Christ's Love for His Church

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. (Song 5:1)

Solomon’s other books lie more plainly open to ordinary understanding. But as no one entered into the holy of holies except the high priest (Lev 16:2 and following; Heb 9:7), so no one can enter into the mystery of this Song of songs except those who have nearer communion with Christ. Songs, and especially marriage songs, serve to express people’s own joys and the praises of others. So this book contains the mutual joys and mutual praises between Christ and his church.

And as Christ and his church are the greatest persons who share in human nature, so whatever is excellent in the whole world is borrowed to set out the excellencies of these two great lovers.

It is called “Solomon’s Song.” Next to Christ, Solomon was the greatest son of wisdom the church ever bred. His understanding was as large as the sand of the sea (1 Kgs 4:29), and his affections, especially that of love, were just as large, as we may see by his many wives and by the delight he sought to take in whatever nature could afford. That affection of love, misplaced in him, would have been his undoing, had he not been one beloved of God, who by his Spirit raised his soul to lovely objects of a higher nature. In this subject there is no danger that the deepest mind or the largest affection, yes, even a Solomon’s, will overreach. For the knowledge of the love of Christ to his church is above all knowledge (Eph 3:19). The angels themselves may wonder at it, though they cannot comprehend it. It may well, therefore, be called the “Song of Solomon”: the most excellent song, from a man of the highest imagination and deepest understanding, about the highest matters, the communion between Christ, the highest Lord of lords, and his best-beloved betrothed spouse.

There are various things in this song at which a corrupt heart, to which all things are defiled, may take offense; but “to the pure all things are pure” (Titus 1:15). Such a sinful abuse of this heavenly book is far from the intention of the Holy Spirit in it. His intention is to stoop low to us so that he may raise us higher to himself. He takes hold of the sweetest passage of our life, marriage, and the most delightful affection, love, in the sweetest manner of expression, by a song, so that he might carry the soul up to things of a heavenly nature. We see in summer that one heat weakens another, and that a great light set near a little one draws away and obscures the little one’s flame. So it is when the affections are taken up higher to their fitting object. They die to all earthly things, while that heavenly flame consumes and wastes all base affections and earthly desires. Among other ways of mortification, two are remarkable:

1. By embittering all earthly things to us, so that the affections are deadened toward them.

2. By showing us more noble, excellent, and fitting objects, so that the soul, flowing out more largely and strongly toward them, may be turned aside, and so by degrees die to other things. The Holy Spirit has chosen this way in this song. By elevating and raising our affections and love, he takes our love off other things, so that it may run in its right channel. It is a pity that a sweet stream should not run into a garden rather than into a puddle. What a shame it is that man, having in him such excellent affections as love, joy, and delight, should cling to dirty, base things that are worse than himself, and so become debased like them! Therefore the Spirit of God, out of mercy and pity to man, would raise up his affections, by drawing comparisons from earthly things that lead to higher matters, which alone deserve love, joy, delight, and admiration. Let God’s stooping to us lead to our rising up to him. For here the greatest of things, the “mystery of mysteries,” the communion between Christ and his church, is set out in the familiar comparison of a marriage. In this way we may better see in the mirror of comparison what we cannot conceive of so directly, just as we may look at the sun in water when we cannot look directly at its beams. Only, our care must be not to look so much at the colors as at the picture, and not so much at the picture as at the person it represents. We must not look so much to the likeness as to the person it portrays.

Some would have it that Solomon, by a spirit of prophecy, here surveys all time from his own age to the second coming of Christ, and in this song, as in an abridgment, sets down the various passages and periods of the church in its several ages, since it contains various things that fit one age of the church better than another. But however much this song may contain a history of the church in its several ages (and we do not deny that it does), this does not prevent most passages in it from agreeing with the spiritual state of the church in every age, as most interpreters have thought. In this song there is:

1. A strong desire of the church for nearer communion with Christ; and then,

2. Some declining again in affection.

3. After this we have her recovery and regaining of love; after which,

4. The church falls again into a declining of affection, upon which follows a further strangeness of Christ toward her than before. This continues until,

5. The church, perceiving Christ’s constant affection toward her in spite of her unkind dealing, recovers and clings faster to Christ than ever (Song 3).

These passages agree with the experience of the best Christians in the course of their own lives. This observation must carry its force through this whole song: the whole church and every particular member are regarded alike with respect to the chief privileges and graces that accompany salvation. What holds for the whole ocean holds for every drop of water: all is water. What holds for the whole element of fire holds for every spark: all is fire. In such homogeneous bodies, as we call them, the part and the whole are regarded in the same way. And therefore, as the whole church is the spouse of Christ, so is every particular Christian; and as the whole church desires ever nearer communion with Christ, so does every particular member. But to come to the words, “I am come into my garden.”

This chapter is not so well broken off and divided from the former one as it might have been. It would have been better, and would have followed more naturally, if the last verse of the former chapter had been added to the beginning of this one: “Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits” (Song 4:16).

Therefore, because of the connection of this chapter with that former verse, we will first say something about it briefly, only to make way for what follows. The words contain:

1. A turning of Christ’s speech to the winds, to blow upon his garden, with the reason why: “that the spices thereof may flow out.”

2. An invitation of Christ, by the church, to come into his garden, with the purpose: “to eat his pleasant fruits.”

Question. It may be asked whether this command is the words of Christ or the desire of his spouse.

Answer. The words are spoken by Christ, because he calls it “my garden,” and the church afterward invites him to eat of “his pleasant fruits,” not of hers. Yet the words may also be an answer to an earlier secret desire of the church. The order is this: the church, sensing some deadness of spirit, secretly desires some further quickening. Christ then answers those desires by commanding the winds to blow upon her. For ordinarily Christ first stirs up desires, and then answers the desires of his own Spirit by further increase, as here: “Awake, thou north wind; and come, thou south; and blow upon my garden.”

1. As for the first point named, we see here that Christ sends forth his Spirit, with a command to all means, under the name of “north and south wind,” to further the fruitfulness of his church. The wind is nature’s winnowing fan. What winds are to the garden, the Spirit of Christ, in the use of means, is to the soul. From this comparison, drawn from Christ’s commanding the winds, we may observe in general that all creatures stand in obedience to Christ, ready at a word whenever he speaks to them. They are all, as it were, asleep until he wakes them. He can call the wind out of his treasuries when he pleases; he holds the winds in his fist (Prov 30:4).

Application. This may comfort all who are Christ’s, that they are under one who has all creatures beneath him, ready at his beck to serve them and held in check by him so that they do them no harm. This drew the disciples to say in wonder, “What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the seas obey him?” (Matt 8:27). And cannot the same power still the winds and waves that toss churches and states, and bring a sudden calm, if, like the disciples, we wake him with our prayers?

2. We see here that Christ speaks to winds contrary to one another, both in the quarters from which they blow and in their quality. Yet both agree in this: both are necessary for the garden. Here we see that the courses Christ takes and the means he uses with his church may seem contrary; but by wise ordering, all agree in the wholesome outcome. A prosperous condition and an afflicted condition are contrary; a mild course and a sharp course may seem to cross one another. Yet they sweetly agree in this: as the church needs both, so Christ uses both for the church’s good. The north is a nipping wind, and the south a cherishing wind; therefore the south wind is the more welcome and the sweeter after the north wind has blown. But however it goes, all things are ours: Paul, Apollos, Cephas, things present and to come, life, death (1 Cor 3:21-22); all things work together for good to us, being in Christ (Rom 8:28).

Application 1. This is why the manifold wisdom of Christ makes use of such a variety of conditions. And this is why the Spirit of Christ is mild in some men’s ministries and sharp in others; no, even in the very same minister, as the state of the souls he has to deal with requires.

Application 2. Again, the people of God sometimes need purging, and sometimes refreshing. Accordingly, the Spirit of God carries himself suitably to both conditions. And the Spirit in the godly themselves draws good out of every condition, since they are sure that all winds blow them good, and that if it were not for their good, no winds would blow upon them at all. But since these times of ours have grown cold, heavy, and complacent through long peace and plenty, we need all kinds of winds to blow upon us, and all of them are little enough. There was a time when we were more quick and lively, but now the heat of our spirits has abated. We must therefore take heed of it and quicken those things that are ready to die (Rev 3:2). Otherwise, instead of the north and south wind, God will send an east wind that will dry up everything (Hos 13:15).

Application 3. Again, if Christ can raise or lay, bind up or let loose, every kind of wind at his pleasure, then if means are lacking or fruitless, it is he who says to the clouds, “Do not drop rain,” and to the winds, “Do not blow.” Therefore we must acknowledge him in want or plenty of means. The Spirit of Christ in the use of means is a free agent. Sometimes he blows strongly, sometimes more mildly, sometimes not at all. No creature keeps these winds in a bag at his command, and therefore it is wisdom to yield to the gales of the Spirit. Though in some other matters, as Solomon observes, watching the winds may be a hindrance (Eccl 11:4), here it is necessary and profitable to watch the winds of the Spirit.

Now, for a clear understanding of what we are to speak of, let us first observe:

1. Why the Spirit of God, in the use of the means, is compared to wind; and then,

2. Why the church is compared to a garden, which will be handled in its proper place.

But first, the wind.

1. “The wind bloweth where it listeth” (John 3:8). So the Spirit of God blows freely, opens the hearts of some, and pours grace plentifully into them.

2. The wind, especially the north wind, has a cleansing force. So the Spirit of God purges our hearts “from dead works to serve the living God” (Heb 9:14), making us “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet 1:4).

3. The wind disperses and scatters clouds, and makes the air clear and calm. So the Spirit disperses the clouds that corruption and Satan raise up in the soul, so that we may clearly see the face of God in Jesus Christ.

4. The wind has a cooling and tempering quality, and tempers the distemper of nature. As in some hot countries there are yearly winds that blow at certain times in summer and temper the heat, so the Spirit of God allays the unnatural heats of the soul in fiery temptations and brings it into a good temper.

5. The wind, being subtle, searches into every corner and cranny. So the Spirit likewise is of a searching nature, and discerns between the joints and the marrow, between the flesh and the Spirit, searching out hidden corruptions that nature could never have found.

6. The wind has a nurturing force that makes things fruitful. So the Spirit is a quickening and cherishing Spirit, and makes the heart, which is like a barren wilderness, fruitful.

7. The wind has a power of conveying sweet smells through the air, carrying them from one to another. So the Spirit in the word conveys the seeds of grace and comfort from one to another. He draws out whatever sweetness is in people’s spirits and makes them fragrant and delightful to others.

8. Again, the wind bears down everything before it, beats down houses and trees like the cedars in Lebanon, turns them up by the roots, and lays everything flat. So the Spirit is mighty in operation. There is no standing before him. He brings down mountains and every high thing that exalts itself, and lays them level. Indeed, the Roman empire and those other mighty empires could not stand before him.

For these reasons and others like them, the “blowing of the Spirit” is compared to wind. And to this end Christ here commands the wind to “blow upon his garden.”

1. To blow… See here the order, linking, and chaining together of things one under another. For a poor flower or plant in a garden to prosper, not only soil is needed, but also air and wind, and the influence of heaven, with God commanding all, as here he commands the winds to blow upon his garden. To this end, as a wonderful mercy to his people, it is said, “And it shall come to pass in that day, I will hear, saith the Lord: I will hear the heavens, and they shall hear the earth; and the earth shall hear the corn, the wine, and the oil; and they shall hear Jezreel” (Hos 2:21-22). As the creatures come from God, so does their order and dependence on one another. This teaches us not only what to pray for, but also what it is fitting to pray for: not only for the dew of heaven, but also for seasonable and cherishing winds. It is not the soil but the season that makes the land fruitful, and that comes from seasonable winds and influences. So in spiritual things there is a chain of causes and effects. Prayer comes from faith (Rom 10:14); faith from the hearing of the word; hearing from a preacher, through whom God by his Spirit blows upon the heart; and a preacher from God’s sending. If the God of nature were to hinder or take away just one link of nature’s chain, the whole frame would be thrown into disorder. Well, what Christ commands here is for the winds to “blow upon his garden.”

