04.01. Meditations 1 to 30 contd
MEDITATION XVIII.
There is a great difference between a trading ship and a ’man of war’. The one goes out for private gain; the other for the public safety. The trading ship neither intends to attack, nor is prepared to resist, if attacked in her voyage. But the ’man of war’ spreads the sails, and sweeps the sea, to find and fight the foe; and, therefore, carries along with her weapons of every kind, and instruments of death.
Even so, the Christian has another course of life to lead than the worldling, even while sojourning in the world. And, as the ship of war must not visit from port to port, having more noble things in view—life and liberty to defend, and enemies to subdue—so, "No one serving as a soldier entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who chose him to be a soldier." We are never out of danger, while at sea; for, though it be a time of peace, we may be overtaken with a tempest, wrecked on a rock, or stranded on a sand-bank.
But, in these disquieted times, we may be shattered in a battle, and sunk by the foe. Or, should we escape all these, we may have a mutiny within. Just so, whatever be the situation of the sons of men, still the children of grace have a war to maintain; not only a sea full of storms to struggle through—but a field of foes to fight through. It is through fire and water, through severe trials, and heavy afflictions, that all spiritual champions have to force their way. Satan knows well how to act; when faith would look to the bright side of every event, Satan turns up the black side, to drive the soul to despair. And, on the other hand, when grace looks to the blackness of sin, Satan turns up the beautiful side of pleasure. In adversity, I am ready to dash against the rocks of discontent. And in prosperity, I am ready to sink among the quicksands of worldly cares and temporal concerns. We have foes on every hand to fight, temptations from every quarter to resist, all the powers of darkness, all the principalities of the pit, to combat with. Nor is peace to be expected while an enemy is on the field—we cannot lay aside our armor, the weapons of our warfare, until we lay down the body of death.
Again, though for a time we have no foe to affright us, no tempest to trouble us, no rock to endanger us—yet a mutiny may rise within, which may be more terrible than all these! It is always the ’dregs of the crew’ that are chiefly concerned in it, while the officers are sure either to be cut off, or confined. Just so, there may be a tumult raised in the soul, a war in the very mind, when rascally corruptions, headed by unbelief, claim the command; when graces, faith, love, patience, resignation, spirituality, etc. are wounded, and put under confinement. Thus, one complained of old, "I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, which is in my members." Now, as no scene can be more bitter than a mutiny, until it be suppressed, and order restored; so nothing can be more melancholy than a soul suffering all the calamities of a war within, corruption rampant, and grace bleeding.
But, how happy is the ship, when peace is restored, and the mutineers secured in irons, and what a strict eye is kept on them during the voyage! So it is with the soul; what joy, what exultation and triumph, prevail, when sin is subdued, and the love of God, and peace of conscience, are shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Spirit! This is known, that when the mutineers get the ascendance, and compel the rest of the ship’s company to join them, they turn pirates, are resolute in battle, bloody in their conquests, desperate in all attacks, a terror to, and hated of every nation. Even so, he that sets out with a fair profession of religion, and on the way to heaven—but turns a black apostate, spews out malice against the ways of God, becomes the bitterest of all enemies, the most profligate of all offenders, and is hated by saint and sinner. When a mutiny takes place, it is sometimes requisite for the safety of the ship, and for the honor of government, to cut off some otherwise very useful hands. Just so, we are to cut off lusts, though dear as our right eye, or useful as our right hand, that we perish not forever.
Again, our being provided with what enables us to defend ourselves, and to distress our foes, has sometimes been the ruin of ships, while the fatal spark makes a terrible explosion, tears the vessel to pieces, and scatters the lifeless crew on the deep. So the best of blessings, the choicest privileges, when not improved, entail the bitterest of curses. Thus Judas, who sat in his divine master’s presence, heard his sermons, and witnessed his miracles, not improving these golden opportunities, turned traitor and hanged himself, in the anguish of despair. And Capernaum—which in privileges was exalted to heaven—is threatened to be thrust down to hell. When war is over, peace proclaimed, ships on foreign stations called home, wages received, ships laid up, and the crews discharged, and set at liberty; how is all mirth and celebration, festivity and joy! But, what tongue can tell the transports, the joy, the rapture, and delight, which the Christian shall feel when his warfare is finished, and he translated to the mansions of glory, to the presence of God!
