longs for home.
4. My inheritance is there, and a goodly portion it is, and pleasant lines they are, that are fallen to me. The heirs of this world only farm from father to son, and death determines the lease. But there everyone inherits for himself, and that for eternity.
5. The objects of my faith, the subjects of my song, and the darlings of my love, are all there. What soul would not dwell among such divine delights, walk in such a paradise, and breathe in the very air of sanctity and bliss?
O what a loss do I sustain by my ignorance of the divine life, and by the carnality of my mind! But is such a happiness attainable below? Yes! The Christian, even here, may have his heart and life in heaven. Then, 1. He who lives anywhere; must buy and sell, and do business with the men of his place. Just so, may I buy the merchandise of bliss without money, and without price; and carry on the noblest business with the highest One in the most interesting concerns of my soul. 2. Where one lives he necessarily walks and talks, eats and drinks, sleeps and wakes. Just so, may my soul by faith walk over the fields of light, and talk with the Author of my bliss, the fountain of my joy, and the center of my love. There I may eat of the hidden manna, pluck off the drop-ripe apples of the tree of life, and drink of those rivers of pleasures that eternally overflow in his presence; yes, and fall asleep amidst the numerous beauties above, and awake with God in the morning.
Now, as one traveling home, only attends to his journey, and provides his food for the way; (nor would his friend help him, if he would load him with gold bars, or silver ore;) so a few of the necessities of life are sufficient for my support, until I arrive at that better life that shall need no such assistance.
Then, seeing my house, my home, my friends, my bliss, my joy, my inheritance, my crown, my life, my light, my glory, my Savior and my God—are all on high, and nothing here in this present world, but a waste and howling wilderness, through which I travel with danger and dismay. In heaven—may my longings tend, my wishes wing, and may my desires center, my affections be fixed, and my whole soul dwell—that at death nothing may remain but to leave this house of clay, and at once be a free and immortal citizen of my heavenly kingdom!
Meditation CXV.
July 19, 1761.
O how ardently would I love God, who is loveliness itself! Gladly would I have my heart filled with divine breathings after him—who is all beauty and wholly desirable! But, alas! I know not what it is to love God, which is the highest attainment of men, and the best exercise of the brightest seraphs. I have heard a soul-warming fame of his likeness in his people; and where it is most perfect, it gives them such a celestial tincture, such an heavenly hue, that they are like angels dwelling among men, or saints, whose lives are already in heaven. But woe is me! my ignorance, my ignorance! I know so little of you—so how can I know your likeness! Alas! my chains are heavy, and my wings are weak; my affections sensual, and my spiritual desires languid. Yet I have some sunshine and serenity in my winter—and though I cannot love you as I would, yet I am filled with longing after some of this divine flame of love, that shall turn all the out-goings of my soul Godward; and turn the world, in all its beguiling and bewitching vanities, eternally out of doors. O that I knew where, how, and in what I might love you! May I love you anywhere, and everywhere! at home, or abroad, on sea or land, among friends or foes, among men or devils, among saints or sinners, in life or death, in time or in eternity! But again, how or after what manner may I love you? May I delight myself in you, meditate on you, walk before you, imitate your divine perfections, talk of your glory, mention your righteousness, recount your mercies, and sing aloud of your love! May I praise you, pray to you, plead with you, depend upon you, and roll myself wholly over on you! But again, in what may I love you? May I love you in your Son and in yourself, in the unity of Godhead, and in the trinity of persons, in your perfections and attributes in the largeness of your love, and in the brightness of your glory! May I love you in your angels, in your people, and in all your other creatures! May I love you in your power and in your providence, in your counsel and in your conduct, in your chastisements and in your comforts, in your favors and in your frowns, when you wound or make whole, when you give and when you take away; in all your secret decrees and in all your open dispensations! May I love you in your gospel, and in your ordinances, in your law and in your testimonies, in your scriptures and in your sacraments, in your promises and in their performance, and even in my own soul! O to see you, O to know you—in your grace, and in your glory!