And we need blowing. Otherwise our spirits will be becalmed and come to a standstill, and Satan, both by himself and by those who serve as his bellows, will be sure to fan into flame the seeds of sinful lusts in us. For there are two spirits in the church, the one always blowing against the other. Therefore even the best need to be stirred up. Otherwise, like Moses (Exod 17:12), their hands will be ready to fall down, and they will abate in their affection. Therefore we need blowing:

1. Because of our natural inability.

2. Because of our dullness and heaviness, which cling to our nature at times.

3. Because of contrary winds from without. Satan has his bellows filled with his spirit, and they hinder the work of grace all they can. So we need not only Christ’s blowing, but also his stopping other contrary winds, so that they do not blow (Rev 7:1).

4. Because of the state and condition of the new covenant, in which all beginning, growth, and ending is from grace, and nothing but grace.

5. Because old grace, without a fresh supply, will not hold out against new crosses and temptations.

Application. Therefore, when Christ draws, let us run after him; when he blows, let us open to him. It may be the last breath of wind we will ever have from him. And let us set about our duties with this encouragement: Christ will blow upon us, not only to go before us, but also to maintain his own graces in us. But oh, where is this stirring up of ourselves and one another on these grounds!

Question. But why is the church compared to a garden?

Answer. Christ here takes up all kinds of terms to express himself and the state of the church as it stands toward him. He does this to show us that wherever we are, we may have occasion for heavenly thoughts that raise our thoughts up to higher matters. His church is his “temple” when we are in the temple; it is a “field” when we are in the field; it is a “garden” if we walk in a garden. It is also a “spouse” and a “sister,” and so on. But more particularly, the church is likened to a garden:

1. Because a garden is taken out of the common waste ground to be set apart for a more particular use. So the church of Christ is taken out of the wilderness of this waste world for a particular use. Compared with the rest, it is like Goshen in Egypt (Exod 10:23), where there was light when all else was in darkness. And indeed, how does the church differ from other ground except that Christ has taken it in? It is the same soil as other ground, but he dresses it and fits it to bear spices and herbs.

2. In a garden nothing comes up naturally by itself, but only as it is planted and set. So nothing is good in the heart except as it is planted and set by the heavenly gardener (John 15:4; Matt 15:13). We need not sow the wilderness, for the seeds of weeds thrive naturally. The earth is a mother to weeds but a stepmother to herbs. So weeds and passions grow all too rank naturally, but nothing grows in the church by itself, except as it is set by the hand of Christ, who is the author, dresser, and pruner of his garden.

3. Again, in a garden nothing is usually planted but what is useful and delightful. So there is no grace in the heart of a Christian that is not useful, as occasion serves, both to God and to people.

4. Further, in a garden there is a variety of flowers and spices, especially in those hot countries. So in a Christian there is something of every grace. As some people cannot hear of a rare flower without wanting it in their garden, so a Christian cannot hear of any grace without laboring to obtain it. Christians labor for graces for all seasons and occasions. For prosperity they have temperance and sobriety; for adversity, patience and hope to sustain them. Toward those above them they have respect and obedience, and toward those under them, fitting treatment in every condition of Christian life. For the Spirit of God in them is a seedbed of spiritual good things. As in the corruption of nature, before the Spirit of God came to us, there was a seedbed of all evil weeds in us, so when a new quality and new principles are put into us, the seeds of all graces come with them.

5. Again, of all places, it is in our gardens that we most delight to walk and take our pleasure, and we take care of them by fencing, weeding, watering, and planting. So Christ’s chief care and delight is for his church. He walks in the midst of the “seven golden candlesticks” (Rev 2:1); and if he defends and protects states, it is so that they may be a harbor for his church.

6. And then again, as gardens used to have fountains and streams running through them (as paradise had four streams running through it), so the church is Christ’s paradise, and his Spirit is a spring in the midst of it, to refresh the souls of his people in all their faintings. And so the soul of a Christian becomes like a watered garden.

7. So also, their fountains were sealed up (Song 4:12); so the joys of the church and of individual Christians are, as it were, sealed up. A stranger, it is said, shall not meddle with this joy of the church (Prov 14:10).

8. Lastly, a garden always needs weeding and dressing. Continual labor and cost must be spent on it: sometimes planting, pruning, weeding and so on. So in the church and in the hearts of Christians, Christ always has something to do. Otherwise we would soon be overgrown and turn wild. In all these respects, and others like them, Christ calls upon the winds “to blow upon his garden.”

Application 1. If, then, the church is a portion set apart, we should walk as people whose condition is set apart from the world: not as people of the world, but as Christians. We should make good our claim to be such by feeling the graces of God’s Spirit in some comforting measure, so that Christ may have something in us, so that he may delight to dwell with us, and so that we may be subject to his pruning and dressing. For it is so far from being a bad sign that Christ goes to expense over us, following us with afflictions, that it is rather a sure sign of his love. The care of this blessed gardener is to prune us so as to make us fruitful. People do not care for heath and wilderness, and they spend nothing on them. So when God prunes us by crosses and afflictions, and sows good seed in us, it is a sign that he means to dwell with us and delight in us.

2. And then also, we should not strive so much for the common liberties of the world, which common people delight in, as for special graces, so that God may delight in us as his garden.

3. And then, let us learn from this not to despise any nation or person, seeing that God can take whom he will out of the waste wilderness, and make the desert an Eden.

4. Again, let us bless God for ourselves, that our lot has fallen in so pleasant a place: to be planted in the church, the place of God’s delight.

5. And this also should move us to be fruitful. People will put up with a fruitless tree in the waste wilderness, but who will put up with one in their garden? Dignity should remind us of duty. It is a strange thing to be fruitless and barren in this place where we live, watered with the dew of heaven, under the sweet influence of the means of grace. How fearfully the Holy Spirit threatens this fruitless state, when it has often been watered from heaven: it is near unto cursing and burning (Heb 6:8). For in this case, if visible churches do not prosper, God will remove the hedge and lay them waste, since he has a garden elsewhere. Sometimes God’s plants prosper better in Babylon than in Judea. It is to be feared that God may complain of us as he does of his people, “I have planted thee a noble vine; how art thou then come to be degenerated?” (Jer 2:21). If in this case we regard iniquity in our heart, the Lord will not regard the best thing that comes from us, such as our prayers (Ps 66:18).

We must, then, learn from him how, and in what, to please him. Obedience from a broken heart is the best sacrifice. Notice in the Scriptures what he abhors and what he delights in. We are accustomed to say of our friends, “I wish I knew how to please them.” Christ teaches us that “without faith it is impossible to please him” (Heb 11:6). Let us, then, strive and labor to be fruitful in our places and callings. For it is the greatest honor in this world for God to dignify us with such a condition as to make us fruitful. We must not bring forth fruit to ourselves, as God complains of Ephraim (Hos 10:1). Honor, riches and the like are only secondary things, which God casts in or not as he pleases. But to have an active heart, fruitful on this ground, that God has planted us for this very purpose, that we may do good to mankind: this is an excellent consideration to keep us from profaning our calling. The blessed man is said to be a tree planted by the water side, that brings forth fruit in due season (Ps 1:3). But it is not just any fruit. It is not the fruit Moses complains of, the wine of dragons and the gall of asps (Deut 32:32-33), but good fruit, as John says: “Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit, is hewn down, and cast into the fire” (Matt 3:10).

6. Lastly, the fact that the church is called Christ’s garden may strengthen our faith in God’s care and protection. The church may seem to lie open to every incursion, but it has an invisible hedge about it, a wall around it and a well within it. God himself is a wall of fire about it (Zech 2:5), and his Spirit is a well of living waters running through it to refresh and comfort it. As was said of Canaan, so it may be said of the church, the eye of the Lord is upon it all the year long (Deut 11:12), and he waters it continually.

Because of this special care that God has over it, we have a good plea to make to God: “I am thine, save me” (Ps 119:94). I am a plant of your own setting; nothing is in me but what is yours; therefore cherish what is yours. So for the whole church the plea is good: “The church is yours; fence it, water it, defend it, keep the wild boar out of it.” Therefore its enemies will one day know what it is to make a breach in God’s vineyard. In the meantime, let us labor to keep our hearts as a garden, so that nothing that defiles may enter. In these respects, then, the church is compared to a garden, upon which Christ commands the north and south wind, that is, all the means of grace, to blow.

But to what end must these winds blow upon the garden?

“That the spices thereof may flow out.”

The end of this blowing, you see, is “that the spices thereof may flow out.” Good things in us lie dead and bound up unless the Spirit lets them out. We ebb and flow, open and shut, as the Spirit blows upon us. Without blowing, there is no flowing. There were gracious good things in the church, but they needed blowing up and further spreading. From this we may observe the following.

Observation 1. We need grace not only to put life into us at the first, but also grace to quicken and draw out the grace that we have. This is the difference between man’s blowing and the Spirit’s. When a man blows, if grace is not there already, he spends all his labor on a dead coal, which he cannot make take fire. But the Spirit first kindles a holy fire and then increases the flame. Christ had already worked on the church in the use of means, and now he further promotes his own work. We must first take in, and then send out; we must first be cisterns to contain, and then conduits to convey. The wind first blows, and then the spices of the church flow out. We are first sweet in ourselves, and then sweet to others.

Observation 2. From this we see further that it is not enough to be good in ourselves, but our goodness must flow out; that is, it must grow stronger and become useful, continuing and streaming forth for the good of others. We must labor to be burning and shining Christians, as was said of John (John 5:35). For Christ is not like a box of ointment shut up and never opened, but like the box of ointment that Mary poured out, which perfumed the whole house with its sweetness. In this the Spirit is like wind: it carries the sweet fragrance of grace to others. As soon as a Christian finds any rooting in God, he is of a spreading disposition, and he makes the places he lives in the better for him. The whole body is the better for every good member, as we see in Onesimus (Phlm 11). The lowliest people, when they become good, are useful and profitable; from briars they become flowers. The very naming of a good man casts a sweet fragrance, as it presents some grace to the heart of the hearer. For we have what we have to good purpose when others have occasion to bless God for us, for the comfort conveyed to them through us. And so, to further us in this, the winds are called upon to awake and blow upon Christ’s garden, “that the spices thereof may flow out.”

Observation 3. From this we also see that where God once begins, he goes on, and delights to add encouragement to encouragement, to maintain those newly set up in religion. He does not only give them a stock of grace at the beginning, but also helps them to trade. He is not only Alpha but also Omega to them, the beginning and the ending (Rev 1:8). He does not only plant graces, but also waters and cherishes them. Where the Spirit of Christ is, it is an encouraging Spirit. For it not only pours in grace, but also stirs it up, so that we may be ready and prepared for every good work; otherwise we cannot do what we are able to do. The Spirit must bring everything into exercise, or else the habits of grace will lie asleep. We need the present Spirit to do every good thing. Not only the power to will, but the will itself, and not only the will but the deed, is from the Spirit. This should stir us up to go to Christ, so that he may stir up his own graces in us, and they may flow out.

Application. Let us labor, then, to be full of goodness in ourselves, so that we may be fitted to do good to all. As God is good and does good to all, so we must strive to be as like him as we can. To that end, for the sake of others, we must pray that God would make the winds blow fully upon us, that our spices may flow out for their good. For a Christian in his right frame of mind thinks that he has nothing good to any purpose except what does good to others.

So much for Christ’s command to the north and south wind to awake and blow upon his garden, that its spices may flow out. In the next place we come to the second part.

The Church’s Invitation to Christ

The church invites Christ to come into his garden, and gives the end of it: “to eat his pleasant fruits.” These words show the church’s further desire for Christ’s presence, that he may delight in the graces of his own Spirit in her. She invites him to come and take delight in the graces of his own Spirit. And she calls him “Beloved,” because all her love is, or should be, given and spent on Christ, who gave himself to a cursed death for her. Our love should run in strength no other way; therefore the church calls Christ her “Beloved.” Christ was there before, but she desires a further presence of him. From this we may observe that wherever grace is truly begun and stirred up, there is always a further desire for Christ’s presence. Though he comes daily nearer and nearer to the soul, the church thinks him never near enough to her until she is in heaven with him. The true spouse and bride always cries, unless she is in desertion and temptation, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly” (Rev 22:20). Now, these stages of Christ’s approach to the soul until his second coming consist in this: that he manifests himself more and more in defending, comforting and enabling his church with grace. Every further manifestation of his presence is a further coming.