Some poor creatures, who, though weary of the war, yet not knowing how to support themselves, or where to go after discharged from the ship, would be content to continue still in the service. And this reminds me of some saints, who, not being free of doubts with respect to their state in a future world, notwithstanding all their toils in life, and struggles against sin—cling to life, and startle at the thoughts of death.
But, there are some provident people who have saved a little in the course of the war; and some so happy as to obtain a pension from their prince. These cheerfully retire to live on their money, recite their dangers, recount their conquests, and commend their king. Just so, the souls which are enriched by the King eternal, and blessed with the full assurance of celestial felicity—go triumphant, at the hour of death, to dwell in the courts of God on the treasures of glory, through an endless evermore.
MEDITATION XIX.
Lying off Normandy, June 14, 1758.
There is a wide difference, in both principle and
practice—between the the godly and the ungodly. The affections of the godly are refined—and their
desires exalted. The inclinations of the ungodly
are corrupt—and their desires groveling.
Sin has but a tottering standing, and a momentary
abode—in the godly. But sin has fixed its throne,
and taken up its eternal residence—in the ungodly. In the godly, grace and sin struggle for sovereignty.
In the ungodly sin domineers, and there is no struggle. The godly is deeply concerned about world to come.
The ungodly has no concern about the future state. The speech of the godly is seasoned with grace.
The discourse of the ungodly is insipid and vain. The godly has his hope fixed on God.
The ungodly has no fear of God before his eyes. The godly use the world without abusing it.
The ungodly, in using the world, abuse both themselves and it. The godly confesses God in his daily conversation,
and rejoices with his whole heart in Him.
The ungodly says in his practice—"there is no God"
and wishes in his heart—that there were no God. The godly adores the Creator above all else.
The ungodly worships the creature more than the Creator. The godly uses God’s name with profoundest reverence,
and departs from iniquity. The ungodly profanes God’s
name with impudence, and adds iniquity to sin. The godly redeems his time.
The ungodly trifles away his time. The godly studies his duty in obedience to all God’s precepts.
The ungodly shakes himself loose from every command of God. The godly forgives his foes.
The ungodly lays a snare for his foes. The godly commits it to God to avenge his wrong.
The ungodly, fiery and tumultuous—seeks revenge. The godly loves chastity in all things.
The ungodly wallows in uncleanness. The godly injures himself, rather than his neighbor.
The ungodly injures the whole, world rather than himself. The godly is content with his condition.
The ungodly covets all the day long. The godly is pure in heart.
The heart of the ungodly is like a cage full of unclean birds. The godly walks at liberty in the ways of God.
The ungodly is the servant and slave of sin. The Holy Spirit rules in the heart of the godly.
Satan rules in the heart of the ungodly. The godly has his conversation in heaven.
The ungodly has his conversation in hell. As there is such a wide difference in their principles
and practices—so also, in their eternal destinies.
God is faithful—He has promised felicity to the pious,
and threatened vengeance to the wicked. "The wicked
is thrust out in his wickedness; but the righteous has
hope in his death." Proverbs 14:32 The godly are under the blessing of God’s love.
The ungodly are under the curse of God’s law. The godly with joy, draw water out of the wells of salvation.
The ungodly shall drink of the wrath of the Almighty. To the godly pertain all the exceeding great and precious promises.
To the ungodly pertain all the threatenings of God.
Heaven shall be the palace of the godly!
Hell shall be the prison of the ungodly!
While the godly shall dwell through eternity with God, the
ungodly shall be driven away into everlasting darkness!
