October 11

Sinai; and the cloud rested in the wilderness of Paran." Therefore, though they removed from one desert into another, it was under the Lord's guidance and conduct. He determines the bounds of our habitation, and administers all our comforts and our crosses. Such a state of things we are not unapprized of; and therefore, if we go on, buoyed up with hopes which must issue in disappointment, the fault is our own. All history, observation, experience, and Scripture tell us enough to prevent it. Such a state, too, is not peculiar to us; it has been known by all our brethren who were before us in the world, and will be realized by all those who come after us. Nor is it our final state. Another is discovered and promised. There remaineth a rest for the people of God—a better, even a heavenly country. A few more stages, and we shall remove to the glory of all lands. No thorns there—no dangers there. After all our movements in the wilderness, we shall move out of it, and the days of our mourning will be ended. Neither is it an unmixed state. If we are not in Canaan, the desert we are in is not like Egypt, from whence we came out. Like the Jews, we have many advantages and comforts, though the place itself yields us nothing. We have the fiery cloudy pillar, and water from the rock, and the manna, and Moses, Aaron, and Miriam, and the grapes from Esheol, and God himself, "even our own God," who is nigh unto us in all that we call upon him for. Yea, the very difficulties, mortifications, and distresses of the state are useful. They try us and humble us, and do us good with regard to our latter end. But for these, how unwilling should we be to go. How vain would the admonition be, "Arise and depart," unless it were enforced with the conviction, "This is not your rest."

Let this, therefore, keep us from the murmurings of discontent and the forebodings of despondency. Though serious, let us not be gloomy. And while free from delusive hopes, let us not yield to unbelieving fears, but thank God, and take courage.

"And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up his hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven." LUKE 24: 50, 51.

FROM another scripture, it would seem that he ascended from mount Olivet. But there is no contradiction here. The same eminence is intended. On the one side of it, in the garden of Gethsemane, he suffered; on the opposite side, stretching down to Bethany, he was received up into glory. And we see the latter was some considerable distance from the former, for of the attendants at his ascent it is said, "Then returned they unto Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is from Jerusalem a Sabbath-day's journey."

Thither he seems to have led his disciples for the sake of abstraction and privacy. He had said before his death, "The world seeth me no more." They had seen him, and believed not. To what purpose should other proofs be displayed before those on whose minds all his miracles had made no impression? And here was a sufficient number to attest the fact; and reason cannot question the competency of these witnesses, either as to capacity or sincerity.

But how wonderful and pleasing is the manner in which he took his leave. His disciples had often tried him. They had always betrayed great imperfections; and after all their professions of attachment to him, as soon as he was apprehended, they all forsook him and fled. He might well have cast them off, but he loved them unto the end. He might have forgiven them, and yet have left them unseen, or silently, or with a frown, or with a rebuke, and this would almost have broken their hearts; but "he lifted up his hands, and blessed them." Thus proclaiming the most cordial forgiveness; thus assuring them that they might rely on his remembering them when he was come into his kingdom.

Dr. Priestley is much perplexed about the present residence and employment of our Lord. It would appear, he says, from some intimations in the epistles, as if He still had occasionally something to do with the church; but what this is we cannot conjecture. And there is no doubt, says he, but he is now somewhere on earth; for what relation can he have to any other planet? But we are assured that while he blessed his disciples, he was parted from them, "and carried up into heaven." Where this is we are not informed. But it is obviously a place, for he was clothed in a body like our own; and corporally, he cannot be everywhere. But wherever he thus is, there is heaven. And this accords with his own language: "I go to prepare a place for you." And though heaven is to be considered more as a state than a place, and though even now our happiness does not depend essentially upon local situations, yet these have their importance. And what beautiful and enchanting places have we seen and heard of and imagined. But "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." What a residence was Eden before the fall of the first Adam! But this fell infinitely short of the excellency of the abode of the second Adam, the Lord from heaven.

"Oh, the delights, the heavenly joys, The glories of the place, Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams Of his overflowing grace!"

Well, let us think of him where he now is; and let us inquire what is our duty with regard to him. Hear Paul: "Seeing then that we have a great high-priest that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession." We need not be afraid to own him, for he is able to take care of us, however we may be exposed. We need not be ashamed to avow him, for he has every thing to induce us to glory in him. Some comparative excuse might be made for Peter. When he denied him he was a prisoner at the bar, and going to be crucified as a malefactor. But where is he when we deny him? In the midst of the throne, crowned with glory and honor--the Lord of all.

Let us follow him in our thoughts and affections. Why seek we the living among the dead? He is not here. He is in heaven; and where our treasure is, there should our hearts be also. Let us therefore have our conversation in heaven, and seek those things that are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. There some of us have much to interest us now. We seem more related to another world than this; and reflecting upon our losses, we sigh, and say, "What do I here? and what have I here?" How many among the blessed can we reckon up, who we feel are drawing us after them. But here is the principal attraction—

"Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone. He whom I fix my hopes upon: His track I see, and I'll pursue The narrow path, till him I view."

And let us rejoice in the expectation of being for ever with him. "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil; whither the forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus." The anchor that holds the ship is cast out of it; and our hope must go out of ourselves. The anchor lays hold of something invisible, and our hope enters heaven. Yet it would find nothing as the ground of its grasp there, if he was not there. But he is there, and there for us, and his being there insures our arrival. He is the forerunner of the whole company. He said, as he entered, "I am come; and all my people are coming." Unless we are there also, he would be disappointed; for he prayed, "Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am, to behold my glory." He would be unfaithful, for he said, "Where I am there shall also my servants be." He would be imperfect, for he is the bridegroom, and they are the bride; he is the head, and they are the members of his body.

O blessed confidence, let me feel thy influence in every duty and in every trial. Henry, after a sweet representation of the place, exclaims, "If this be heaven, O that I was there!" How matchlessly simple and affecting does Bunyan end his story of Christian and Hopeful, after they had passed the river and approached the shining city, the object of all their solicitude. "Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them. And behold, the city shone like the sun. The streets, also, were paved with gold. And in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. There were also of them that had wings; and they answered one to another without intermission, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord.' And after that, they shut up the gates; WHICH WHEN I HAD SEEN, I WISHED MYSELF AMONG THEM."