Question. But why is the church so earnest?

Reason 1. Because grace helps us to see our need of Christ, and so helps us to prize him the more. This high esteem breeds a hungering, earnest desire for him, and a desire for further likeness and suitableness to him.

Reason 2. Because the church knows well that when Christ comes to the soul, he does not come alone, but with his Spirit, and his Spirit comes with abundance of peace and comfort. She knows what need she has of his presence, and that without him there is no living in comfort. For wherever he is, he makes the soul a kind of heaven, and every condition of life comfortable.

Application. From this we may see that those who do not desire the presence of Christ in his ordinances are, it is to be feared, people whom the wind of the Holy Spirit has never blown upon. Some are of such a disposition that they cannot endure the presence of Christ, such as antichrist and his members, whom the presence of Christ in his ordinances blasts and consumes. Such people are not only the profane and worldly, but proud hypocrites who glory in something of their own. Therefore their hearts rise up against Christ and his ordinances, because these lay open their emptiness and carnality and put it to shame. The Spirit in the spouse is always saying to Christ, “Come.” It never has enough of him. He was in a sense present already, but the church, once it has been blown upon, is not satisfied without a further presence. It is from the Spirit that we desire more of the Spirit, and from the presence of Christ that we desire a further presence of him and communion with him.

Now, the end and reason why the church desires Christ to come into his garden is “to eat his pleasant fruits,” that is, to give him contentment. And is it not fitting that Christ should eat the fruit of his own vine, have comfort from his own garden, and taste his own fruits? The only delight Christ has in the world is in his garden. And so that he may take the more delight in it, he makes it fruitful. Those fruits are precious fruits, since they grow from plants set by his own hand, taste of his own Spirit and so are suited to his taste. Now the church, knowing what best suited Christ’s taste, and knowing the fruits of grace in her heart, desires that Christ would delight in his own graces in her and kindly accept what she presented to him. From this we see that a gracious heart, when it is in a right frame, is aware of its own grace and sincerity, and as far as it is aware of them, it is bold with Christ in a sweet and reverent manner. So much sincerity, so much confidence. If our heart does not condemn us of insincerity, we may speak boldly to Christ in a reverent manner. It is not fitting that there should be strangeness between Christ and his spouse; nor, indeed, will there be, when Christ has blown upon her and she is growing. But notice the order.

First Christ blows, and then the church says, “Come.” Christ begins in love; then love draws love. Christ draws the church, and she runs after him (Song 1:4). The fire of love melts more than the fire of affliction.

Again, we may see here in the church a carefulness to please Christ. As it is the duty, so it is the disposition of the church of Christ to please her husband.

1. The first reason is that our happiness lies in his contentment. All cannot help but be well in the house where the husband and the wife delight in each other and make much of each other.

2. And again, after the church has denied herself and the vanities of the world, and has entered on a way and course of mortification, whom else does she have to give herself to, or to receive contentment from? Our habit is to study to please people we hope to rise by, careful that everything we do may be well received by them. As for Christ, we put him off with anything. If he likes it, so be it; if not, it is the best he is likely to get.

Application 1. Oh, let us take the apostle’s counsel, to labor to walk worthy of the Lord unto all well-pleasing, increasing in knowledge, and fruitfulness in every good work (Col 1:9-10). And this knowledge must be not only a general wisdom in knowing truths, but a special understanding of his goodwill toward us, and of our special duties to him in return.

2. Again, so that we may please Christ the better, labor to be cleansed from what is offensive to him: let the spring be clean. Therefore the psalmist, desiring that the words of his mouth and the meditations of his heart might be acceptable before God, first begs for cleansing from his secret sins (Ps 19:12).

3. And still we must remember that he himself must work in us whatever is well-pleasing in his sight, so that we may be perfect in every good thing to do his will, having grace by which we may serve him acceptably. And one prevailing argument with him is that we desire to be such as he may take delight in: the upright are his delight. It cannot help but please him when we desire grace for this end, that we may please him. If we study to please people in whom there is only a little good, should we not much more study to please Christ, the fountain of goodness? Labor, therefore, to be spiritual; for “to be carnally minded is death” (Rom 8:6), and “those that are in the flesh cannot please God” (Rom 8:8).

The church desires Christ to come into his garden “to eat his pleasant fruits.” Here we see that the church gives everything to Christ. The garden is his, the fruit is his, and the pleasantness and preciousness of the fruit are his. And as the fruits please him, so the humble acknowledgment that they come from him pleases him exceedingly. It is enough for us to have the comfort; let him have the glory. It came from a good spirit in David when he said, “Of thine own, Lord, I give thee” (1 Chr 29:14). God counts the works and fruits that come from us as ours, because the judgment and resolution of will by which we do them are ours. He does this to encourage us. But because the grace by which we judge and will rightly comes from God, it is our duty to ascribe to him whatever is good in us or comes from us. So God will lose no praise, and we will lose no encouragement. The imperfections in our well-doing are ours alone, and Christ will pardon those, since he knows how to bear with the infirmities of his spouse, who is “the weaker vessel” (1 Pet 3:7).

Application. This, therefore, should cheer our spirits in the wants and blemishes of our performances. They are nevertheless precious fruits in Christ’s acceptance, provided that we desire to please him above all things and to have nearer communion with him. Fruitfulness that pleases him can stand with imperfections, provided that we are aware of them and ashamed of them. Although the fruit may be little, it is precious; there is a blessing in it. Imperfections help us against temptations to pride; they are not meant to be matter for discouragement, which is what Satan aims at. As Christ commands the north and south wind to blow for cherishing, so Satan labors to stir up a pinching east wind, either to keep us from endeavoring at all or to make us heartless in our endeavors. Why should we think meanly of what Christ thinks precious? Why should we think offensive what he counts as incense? We must not bear false witness about the work of grace in our hearts, but bless God that he will work anything in hearts as polluted as ours. What does it matter if, as they come from us, they have a taste of the old man? He takes them from us, perfumes them with his own sweet odors (Rev 8:3), and so presents them to God. He is our High Priest, who makes everything acceptable, both persons, prayers and performances, sprinkling them all with his blood (Heb 9:14).

To conclude this point, let it be our study to be in such a condition that we may please Christ. And since we are daily prone to offend him, let us daily renew our covenant with him and in him, and draw encouragement for well-doing from this: that what we do is not only well-pleasing to him, but rewarded by him. And to this end, let us ask him to give command to north and south, to every sort of means, to be effective in making us more fruitful, so that he may delight in us as his pleasant gardens. And then what is there in the world that we need to care much about or fear?

Now, upon the church’s invitation for Christ to come into his garden, there follows his gracious answer to the church’s desire, in the first verse of the fifth chapter: “I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved” (Song 5:1).

These words contain an answer to the church’s desire in the latter part of the verse handled before: “Awake, thou north wind; and come, thou south…”

Then the next verse sets forth the complacent condition of the church at this time: “I sleep, but my heart waketh” (Song 5:2). In setting this down, the Holy Spirit here, through Solomon, also shows the loving interchange between Christ and the church, one with another.

Now Christ, in view of the church’s complacent state and condition, desires her to open unto him (Song 5:2). This desire and waiting of Christ is put off and slighted with poor and flimsy excuses: “I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?” (Song 5:3).

The result of these excuses is that Christ seems to go away from her (and indeed, as far as her sight and sense can tell, he does depart): “I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself” (Song 5:6). At this she bestirs herself, is restless, and inquires after Christ from the watchmen, who mistreat her, wound her, and take away her veil from her (Song 5:7).

Another interchange here in this chapter is that the church, for all this, does not give up searching for Christ, but asks the daughters of Jerusalem what has become of her beloved (Song 5:8). And at the same time, in a few words, but words full of large expression, she tells them her case, that she was sick of love, and so she charges them to tell her beloved, if they find him. When they then raise a question about her beloved, “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” (Song 5:9), she takes the occasion, being full of love (which is glad of every occasion to speak of the beloved), to burst forth into his praises in many elegant expressions (Song 5:10-16):

1. In general, she sets him at a great distance from all others, beyond comparison, calling him “the chiefest of ten thousand” (Song 5:10).

2. In particulars (Song 5:11-16): “his head is as most fine gold.”

The result was that the “daughters of Jerusalem” likewise became enamored with him (Song 6:1), and so they too ask after him: “Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?” To this question the church gives her answer (Song 6:2). And so, in Song of Songs 6:3, she makes a confident, triumphant close to all these grand passages already named: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” All of this will appear more clearly in the particulars themselves.

The first thing, then, that offers itself to our consideration is Christ’s answer to the church’s invitation (Song 4:16):

“I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved” (Song 5:1).

In this verse we have:

1. Christ’s answer to the church’s petition: “I am come into my garden.”

2. A title of address, or description of the church: “My sister, my spouse.”

3. Christ’s acceptance of what he had gotten there: “I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey.”

4. There is also an invitation of all Christ’s friends to a magnificent, abundant feast: “Eat, O friends; drink, yea drink abundantly, O beloved.”

1. To take the first, then: in that Christ makes such a real answer to the church’s invitation, “I am come into my garden,” we see that Christ comes into his garden. It is a great thing that he who has heaven to delight in will delight to dwell among the sons of sinful men; yet this he does for us, and so takes notice of the church’s petition: “Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits” (Song 4:16). This is the right speech of the church, which gives all to Christ; and when she has made such a petition, he hears it.

The order is this. First of all, God makes his church lovely and plants good things in her. Then he stirs up good desires in her, giving her both a fitness to pray, which flows from an inward gracious disposition, and holy desires. After this, Christ hears the voice of his own Spirit in her, regards his own preparations, and answers them graciously. From this we may observe, in the first place:

God makes us good, stirs up holy desires in us, and then answers the desires of his Holy Spirit in us.

We have a notable passage for this in Psalm 10:17, which shows how God first prepares the heart to pray and then hears the desires of the soul that his own Spirit has stirred up: “Lord, thou hast heard the desires of the humble.” None are fit to pray but the humble, those who see their own wants: “Thou wilt prepare their hearts, thou wilt make thine ear to hear.” So in Romans 8:26 it is said, “Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities; for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us, with groanings which cannot be uttered.” Thus the Spirit not only stirs up our heart to pray but also prepares our hearts for it. This is especially necessary for us when our thoughts are confused with trouble, grief and passions, and we do not know what to pray. In that case the Spirit dictates the words of prayer; or else, in our confusion of thoughts, he sums up everything in a volley of sighs and inexpressible groans.

Thus it is true that our hearts can neither be lifted up to prayer nor rightly prepared for it, in any fitting frame, except by God’s own Spirit. Nothing is accepted by God toward heaven and happiness except what is spiritual; all saving and sanctifying good comes from above. Therefore God must prepare the heart, stir up holy desires and dictate prayer. He must do all in all, being our “Alpha and Omega” (Rev 1:8).

(1) Now God hears our prayers because the materials of these holy desires are good in themselves, and because of the person they come from, his beloved spouse. So it is in Song 2:14, where Christ, desiring to hear the voice of his church, says, “Let me see thy countenance, and let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.” The voice of the spouse is sweet, then, because it is stirred up by his own Spirit, who burns the incense and from whom comes all that is savingly good. This offering up of our prayers in the name of Christ is what perfumes all our sacrifices and prayers with his sweet fragrance (Rev 8:3). For since we are in the covenant of grace, God regards whatever comes from us, as we regard the desires of our close friends.

(2) And then again, God hears our prayers because he looks upon us as we are in election, the choice of God the Father, who has given us to him. He regards us not only as joined to him in the near bond of marriage, as husband and wife, but also as those the Father has given to Christ. This is Christ’s plea to the Father: “Thine they were, thou gavest them me” (John 17:6). The desires of the church please him because they are stirred up by his Spirit and come from her who is his, whose voice he delights to hear. And the prayers of others for his church are accepted because they are for her who is his beloved.