Thus, the righteous and wicked are separated in their
life, and divided in their death. They are divided . . .
in their principles,
in their practices,
in their choices,
in their joys,
in their thoughts,
in their company,
in their speech,
in their fears,
in their expectations,
in their death, and
through eternity itself!
MEDITATION XX.
Lying off Normandy, June 15, 1758.
"You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain." (Exodus 20:7)
"They cursed the God of heaven for their pains and sores. But they did not turn from their evil ways." Revelation 16:11
How justly will God, the righteous Judge, repay the imprecations into the bosoms of these blasphemers! They swear by God, and so they own the divinity they offend. But, they profane the sacred name, and so offend the Deity they own! They damn the whole man, their soul, their blood, their eyes; and every part, even the whole man, shall be tormented. They sow the wind, for there is neither pleasure nor profit in any sense in swearing; and they shall reap the whirlwind, whose truth is disappointment, and pain. They sin in sport—but God hears in earnest, and will punish in zeal. They call on God profanely at every word, and God hears, and will answer them in wrath. They swear, and forget—but God has sworn that he will remember. That which they think adds beauty to their speech, and vigor to their words—shall indeed add anguish to their grief, and fierceness to their torments. They are not weary in blaspheming, so as to cease from it, therefore they shall be weary in bewailing themselves—but never cease. They choose to blaspheme through the whole of their time—and anguish shall cause them to blaspheme through a whole eternity. They despise the day of God’s patience—but shall not escape the day of his judgment.
What shall the swearer say, when tossing on the fiery billows, shrieking under consummate despair! ’O miserable state of intolerable torments, which I must endure! How shall I spend this eternity of pain! It was nothing to me in time to hear others curse and blaspheme, and to join in the infernal dialect myself! And now I am encircled with unceasing blasphemies, from all the legions of demons, from all the millions of miserable sinners, suffering under infinite vengeance! And I mingle in the uproar, and join in the terrible tumult against the throne of God, although dreadfully tortured in my rebellion. Then, curses accented every sentence; now, every sentence is one continued curse. I thought God was altogether such a one as myself—and that he would never remember my swearings, which I never minded, nor call me to account for committing what I made no account of. Damn me! damn me! was always on my tongue—and now I am damned forever! The oaths and curses which I sowed in time, are now sprung up into bitter bewailings, and eternal blasphemings! As I took pleasure in cursing, so it is come unto me—but with inexpressible pain! O eternity, eternity, how long!’ This is, indeed, the last—but lamentable end of profane swearers, who shall confess the equity of God in their torments. But let not the petty swearer think that he shall escape with impunity, since the supreme Judge has said, that whatever is more than yes, or no, is evil.
But, as the wicked shall be answered in their ways, so shall the righteous be in theirs. All their imperfect attainments, longings, wrestlings, hopes, desires, prayers, meditations, tears, godly sorrows, spiritual joys, and the seeds of every other grace—shall come to a wondrous conclusion at last. Now they serve God with weakness—but then they shall enjoy him with a vigorous immortality! They sow in tears, and go weeping heavenward—but shall possess him in a triumphant state, where sorrow and signing shall forever flee away!
MEDITATION XXI.
THINKING ON A DEAD FRIEND.
Spithead, May 10, 1758. A melancholy gloom had well near spread its midnight shadows over my brooding mind, when thinking on a dead friend. But, all on a sudden, a sacred sentence beamed refreshful on my soul, that he has departed—to be with Christ!
Let me then borrow a similitude, and suppose that my friends and I live under the government of a great king, who has vast dominions, and who has chosen for his royal residence, a pleasant—but remote province, where his palace stands, and where he keeps court, showing himself in kingly glory, and excellent majesty; while we live, compared to the royal country, in a howling wilderness, a dry and thirsty land—but still under the scepter and protection of the king. And further, let me suppose, that this great king (which would be stupendous condescension in him) had conceived such a regard for my friends, that he had given his royal word, that he would send a noble guard, so soon as he thought fit, and fetch them home to himself, that he might bestow on every one of them, not a dukedom—but a kingdom, a crown, and excellent majesty! Now, would I fight against the guard, or murmur at their errand? Yes, would not I rather give the messengers an hearty welcome, and bless their majestic sovereign; and the more so, if I had the royal promise also of being myself transported there?
