p. 182 | Untitled article by J. Clarke

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Nov 3, 1863

Sabbath Meditations.—No. 2.

By J. Clarke

To the earnest Christian the Sabbath is a delight. He longs for its return and regrets its close. As its passing hours swiftly fly away, he is employed in holy thoughts and sacred pleasures.

Does he read the words of divine truth? His soul is full of hope and love and pure and holy joy. The vast and varied fields of truth lie open before him, some rendered familiar by frequent views, yet never tiresome or insipid. He always is discovering some hitherto unseen excellence, and as he extends his views, he discovers new realms of grandeur and beauty, in these to him yet unexplored regions.

Does he meditate? It is not the reverie of the visionary, nor the day dream of the fanatic; but his sanctified powers are confined to the regions of truth.

Confined did I say? Can that be confinement which opens the book of nature, unfolding its hidden graces? Can that be called confinement which opens the book of God and explains its mysteries, which lay buried in the rubbish of error, accumulating for almost nineteen centuries? Is that confinement which opens the portals of the soul, and lets in the light of heaven upon the darkened mind?

Yet by a seeming paradox it is so that by this confinement the Christian becomes a free man; and the closer the confinement, the greater the freedom. I do not expect the worldling will understand this. How wisdom sweetly fetters and prudently confines the soul.

Does the Christian attend the Sabbath meeting, or the Bible class? He is at home with those of like prospects and aims, like principles and virtues. Or does he write? he is glad for realities which flow along the even page.

Does he converse with Christian friends? How does his heart swell with gratitude to God for companions loving and true as they, frank, plain and sensible.

Is he alone with none of like faith within practicable distances, alone with God? How does he labor for more frequent and constant intercourse with Him who strengthened Elijah in the wilderness.

I have imagined that the Sabbath might be compared to a barometer, which indicates the state of the weather. Thus, as the mercury rises, we may expect certain changes, or as it falls, these changes are modified or reversed, as the case may be; at a certain point, fair weather, at another, storms, or calms, or winds, or hail, or snow. So with the Sabbath. Does the Sabbath observer hail it with joy? Is it his "weary soul's delight," "the solace of his careworn breast?" Is it to him too short for the pursuits of piety in which he is employed? Does he linger upon its borders, as upon the fair fields of Paradise, and regret its passing hours? Does he look back with delight upon sacred time thus hallowed, and forward with pleasing anticipation to the land of rest? Such an one may feel encouraged. For as the secular employments of the week call forth his energies, he feels strengthened to do valiantly for the truth, and his light begins to throw its bright and pure rays amid the darkness around.

On the other hand, does he rather tread heavily upon the borders of the Sabbath? Do worldly thoughts engross his mind and cool his fervor of divine love? Does he drowsily read and drowsily pray? And as he meditates, do worldly tendencies take the reins, and folly the spur? Do spiritual things seem to him rather insipid and tame, while the world looks large? Such a person, however correct his theory, is on perilous ground. Let the Sabbath so spent, so wasted, so

lost to him, be the means of alarming him, that he arouse from this death-like stupor.

As the barometer indicates a storm at hand, when the mercury rises to a certain point, so does the Sabbath thus unprofitably spent, indicate either a dangerous sleep, or some terrible self-deception.

J. CLARKE.