To confirm this further, see Isaiah 58:9: “Thou then shalt cry, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt call, and presently he shall say, Here I am.” So, as soon as Daniel had ended that excellent prayer, the angel told him, “At the beginning of thy supplications the decree came forth” (Dan 9:23). So, because he knows what to put into our hearts, he knows our desires and thoughts; and therefore he accepts our prayers and hears us, because he loves the voice of his own Spirit in us. So it is said, “He fulfills the desires of them that fear him; and he is near to all that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth” (Ps 145:18-19). And our Savior says, “Ask and ye shall receive” (John 16:24). So we have it in 1 John 5:14: “And we know if we ask anything according to his will, he heareth us.”

Application 1. Let it therefore be a singular comfort to us that in all our wants, and so in the want of friends, when we have no one to go to, we still have God, to whom we may freely pour out our hearts. Since there is no place in the world that can shut us out from his presence, or keep his Spirit from us, he can hear us and help us in every place. What a blessed condition this is! No one can hinder us from carrying on this trade with Christ in heaven.

Application 2. Let us make another use of it as well: let it be a means to stir up our hearts to make use of our privileges. What a privilege it is for a favorite to have the care of his prince! We count such a man happy. Surely he is much happier who has God’s care: who has God as his Father in the covenant of grace, who has him reconciled, and who may on every occasion pour out his heart before him, who is merciful and faithful, wise and most able to help us. Why are we discouraged, therefore; and why are we cast down (Ps 42:11), when we have such a powerful and such a gracious God to go to in all our extremities? Whoever can pray can never be greatly without comfort.

Application 3. In the same way, it should stir us up to keep our peace with God, so that we may always have access to him and communion with him. What a pitiful case it is to lose other comforts, and along with them to be in such a state that we cannot go to God with any boldness! It is the greatest loss of all when we have lost the spirit of prayer, for if we lose other things, we may recover them by prayer. But when we have lost this boldness to go to God, and are afraid to look him in the face, as criminals are afraid to face the judge, this is a woeful state.

Now there are various cases in which the soul is not in a fit state for prayer.

(1) The first is that of Psalm 66:18: “If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not regard my prayer.” If a man has a wicked heart that purposes to live in any sin against God, God takes him for an enemy and therefore will not regard his prayer. Therefore we must come with a resolute purpose to break off all sinful courses and to give ourselves up to the guidance of God’s Spirit. And this will be a forceful reason to move us to it: as long as we live in any known sin unrepented of, God regards neither us nor our prayers.

What a fearful state this is! When we have such need of God’s favor in every condition, in sickness, in the hour of death and in spiritual temptation, to be in such a condition that we dare not go to God! Though our lives be outwardly moral, yet if we have false hearts that feed themselves with evil imaginations and with a purpose of sinning, even though we do not act it out, the Lord will not regard the prayers of such a person; they are abominable. The very “sacrifice of the wicked is abominable” (Prov 15:8).

(2) Another case is when we will not forgive others. We know it is directly set down in the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us” (Matt 6:12); and it is further added, “If you forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive you” (Matt 6:15). If our hearts tell us that we have no disposition to pardon, to be at peace and agreement, then we only take God’s name in vain when we ask him to forgive our sins while we continue in envy and malice. In this case God will not regard our prayers, as it is said, I care not for your prayers, or for any service you perform to me (Isa 1:15). Why? “For your hands are full of blood” (Isa 1:15).

You are unmerciful, of a cruel and fierce disposition, which cannot appear before God rightly or humble itself in prayer. If it does, its own bloody and cruel disposition will be charged against its prayers, which are mingled not with faith and love but with wrath and bitterness. Shall I look for mercy when I have no merciful heart myself? Can I hope to find from God what others cannot find from me? An unbroken disposition that counts pride an ornament (Ps 73:6), that is cruel and fierce, cannot go to God in prayer. For whoever would prevail with God in prayer must be humble; our supplications must come from a loving, peaceable disposition, where there is a resolution against all sin (Ps 73:1).

Nor is it enough to avoid grudging and malice against others; we must also see that others have no cause to grudge against us, as it is commanded: “If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift” (Matt 5:23-24). So if we do not seek reconciliation with those we have wronged, God will not be reconciled to us, nor accept any service from us.

If, then, we would have our prayers and our persons accepted and regarded, let us make a matter of conscience of what has been said, and not lose so blessed a privilege as this: that God may regard our prayers. But here it may be asked:

Question. How shall I know whether God regards my prayers or not?

Answer. (1) When he grants the thing prayed for, or enlarges our hearts to keep on praying. To have a spirit of prayer with an enlarged heart is a greater gift than the very thing we beg. For as long as the heart is enlarged to prayer, it is a sign that God has a special regard for us and will grant our petition at the best and fittest time.

(2) When he answers us in a better and higher kind, as Paul, when he prayed for the removal of the thorn in the flesh, received promises of sufficient grace (2 Cor 12:7-9).

(3) When, again, he gives us inward peace, though he does not give the thing, as in Philippians 4:6: “In nothing be careful, but in all things let your requests be made to God with prayer and thanksgiving.”

Objection. But sometimes he does not answer our requests.

Answer. It is true that he does not; but “the peace of God which passeth all understanding” guards our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God (Phil 4:7). So though he does not answer our prayers in the particular thing, yet he grants us inward peace, assuring us that it shall go well with us, though not in the particular we beg for. And so, even when he does not hear our prayers, we still have our hearts’ desire when God’s will is made known. Is it not enough for a Christian either to have the thing, or to have inward peace with assurance that it shall go better with them than if they had it, together with a spirit enlarged to pray until they have the thing prayed for? If any of these is present, God regards our prayers.

Again, in that Christ is so ready to come into his garden at the church’s invitation, we may further observe:

Christ grants his gracious presence to his children upon their desire for it.

The point is clear. From the beginning of the world the church has always had the presence of Christ. He has been present either in sacrifices, or in other things that were signs of his presence, as in the “bush” (Exod 3:2); or in some more glorious manifestation of his presence, such as the ark (Exod 25:22) and the cloud and pillar of fire (Exod 13:21); and after that, more gloriously, in the temple. He has always been present with his church in some sign or evidence of his presence; he delighted to be with the children of men. Sometimes, before that, he took on a body and afterward laid it down again, until he came indeed to take our nature upon him, never to leave it again.

But what is meant here, most of all, is a spiritual presence, which the church in some measure always had, now desires, and he offers, as being a God “hearing prayer” (Ps 65:2). And to give one instance for all, to see how ready Christ has always been to show his presence to the church upon their desire: what else is the refrain of Psalm 107 but a repetition of God’s readiness to show his presence in the church when they seek him and sincerely desire it, notwithstanding all their many provocations of him to anger? This is well summed up in Psalm 106:43-44: “Many times did he deliver them, but they provoked him with their counsel, and were brought low for their iniquity. Nevertheless, he regarded their affliction when he heard their cry.”

The church is not content to have a kind of spiritual presence of Christ; she is carried from desire to desire until the whole desire is fulfilled. For as there are degrees of Christ’s presence, so there are corresponding desires in the church that rise by degrees. Christ was present, first, by his gracious spirit; and then, second, more graciously present in his incarnation, the sweetest time the church had ever had from the beginning of the world until then. He was “the desire of nations” (Hag 2:7); for those who lived before his coming are described by “the waiting for the consolation of Israel” (Luke 2:25), that is, for the first coming of Christ. And then there is a third and more glorious presence of Christ, which all of us wait for, by which we are described as those who wait for the coming of Christ (1 Cor 1:7).

For the soul of a Christian is never satisfied until it enjoys the highest desire of Christ’s presence, which the church knew well enough must follow in time. Therefore she especially desires this spiritual presence, which she already had in some measure, in a larger and fuller measure. So then, Christ is graciously present in his church by his Holy Spirit. “I will be with you,” he says, “unto the end of the world” (Matt 28:20). It is his promise: when I am gone myself, “I will not leave you comfortless” (John 14:18), but will leave with you my chief deputy, the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, who shall be with you always. But someone may ask:

Question. How shall we know that Christ is present in us?

Answer. To know this, we shall not need to pull him down from heaven. We may know it in the word and sacraments and in the communion of saints, for these are the channels through which he makes himself known, together with the work of his own gracious Spirit in us. We need not take the sun out of the sky to know whether it is up, or whether it is day; that may be known by the light, heat and fruitfulness of the creatures. And in the spring we need not look up to the heavens to see whether the sun has come near us or not, for looking on the earth we may see everything green, fresh, lively, strong and vigorous. So it is with the presence of Christ.

We may know he is present by the light that is in the soul, convincing us of better courses to take and of a spiritual life, enabling us to know heavenly things and their difference from earthly things, and to set a price upon them. We may know it when, together with light, there is a heat above nature, so that the affections are kindled to love the best things and to rejoice in them; when, together with heat, there is strength and vigor to carry us to spiritual duties, framing us for holy communion with God and with one another; and likewise when there is in every way cheerfulness and enlargement of spirit, as it is with the creatures when the sun draws near. For these reasons the church desires Christ: that she may have more light, life, heat, vigor and strength, and that she may be more cheerful and fruitful in duties. The soul, once it is made spiritual, still desires a further and further presence of Christ, to be made better and better.

What a comfort this is to Christians: that they have the presence of Christ so far as will make them happy, and as far as the earth will afford! Nothing but heaven, or rather Christ in heaven itself, will content the child of God. In the meantime, his presence in the congregation makes their souls, as it were, a heaven. If the king’s presence makes every place where he is a court, because he carries the court with him, so Christ carries a kind of heaven with him. Wherever he is, his presence brings with it life, light, comfort, strength and everything else; for one beam of his countenance will scatter all the clouds of grief, whatever they are.

It does not matter where we are, so long as Christ is with us. If we are with the three young men in a fiery furnace, it does not matter, if a fourth is there also (Dan 3:25). So if Christ is with us, neither the flames nor anything else shall hurt us. If we are in a dungeon, as Paul and Silas were (Acts 16:24), and Christ’s presence is there by his Spirit to enlarge our souls, everything is comfortable, whatever it is. His presence changes the nature of all things and sweetens everything, besides the sweetness it brings to the soul by the presence of the Spirit. We see this in the Acts: when they had received the Holy Spirit more abundantly, they did not care what they suffered and paid no regard to whipping; indeed, they were glad that they were accounted worthy to suffer anything for Christ (Acts 5:41). Where did this fortitude come from? From the presence of Christ, and of the Comforter whom he had promised before.

So let us have the Spirit of Christ that comes from him, and then it does not matter what our condition in the world may be. On this ground let us fear nothing that may befall us in God’s cause, whatever it is. At the worst we shall have a spirit of prayer. God never takes away the spirit of supplication from his children but leaves them that, until at last he puts them in full possession of their desires. In all Christ’s delays, let us look to the cause and to our own conduct in them. Let us renew our repentance, so that we may be in a fit state to go to God, and God to come to us. Let us ask him to fit us for prayer and holy communion with him, so that we may never doubt his presence.

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. (Song 5:1)

This song is a mirror of Christ’s love, and in this verse we have part of the discovery of it. Here Christ accepts the church’s invitation and comes into his garden, and he greets her with the names of sister and spouse. Observe here the description of the church, and the sweet form of address, “my sister, my spouse.” In it there is kinship both by marriage and by blood, all the bonds that can tie us to Christ, and Christ to us.

1. His sister, by blood.

2. His spouse, by marriage.

Christ is our brother, and the church, and every particular true member of it, is his sister. “I go,” says Christ, “to my Father and to your Father, to my God and to your God” (John 20:17). “Go,” he says, “and tell my brethren.” This was after his resurrection. His advancement did not change his disposition. Go, tell my brethren who left me so unkindly; go, tell Peter, who was the most unkind of all, and the most cast down with the sense of it. He became our brother by his incarnation, for all our union comes from that first union of two natures in one person. Christ became bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, to make us spiritually bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh.

Therefore let us labor to be like him, who for that very purpose became like us, Immanuel, God with us (Isa 7:14), so that we might be like him and “partake of the divine nature” (2 Pet 1:4). Whom should we desire to be like more than one so great, so gracious, so loving?