Then, is there any promise like his, whose counsel stands fast, and whose faithfulness cannot fail? Is there any guard like that of heavenly angels? Or any happiness like the celestial felicity? And, if these things be so, is not the state of the godly dead, happy beyond conception? Now, the glory of my departed friend, infinitely transcends the blaze of created grandeur. Mortality is put off, and immortality put on. For we know that when this tent we live in—-our body here on earth—-is torn down, God will have a house in heaven for us to live in, a home he himself has made, which will last forever!
Upon the above supposition, my friend, and his kingly patron, might have a falling out—as nothing is more fickle than royal favor. But here, there is no fear of his falling from the favor of the Prince of life, because he rests in his love forever, which kindles gratitude and love in the saints through endless day. In such a place, and in such a condition, would I not wish all my friends? Here we live to die—but there they live to reign! Though a little sorrow may be allowed to us who remain; yet, that boundless glory, and eternal bliss, which, to the highest degree, my departed friend enjoys, forbids me to bewail him to any great degree, or lament him as dead, who never could be said until now to live. Why should my sad reflections terminate on his crumbling clay, and not rather rise to meditate how his active soul is incessantly employed in the hosannahs of the higher house, and unweariedly exercised in beholding and blessing Jehovah and the Lamb? and thus convert my pensive thoughts into a Christian preparation for the same blessed passage to the same blessed place!
MEDITATION XXII.
Spithead, May 14, 1758.
There is an union between Christ and believers, that every metaphor falls short of. No relation so near as Jesus. The friend may prove false, the brother betray the brother, parents cast off the relation, and husband and wife be separated. Three strong figures hold forth this union, that of the tree and his branches; the head and his members; and eating the flesh, and drinking the blood of the Son of God. Now, what we eat and drink mixes with the mass of blood, and is so intimately assimilated with the fluids, that no power can separate it again; so, when by faith I receive the Son of God, and eat his flesh, and drink his blood, my soul partakes of the divine nature, until every power is holy, every affection heavenly, and until the life of Christ is made manifest in my body.
After this union, the soul and Christ cannot be separated; death may send the soul out of the body—but cannot send Christ out of the soul. And hereupon follows a commonness of interest. Christ renews the will, sanctifies the affections, enlightens the understanding, and claims the whole soul for his temple; yes more, he showers down his mercies, numbers his crosses, weighs his afflictions, wherewith he himself is also afflicted; and bears his sorrows. And all of Christ is the soul’s; his righteousness, his love, his joy, his pardon, his mercy, kindness, and compassion; his protection, direction, and conduct; his favor, his power, and sympathy, his light, his glory, his crown, his throne, his felicity, and his eternity in life. Thus the soul lives in Christ, and he in the soul. Their life is divinely interwoven; "you in me, and I in you." Hence, because he lives, they shall live also. Husband and wife must lose their relation by death; the branches may be cut off from the root, and the head, that sympathizes with all, may lose some of its members. But he who is joined to the Lord is one spirit, and a spirit can never be divided. This mysterious union is bliss begun on earth, and heavenly felicity tasted below, and shall be the eternal admiration of angels, the envy of devils and damned spirits, and the wonder of all heaven.
MEDITATION XXIII.
How pitiful are our highest attainments in this imperfect state! But, O how beautiful is it for the child of grace to grow daily in grace, and in the knowledge of God to rise step by step, until at length complete in Him who is the pattern of perfection! Let it be my continual struggle, then, that my grace, like the shining light, may shine more and more until the perfect day of glory. I can never get so near to God—but there still remains, and through eternity will remain, a distance, to be destroyed by approaching yet more near. My attainments can never be so high—but there remains something attainable, which I have not yet attained. "It’s not that I have already reached this goal or have already become perfect. But I keep pursuing it, hoping somehow to embrace it just as I have been embraced by Christ Jesus. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have embraced it. But this one thing I do: Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I keep pursuing the goal to win the prize of God’s heavenly call in Christ Jesus." If this was the confession of the great apostle, what must I say, who am but just setting my head through the shadows of the night, and peeping into the dawning of divine things?
