Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Apr 14, 1859
JUSTIFICATION BY THE LAW.
By Wm. G. Springer
BRO. SMITH: Our love to you and all the brethren. Yours of March 17th is before me, and the contents noted. Also your article on justification in the Review of March 24th. You are on hand then, to explain and answer for those pamphlets on the "perpetuity of the law." Well, this will be economizing at any rate, to regard them as containing the advanced argument on the affirmation that "the law is perpetual." You have at last granted me an appearance in the Review under that very nice name, "A Friend." Thank you.
I hold it as a truism, that we cannot understand the doctrine of an author, unless we first understand the import of the terms he uses. Now as per reference, I have been reading Bro. J. H. Waggoner on the perpetuity of the law. But he uses terms in a sense and with a license that I have not been accustomed to. The first thing with me then is, to understand the meaning of a number of his terms, and then I think I shall be able to judge of his doctrine. But first of all, he quotes the sacred text in such a loose manner as to confuse in my mind, the point he is trying to establish.
On page 28th, he quotes Ex. xxxi, 13, using the word Sabbath, disconnected from the sense in which Moses used it, and thereby teaching a very different view. And he sagely comes to the conclusion from his own false premises, that unless we keep the Sabbath (seventh day), we have no sign, and hence no certain knowledge of our sanctification under the present (gospel) dispensation. And on the next page he says, "Strike this from existence, and we search the sacred page in vain for a substitute;" that is, for a sign, and certain knowledge of our sanctification. Do you indorse this? If so hark:—"Husbands love your wives, as Christ also loved the church and gave himself for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word." Eph. v, 26. Again, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for remission of sins and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." Acts ii, 38. Again, "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God." Rom. viii, 16. By these means we know that Christ is "made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption." 1 Cor. i, 30.
Will the brethren in the face of all this, and much more, say that we have no "sign and knowledge of our sanctification under the gospel, unless we observe the seventh day." If so, I demur instanter. But how came Bro. W. to fall into the meshes of this net? Simply by being too intent on riveting upon us the perpetuity of the Sabbath law.
Then how does the passage read? "Speak unto the children of Israel saying, my Sabbaths ye shall keep, for it is a sign between me and you &c." Then it is Sabbaths, in the plural, and not "the Sabbath," in the singular. Then we must observe all the Sabbath days of the old dispensation, according to Bro. Waggoner's style of applying scripture. Yes! he would have us back walking among the shady shadows of the law; and that to in order to get a knowledge of our sanctification. And in conclusion he says, "Strike this from existence and you search the sacred page in vain for a sign, and knowledge of our sanctification." How straight he looked at the law! So much so, that he entirely overlooked the gospel!!
Excusing Bro. W. for a moment, we will hear from Bro. Smith, in his article on "justification by the law," March 24th. I charge these brethren of requiring that justification and righteousness which is of the law. Bro. S. says I misunderstand him, and that there is no necessity for the misunderstanding &c. Now it does seem to me, according to his own showing, that he does require that righteousness and justification which is by the law. Notice what he says. "The dispensation under which we are now placed is neither all law nor all gospel, but a due admixture of the two." Now if I charge Bro. S. in view of this declaration with seeking to be justified by the gospel, will he deny it? Not he. Then why deny the other, since by his own showing we are as much under the law as gospel? But do these brethren believe that the law contains the principles of justification and that it is both the basis and the condition of the promises of God? Yes. Waggoner on the law page 26. "In our examination thus far we have seen, first that the law existed before the Jewish dispensation; hence it cannot be peculiar to that dispensation. Second, by the relation we sustain to the promises of God having the law for their basis or condition &c." Then if the law is the basis or condition of the promises of God, the promises cannot be obtained without complying with the law, it being the condition. This is what I call being saved or obtaining the promises of God by the law; and therefore is nothing less than righteousness or justification "by the law." But Bro. S. tries to escape this as follows: "Know then that we do not seek justification by the law nor expect it on this ground; for we have all sinned, and our justification must come through Christ. But know also that this does not release us from future obedience, (to the law, I understand) and that those only who do the law shall be justified Rom. ii, 13." Again, "When then he (man) transgressed he found himself staggering under a burden which of himself he never could remove." The picture then is before us. 1st, God gave man a perfect law, which contains the conditions of the promises of God. 2nd Man could not keep it. See Waggoner page 5-7. (Note at bottom). He therefore necessarily violated it. Now we see him under the curse, "staggering" under a merciless load that cannot grow lighter, as no obedience of his own can make amends. 3d. Christ comes to him and graciously takes the burden off, and bears it triumphantly away. Now the poor man rejoices as he sees Christ bearing the ponderous load. But alas! Bro. S. informs him that though justified by Christ, though by his grace you have been released, yet "know also that this does not release you from the law, (that very thing which was the burden) and that those only who do the law shall be justified." Thus Bro. Smith's justification by Christ is but nominal; while his justification by the law, is the real. But in conclusion I will just let Bro. Waggoner nail this on Bro. S. and clinch it. Page 57. "This holy law has so long been despised, and rejected of men that some of its friends have so far given way to popular prejudice and early education, as to suppose the doers of the law would not be justified by doing the law, but by faith in Christ; but we trust that all those who have followed us thus far in the examination of the nature of the law will see that it is fully sufficient to justify and protect the observer of it; if it is not, it is weak and unprofitable indeed, and the righteous might well say, it is in vain to serve God."