Again, Christ was not ashamed to call us brethren (Heb 2:11), nor “abhorred the virgin’s womb,” to be shut up in those dark cells and narrow places. He took our base nature when it was at its worst, and not only our nature, but our miserable condition and the curse due to us. He was not ashamed of us; and shall we be ashamed to own him and his cause? Against this cowardice our Savior Christ pronounces a thunderbolt: “He that is ashamed of me before men, him will I be ashamed of before my Father, and all the holy angels” (Mark 8:38). It shows a base disposition to desert a good cause in evil times, whether out of fear of a frown or for the sake of favor.

Again, it is a point of comfort to know that we have a brother who is a favorite in heaven, who, though he humbled himself for us, is still Lord over all. Unless he had been our brother, he could not have been our husband, for husband and wife should be of one nature. So that he might marry us, then, he came and took our nature, and so was fitted to fulfill the work of our redemption. But now he is in heaven, seated at the right hand of God. He is the true Joseph, the high steward of heaven; all power has been committed to him; he rules all. What a comfort this is to a poor soul who has no friends in the world: that he still has a friend in heaven who will own him as his brother, and in and through whom he may go boldly to the throne of grace and pour out his soul (Heb 4:15-16). What a comfort it was to Joseph’s brothers that their brother was the second person in the kingdom!

Again, it should move us to hold good Christians in high esteem, and to take heed how we wrong them, for their brother will take their part. “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” (Acts 9:4) says the Head in heaven when his members were trodden on upon earth. To wrong a Christian is a greater thing than the world takes it to be, for Christ takes it as done to himself. Absalom was a wicked and unnatural man, yet he could not endure the wrong that was done to his sister Tamar (2 Sam 13:1). Jacob’s sons took it as a great indignity that their sister should be so abused (Gen 34). Now that Christ is in heaven, has he no affection for one so near to him as the church? However much he allows men to tyrannize over her for a while, it will soon appear that he will take the church’s part, for he is her brother.

“My sister, my spouse.”

The church is the daughter of a King, begotten of God. She is the sister and spouse of a King, because she is the sister and spouse of Christ; and she is the mother of all who are spiritual kings. The church of Christ is royal in every way. Therefore we are kings because we are Christians. This is why the Holy Spirit here adds “spouse” to “sister.”

Indeed, he takes advantage of the most comforting relations to set out the excellent and transcendent relation between Christ and his church. All other relations are not so much what they are called as mirrors in which to see better things. Riches, beauty, marriage, nobility, and the like are scarcely worthy of their names. They are only titles and empty things. Though our base nature makes great matters of them, the reality and substance of all these things lie in heavenly things. True riches are the heavenly graces. True nobility is to be born of God, to be the sister and spouse of Christ. True pleasures are those of the Spirit, which endure forever and will stand by us when all outward comforts vanish. That mystical union and sweet communion is set down with such a variety of expressions to show that whatever is scattered piece by piece among the creatures is found entire in him. He is both a friend and a brother, a head and a husband to us; therefore he takes the names of all.

From this we may further observe that the church is the spouse of Christ. She springs out of him. Just as Eve was taken out of Adam’s rib, so the spouse of Christ was taken out of his side. When it was pierced, the church rose out of his blood and death, for he redeemed it by satisfying divine justice. We were in such a condition that Christ had to redeem us before he would wed us. First, he had to be incarnate in our nature before he could be a fit husband. And then, because we were in bondage and captivity, we had to be redeemed before he could marry us: he purchased his church with his own blood (Acts 20:28). Christ has a right to us; he bought us dearly.

Another foundation of this marriage between Christ and us is consent. He works on us by his Spirit to yield to him. There must be consent on our part, which is not in us by nature but is produced by his Spirit. We yield to take him on his own terms; that is, once he has brought us to consent, we will leave our father’s house and all our former carnal acquaintance. Then the marriage between him and us is made.

A few resemblances will make the consideration of this all the more comforting.

1. The husband takes his wife under his own name. She loses her own name and is called by his. So we are called Christians, after Christ.

2. The wife is taken with all her debts, and is made a partaker of her husband’s honors and riches. Whatever he has is hers, and he stands answerable for all her debts. So it is here. We not only have the name of Christ upon us, but we share his honors, and are kings, priests, and heirs with him (Rev 1:5-6). Whatever he has, he has taken us into fellowship in it, so that his riches are ours. Likewise, whatever of ours is evil he has taken upon himself, even the wrath due to us. For he came between that wrath and us when he was made sin and a curse for us (2 Cor 5:21). So there is a blessed exchange between Christ and us. His honors and riches are ours. We have nothing to give him but our beggary, sins, and miseries, which he took upon himself.

3. Those who bring these two different parties together are the friends of the bride, that is, the ministers, as it says in John 3:29. They are the friends of the bride, who learn from Christ what to report to his spouse. So they woo for Christ and lay open his riches, beauty, honor, and all that is lovely in him. This is indeed the special duty of ministers: to lay open his unsearchable riches, so that the church may know what a husband she is likely to have if she cleaves to him, and what a husband she leaves if she forsakes him.

It was well said at the Council of Basel, drawing on Bernard: “No one commits his wife to a vicar, for no one is the husband of the church.” To be husband of the church is one of the titles of Christ that cannot be shared with anyone else, yet the pope has usurped it. Innocent the Third was the first to wrong Christ’s marriage bed by claiming the title of husband of the church. Bernard forbids his pupil Eugenius this title. It is enough for ministers to be friends of the bride. Let us grant that he is the husband of the church who has given himself to sanctify it with the washing of water and blood (Eph 5:26). We are a wife of blood to him.

In this sweet union we must know that by nature we are anything but spouses. For what was Solomon’s wife, Pharaoh’s daughter? A heathen, until she became Solomon’s spouse. And as we read in Moses, the foreign woman had to have her hair cut off and her nails pared (Deut 21:12). Before she could be taken into the church, there had to be an alteration. So too the church, which by nature is not merely heathen but indeed hellish, and led by the spirit of the world, must undergo an alteration and a change of nature (Isa 11:6-8; John 3:3) before it can be fit to be the spouse of Christ. Christ must alter, renew, purge, and fit us for himself. The apostle says in Ephesians 5:25-27 that the purpose of his death was not only to take us to heaven, but to sanctify us on earth and prepare us, so that we might be fit spouses for himself.

Application 1. Let us often think of this nearness between Christ and us, if we have once given our names to him, and let us not be discouraged by any sin or unworthiness in us. Who sues a wife for debt once she is married? No lawsuit lies against a wife. Therefore answer every accusation this way: “Go to Christ. If you have anything to say to me, go to my husband.” God is just, but he will not have his justice satisfied twice, since whatever is due to it has been satisfied by Christ our husband. What a comfort this is to a distressed conscience! If sin, which is the evil of evils and the cause of all evil, cannot dismay us, what other evil can? He who exhorts us to bear with one another’s infirmities, and has commanded the husband to bear with his wife as the weaker vessel (1 Pet 3:7), will he not bear with his church as the weaker vessel, performing the duty of a husband in all our infirmities?

Application 2. Again, his desire is to make her better, not to cast her away for what is amiss. As for outward troubles, they serve only to refine us and make us more conformable to Christ our husband, to fit us for heaven by the same way that he went. There is a blessing in them all, for he takes away all that is hurtful; he pities us and keeps us “as the apple of his eye” (Zech 2:8). Therefore let us often think of this, since he has been pleased to take us so near to himself. Let us not lose the comfort this meditation will yield us. We love for goodness, beauty, and riches; but Christ loves us to make us so, and then loves us because we are so, in every condition whatever.

Application 3. And if Christ is so near us, let us labor for chaste judgments, so that we do not defile them with errors, seeing that the whole soul is espoused to Christ. Truth is the spouse of our understanding. We are not left free to be wanton in our opinions, taking up whatever notion of things we please.

So too we ought to have chaste affections, not cleaving to base things. It has often been seen that one husband has had many wives, but never, since the beginning of the world, that one wife has had many husbands. God promises to betroth his church to himself in righteousness and faithfulness; that is, as he will be faithful to her, so she by his grace will be faithful to him. Faithfulness will be mutual; the church will not be false to Christ. So no Christian soul must think to have many husbands, for in this matter Christ is a jealous husband. Take heed, therefore, of spiritual harlotry of heart, for our affections belong to Christ and cannot be better bestowed.

In other things we lose our love, and the things we love as well. But here we do not lose our love; this is a perfecting love, which draws us to love what is better than ourselves. We are as we love; our affections are as their objects are. If they are set on things better than ourselves, they are bettered by it. They are never rightly bestowed except when they are set on Christ, and on other things as those things agree and stand with the love of Christ. For when the prime love is rightly bestowed, it orders and regulates all other loves whatever. No one knows how to use earthly things except a Christian who has first set his love on Christ. Then, seeing all things in him, and in all of them a beam of that love of his, which intends his happiness, he knows how to use everything in its proper order. Therefore let us keep up our communion with Christ, and value nothing more than his love, because he values nothing more than ours.

Question. But how shall we know whether we are espoused to Christ or not?

Answer 1. Our hearts can tell us whether we yield our consent to him or not. In particular, they can tell us whether we have received him as he will be received, as a true husband; that is, whether we receive him in order to be ruled by him, to make him our head. For when the wife yields to be married, she also surrenders her own will in doing so, to be ruled by her husband. To that extent she has denied her own will; she has no will of her own. Christ has wisdom enough for us and for himself too, and his wisdom and will must be ours. To be led by divine truths as far as they are revealed to us, and to submit ourselves to them, is a sign of a gracious heart that is married to Christ.

Answer 2. Again, there is a willingness to follow Christ in all conditions, as he is revealed in the word. To let Christ have the sovereignty in our affections above all other things and persons in the world is the right disposition of a true spouse. For as it was at the first institution of marriage, there must be a leaving of father and mother and all, to cleave to our husband. So here, when anything and Christ cannot stand together, we must leave it, or else we shall never have the comfort of his sweet name.

Many will gladly own Christ so that they may be great by him. But, as Augustine complained in his time, Christ Jesus is scarcely loved for his own sake. He is loved for other things that he brings with him, such as peace and plenty, and only so far as that love stands with these comforts. If Christ and the world ever part, it will be known which of them we followed. In times of peace this is hard to discern. If he will pay people’s debts, so that they may have the credit and glory of being called Christians, and if he will redeem them from the danger of sin, all is well. But only those who love him for himself have the comfort of this communion. Let us not trouble ourselves so much about signs as take care to do our duty to Christ, and then Christ will reveal his love clearly to us.

Application 4. Now, those who are not yet brought so near to this happy condition by Christ may still have this encouragement: there is yet room for grace for them. Let them therefore consider only these three things: first, the excellency of Christ, and of the state of the church when it is so near him; second, the necessity of being so near him; and third, that there is hope of it. There is in Christ whatever may commend a husband: birth, comeliness, riches, friends, wisdom, authority, and so on.

1. The excellency of this condition, to be one with Christ, is this: that all things are ours. For he is the King, and the church is the Queen of all. All things serve us. It is a wonderful nearness to be nearer to Christ than the angels are, for they are not his body, but servants who attend upon the church. The bride is nearer to him than the angels, for he is the church’s head and husband, and not the angels’ (Heb 2:16). What an excellent condition this is for poor flesh and blood, which creeps up and down the earth here, despised!

2. But this appears especially when we consider the necessity of it. We are all in debt for more than we are worth. To divine justice we owe a debt of obedience, and for lack of that obedience we owe a debt of punishment, and we cannot answer one for a thousand. If we have no husband to discharge all our debts, what can become of us but to be imprisoned forever?

A person who is a stranger to Christ, even if he were an Ahithophel for brains, a Judas for profession, and a Saul for position, will still be swallowed up by despair if his sins are set before him, fearing to be shut up eternally under God’s wrath. Therefore, if nothing else moves us, let necessity compel us to take Christ.

3. Consider not only how suitable and how necessary he is to us, but also what hope there is of having him. For he sues to us by his messengers and woos us, when we should rather be seeking him. And along with his other messengers he sends a secret messenger, his Holy Spirit, to incline our hearts. Let us therefore, as we love our souls, allow ourselves to be won. But more of this in another place. The next branch follows.