Hence let me press vigorously towards perfection, and not be contented with my present attainments. Let me daily be drawing more near to him, until, Enoch-like, I walk with God, and live with him in heaven. Let me daily sit at wisdom’s door, and stand at the gate of paradise, that, since as yet I cannot enter in, I may send in my faith to view the fields, the land of my Beloved, and returning, bring me the substance of the excellencies hoped for, the evidence of the glorious things not seen. Let me walk in the mount of God, with him whose form is like the Son of God. Let the desire of my soul be to your name, and the remembrance of you.
Let an uninterrupted communication be broken up between the fountain of life and my soul, that I may bear no more the reproach of barrenness. And from that river of life that springs from the throne of God, and of the Lamb, let me daily drink, that I may thirst no more after the vanities of time. Let me live quite above the world, above its pleasures, and above its pains, disdain its flatteries, and despise its frowns. Let grace grow from one degree unto another, until, at last, O desirable perfection! it grows to glory. Let me hold you, and not let you go, until you bless me, in perfecting my attainments, and crowning my happiness with the full unclouded vision, and uninterrupted communion with Jehovah, and the Lamb, forever more! "But whoever drinks the water that I will give him will never become thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life."
MEDITATION XXIV.
It is surprising, that government allows the youngest recruit the same kind and quantity of provisions that any man or any officer aboard can claim. Yet, it is no more than may be expected from royal generosity, since they, in their capacity, support the same cause, undergo the same hardships, rush into the same dangers, and expose their though young and tender, at the commandment, and for the honor of the King.
Even so, every child of grace that is born into the family of God, has the same ample right to all the heavenly blessings. No sooner is he a son, than he is an heir of all the fullness of the covenant. The young convert is allowed, by the King eternal, to plead the performance of all the promises, and to claim all the privileges that the aged saint can do.
Again, as nothing can be more pleasant, than to see early youth walking in the ways of holiness; so, often to such youth have bright manifestations of love, and large communications of grace, been given. And the love of espousals, and the kindness of youth, is a melting, a long remembered kindness. Have not some youth departed to be with Christ, with such a gale of glory on their spirits, that aged saints have been at once astonished and ashamed? Have not some youths, who have suffered martyrdom for the name of Jesus, been so assisted with grace, that they despised reproach, and smiled in the face of danger—been so refreshed with foretastes of glory, that they could despise torment, and mount the scaffold with the same joy as if they had been going up the rounds of Jacob’s ladder? And, have not some striplings on a death-bed had such a double portion of communion, that they could look on dissolution with delight, forbid their friends to pray for their recovery, and could meet their fatal moments with the same alacrity as a young prince going to the grand solemnity of his own coronation?
MEDITATION XXV.
Many are the appearances which death puts on, and in everyone of them death is dreadful. Sometimes his commission bears him to lay siege to the clay-walls for a long time, and to waste them away with a lingering consumption; and then he steals on them so insensibly, that they still entertain hopes of recovery, and believe themselves better a day or two before death. At one time he comes in flames of fire, at another time in swelling floods; and at another time, by a sudden stroke, he sweeps the man at once off the stage!