Again, may I love you at all times and all seasons, in youth or in old age, in my family or in the field, in company or alone, lying down or rising up, going out or coming in, in health or sickness, in wealth or in poverty, in a prison or in a palace, in reproach or applause, in the body or among the spirits of just men made perfect!
O astonishing condescension! that one under so many deformities and deficiencies, may love continually so great a Being in all his glorious excellencies! Will a king accept of the love of a subject, especially if loaded with infamy and reproach, reduced to poverty, and languishing with disease? And yet, though I am poor, reproached, and infirm—God does not despise my love—but welcomes even its few ascending sparks. O! then, what a field of love is this, God looking out at so many windows, shining in so many excellencies, and still calling—"son, give me your heart! Soul, give me your love!" O what must that love be, which reigns in the heart of God! Oh! were my soul dipped in the celestial Jordan, I would be cleansed from the leprosy of earthly-mindedness, and carnal affections, which always renders the persons infected, unclean, and incapable of holding communion with the Most High God.
O dearest Lord! you have blown up a spark of love in my bosom, which lives in spite of all the waters of corruption; nourish and increase this fire, until in the day or eternity it breaks forth into a spotless flame! And then (O blessed day!) I shall even be refreshed with the perfection of my love, when I find it so spotless, vigorous, and divine, that not only I—but God, its glorious fountain, and eternal object, shall be pleased with my love; when its quality shall be suitable to that state of consummate perfection, its quantity such as replenishes the most enlarged powers of glorified souls, and its duration through all evermore!
Now, since you are seen in all things, and cannot but be loved wherever you are seen—how is it that I am not wholly taken up with your love, and lost in transport and delight—in the divine survey of your excellencies? Can a poor soul like mine not find sufficient matter for meditation, where a whole heaven of perfected adorers find enough for their most enlarged capacities through eternity, and to spare?
Now, here is the wonder, that God is not only lovely in himself, and in all things whereby he reveals himself—but also permits, yes, commands me to love him, making my indispensable duty my daily privilege, and my highest privilege my daily duty.
O the condescension of the high and lofty One, the chief among ten thousand—that I may love him, and not be reproved; that I may kiss him, and not be despised! As he is the greatest, so is he the most generous of lovers, not only ever returning love for love—but for my spark of love, returning his flame of love; and for my faint desires, returning his captivating love. And as he is a noble, a superlative lover, so he does all things answerable to this divine character. His decrees are love: "I have loved you with an everlasting love." His counsels are love, "I counsel you to buy from me gold." His cords are love, with which he savingly draws us to himself. His rod is love, with which he corrects, for "whom he loves he chastens." His providences are pregnant with love. His promises are pure love. His name is love. His offices are love, for to teach and instruct, to plead and intercede, to lead, rule, and defend, to help and heal, to counsel and comfort—are certainly offices of love. His relationships are love—a kinsman Redeemer, a friend, a brother, a father, a husband—are kindly names, and full of affection, especially in him. His banquet is a feast of love. His banner is a banner of love. His chariot is paved with love. And he himself is altogether lovely. May I, then, love such a lovely and loving one—and not be deemed audacious! May I claim the darling of heaven as mine, and maintain, with all the warmth of immortal love, "This is my Beloved, and this is my friend," and not be accounted an offender among all the enamored adorers of the heavenly house!
But, O where shall I find, or where shall I fetch—a love worthy to be bestowed on this lover—who has not his equal on earth, or in heaven? O, that I could glow like angels in their celestial ardors, and burn like seraphs in their deathless flames!
O how strange! That the mighty One of eternity accepts the love of a perishing worm! That a vile sinner is allowed to be a lover of him whose name is holy! May dust and ashes not only talk—but carry on an interchange of love, with the eternal Father? Yes! For you not only allow me to love you—but to know that I am loved by you, in an infinitely higher manner than I can love you. Yours is an ocean of love—mine a drop from your fullness. Yours is the sun—mine a spark kindled in your beams. Yours is the eternal emanation of sovereign love—mine the reflection of heaven-born gratitude—for I love you, because you first loved me; and as you were first, so are you highest in your love.