3. Christ’s Acceptance

“I have gathered my myrrh with my spice.” So, together with Christ’s presence, here is a gracious acceptance of the church’s provision, with a delight in it, and along with this, a bringing of more with him. The church had a double desire. First, she desired that Christ would come and accept what she had for him of his own grace, which he had worked in her soul. Second, she was also truly persuaded that he would not come empty-handed, only to accept what was there, but would also bring an abundance of grace and comfort with him. Therefore she desires both acceptance and increase, and he answers both these desires. He comes to his garden, shows his acceptance, and brings more besides: “I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk.” From this we observe that God accepts the graces of his children and delights in them.

First, he does so because they are the fruits that come from his children, his spouse, his friend. Love for the person wins acceptance for what the person presents. What comes from love is lovingly received.

Second, they are the graces of his Spirit. If we have anything good, it all comes from the Spirit, who is first in Christ our husband and then in us. As the ointment was first poured on Aaron’s head and then ran down upon his rich garments (Ps 133:2), so everything comes from Christ to us. Paul calls the wife “the glory of her husband” (1 Cor 11:7), because, as in a mirror, she reflects the graces of her husband, who may see his own graces in her. So it is with Christ and the church. “Face answereth to face,” as Solomon says in another case (Prov 27:19). Christ sees his own face, beauty and glory in his church. She reflects his beams. He looks upon her in love, and with his looks he always conveys grace and comfort, and the church reflects his grace back again. Therefore what Christ loves in his children is simply the reflection of his own graces, and so he accepts them.

Third, his kindness is such that he takes everything in good part. Christ is love and kindness itself. Why does he give her the name of spouse and sister, except that he would be kind and loving, and would have us think of him in that way? We see, then, the graciousness of Christ in accepting us and what we do in his strength. Both we ourselves are sacrifices, and what we offer is a sacrifice acceptable to God, through him who offered himself as a sacrifice of a sweet-smelling savor, in which God smells a savor of rest. God accepts Christ first, and then us, and whatever comes from us in him. We may boldly pray, as in Psalm 20:3, “Lord, remember all our offerings, and accept all our sacrifices.” The blessed apostle Paul bids us to offer up ourselves (Rom 12:1) as a holy and acceptable sacrifice to God, once we are in Christ.

In the Old Testament we have various displays of this acceptance. He accepted the sacrifice of Abel, as it is thought, by fire from heaven, and in the same way, by fire, the sacrifices of Elijah and of Solomon (1 Kgs 18:38; 2 Chr 7:1). So in the New Testament he showed his acceptance of the disciples meeting together by a mighty wind, and then by filling them with the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:2-4). But now the declaration that he accepts our persons, our graces, and the sacrifices we offer him lies chiefly in peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Spirit, and in a holy fire of love kindled by the Spirit, by which our sacrifices are burned. In the incense of prayer, how many sweet spices are burned together by this fire of faith working by love: humility and patience in submitting to God’s will, hope of a gracious answer, holiness, love for others, and so on.

Application 1. If God accepts the performances and graces of his children, and especially their prayers, let this be an argument to encourage us to be much in all holy duties. It would deaden the heart of anyone to perform service where it would not be accepted, where the eye was turned aside and would not grant it a gracious look. This would kill all comfortable endeavor. But when all that is good is accepted, and what is amiss is pardoned, when a broken desire or a cup of cold water shall not go unregarded, no, nor unrewarded (Matt 10:42), what more can we desire? It is unbelief, which dishonors God and robs us of comfort, that makes us so barren and cold in our duties.

Application 2. Only let our care be to have our hearts approved by Christ. When our hearts are right, we cannot help thinking comfortably of Christ. Those who have offended some great person are afraid when they hear from him, because they think they are in a state that displeases him. So a soul that is under the guilt of any sin is so far from thinking that God accepts it that it expects to hear nothing from him but some message of anger and displeasure. But someone who keeps up his acquaintance with a great person, with due distance and respect, hears from him with comfort. Before he breaks open a letter or sees anything in it, he supposes that it comes from a friend, from one who loves him.

So, if we want to hear nothing but good news from heaven, and acceptance of all that we do, let us be careful to keep ourselves in a good state, or else our souls will tremble at any revelation of God’s wrath. The guilty conscience reasons, “What can God show to me, wretch that I am?” Such a person’s heart cannot help but fear the worst, just as, where peace has been made, the heart will speak comfort. It is said of Daniel that he was a man of God’s desires (Dan 9:23; Dan 10:11, 19), and of John that Christ so loved him that he leaned on his breast (John 21:20). Not everyone can be a Daniel, or one who leans on Christ’s bosom. There are degrees of favor and love. But there is no child of God who is not loved and accepted by him in some degree. But something was said of this before, in the former chapter.

“I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey.” That is, I have taken contentment in your graces, as well as accepting them. There is a delight here: God not only accepts the graces of his children, but delights in them. “All my delight,” says David, “is in those that are excellent” (Ps 16:3). But this is not all. Christ comes with an enlargement of what he finds.

Christ comes, and whenever he comes he does not come empty, but with an abundance of grace. Paul was only Christ’s instrument, yet he could tell the Romans that he hoped to come to them in abundance of grace and comfort (Rom 15:29), because he was a blessed instrument, like a conduit pipe, to convey good from Christ to the people of God. If so, how much more will Christ himself, wherever he is present, come with graces and comfort! Those who have communion with Christ, therefore, have a comfortable communion, since they are sure to have it enlarged, for “to him that hath shall be given” (Matt 25:29).

This is true not only of his last coming, when he shall come to judge the living and the dead, of which he says, “I come, and my reward is with me” (Rev 22:12), but also of all his intermediate comings in between. When he comes to the soul, he comes not only to accept what is there, but always with his reward with him, the increase of grace, to recompense all that is good with an increase of it. This is what made his presence so desired in the Gospels by those who had gracious hearts. They knew that everything was the better for Christ, and the company the better, for he never left any house or table where he had been without an increase of comfort and of grace there. And as it was with his bodily presence, so it is with his spiritual presence. He never comes without increasing grace and comfort.

Therefore, let us be stirred up to have communion with Christ by this motive: that in this way we shall have an increase, a further measure of grace. Let us labor to be such as Christ may delight in, for our graces are honey and spices to him, and where he tastes sweetness he will bring more with him. To him who overcomes he promises “the hidden manna” (Rev 2:17). They had manna before, but he means this: they shall have more abundant communion with me, who am “the hidden manna.” There is abundance to be had in him, as the soul is capable of abundance. Therefore we may spend ourselves most fruitfully and comfortably in holy exercises and communion with Christ, because our souls are fit to be enlarged more and more until they reach their fullness in heaven. And there is still more grace and comfort to be had in Christ, the more we have to do with him.

But now to show what is meant by honey and wine, and so on. We do not want to build on uncertain grounds from these words, but on what may be a foundation for comfort and instruction. So we will not show in particular what is meant by the wine and the honey (for the Holy Spirit does not intend that). Rather, we will show in general how acceptable the graces of the Spirit of Christ are to him: they feed him and delight him, as wine and honey do us. For in the covenant of grace he fills us by his Spirit of grace, so that he may have comfort in us as we have comfort in him. Unless there is a mutual joy in one another, there is no communion.

Therefore Christ furnishes his church with as much grace as is necessary for her state of absence here, grace that may fit her for communion with him forever in heaven. As Isaac sent Rebecca jewels and ornaments to wear before the marriage, so that she might be more lovely when they met (Gen 24:22), so our blessed Savior sends his spouse jewels and ornaments from heaven, that is, graces. Adorned with these, she is one in whom he may delight more and more until the marriage is fulfilled. Therefore in this book the church is presented as delighting in Christ, and he in the church. “Thy love,” the church says to him, “is sweeter than wine” (Song 1:2). Christ says to the church in return, “Thy love is sweeter than wine” (Song 4:10). Whatever Christ says to the church, the church says back to Christ, and he back again to the church. So there is a mutual contentment and joy in one another.

“Eat, O friends; drink.” Here is an invitation. When he comes stored with more grace and comfort, he stirs them up, the church herself, others, and all who bear goodwill to his people, so that they may delight in the graces and comforts of his church. From this we observe:

Observation. We ought to rejoice in the comforts and graces of others, and in our own.

He stirs up the church here as well as others, for he speaks to all, both to the church and to her friends. He needed to stir her up to enjoy the comfort of her own grace. For to have grace and to know that we have it are two distinct benefits, though one Spirit works both (1 Cor 2:12). The Spirit works grace and shows us the things that God has given us, yet sometimes he does the one and not the other. In times of desertion and of temptation we have grace, but we do not know it; we have a right to comfort, but we do not feel it. A secret, unknown treasure gives no comfort. Yet so it is with the church: she does not always take notice of her own graces and the right she has to comfort.

We need Christ’s Spirit to help us know what good is in us. Indeed, a Christian should examine his heart not only for the evil that is in him, so as to be humbled, but also for the good that is there, so that he may rejoice and be thankful. And since Christ accepts the very firstfruits, the down payment, and delights in them, we should know what he delights in, so that we may go boldly to him, remembering that whatever is graciously good comes not from ourselves but from Christ. Therefore we ought to know our own graces. For when Christ wants us to be truly comforted, he will reveal to us what cause we have to rejoice, and show us what is the work of his own Spirit, and our right to all comfort.

And so too with others. We should rejoice not only in ourselves and in our own condition and lot, but also in the happy condition of every good Christian. There is joy in heaven at the conversion of one sinner (Luke 15:10). God the Father rejoices to have a new son. God the Son rejoices to see the fruit of his own redemption, that one is pulled out of the state of damnation. God the Holy Spirit rejoices that he has a new temple to dwell in. The angels rejoice that they have a new charge to look after, one they did not have before, to join with them in praising God. So there is joy in heaven: the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, together with the angels, rejoice at it, and all true-hearted Christians rejoice in one another’s graces.

Reasons. For, first, God, Christ and the Holy Spirit have glory by it; second, the church has comfort by the increase of a saint; and third, the prayer of a Christian adds new strength to the church. What a happy condition it is when God’s glory, the church’s comfort and strength, and our own joy all meet together! So we should all take notice of the grace of God in others.

We ought to take notice of the works of God in creation and providence when we see plants, stars and the like, or else we dishonor God. What then should we do with his gifts and graces in his children, which are above these in dignity? Should we not take notice of what is graciously good, and praise God for it? This is what they did at Paul’s conversion: “they glorified God.” For when they saw that Paul had turned from a wolf into not only a sheep, but a shepherd and leader of God’s flock, they glorified God (Gal 1:24).

So the believing Jews, when the Gentiles were converted, glorified God, that he had taken the Gentiles to be his garden and people (Acts 11:18). When Paul and others had planted the gospel and God gave the increase, the godly Jews rejoiced at that good. So we who are Gentiles should rejoice to hear of the conversion of the Jews, and pray for it, for there will be a general joy when that happens. Lack of joy shows lack of grace.

There is no surer mark of a satanic and Cain-like disposition than to look upon the graces of God’s children with a malignant eye, as Cain did, who hated his brother because his works were better than his own (1 John 3:12). Those who speak evil of the graces of God in others, and cloud them with slanders so that they may not shine, who will not let the sweet ointment of their good names spread, but cast dead flies into it, show that they share the disposition of the one who is the accuser of the brethren. It is a sign of a child of the devil. All who have grace in them share the disposition of Christ and of the angels. They rejoice at the conversion and growth of any Christians. Here such people are called friends and beloved; and indeed none but friends and beloved can love as Christ loves and delight as Christ delights.

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk; eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved! I sleep, but my heart waketh. (Song 5:1-2)

We have shown how Christ and the church were feasting together. She begged for his company, asking him “to come into his garden and eat his pleasant fruits” (Song 4:16). He came, as she desired, and not only feasted on the church’s provision but also brought more with him. As Christ walks in his garden (that is, his church and every individual soul, which is like a sweet paradise for him to delight in), he is greatly refreshed, and as a token of his acceptance he brings increase. What greater encouragement could we wish for than this: that we, who by nature since the fall are like the cursed earth, should be the soil of Christ’s delight, planted and watered by him, and that what we yield should be so well received by him?