Though fire is terrible anywhere, yet much more so when the burning pile is surrounded by a boundless sea. It is, no doubt, a moving sight, to see a naked family, with wringing hands, and weeping eyes, deplore their all in flames! A family at home, just alarmed out of their midnight sleep, by the doleful cries of affrighted spectators, with no more than time to escape the burning blaze! However, by the assistance of water-engines, and a thousand friendly hands, the fire is got under control, and half the house is saved. Or, should all the house be consumed, they are still happy in the possession of life, and the charity of well disposed Christians. But the scene alters at sea, and is much more dismal, as the ship I speak of felt. Strong and well equipped, the glory of the fleet, she spread the pompous sails, suspended by the lofty masts, divided the rolling billows with the nimble keel, was abundant in men and officers, and waved the honorary flag from the highest top. But, all at once, while no danger is dreamed of, and at noon, a fire starts below, too far advanced to be got under control, too terrible to be beheld without trembling. It kindles fear in every bosom, and nothing can be done. Signals of distress are fired—but only a poor merchant ship comes to her assistance; yet dares not come too near, for fear of catching fire herself. The fire rages still, and it is strange, in the midst of water, to perish by fire. Were the oceans a plain, with what cheerfulness would they flee the fire, and see the last plank in flames! But, death, gaping from the hollow waves, forbids them to flee, and every moment they expect to be blown into the air, and strewed in mangled legs and arms along the briny deep.
What confusion and disarray! what feeble hands! what fainting hearts! what struggling thoughts! what staring eyes! what screams and cries! The ship’s sides are lined with those hoping for deliverance. They look every way—but in vain, for relief. One boat only appears, which dares not come along-side; yet many take the desperate leap, and falling short of the boat, plunge into the sea, and are seen no more, a terrifying sight to all behind! Still the fire increases. Death is in the waters, death is in the fires; it pursues behind, attacks before, and hedges in on every side!
Old and young, who had survived the day of battle, are, in this melancholy manner, and on so short a warning, hurried into the eternal world. The flames grow more furious, and on all sides lifeless bodies float around, a sad sight to surviving friends! Her own boats carry off a few men—but find not the way back again. At length, the masts break down, destroying numbers as they fall, and officers die undistinguished in the throng; while the admiral, stripped of his uniform, hanging by an oar, struggles for life on the liquid wave. Many attempt to save themselves on pieces of the wreck, while the remains of the ship sink out of sight. But the angry waves wash them off their last relief, and they perish in the deep waters. Yet, mercy shines in the midst of shipwreck and death, for many escape with their life, though deprived of everything else.
O! strange to tell, will we leave with all that we have, for a few days, or a few years of our natural life; and yet leave with nothing at all for eternal life and endless glory? And, if fire which can be extinguished with water, or burn away to lifeless ashes, is so terrible; what must the fire of infinite wrath be—which shall burn up the wicked forever? Finally, since my situation is the same, may I study to prepare for death at any time, and in any shape; then I shall face the flames, yes, fall into them, knowing, that my immortal soul, from these devouring fires—shall rise to celestial glory, to live many thousands of eternities, and never, never die.
MEDITATION XXVI.
Spithead, May 22, 1758.
Grace, and grace alone, can conquer the heart of man. For, I have not seen one, who had all manner of misfortunes in his family, substance, relations, character, and person—his family carried off by strange deaths, his substance reduced to nothing, his pomp blown away like a cloud of smoke, his friends falling into grievous calamities, his character suffering by every tongue, the heavens revealing his iniquity, and the earth rising up against him, and his body long the dwelling place of loathsome disease, until death has sent his stinking carcase to the rotten grave! And yet the man remains an unrepentant sinner to the last!
Also, have I not seen the soldier, and the sailor, who in the day of battle had lost a leg, an arm, an eye, a piece of the scull, and some of their senses, have been made prisoners of war, and worn out with long confinement, and cruel usage. And yet these men remain armored against every judgment; incorrigible, though often corrected; stubborn under the strokes of heaven, inattentive to the language of the rod, and daringly defy an angry God? On the other hand, have I not seen a man, who had a flourishing family, growing up to maturity, like trees by a river; bathing in pleasures, held in common esteem, seeing his children’s children; riches, with little industry, pouring in on him from every quarter; himself, though aging, yet possessing the vigor of youth, and his bones full of marrow. And yet this very man walk in rebellion to the Author of all his blessings? Have I not also seen the man, who, when exposed on the thundering fields of war, or in the more terrible sea-battle, has yet stood safe amidst surrounding dangers, and received not a single wound, while some were losing limbs, or falling down dead on every hand. Or when perhaps the ship sunk; or a fire kindled in her, which consumed the miserable crew—yet he escaped the flames, survives the wreck, and lives to tell the astonishing story of his deliverance in the field, or on the flood? One would think that such a man would be melted down into gratitude, and live to God’s glory, who had been his help in the day of distress, and had covered his head in the day of war; yet he continues to walk in rebellion to the Most High, and boldly offends the God of all his mercies.