It was much for your people to be loved like your angels, archangels, your seraphs, and all your bright armies of light. Yet you have loved your people with a love above that; for in that matchless prayer, the divine Redeemer says, "That the world may know that you have loved them—as you have loved me!" What a wonderful love is this! But what a worthless lover am I!
O happy, thrice happy heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ! whom he invites to a seat with him on his throne! Surely, under a sense of so much love, and yet power to love so little, I would die, did I not wait for my removal to the region of pure love, where my powers of mind, enlarged and strengthened for the transports of eternity, shall be wholly exercised in love. O that divine freedom I wait for, that glorious liberty of immortal lovers that I pant after—where my eye shall view all of his glories, and my ear shall be all attentive to the account of his excellencies! Surely, my song and soul shall be full of love to him! Yes, nothing but love—centering on him, and singing of him, with the highest degree of ardor—shall employ my every power forever! And here, dear Lord, while I walk on the dark mountains, let it be regarded as a kind of love to think—since I cannot love you as I should and would—how perfectly I shall love you in those blissful regions, in those days of future glory, and in your heavenly presence! With what fresh ardor, and unimaginable delight, I shall adore the God of love, who is not only altogether lovely—but pours out full floods of love on the ’emmets of creation’—and welcomes the trifling returns of love from the ’dust’ of his footstool.
Meditation CXVI.
Portsmouth Harbor, Oct. 31, 1761.
Nothing is harder to attain to, than an entire resignation to the disposal of Providence; and in this very thing I condemn myself. But, O how absurd to quarrel with God about his conduct towards his creatures! Did I ever demand a reason why God sends Gabriel on this or that errand, and not some other of the bright multitudes of bliss? Dared I ever find fault with the immense distance of the stars or the huge magnitude of the sun? Did it ever give me uneasiness, if foreign nations were scenes of revolutions and wars? But if any trying providences come home to me, I am up, if not in arms, yet in astonishment, at God—and wonder why he deals so and so! Now, God’s right over, and propriety in me, is as full and sovereign as over any other of his creatures. And so I should be as well pleased with what he carves out for me, as I am with what he does for others. I never complained of the age of the world in which I was born (nay—but have blessed God for it;) and why should I, of the time of life that this or that event concerning me takes place? I pant after some things which in themselves are good—but God postpones them, as I think. But the truth is, the proper time of God’s giving, and my receiving, has not come. And yet in the greatness of my folly, I grow impatient, like the farmer, that for an early harvest, reaps corn not fully ripe.
Now, my will shall be swallowed up in yours, since I am more your property than mine own. And as I would not direct Omniscience how to dispose of his angels—so will I never tell him how to deal with the inhabitants of his earth, though I am one of the number. Yet, O Most High! as you will be inquired of by your people for these free mercies which you will bestow, and even importuned (as once by wrestling Jacob) for blessings, and the performance of your promises; so I implore your divine interposition in my behalf—if it is your holy will, and that you would bring me again to my homeland, that I may hear blessings instead of blasphemy, and see your glory in churches. O let my absent moments from Zion be numbered up, and finished; my wanderings counted, and completed; my company changed, and my song be to the God of my mercy in the courts of his holiness; and make me yet see some of the days of the Son of man, in commemorating the sufferings and death of my divine Redeemer! In your tender mercy—hear, help, and give an answer of peace.
But, Lord, if you shall (and for your glory I would gladly live) be more glorified in my resignation to your holy will, and my remaining in the state I am in, than in my possessing those things I long after—I cast myself over on you; and to your kind and wise disposal say, Amen.
Meditation CXVII.
Under sail for Lisbon, Nov. 29, 1761.