We are under so gracious a covenant that all our services are accepted: not only our honey but our honeycomb, not only our wine but our milk, our weak services as well as our strong ones, because the Spirit we have from him sweetens everything. In nature there is one common influence from heaven, and yet there is a variety of flowers (violets, roses, gillyflowers, spices), all sweet in their several kinds, each with a different kind of sweetness. In the same way all graces have their beginning from the common influence of Christ’s Spirit, though they differ from one another, and all are accepted by the “Father of lights” from whom they come (Jas 1:17). Christ wonders at his own grace: “O woman, great is thy faith” (Matt 15:28); and “Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?” (Song 3:6).

Let not even the weakest of all be discouraged. Christ does not look so much at what a person brings as at the store it comes out of. What is least in quantity may be greatest in proportion, as the widow’s mite was more acceptable than richer offerings (Luke 21:3). Under the law “a pair of turtle doves” was accepted (Lev 5:7), and so were those who brought only goats’ hair for the building of the tabernacle (Exod 35:6).

The particulars named here, which Christ took delight in and invites others to delight in to a still further degree, are myrrh and spice, honey and honeycomb, and milk. These show three things: first, the sweetness of grace and spiritual comfort; second, its variety; third, its use.

Myrrh and spices first refresh the spirits and second preserve from decay, which is why they are used in embalming. If the soul is not embalmed with grace, it is a loathsome carrion soul; and as it is in itself, so everything that comes from it is abominable.

Milk and honey nourish and strengthen; and wine raises the spirits, and so encourages and eases sorrow and cares. “Give wine to him that is ready to die” (Prov 31:6). The sense of the love of Christ is sweeter than wine; it banishes fears and sorrow and care.

From this mutual delight between Christ and his spouse we observe next that there is a mutual feasting between Christ and his church. The church brings what she has of his Spirit, and Christ comes with greater plenty.

For since there is so close a covenant between him and us, we are by his grace to perform all the duties on our part. We invite him, and he invites us. There is not the lowliest Christian who does not have something with which to welcome Christ; but Christ sends his provisions ahead and comes, as we say, at his own cost. He sends a spirit of faith, a spirit of love, a spirit of obedience.

1. Some are content to invite others but are unwilling to go to others, as if it were beneath their dignity. They would like to have something with which to entertain Christ, but they are unwilling to be indebted to Christ.

2. Some are content to have benefit from Christ, such as his righteousness to cover them, and so on, but they do not desire grace to entertain Christ. A truly gracious heart, however, desires both to delight in Christ and that Christ may delight in it. It desires grace together with mercy, holiness together with happiness. Christ could not delight in his love toward us if we did not, by his grace, have a love for him planted in our hearts.

But let us come to speak of this feast. We see that it pleases Christ to veil heavenly matters in comparisons drawn from earthly things, so that he may enter our souls the better through our senses.

1. Christ makes us a feast, a marriage feast, a marriage feast with the King’s Son, the most magnificent of all feasts. It is a feast, first, with regard to the choice rarities we have in Christ. We have the best, and the best of the best: “Fat things, and the marrow of fatness; wine, and wine on the lees” (Isa 25:6), the wine refined, which keeps its strength. The comforts we have from Christ are the best comforts; the peace, the best peace; the privileges, the highest privileges. “His flesh,” crucified for us to satisfy divine justice, “is meat indeed; his blood,” shed for us, “is drink indeed” (John 6:55). That is, they are the only meat and drink to refresh our souls, because they feed our souls, and that to eternal life.

The love of God the Father in giving Christ to death, and Christ’s love in giving himself, together with full satisfaction to divine justice: this gift is what the soul chiefly feeds on. What could Christ give better than himself to feed on? He thought nothing else worthy for the soul to feed on; and on this it feeds daily, as guilt daily arises from the breaking out of the corruption that remains in us. The other delicacies come from this; from here we have the Spirit and the graces of the Spirit. If he gives himself, will he not give all things with himself?

2. As Christ makes a feast of choice things for his elect and choice spouse, so there is variety, as at a feast. “Christ is made to us of God, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption” (1 Cor 1:30), so that we should not be too much cast down by the thought of our own folly, guilt, unholiness, and misery. There is something in Christ that answers to all our wants, an all-sufficiency for every degree of happiness. That is why he takes his names from whatever is glorious and comforting in heaven and earth. Christ is all marrow, all sweetness. All the various graces and comforts we have, and the various promises by which they are made over and conveyed to us, are only Christ dished out in different ways, as the need of every Christian requires. Christ himself is the ocean, issuing into many streams to refresh the city of God. We can be in no condition in which we do not have a promise to feed on, and “all promises are yea and amen” (2 Cor 1:20), made to us in Christ and performed to us for Christ.

3. Therefore, as we have in Christ a feast for variety, so we have one for sufficiency of all good. No one goes away hungry from a feast. It was never heard of that anyone starved at a feast. In Christ there is not only abundance but superabundance, a diffusive and spreading goodness, as in breasts to give milk, in clouds to drop down showers, in the sun to send out beams. As Christ is full of grace and truth, so he fully discharges all his offices. There is an overflowing of all that is good for our good. He who could multiply bread for the body can multiply grace for our soul. If he gives life, he gives it in abundance (John 10:10). If he gives the water of life, he gives rivers, not small streams (John 7:38). If he gives peace and joy, he gives them in abundance; his aim is to fill up our joy to the full. As he is able, so is he willing to do for us far more abundantly than we are able to think or speak (Eph 3:20). Where Christ is present, he brings plenty with him. If the wine runs short at first, he will turn water into wine rather than let it fail.

4. At a feast there is a variety of friendly company; so here friends are stirred up to refresh themselves with us. We have the blessed Trinity, the angels, and all our fellow members in Christ to come with us.

There is no envy in spiritual things, for in them, whatever one person has, the other has none the less.

5. At a feast, because it is meant for rejoicing, there is music. And what music is like the sweet harmony between God, reconciled in Christ, and the soul, and between the soul and itself, in inward peace and joy of the Holy Spirit, who sheds the love of Christ in the soul? We not only rejoice but glory: under hope of glory, in afflictions, and in God, who is now ours and in whom we now have a rightful share through Christ (Rom 5:2-11). When we come to this feast sorrowful, we leave it cheerful. Like David’s harp, this stills all the passions and disorders of the spirit.

The founder and master of the feast is Christ himself; and at the same time he is guest, and banquet, and everything. All graces and comforts are the fruits of his Spirit; and he alone who infused the soul can satisfy the soul. Only he who is above the conscience can quiet the conscience. He is that wisdom who “sends forth maids” (Prov 9:3), that is, his ministers, to invite people to his feast. It is he who cheers up his guests, as he does here. Those who invited others brought ointment and poured it on them to show their welcome and to cheer them, as appears from our Savior’s words to the Pharisee who invited him (Luke 7:46). So we have from Christ both the oil of grace and the oil of gladness. “He creates the fruits of the lips to be peace” (Isa 57:19), speaking to the heart the peace and joy that others speak to the ear. “He raiseth pastors according to his own heart, to feed his sheep” (Jer 3:15).

The vessels in which Christ conveys his delicacies are the ministry of the word and the sacraments. By the word and sacraments we come to enjoy Christ and his comforts and graces; and by this feast of grace we come at length to the feast of feasts, that feast of glory, when we shall be satisfied with the image of God and enjoy fullness of pleasures forevermore. And, what adds to the fullness, we shall fully know that it will be a never-interrupted joy.

We see, then, that we cannot please Christ better than by showing ourselves welcome, cheerfully taking our share of his rich provision. It honors his bounty when we fall to; and the temper of spirit a Christian aims at is to “rejoice always in the Lord” (Phil 4:4), and that from enjoying our privileges in him. We are not told to mourn always, but to “rejoice always,” and that upon careful consideration: “Rejoice,” and “I say again,” says St. Paul, “rejoice.”

Indeed, we have causes for mourning, but our mourning is so that the seed of joy may be sown in it. And we can never be in so forlorn a condition that, if we understand Christ and ourselves, we do not have cause for joy. “In me,” says Christ, “ye shall have peace” (John 16:33). The world will feed us with “bread of affliction” (1 Kgs 22:27). If the world can help it, we shall have sorrow enough; and Christ knows that well enough, and stirs us up to feed cheerfully on what he has procured for us. He has the will, and the skill, and the power, and the authority to feed us to everlasting life, for the Father sent him out and sealed him for that purpose. All the springs of our joy are from him (Ps 87:7).

Our duty is to accept Christ’s invitation. What will we do for him if we will not feast with him? We will not suffer with him if we will not feast with him; we will not suffer with him if we will not rejoice with him and in him. Happy are those who come, even if they are compelled by crosses and other sharp means. If we rudely and churlishly refuse his feast here, we are likely never to taste his feast hereafter. Nothing provokes so deeply as kindness despised. It was the cause of the Jews’ rejection. “How shall we escape,” not if we persecute, but “if we do but neglect so great salvation?” (Heb 2:3).

What we should labor to bring with us is a taste for these delicacies and an appetite for them. The soul has a taste of its own. All creatures that have life have a taste to relish what is good for them and to distinguish it from what is harmful; so wherever there is spiritual life, there is likewise a taste suited to the sweet relish that is in spiritual things. God would lose the glory of many excellent creatures if there were not various senses to discern their various kinds of goodness. So if there were no taste in the soul, we could never delight in God and his rich goodness in Christ.

Taste is the most necessary sense for the preservation of the creature, because in taste the object is applied most closely. And so that we may not be deceived in taste, we hear, see, and smell first; and if these senses give a good report of the object, then we taste it, digest it, and turn it into fitting nourishment. All life is led by taste. So the spirit of man, after judging the fitness of what is presented, tastes it, delights in it, and is nourished by it. There is an attractive, drawing power in the soul, by which every member sucks out of the food what is suitable for it. So the soul draws out what has been well digested by judgment, and makes it its own for various uses.

The chief thing Christ requires is a good stomach for these delicacies.

1. As for the means of getting an appetite, we must first be made aware of our spiritual wants and misery. The Passover lamb was eaten with sour herbs; so Christ crucified tastes best to a soul affected with the bitterness of sin. While people are rich in their own opinion, they go away empty. The duties and performances they trust in are only husks, windy, empty chaff. Swelling is not wholesome nourishment.

2. Cold fluids draining down dull the appetite, blunting its edge. In the same way, when we plod away at the world, cold drops fall upon the soul and take away its savor of and desire for heavenly things. These things do not fill. In them there is both a vanity of emptiness and a vanity of short continuance. Why should we lay out our money (Isa 55:2), spend our time, our wits, our effort so much on them? This is what makes so many spiritually starved people.

Besides, there are other harmful affections to be purged, as in 1 Peter 2:1: [“Wherefore laying aside all malice, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings,” which breed a distaste for and disaffection toward spiritual things]; such as malice and guile, and so on. How can Christ be sweet to a soul to which revenge is sweet?

3. Exercise quickens the appetite. Those who exercise themselves in godliness see a need of spiritual strength to keep up their duty. A dull formalist keeps to his round and is, many years later, just where he was before; he sees no need of further growth or strength. A Christian life managed as it truly should be has much going out, and so it must have much coming in; otherwise it will not be kept up. Those who have a journey to make will refresh themselves for what lies ahead, lest they faint on the way.

4. The company, too, of those who “labor for that blessed food that endureth to life eternal” (John 6:27) provokes us to fall to as the rest do, especially if they are our equals or go beyond us in gifts. For we will reason with ourselves, “Do I not have as much need as they do? If these things are good for them, then they are good for me.” In this way St. Paul foretells that the example of the Gentiles would provoke the Jews to come in and taste the banquet Christ has provided for both (Rom 11:25-26).

Above all, this should stir us up to take our part earnestly in what Christ has provided, because we do not know how soon the table may be taken away. When people see the dishes being removed, even if they have talked away much of their suppertime before, they will then fall to afresh. We do not know how long wisdom will go on inviting us. It will be our wisdom to seize our opportunity, lest we put it off so long that wisdom herself laughs at our destruction, and a famine is sent, of all famines the most miserable: a famine of the word. Then we may pine away eternally without comfort. Christ will not always stand inviting us. If we will have none of his cheer, others will, and shall, while we starve.