Thus we see one who is disappointed in every undertaking, crushed at every hand—yet remain impenitent under severe judgments. And we see another who succeeds in every wish, swims in created bliss, and walks in the clear noon of prosperity—yet remains obdurate under his many blessings, and chargeable with an ingratitude towards God—which ingratitude would be accursed among men. To be slain by mercies, or by judgments—is a terrible death. It is the death of the unrenewed in heart. When mercies or judgments are not improved, they give fury to the falling storm, and make the thunderbolts of wrath break with dreadful vengeance on their guilty heads through an endless evermore! O! then to be corrected in love, and to have my heart bettered by the sadness of my countenance; and, on the other hand, to have blessings with a blessing, and all my mercies sweetly drawing my soul out to God.
MEDITATION XXVII.
Spithead, May 23, 1758.
What is the purpose of this splendid fleet, this expensive navy? No doubt, to deal destruction to our foes, and ride triumphant over the sea. Had the world been inhabited in different parts, with people from other planets—we would not wonder much to see fierce contests. But the matter is not so, for we have all one father, and are all of one blood. All mankind are brethren. So why are empires filled with anarchy, kingdoms with rebellion, families with terror and tears, while the brother butchers the brother, the son the father, the husband the wife, and the person that is driven into despair, rises in rebellion against his own life? It is because we are all in a state of rebellion against God. What a shame is it for men to massacre one another, or depopulate whole nations, for a few miles of earth, which, in a few years hence, their eyes shall see in flames—an agonizing sight to their ambition!
We think much of nation rising against nation—but, since Adam turned rebel, the whole universe is up in arms against God—with a few humble supplicants in all ages excepted, who, having made peace through the King’s Son, are again received into favor. But what are they to the many millions that are under the command of Satan, the god of this world, the spirit who now works in the children of disobedience! What pity to see serving in the devil’s wretched army—the statesman and the general, the soldier and the farmer, the merchant and the mariner, the master and the servant; yes, and woman who, in other wars, tarry at home!
Moreover, besides this general insurrection against Heaven, there is a war in the bosom of all believers, some of the old principles of rebellion rising up against the laws of their rightful Lord and King: "A law in our members warring against the law of our mind, and bringing us into captivity to the law of sin." This is the army of Gog and Magog, which covers the face of the whole earth, and makes war with the Lamb; whom the Lamb shall overcome, for he is Lord of lords, and King of kings. There is a day of slaughter coming, when the sword of God’s justice shall be drunken with the blood of his enemies; when those who would not have him to reign over them in the spirituality of his government—shall be slain before his face, and cast into the lake of fire and brimstone! Would the princes of the earth submit to the Prince of peace, soon would they beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, and every man sit under his vine, and under his fig-tree. Were they more careful to extend the Christian religion, than to extend their conquest and commerce, more to grow in grace than in riches, and to improve more for eternity than time—how would our world be Hephzibah, and our earth Beulah, and the general contention between crowned heads and their subjects, through every land, be—who could live most like angels, and love most like seraphim!
MEDITATION XXVIII.
Set sail, venturous rover, and let your daring keel cut the dividing billow, and plow the briny deep. But where are you bound? To cruise on a tempestuous ocean—or dash against craggy shores?
Well, my soul, remember that you also have set sail, and are rapidly carried down the stream of time—to the ocean of eternity. I should consider under what latitude, and to what point I am steering. If under the latitude of the new birth, and a living faith, I shall at last drop anchor at the haven of bliss. But if under the latitude of a natural state and unbelief, I shall be driven, by divine indignation, on the rocks of everlasting ruin, and tossed a deplorable wreck on the floods of wrath!