Often at the description of divine things, by a masterly pen, or a truly poetical genius, I have been astonished; and admired the enlarged views of those, and their sublime thoughts, who, like myself—but dwelt in clay. Then I thought—What must the songs of the new Jerusalem be, when a stanza or two, wrote by a poor mortal, laboring with corruption, and bewailing his ignorance of sacred things, yields so much pleasure and delight!
I shall, then, for a moment, suppose myself arrived at the regions of glory, and welcomed by the King eternal to the heavenly world. But how am I at once transported with the harmony of bliss, while I am indulged to look into the library of heaven, and read all the songs of eternity itself! First, then, a celestial hymn spreads before me, whose majestic style astonishes, whose soft and flowing numbers ravish, which was sung by the morning-stars together, by all the sons of God, when the earth was created. And next, an matchless song, composed by the first bards of light, and sung by part of the celestial choir, when the son of God condescended to be born. Then a triumphant anthem, sung and echoed round the whole court of heaven by all the multitudes of light, when the Son of God ascended conqueror over all his foes, and sat down on high at the right hand of God. But the most amazing and inimitable piece, for abundance of subject, for excellency of matter, for beauty of expression, for ardency of love, for intimacy of communion, and for refined and exalted thought—is the divine wedding song, which, at the marriage supper of the Lamb, when the whole family of heaven is assembled to divide no more, shall be sung by every guest at the feast of love, at the table of bliss.
Besides these, here are some reviving hymns, composed by angels rejoicing over repenting sinners. What exalted joy sparkles in that angelic composition over a penitent Manassah—and every returning prodigal! Gabriel, in this matchless ode, sings of the eternity of God, in such strains as would astonish all the bards of time. In that song of praise, Raphael dwells on the trinity of persons—while Michael celebrates the majesty and power of the Eternal, with such energy of thought as would darken the brightest poets which the world ever saw. In another song, a mighty seraph sings matchlessly of sacred love, and all heaven echoes amen to his divine praise. Yes, now every saint is a poet, every believer a sweet bard!
O how sweet are the songs of the higher temple! how soft the harmony of eternal day! What hallelujahs rise from the angels of God! what hosannas from the church of the first born! What concord and symphony are in the songs above! How dark, compared to these, were the brightest descriptions of God I ever heard below! How dull are my former ardors to those which now I feel! How faint and languid my love to what now kindles in my bosom! Here in glory, is the refined expression, here the noble idea, here the exalted turn of thought, here the true sublime of divine poetry, and here the enlarged, the unveiled view of divine things, of heavenly glories—to embolden and enliven every song. Here we talk of God at his throne, and while we commend him, we behold the beauties of his face! While we exalt him, we enjoy him, and so can never cease extolling him!
But, alas! my dark views of future things convince me that I am still in the body. Yet great things I may expect in that state of perfection. And though now I cannot serve God, nor sing to God, as I would, and as I should—yet there is a day on the wing when I shall join the anthem of love, and, being loosed from all my present fetters, shall sing through eternity with the bards of paradise, "To him who loved us, died for us, rose again, and reigns on high—be honor and might, power and dominion, blessing and glory, forever and ever, Amen!"
Meditation CXVIII.
River Tagus, at Lisbon, December 26, 1761.
Hitherto I have looked upon myself as young, and coming to my prime of my life. But henceforth I shall consider myself as in my declining years. I am certain how long I have lived in the world—but quite uncertain how soon I must leave the world; and therefore should be preparing for my final departure, and daily be ripening for the regions of bliss.