Here, Bro. S., is righteousness, justification, and protection by the law in good earnest. Do you indorse it? If not, please "explain." More anon.
Yours in love.
"A Friend," WM. G. SPRINGER.
HOW MUCH OWEST THOU THY LORD?
By Harris
[The following extract sent us by Bro. E. Goodwin, we are happy to lay before the readers of the REVIEW. It is peculiarly worthy of consideration at the present time. It should not only be read, but studied, and its principles laid up in all our hearts for convenient and perpetual reference.—Ed.]
In order that our benevolence may become a valuable habit, it must be provided with regular resources. Nothing good or great can be effected without plan. In their own worldly business, men perceive the importance of method; and, if they would render their liberality efficient, they must adopt a system for that also. On this subject the gospel itself prescribes: "Upon the first day of the week, let every one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come." "By which," says Paley, "I understand St. Paul to recommend what is the very thing wanting with most men, the being charitable upon a plan; that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our fortunes with the reasonable expenses and expectations of our families, to compute what we can spare, and to lay by so much for charitable purposes."
To take indeed a weekly account how God hath prospered us, is not, in all cases, possible; but the spirit of the direction would be equally satisfied, if, on taking the account at other stated times, we only lay by for God as he hath prospered us. Owing to the want of a plan like this, the cause of Christ is often an unwelcome and an unsuccessful applicant; selfishness, which has always the advantage162of being able to be the first claimant, squanders in superfutilities what conscience would have devoted to God; and many, it is to be feared, from not having wherewith to answer the calls and impulses of charity as they arose in the heart, have at length lost the very disposition to do good. While the advantages arising from the adoption of such an arrangement are numerous, we are under less temptation to withhold our charity; our duty is made more convenient by rendering it thus in easy installments; our love to Christ is more gratified by being able to present him in the end with a larger offering; the hand of God is regularly recognized in our worldly affairs; his presence is invited, so to speak, into the very heart of our prosperity, wherein the world is most anxious to exclude him, invited to audit the account of our gains; our offerings are presented with cheerfulness, because they come from a fund designed expressly to no other end than charity; and the cause of benevolence, no longer a dependant on precarious charity, is welcomed and honored as an authorized claimant, a divine creditor, while what we retain for our own use is divinely blessed by the dedication of the rest to God.
Nothing that is good, or great, we repeat, can be effected without plan. Business, to be successful, must be conducted on system; and why should not the book which records the occasional and the regular contributions of charity be kept and inspected as carefully as the ledger of trade? Covetousness plans for selfish purposes; and why should not benevolence counter-plan, and organize its resources for objects of divine philanthropy? Political economy plans for national purposes; and why should there not be an ecclesiastical economy to systemize its resources of that kingdom which is not of this world? We desire not a revival of sumptuary laws to restrain extravagance in diet and dress, but a tax self-levied on all the luxuries and indulgences of life. We ask not for an inquisitorial Roman census, but for a conscientious assessment of all the property of the christian church, as scrupulously made and regularly repeated, that, like that ancient republic, we may have accurate returns, from time to time, of all the statistics of the christian empire, and may know our resources for war with the kingdom of darkness.
