October 6

"I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were." Psalms 39:12.

So life was viewed and felt by David. He was very superior to many of his ancestors. He had wealth and power and honor, and reigned the greatest monarch of the East. But no condition can make the heir of immortality a citizen here. Others are strangers and sojourners, as to the transitoriness of their continuance in this world, and the certainty of their removal from it, but not as to their disposition. They mind earthly things, and would be glad to live here always. But the child of God is in principle what he is in fact, and in experience what he is in destination. He is also born from above, and bound for glory. And though he is detained here in a foreign land for a while, for the discharge and the management of certain duties and interests, yet he thinks, even while thus engaged, of leaving it, in due time, for his own country, where his best relations reside, where lies his inheritance, and where he is to dwell for ever.

"There is my house, my portion fair; My kindred and my friends are there, And my abiding home: For me my elder brethren stay, And angels beckon me away, And Jesus bids me come."

Am I a stranger and a sojourner with God? Let me realize, let me exemplify the condition. Let me look for the treatment such characters commonly meet with. Like widows and orphans, they are often imposed upon, and wronged and injured. They are turned into ridicule and reproach, because of their speech, their dress, their manners, their usages. And Christians are a peculiar people. They are men wondered at. The Saviour tells them not to marvel if the world hates them, for they are not of the world, even as he is not of the world. This treatment is in reality a privilege, rather than a matter of complaint. It is when I am admired and caressed, and I find every thing agreeable in my circumstances, it is then I feel something of the settler. But the disadvantages of my state make me think of home. These induce me to arise, and depart hence, because this is not my rest.

And surely if any of my own nation be near me, I shall be intimate with them. We all know the heart of strangers. We all feel the same preferences. The same hope inspires us; the same end unites us. We shall speak often one to another. We shall contrast our present with our future condition. We shall inquire when we heard from home, and when we think of departing for it; and thus beguile the hours and relieve the absence.

And let me not be entangled in the affairs of this life. Let me keep myself as detached as possible from things which do not concern me. Let me not embarrass myself as an intermeddler and busybody in other men's matters. But let me study to be quiet, and to do my own business. Let me pray for the peace of the country through which I am passing, and be thankful for every advantage I enjoy in my temporary exile.

And let my affection be set on things that are above, and my conversation be always in heaven. Let me be not impatient for home, but prizing it, and longing for it; and judging of myself by my relation to it. Who has not joined in the proverbial sentiment, "Home is home, however homely?" We read of some Swiss soldiers on foreign service, who were so affected with a song that vividly recalled to mind their native valleys, and the houses in which they were born, that the officers were obliged to forbid the use of it. But Oh, my Father's house! Here toil; there rest. Here trouble; there joy and gladness. Here darkness; there light. Here sin; there spotless purity. Here the tents of Mesech and Kedar; there the spirits of just men made perfect, and the innumerable company of angels, and the Lord of all. "With such views," says Dr. Goodwin, "let who will be miserable, I will not—I cannot."