GIVING THE HEART TO CHRIST.
By Cuyler
“I don’t want to read this article.” Well, my friend, then turn to the spicy editorials, to the summary of war news and the proceedings of the somewhat bewildered legislators at Washington. Read over the list of the married and of the dead. In this latter list, one of these days, somebody will read your own name. When you have gone over the other more attractive columns, then sit down with me, and answer the plain affectionate question—Have you given Christ your heart? 1. This phrase you understand perfectly well in its every-day applications. You know well what is meant when the trustful maiden in the auroral morn of her love gives her heart to him who pledges his strong arm to support and guide her through the life-journey. From that moment, his interests are hers. She gives up many a pleasure for him, or finds a higher pleasure in putting herself out of the way in order to make him happy. In his fame she glories; in his success she rejoices. And if the tempest of adversity darken wildly on his path, she hangs like an ever-beaming star, far beyond the reach of howling storm or engulfing wave. Sever every tie—strip away every other possession—bereave her of other friends, she is still rich, and her joy dieth not as long as she can live for him and love him to whom she hath given her faithful heart. Now just what this ingenuous girl does for her lover, what the miser does for his rusting gold, the hungry student for his books, and the thirsty sensualist for his cup,—what the enthusiast of science does for his telescope, his blow-pipe, or his herbarium, you are to do for your Lord and Savior. You are to give him the foremost place in your heart. When we speak of the “heart” spiritually, we refer to the very seat and source of all the purposes, all the determinations, all the affections, the likings and the dislikings, in the man. Thence flow the issues of life. Thence come the longings for holiness or the ungodly hate of everything lovely and of good report. Thence come the noble resolves—the lofty aspirations; thence the evil thoughts, the pride, the malice, the unbelief. The heart right, all is right. But while the heart remains away from Christ, it is impossible to please God—impossible to make any headway toward a religious life or toward heaven. Then, as the first step, give Jesus Christ your heart. 2. “How am I to do it?” “My heart is stubborn.” So it is; more than you think for. But Christ can subdue its strong-necked waywardness. “I cannot change my heart. It is beyond my power.” We admit that; Jesus Christ does not ask you to convert yourself. He simply asks you to give him your heart. He can change it. And he will too most assuredly just as soon as you, in entire sincerity and penitence, commit your soul unreservedly into his hands. This you are to do solemnly, with a fervent appeal to the Holy Spirit for his aid. You had better do it alone in the solitude of your closet. Do it on your knees. Commit yourself to Jesus with such language as— Just as I am—and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come.
We beg you not to wait until you have tried to better your heart. Bring it as it is. And bring it all. Christ demands the whole heart. “Ye shall seek me and ye shall find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.” You cannot hope to remain an out-and-out man of the world, or a thorough-going woman of fashion, and yet be a Christian. The Divine Master will hold no divided rule, or be thrust off with a fragment of your heart. Perhaps the very reason why your former anxieties and serious impressions did not end in your becoming a Christian, was that you kept back your soul’s inmost affections from the Saviour. Or having in name given yourself to him, you went on and lived like a follower of the world just as before. Lest you should be overtaken by death without having secured your salvation, we entreat you to seize the first spare hour for quiet thought, and make it the hour of your surrender to Jesus Christ.—Cuyler.