But what proportion of our income ought we to devote to charitable uses? If christian love be permitted to answer this question, and assign the amount, there is no reason to fear a too scanty allowance. On the other hand, if selfishness be suffered to decide, there is ground to fear that even an inspired reply, could such be obtained, would be heard only to be overruled. Besides which, the gospel of Christ, in harmony with its great design of establishing a reign of love, leaves its followers to assess themselves. It puts into their hands, indeed, a claim upon their property, but leaves the question, how much? to be determined by themselves. In assisting them to fill up the blank with the proper assessment, the only step which it takes is to point them to the cross of Christ; and, while their eye is fixed there in admiring love, to say, "How much owest thou unto thy Lord?" "Freely ye have received, freely give." It must be quite unnecessary to remind the christian that a principle of justice to man must be laid as the basis of all our calculations on this subject. "For I the Lord love judgment, I hate robbery for burnt-offering." To present him with that which his own laws of justice would assign to another, is to overlook the claims of even ordinary honesty, and to make him the patron of unrighteousness. But, while the worldling looks on justice as the only claimant on his property, and concludes that when that is satisfied, he may warrantably sacrifice the whole remainder to himself, the christian views it only as a preparation for sacrificing to God. It is observable that Abraham and Jacob, on particular occasions, voluntarily devoted to God—what afterwards became a divine law for the Jewish nation—a tenth of their property. Without implying that their example has any obligation on us, we may venture to say, that one tenth of our whole income is an approved proportion for charity, for those who, with so doing, are able to support themselves and families. For the more opulent, and especially for those who have no families, a larger proportion would be equally easy. For some, one-half would be too little; while, for others, a twentieth, or even a fiftieth, would require the nicest frugality and care. Indeed, of many among the poor it may be said, that if they give anything, they give their share—they cast in more than all their brethren. But, in determining the proportion to be made sacred to God, the christian would surely rather exceed than fall short of the exact amount. With whom is he stipulating? For whom is he preparing the offering? Well may the recollection put every covetous thought to instant flight; tinging his cheek with shame at the bare possibility of ingratitude; and impelling him to lay his all at the feet of Christ. Only let him think of the great love wherewith Christ hath loved him; only let him pass by the cross on his way to the altar of oblation, and his richest offering will appear totally unworthy of divine acceptance. When Christ is the object to be honored, the affection of the pardoned penitent cannot stop to calculate the value of its alabaster box of precious ointment—that is an act to which only a Judas can stoop—its chief and sole regret is, that the unction has not a richer perfume, and a higher value. When a Zacheus finds himself standing, a sinner saved by grace, in the presence of the being who has saved him, he exclaims, "Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have wronged any man by false accusation, I restore unto him four-fold." Covetousness, a moment before, was enthroned in his heart, but now it is beneath his feet. A moment ago wealth was his idol; but now its only value consists in furnishing him with an offering of love to Christ. What things were gain to him, those he counted loss for Christ.
And as the great principle of love to Christ will not allow the more opulent to give scantily, so neither will it permit the poorest to come before him empty. It was one of the divine enactments even of the legal dispensation—None shall come before me empty. But that which was matter of law with the Israelite, the christian will seize as a golden opportunity for evincing his love to Christ; and will bring, though it be only a grain of incense for an offering, or a leaf for that wreath of praise and honor which the church delights to lay at the feet of Christ. Whatever scripture examples others may profess to copy, he will select the example of the benevolent widow; and, while others content themselves with only admiring it, he will often reflect on its imitativeness. Nor will the language of the Apostle be ever heard by him but as an address to himself. "Let him labor, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth." "These hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me. I have showed you all things, how that so laboring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive."
Agreeably with these sentiments, the man who, at one time, imagined that his poverty quite exempted him from the obligations of charity, and only rendered him an object of it, is no sooner made the partaker of grace, than he feels himself impelled to place some offering on the altar of christian benevolence; and, with the ready eye and hand of affection, he soon detects, for this end, some small superfluity which can be retrenched, or some leisure time which can be profitably employed. And when his mite-like offering, the fruit of hard self-denial or of the sweat of his brow, is presented, nothing could inflict on his grateful heart a deeper wound, than to see that offering rejected on the ground of its comparative insignificance, or of his supposed inability to give it. It is the offering of a sinner's gratitude to a Saviour's love, and heaven rejoices over the oblation.—Mammon, by Harris.
NEVER HOLD MALICE.
Oh never hold malice; it cannot be good,
For 'tis nobler to strike in the rush of hot blood
Than to bitterly cherish the name of a foe,
Wait to sharpen a weapon, and measure a blow.
The wild dog in hunger—the wolf in its spring—
The shark of the waters—the asp with its sting—
Are less to be feared than the vengeance of man,
When it lieth in secret to wound when it can.