Nothing would be a more forbidding prospect, than the verdure of spring to clothe the fields in harvest; but nothing would be more pleasant, than to see maturity keep pace with the approach of autumn. So should I grow daily riper for the great harvest, as the time of ingathering draws daily nearer and nearer. Leaves are pleasant in the infant orchard—but fruits are expected from the full grown trees. So in the young converts, the breathings of grace are sweet; but aged saints are expected to abound in fruits of righteousness. My love, like Ezekiel’s holy waters, the longer it runs, should rise the higher, and spread the wider, until lost in its divine ocean above. The longer we live with our friends, we grow better acquainted, more intimate with, and fonder of them. Just so, the longer I enjoy communion with God, the more ardently should I breathe after uninterrupted communion with him. As my years decline, and my outward man wastes away, so should my graces bloom, and my inner man grow strong; and when it is almost dark night with my life, it should be bright noon with my expectations. O how pleasant is it, that the longer I live in the world—the closer I rise to heaven! If I make progress in my spiritual pilgrimage, the world and all its vanities—which is the wilderness I am traveling away from—will become less and less to me. I will daily see more of the tops of the heavenly mountains, of the towers of the New Jerusalem, toward which I am traveling. A state of grace is a glorious condition at all times; but a growth in grace is a sweet proof and heavenly consequence of being in a state of grace. My affections should be more and more loosed from the creature, while the pins of my earthly tabernacle are loosening every day. I should at all times have my heart in heaven—and especially when walking with one foot in the grave! Now, though the time of my death seems far distant; yet thousands at my age have died—who had as many pretensions to longevity as I. My walking with God will not shorten my life—but brighten it, and make my sun set with all the sweetness of a cloudless evening. Enoch walked with God for three hundred years. In this manner, he began heaven upon earth—so that he grew immortal, and ascended deathless to the very throne of God. O how pleasant is it to feed on the fruits of Paradise, while entering into the land of promise; and as it were, to be a citizen of heaven, before I go to dwell forever there. A young man, and a holy life; one in his prime, and all his graces flourishing—is lovely to behold. But a grey head, and a carnal worldly heart, is a wounding sight! Henceforth, be gone bewitching vanities, and all the enchantments of the world! the last years of my life are not to be trifled away with you! Death attends me! The grave awaits me! Eternity is at hand! Therefore, may my purified affections, river-like, enlarge as they approach the ocean; and on the wings of faith and love, may I often fly to the hills of spices, where your glories shed their beams. May I walk in the liberty of spiritual meditation in the land of bliss, that so death, when it comes, may have no more to do than lay my slumbering ashes in the silent grave—and loose my soul to be a free inhabitant in her blessed abode.
Meditation CXIX.
Jan. 10, 1762, Lisbon River.
Whatever horrors may beset the carnally-minded, when they think of their death; yet no prospect affords me such pleasure as that of my death and final change! I have exceeding great cause to rejoice, when I compare what I now am and suffer—with what I shall then enjoy and be! Now my joys are future, and in expectation—for I walk by faith, and live on hope. But then they shall be present, and in possession—for I shall dwell in light, and feed on fruition! Now I am daily struggling with death and sin—but then I shall eternally triumph over both! Now I toil along a tiresome road—but then I shall walk above these skies in the very heavens! Now my eyes rove from vanity to vanity—but then they shall see, yes, fix on the King in his glory, on the King of kings in his divinest glory! Now I dwell among fire-brands, and surrounding sinners daily give me pain—but then I shall dwell among the multitudes of the redeemed, see angels and archangels increase the throng, cherubim and seraphim join the song, and not one sinner among all the heavenly multitudes!
Now I often bewail myself as a frail inhabitant of feeble clay—but then I shall find myself possessed of all the vigor of immortality—of all the briskness of eternal life! Now I am often puzzled about the providences of my lot—but then I shall approve, and see a divine beauty shining through the whole conduct of providence, in the light of glory. Now, in the noblest subjects my ignorance often leaves me greatly in the dark—but then shall I know, and that even as I am known. Now I have foes without, and foes within, the sin of my nature, and the idols of my heart, enemies from earth and hell to grapple with—but then, triumphing over every foe, I shall sing the conquest of the Captain of my salvation, the victories of the divine Conqueror, and never cease from this matchless, this unexhaustable theme! Now sometimes, I am debarred from the precious ordinances and sacred courts of God—but then shall I be a pillar in the temple of God, and go no more out—and always worship at his throne! Now the cruel hand of death comes among my friends and family, and leaves me like a sparrow on the house-top alone, or mourning in the wilderness—but then not one of all the numerous inhabitants shall so much as say, "I am sick," because they are an assembly of sinless ones.