How ignorant is the heathen world of a future state! But, since the Son of God has come, and has taught us all the mysteries of the spiritual navigation, and, in our exalted views, leaving land on every side, we look not at the things which are seen—but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal—but the things which are not seen are eternal.
Why should I fear, or be dismayed? Shall I not have a prosperous voyage, and a pleasant landing—since Christ is both my pilot and my destination—since his Spirit is promised to lead and guide me into all truth—since the scriptures are my compass, a light to my feet, and a lamp to my path—since hope is my anchor, cast within the veil—since faith is my telescope, which gives me views of the world to come—since self-examination my sounding line, to know what depth of water I am in, to try myself, whether I be in the faith or not—and since my log-book is a Christian diary, that I may tell those who fear God, what he has done for my soul—and since all the heavenly graces are like the extended sails, one sail being unfurled after another, first faith, which is to the soul as the main-sail to a ship, and adding to faith, virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly-kindness, charity. Were I once in such a happy state, my next petition would be "Awake, O north wind! and blow, O south wind!" fill my extended sails, and carry me to glory.
MEDITATION XXIX.
Spithead, May 24, 1758.
"Time is short." (1 Corinthians 7:29)
"So, then, be careful how you live. Do not be unwise but wise, making the best use of time because the days are evil." (Ephesians 5:15-16)
Time is precious, though misspent, though thought little of. I begin to set an higher value on time—which is ever valuable, than I was accustomed to do. But, ah! I begin to resolve when golden opportunities are past; and lost forever! God has been kind in giving me time, which I have not been cautious in spending, in improving. But, alas! blanks are not the worst, for I have not only trifled away and slept away time—but have sinned away much of my time!
O! what great things are to be done in this little inch of time! God will have none of his servants idle; we must trade with his talents here, and the profit shall be ours hereafter. We must work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, encouraged by this—that God works all our works in us. Thus, to speak, not like the proud legalist—but, like the laborious Christian, we must scale the walls of heaven (for holy violence is allowed) and take it by force. We must combat principalities and powers, and crucify the flesh, with the affections and lusts. I must stand upon my watch, keep a sharp look-out on all my foes, on the least sin, cut off hours which I have too often spent in (shall I call it) sinful sleep and guard against trifling amusements, and superfluous visits; not that visits and recreations are simply sinful—but the excess therein. I must carefully attend to my time as it passes, for with grief I see that I cannot recall time when past. I have much work to do. I have to bear witness to the excellency of true religion, and against sinners; my backslidings to bewail, my failings to amend, my conversation daily to inspect, my accounts to settle for the day of judgment (O to be found in Jesus in that day!) my treasure to lay up in heaven, my affections to set on things above, my sins to mortify, my graces to strengthen, death to prepare for, eternity to improve for, my salvation to secure, God to live to, and the Lord Jesus daily to put on. Now, say if such a one has reason to be idle, or to trifle time away?
MEDITATION XXX.
Though this is an event that will certainly take place, yet we are all thoughtless and secure, merry and unconcerned—as if it were of no importance to die, and enter into an invisible eternal world. Ask us all, one by one, if we think that we shall die in battle? and all of us to a man, have the fond hopes that we shall escape without a wound. But it would be more realistic, if each of us were saying, ’Perhaps it may be I—who shall be slain!’ Though my station be not so dangerous as that of some, yet, in my situation, some now and then are killed, and I rejoice that when I am in danger, I dare not trust to the ship for my defense—but your divine protection, which is better to me than a thousand bulwarks. Let me neither build on false hopes of life, nor be filled with slavish fears of death—but be prepared for all events. In the mean time, I plead that our fleets may be defended, our foes defeated, an honorable peace concluded, and an end put to the effusion of human blood. And I also plead, that you will put a covering on my head in the day of battle, that I may praise your power, and sing aloud of your mercy in the morning.