Oh never hold malice; dislike if you will,
Yet remember, humanity linketh us still;
We are all of us human, and all of us erring,
And mercy within us should ever be stirring.
Shall we dare to look up to the Father above
With petitions for pardon, or pleadings for love?
Shall we dare while we pant for revenge on another,
To ask from a God, yet deny to a brother?—Sel.
THE HOLY CITY.
By Rutherford
If we saw our father's house and that great and fair city, the new Jerusalem, which is up above sun and moon, we would cry to be over the water, and to be carried in Christ's arms out of this borrowed prison.—Rutherford.
Fruitfulness Reveals the Tree
A little fruit proves the nature of the tree, but abundance proves its fruitfulness.
DR. CHEEVER'S SERMON.
SLAVERY AND THE PULPIT.
Dr. Cheever spoke last evening upon the duty of the Church with regard to Slavery and the power of the Gospel, effectively preached, toward removing that sin. He read lengthy passages of Scripture, showing the effect of the faithful declaration of the word of God upon oppressors in Biblical times, and in his prayer alluded to the great sale of men and women in Savannah. His text was the first two verses of the 58 chapter of Isaiah, which he said was God's indictment against the Jewish people, and not less against this nation. We had the same fasts, prayer meetings in Fulton street and John street. We had the same sins, and to us also was it commanded that we should break every yoke. It was a striking proof of the depth which we had reached in iniquity that professing Christians could read this and not be stricken down by it.—This gigantic crime was piracy and man stealing, living and lasting in lengthened dreadness long drawn out. Murder reached only its victim, but the law of slavery made its piracy perpetual. Every year it was increasing and spreading, while the sense of the crime was diminishing. He cared nothing about the greater profitableness of free labor; slavery was a sin, and as a sin, the Christian had to deal with it.
Dr. Cheever drew a striking picture of this organized system of crimes, sibilant and many fanged, which he compared to the mound of snakes seen in South America by Humboldt. From this venomous mass, now and then new cobra heads darted, lately one in New Mexico, the worst features of which he gave. He depicted the horrors of the great slave sale, and then said that in most of the churches of this city prayer for the enslaved had not been permitted for years; they seemed to be stricken by a hydrophobia which rendered the water of Life, God's Word, hateful to them. The Christian conscience was petrified by slavery into a ready thing upon which to sharpen arguments in its favor. Or if not petrified it was changed into a lifeless adipose. Its effect upon the church was most disastrous. We need look no further for the causes of the prevalent infidelity.—When the church was at variance with herself with regard to such a crime, who could respect it? It was as though a bench of Judges should differ as to the legality of assassination. The contradictory testimony of the churches ruined their power. What could they expect but contempt? Take away the respectabilities of wealth and fashion, and they would become a stench in the nostrils of the world. The wonder was that all men of conscience were not infidels. Such a church ought to be "tied to the tail of the Great Red Dragon, and whipped round eternity." Nothing could meet with the approbation of the great Adversary more perfectly than a continuous revival in such a church.
It was not enough for the preacher of God's Word to speak against slavery occasionally, to introduce it as one head into a sermon, or to use it for an illustration of one of the burdens of society; we must throw ourselves in masses against it; there must be association, to secure constant, incessant action against it. Through treachery of the church and ministry, the slave power had been permitted to advance steadily from position to position, until now there was hardly anything for it to desire, except the power of transit for slaves through the Northern States. Then all the States would become slave States. No influence was strong enough to check it, except the only one which had not been brought to bear upon it—the terrors of God's word. Let the consciences of the people be laid bare beneath the influences of God's word, and within one year the tide would be rolled back.—Tribune.
The Christian at the Trotting Match
A PROFESSED Christian attended a trotting match. His minister hearing of it, called him to an account for so doing.
"I went," said the christian, "only to see the vanity of the thing."
The answer was: "Do you not find it written in your Bible,—'turn off mine eyes from beholding vanity?'"
The Sermon to a Solitary Auditor.
In 18—, then but a youth, I was sent to C. E. My colleague was a most worthy and excellent man. Our field of labor extensive and laborious. In making the entire round of the circuit once in four weeks, we had to travel on horse-back, between 500 and 600 miles, and preach 33 sermons. The country was new, the roads extremely bad—the streams unbridged—and our accommodations not always the most comfortable or desirable. It was the middle of a cold Canadian winter, that one stormy evening I had an appointment to preach in a distant neighborhood, which owing to the severity of the storm, I was unable to reach until after the hour of meeting had arrived. On dismounting and entering the school house, I found a good fire, but no one present.