Now my Sun often conceals himself, so that I go mourning without him; but then in the light of his countenance, in the brightness of his glory, shall I walk on forever! Now I am crawling along the road of life in company with fellow-worms, who dwell in cottages of clay, and are crushed before the moth—but then, dignified with his divine likeness, I shall dwell with the Ancient of days, and enjoy the dearest and most intimate communion with Jehovah and the Lamb forever! Now my time is wasting away, and I may be very near my latter end—but then an endless eternity shall be mine, and my bliss be as durable as it is desirable; and as permanent as it is pleasant. O! then, who would not prepare and wait for a change that is so pregnant with glory and bliss?
Meditation CXX.
ARGUMENTS FOR FAITH IN GOD.
Jan. 22, 1762. Under sail for England. The noblest way to glorify God, is to be strong in the faith, like Abraham, the friend of God. And as this confers most honor on the divine Promiser, so it conveys the greatest quietness to the soul. But, as I am more fearful than many of the faithful, and cannot attain to that confidence in God that the most part of believers have, let me strengthen my faith by the scriptures of truth, which can never be broken.
First, then, these sacred records hold out a chain of the nearest and clearest relations between God and the happy soul which has a saving interest in him. He is a Judge, the Judge of all the earth; and can I dread wrong judgments at his hand? He is the orphan’s stay, the strength of the poor, and the stranger’s shield; what then may not the orphan, the poor, and the stranger expect from him?
Again, he is a Father; and what may not I expect from such a Father, who, in the tenderest manner has said again and again, "Son, all that I have is yours"—a Father, who has heaven and earth at his disposal, and the hearts of all men in his hand—a Father, whose divine affection infinitely exceeds that of the best human father to his most engaging son, or of the most loving mother to her most amiable babe—a Father, whose wisdom knows infinitely well both what and when to give; whose eyes and ears are continually open to their calamities and complaints; whose love and grace waits to bestow; whose promise is no dead word—but reliable and pregnant with good—a Father, who has given the most amazing instance of love, in that he kept not back his Son—but delivered him up for us all; and if he gives me his salvation—he gives me the graces of his Spirit, promises me his heaven and his glory, in a word, gives me himself. What then, will he withhold, what will he deny?
Surely, I have hitherto had too low thoughts of the goodness of God. Yet I may assure myself with as much certainty as the sun is in the heavens, that all the promises of God shall have their full, their perfect, their complete accomplishment toward me, and at the time that is most proper in the eye of Infinite Wisdom. Henceforth no doubt shall disturb my bosom; I will patiently wait on the Lord, who not only promises great things—but performs whatever he promises; knowing assuredly that though now I too much imitate murmuring Israel in the wilderness, yet, like them, when I arrive at the land of promise, the Canaan above, I shall profess before the whole assembly of bliss, that there has not failed any good thing whereof the Lord had spoken, or given promise—all has come to pass.
Meditation CXXI.
September 7, 1776.
These many years have I dwelt in my native country, and in my own house. Through the perils of war, the dangers of the sea, extremity of cold in one part, and scorching heat in another, have my life and health been preserved, to my own surprise; while numbers saw their native land no more. But, as a traveler, what have I seen? Just sin and vanity in every land, grief and pain in every bosom, the fruits of the fall, and the havoc of the curse in all nations. I dwell in my own house, and bless the bounty of Providence, which, from floating on a restless ocean, has given me a settled habitation. But I look forward, and see that I have a long, a difficult, a solemn journey before me—not from one kingdom to another—but from one world to another. Hence (not forgetful of all his mercies that accompanied me in all my wanderings) to lay up my treasure in the better country, to prepare for my approaching eternal change, to improve for my future society, and to ripen for heaven and glory—shall employ the remainder of my life, that I may finish my course with joy. Amen.