WAITING by J. Clarke

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 15, 1859

WAITING.

By J. Clarke

Think of it! Waiting! Angels from the high court of heaven standing near thee, O lukewarm professor! to watch thy course, whether thou wilt heed the sweet, but hearty, counsel of the true Witness. And as they mark thy faltering steps, thy love of the world, thy haughty mien, thy pride, thy selfishness, thy stupidity and carelessness, or as they behold the frequent displays of thine anger and malice, and how thou justifiest thyself when thy fellows rebuke thee, then how sad those angels seem! Do they not turn away weeping to their Master's presence, with the wonderful account of a wretched sinner refusing the gracious offer of white robes, and a brilliant crown, and an immortal heirship to enduring riches? Then the strange, the unparalleled patience of our great high Priest, as he condescends to hear with solicitude the account of thy wavering counsels, how thou doubtest such love as his, how thou dost murmur and set thyself against the only hope that opens its friendly portals to welcome thee, how thou almost hatest reproof, and wouldest almost avoid the reprover that humbles himself to plead for thee, that troubles himself for thee, that givest his angels charge for thee, to watch over thee, to guard thee, to reprove thee, to wake thee from thy stupid slumber.

But will Jehovah wait upon thee? True he has waited long, (

O miracle of love!) but will he wait? Beware! Once he said of Ephraim, "Let him alone, he is joined to his idols." Art thou joined to thine idols too? Dost thou worship thyself, or thy possessions? Is thy dignity easily touched? Is thy pride great, so that thou canst hardly bear to come down into the valley? Is thine honor very great, so that thou canst hardly bear to associate with the despised company that follow the man of sorrows? Dost thou hesitate? Dost thou sink down in view of the prospect? What if the good Shepherd should send thee a final message more plain, more cutting than any before? He, the great Physician, knows thine only remedy; he offers thee the bitter draught; wilt thou drink it? He drank a bitter cup for thee; wilt thou drink the cup sent in mercy, the only remedy for thy dreadful disease?

Waiting! God, and Christ, and angels, waiting for thee; not for thy wealth and power. No, no! The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof, and the nations are to him as the small dust of the balance. He forms the earth, and appointed the sea its bounds; he whirls the planets in their orbits, with unerring certainty, and ceaseless motion. Countless millions of suns give light and heat beyond our sphere, at his control; all the dignitaries of heaven bow low at his feet and cry, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord, while he blesses them with his life-giving Spirit.

Waiting! Jesus, the bright and morning star, the brightness of his Father's glory, the express image of his person, stands at the door. What door? At the door of thine heart. Are not the night dews upon him, the damp, cold, chilling airs of earth, as he stands there knocking? Why stand his messengers there, with such patience and love? Ah? they wait to see if thou wilt open the door and admit the sweet Spirit of truth. But wilt thou open the door? Yes; but you cannot, perhaps. Why? Because there are so many things in the way. The true Witness has told thee of thy follies, thy besetments; get these out of the way, and the door of thine heart will open to the heavenly Comforter. Take away those impediments quickly, lest he tire of waiting, and spue thee out of his mouth.

J. CLARKE.