A young man soon came in. I waited some time for others to assemble. As no one came, thinking it useless to preach—I arose to depart, when the young man inquired if I was not going to preach; I replied, I think not.
“Yes you are, I am not out in such a storm as this for nothing;” and said with an oath, “you cannot leave the house, unless you preach me a sermon.” Seeing his determination, I replied, if I preach you must sing a hymn, and give me a text, To this he readily assented, and commenced singing those impressive lines,
“A charge to keep I have.”
In prayer I was led by an almost irresistible impulse to pray most fervently for the speedy conversion of this wicked young man. He took my Bible and readily turned to Rev. vi, 17, and said, “Here, preach from this.”
While describing the day—the great day—and the great day of his wrath; he sat apparently unmoved, looking me full in the face, but when I began to give a scriptural solution of the interrogation in the text, I felt the Spirit of God resting upon me in an unusual degree. And as I made an appeal to the young man himself, he began to tremble and weep; falling upon his knees, with emotion he cried, “pray for me! I am sinking into hell.” His feelings were intense, his agony extreme. Seldom have I ever witnessed such a scene. Some time was spent in fervent prayer, when all of a sudden, as by an electric shock, a heavenly expression came over his countenance, and rising, he praised God with a loud voice. At his request I accompanied him home, and O, what a scene transpired. On entering his house, he threw his arms around the neck of his pious widowed mother, confessing his sins, asking her forgiveness, and proclaiming with a loud voice to all in the house “the great things God had done for his soul.” If the sound of music and dancing was not heard rising above the storm without, the shout of joy, and the song of rejoicing and praise was heard.
Uniting with the church, in due time he was licensed to preach and recommended for the Itinerancy. He was received by — conference, and passed with honor the graduating process, with great acceptability and usefulness, spending several years as a traveling minister, till it pleased God to call him, in the prime of life, from “labor to repose.” He died in great peace, “at his post with his armor on.” Perhaps I ought to add, the motive, as subsequently confessed, influencing the young man in insisting on my preaching, under the circumstances, on that evening was merely the satisfaction of witnessing the embarrassment and confusion of, (as he expressed it) “the boy preacher.” He meant it for evil—God over-ruled it for good. If the publication of this incident in the early life of an Itinerant should stimulate one young minister “to be instant in season and out of season,” let God have all the glory.—Sel
A Great and Bitter Cry.
THERE is scarcely a more powerfully drawn or deeply affecting moral picture in Scripture, than this:
“When Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his Father, Bless me, even me also, oh my Father. . . . Hast thou not reserved a blessing for me? . . . Hast thou but one blessing, my Father? Bless me, even me also, oh my Father.”
Why these tears, these passionate entreaties, this “great and exceeding bitter cry?” Because the blessing was gone, that blessing which recognized, fixed, and conveyed the “birthright,” including the family priesthood, the inheritance of the father’s dignity and position, whatever it was, patriarchal headship and precedence in all things, and a double share of the estate. The vast and mysterious hopes associated with the expectation of that glorious person who was to be a lineal descendant from Abraham, and in whom all the families of the earth were to be blessed, must also have been included in it. What a blessing must that have been in which all this was comprehended, and which was conveyed in such words as these: “God give thee of the dew of heaven, and the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine. Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee: cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee!” This blessing, uttered by holy and inspired lips, and sealed by the venerable father’s kiss, carrying with it abundant riches, and unconquerable might, and wide dominion, going down, too, like a rich heirloom, to the future generations which should descend from the happy possessor;—how great and magnificent a possession must it then have appeared! But it was gone—gone from him and from his line—gone for ever. The consciousness of its utter and hopeless loss awoke him to a just sense of its value. Our blessings never seem so great as when we find they are no longer ours. Paradise never probably looked so sweet to Adam as when he turned his last glance upon it, and saw the way of the tree of life kept by the flaming sword of the cherubim. Esau had “despised his birthright”; but now it was lost he knew its value. Lost, too, by his own folly and wickedness—that thought must have greatly increased his anguish. Our misfortunes are greatly embittered by the consciousness that we have brought them upon ourselves, either by our own folly, carelessness, or criminality. That which befalls us by a resistless outward necessity the soul will often bear up against with a huge fortitude. But when we feel that we have been betrayed within, that our own folly has opened the door (or left it open) to calamity, how keen is the anguish of self-reproach!
We once knew a gentleman born to great affluence, who impoverished himself by extravagant courses, and was at length obliged to part with his noble patrimonial house and property on the Hudson. The lawyer in whose office the transfer was made, told us that it was a deeply-moving scene. When the unhappy man saw the act consummated by which that which was once his, and should have gone down to his children, passed away from him and them for ever, and reflected on the cause of the calamity, his feelings of sorrow and self-reproach quite overpowered him. Esau had this anguish in its greatest intensity. He had “despised his birthright”; “he had sold his birthright”; sold that which was beyond all price, for which gold and gems could be no equivalent—sold it too for how mean a price—“a morsel of meat”—“a mess of pottage.”
It is said that an ancient king was besieged in one of his fortresses, and that the utter failure of water compelled him, after suffering almost to the point of death, to surrender without terms or reserve to his enemy. After he had given himself up and taken the draught of water which was given him, he said, “For how small a consideration have I, who was a king, made myself a slave!”
Esau had despoiled and ruined himself without such extreme necessity. When the relief of his hunger was at hand, he had “sold his birthright,” because he “despised” it. He had not expected to lose it, however, though he had “sold” it. It is quite plain that he meant to have both the “morsel of meat” and the birthright too. All his arrangements prove that he made his preparations to “inherit the blessing” just as if he had not bargained it away long before, and sealed the impious and infatuated transaction by a solemn oath to his brother. How confidently did he come to his father, asserting his right and saying, “I am thy son, thy first-born Esau.” But “he was rejected;” when he would have inherited the blessing, and evidently expected to inherit it, he was rejected. The disappointment of his deluded hopes must have greatly embittered his distress.
Despair adds the last and most terrible aggravation. “He found no place of repentance.” In vain did his kind old father “tremble very exceedingly,” and exclaim, “What shall I do unto thee, my son?” The transaction was immutable. The blessing and the birthright had departed from him and gone to another. “He found no place of repentance, though he sought it earnestly with tears.”
But see now the magnificent contrast presented by the freeness of the grace of God in our Lord Jesus Christ. We, too, have sold our birthright. Worse than that, we have sold ourselves. “Thus saith the Lord, ye have sold yourselves” (and for even less than a mess of pottage) “for naught.” What then? “I have redeemed thee.” We have even done more and worse. We have destroyed ourselves. “Oh Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself.” What then? “In me is thine help.” Oh the depth of the riches of the grace of God! Our Father has “reserved a blessing for us.” It is not in the least diminished by the multitude who have got it before and are accepting it every hour. It is not lost utterly and hopelessly even by our own folly and sin. It is an accepted time, a day of salvation. Every soul that repents shall “find a place of repentance.” Our generous elder Brother offers to share with us his own boundless inheritance—to make us “heirs of God and joint heirs” with him. Oh, shall not hope and thankfulness lend wings to our approach to that gracious Father so ready to forgive, so mighty to restore, so rich in blessing, so plenteous in redemption, lest neglecting the great salvation, and thus “failing even of the grace of God,” we fall into the misery and despair of Esau, and “when we would inherit the blessing be rejected, and find no place of repentance, though we seek it earnestly with tears.”—Independent.
Suffering with Christ
By Tholuck
SUFFERING WITH CHRIST.—Shall I not be ashamed of the roses around my brow, when I see him, and all the princes of his kingdom, with the crown of thorns?
The Bondage in Egypt.
How strange it must have seemed to those Hebrews who thought much of God, and pondered upon his old promises to them and theirs, that he should let such long time pass, and leave them to suffer such dreadful affliction, without the least sign of interference for their help. How easy it would have been for their weak faith to utterly die, and for them to say, ‘There cannot be any God—or, if there be a God, he has forgotten his promise, and forsaken his chosen ones.’
And yet God never loved them more; never was causing all things more really to work together for their good, never more really deserved their faith and love, than during this very period of darkness. They came out of that Egyptian bondage welded together by mutual hopes and fears, and common trials in the furnace of affliction—fitted as they never were before, never could have been, without that experience—to do, for God and man, the work which God had for them to do; which the world was waiting for at their hands. Just so it is with us. Those dark hours of trial—when every thing goes wrong, and it seems as if we were forsaken of God and man—are often the period when the forces that we most need are working upon our characters, and shaping us for a usefulness and a comfort unknown and impossible without it.
The true Christian will sing in his darkest hour, in the gloom of the Egyptian night which is upon him:
‘I cannot call affliction sweet,
And yet ‘tis good to bear;
Affliction brings me to thy feet,
And I find comfort there.’
—Cong.