Let this draw us on: we see here Christ’s hearty and free welcome, the gracious look we are likely to have from him. Since he has made such rich provision, he counts it an honor for us to take part; and it is for us, on our part, to show that we are unwilling such free kindness should be refused. We cannot honor his bounty more than by feeding liberally on what he liberally sets before us. We are glad when our friends, at our invitation, think themselves welcome. Let us open our mouth wide, since Christ is so ready to fill it. We are not restricted in his love, but in our own hearts. The widow’s oil did not fail until her vessels failed (2 Kgs 4:6). We are told to delight in the Lord; and in whom should we delight but where all fullness is to be had to delight in? Our spirits are not as large as those blessed comforts we are called to enjoy. If the capacity of our souls were a thousand times larger, there is still so large a sea of comfort in Christ that they could not comprehend it. A taste of these good things breeds “joy unspeakable” (1 Pet 1:8) and “peace that passeth all understanding” (Phil 4:7). What will the fullness do? This taste we feel in the ordinances will bring us to that fullness hereafter. Oh, let us keep our appetites for these things, which are so delightful and so suited to the soul. How great is that goodness which he both lays up for the life to come and lays out for his own even here in this life!

In some ages of the church the feasts that Christ has made have been more solemn and sumptuous than in others, according as Christ has been more or less clearly and widely revealed. At Christ’s first coming there was a greater feast than before, because the riches of God’s love in Christ were then laid open, and the bounds of the church were enlarged by the coming in of the Gentiles. So there will be a royal feast when the Jews are converted. “Blessed then shall those be that shall be called to the supper of the Lamb” (Rev 19:9). Suppers come at the end of the day, and this supper will be furnished toward the end of the world.

But the true, magnificent supper will come when all who belong to God’s election meet together and feed on that heavenly manna forever. Then there will be nothing but marrow itself, and wine without any dregs. In all our contentments here there is some mixture of the contrary; then there will be nothing but pure quintessence. In the meantime he lets some manna fall in this wilderness of ours, and lets us taste it now. It will not spoil as the old manna did, but endures, and makes us endure forever. It is the true “bread of life.”

Notice how Christ draws his spouse on to drink, and to drink abundantly. There is no danger of taking too much. Where the spring is infinite, we can never draw these wells dry or suck these breasts of consolation too much. And the stronger and more cheerful we are, the better service we will perform, and the more it will be accepted. Delight is like sugar: sweet in itself, and it sweetens everything else. The joy of the Lord is our strength. Duties come off more gracefully, and religion is made more lovely in the eyes of all, when it comes forth in strength and cheerfulness. This brings credit to Christ’s housekeeping. In our Father’s house there is plenty enough (Luke 15:17). When the martyrs had drunk deeply of this wine, it made them forget friends, riches, honors, and life itself. The joy it stirred up carried them through every torment.

If any are held back by a sense of their unworthiness, and are deeply affected by it, let them consider what kind of people were compelled to come to the banquet: the blind and the lame (Luke 14:21). See a living picture of God’s mercy in the example of the prodigal. He fears a sharp scolding, and the father provides a rich banquet. He goes to his father, but the father runs to meet him (Luke 15:20). Did Christ ever turn away anyone who came to him, if they came out of a true sense of their needs?

“Eat, O friends.” Out of the largeness of his affection, Christ multiplies new titles and names of address: “beloved” and “friends.” Christ provides a banquet and invites his friends, not his enemies. Those good things that neither “eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,” that are beyond what we can conceive (1 Cor 2:9) are provided for “those that love him,” not for those who hate him. For them he mixes another cup, a cup of wrath, and they must drink up the very dregs of it (Ps 75:8).

Friendship is the sweetness, intimacy, and strength of love. In our friends our love dwells and rests itself. Married friendship is the sweetest friendship. All the kinds and degrees of friendship meet in Christ toward his spouse. It is the friendship of a husband and of a brother; and if there is any relationship in the world in which friendship is found, all of it together is too little to express the love of Christ.

In friendship there is mutual consent, a union of judgment and affections. There is a mutual sympathy in each other’s good and ill, as if there were one soul in two bodies. Friends have mutual friends and mutual enemies. “Do I not hate them,” says David, “that hate thee?” (Ps 139:21). There is a mutual love of one another for each other’s own sake. In flattery, people love themselves most; in outward show they love others, but all of it turns back upon themselves.

There is freedom, which is the life of friendship. There is free communication between friends, a free opening of secrets. So here Christ opens his secrets to us, and we open ours to him. We acquaint him with the most hidden thoughts of our hearts, and we lay open all our cares and desires before him. In this way Abraham was called God’s friend (2 Chr 20:7), and the disciples were called Christ’s friends (John 15:15). It is the office of the Spirit to reveal to us the secrets of Christ’s heart concerning our own salvation. He does not reveal himself to the world.

In friendship there is mutual comfort and delight in one another. Christ delights himself in his love to his church, and his church delights herself in her love to Christ. Christ’s delight was to be with the sons of men, and ours is to be with him.

In friendship there is mutual honor and respect for one another; but here there is some difference in this friendship. For though Christ calls us friends, and in doing so in some sense brings himself down to us, we must still remember that this is a friendship between unequals. Christ’s honoring of us is his putting honor upon us. Our honoring of him is giving him the “honor due to his name” (1 Chr 16:29). This friendship must be maintained by due respect on our part. As he is our friend, so he is also our King, and he knows how to correct us if we forget our distance. If he seems to treat us harshly here, it is so that he may treat us all the more kindly afterward. He suffers much for us, so we may well allow him the liberty of correcting us when it is fitting.

He who breathes friendship into others will undoubtedly keep the laws of friendship himself, and will count our enemies his enemies. The enemies of the church will one day learn that the church is not friendless.

And as his friendship is sweet, so it is constant in all conditions. He does not treat his friends as we treat flowers, prizing them only while they are fresh. Rather, he breeds in us what makes us such that he may still delight in us. If other friends fail, as friends may fail, this Friend will never fail us. If we are not ashamed of him, he will never be ashamed of us. How comfortable our life would be if we could draw out the comfort this title of friend affords! It is a comforting, a fruitful, an eternal friendship.

“I sleep, but my heart waketh” (Song 5:2). Here the church describes a change in her spiritual condition. She had recovered herself out of an earlier desertion, described at the beginning of the third chapter, and had enjoyed comfortable fellowship with Christ. Now she falls into a deeper desertion and temptation, because the remainder of corruption is gaining strength. Now the church falls asleep; then she was awake in the night and sought her beloved. Here there is no immediate awakening and no seeking; there, no mistreatment by the watchmen, as here. There she finds him more quickly; here she grows sick with love before Christ reveals himself.

Before we come to the words, observe in general:

Observation 1. The state of the church and of every Christian is subject to spiritual changes. The church is always “beloved,” a “spouse,” a “friend”; but within this one state a variety of changes takes place. No creature is subject to so many changes as man. From a state of innocence he fell into a state of corruption. From that, by grace, he is restored to a state of grace, and from grace to glory, where his condition will be as Christ’s is now, and as heaven the place is, altogether unchangeable. And in that state of grace, how many alternations there are! Yet the foundation of God’s love to us, and of grace in us, always remains the same. Once beloved, forever beloved.

We see here that after a feast the church falls asleep. See it in Abraham, sometimes “strong in faith,” sometimes fearful. See it in David: sometimes standing, sometimes falling, sometimes recovering himself and standing firmer, sometimes triumphing, “The Lord is the light of my countenance, whom shall I fear?” (Ps 27:1); and sometimes again, “I shall one day fall by the hands of Saul” (1 Sam 27:1). In the very same psalm he begins with “Rebuke me not in thy wrath,” and ends with “Away, ye wicked” (Ps 6:1, 8). Elijah, though zealous, afterward flees for his life (1 Kgs 19). So it is with Job and Peter, sometimes resolute and valiant, at other times sinking for fear (Job 6; Matt 14:30).

Reason. The ground of this is the variety of outward events working upon the diversity of principles in us, nature and grace. Both nature and grace are always active in us in some degree. When corruption gains strength, we find a sickly state creeping over us, and we lose our former frame. It is with the soul as with the body. Over a certain period of time the body gathers unhealthy humors, which at length break out in feverish disorders. In the same way, the remnants of a spiritual disease that have not been carried away will ripen and gather to a head.

This should teach us, when we are well, to make it our study to keep an even course and to watch over the first stirrings. It should also teach us, if we see some unevenness in our ways, not to judge ourselves or others too harshly. Perfect evenness is to be striven for here, but enjoyed in another world.

Observation 2. We see, by comparing the state of the church here with her state in the third chapter, that where corruption is not thoroughly purged and a careful watch is not kept over the soul, after a recovery a more dangerous distemper will follow. Corruption will strive not only for life but for rule. If there had been a thorough reformation in the church after her former trouble, and a thorough closing with Christ, she would not have fallen into this more dangerous condition. We see David in his later years fall into numbering of the people (2 Sam 24:1 and following). We see Samson, after he had done great services for the church, at length shamefully betray his strength; and he who had ruled others submits to be ruled by a base harlot (Judg 16). Jonah, for not thoroughly repenting of his running from his calling, afterward falls to quarreling with God himself (Jonah 4:9).

It is best, therefore, to deal thoroughly with our hearts. Otherwise unsubdued flesh will have a greater shame in store for us, and we will dishonor our own beginnings. Yet this is the comfort: in those who are God’s, this will bring about deeper humility and hatred of sin, and a firmer cleaving to God than ever before, as we see in the church here. In the end grace will get the upper hand.

Observation 3. We may observe the candor of the church in laying open her own state. It is the disposition of God’s people to be candid in opening their state to God, as we see in David, Nehemiah, Ezra, and others. The reasons are these:

(1) By a free and full confession we give God the honor of his wisdom in knowing our condition, both secret and open. We give him the honor of his mercy, which will not take advantage against us, and the honor of his power and authority over us, if he should show his strength against us. We yield to him the glory of all his chief prerogatives. That is why Joshua urges Achan to a free confession: “My son, give glory to God” (Josh 7:19).

(2) We shame Satan, who first takes away our shame at sinning and then takes away our shame for sin. He tempts us to feel no shame in doing what we are ashamed to confess; and so, by our silence, we keep Satan’s counsel against our own souls. If we accuse ourselves, we put him out of office, he who is the “accuser of the brethren” (Rev 12:10).

(3) We also forestall malicious accusations from the world. Augustine answered roundly and well when he was reproached with the sins of his earlier years: “What you find fault with,” he said, “I have condemned in myself before.”

(4) This candid dealing eases the soul, giving vent to its grief. While the arrowhead sticks in the wound, it will not heal. Unconfessed sin is like a broken piece of rusty iron in the body, left in the wound. It must be gotten out, or else by rankling and festering it will cause more danger. It is like poison in the stomach: if it is not cast up at once, it will infect the whole body. Is it not better to take shame to ourselves now than to be shamed hereafter before angels, devils, and men? How careful God is of us, to prevent future shame by this private way!

(5) This faithful dealing with ourselves is often a means of present deliverance out of any trouble. David, in Psalm 32:4, was in great distress of both body and spirit; his moisture was turned into the drought of summer. It is thought he composed this psalm between the time of his sin and his pardon. What course does he take? “I said,” he says, that is, I resolved to confess my sin, and “thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin” (Ps 32:5). Upon a free and full, a faithful and candid confession, without any guile of spirit, he found ease at once, both in soul and body.

The reason God deals severely with us is that we should deal severely with ourselves. The best test of religion in us is found in those actions by which we turn back upon ourselves, judging and condemning ourselves, for this shows a spirit without guile. Sin and evasion came into the world together. The subtlety of proud nature, especially in those of high position, is such that sins may pass for virtues. For sin and Satan are alike in this: they cannot bear to appear in their own colors and dress. And so those who oppose sin will be counted opponents of good. This guile of spirit has no blessedness belonging to it. Beware of it.

Observation 4. Notice further one sign of a gracious soul: to be humbled for lesser defects, for sleepiness and indisposition to good. One would think drowsiness was no great matter. Oh, but the church had such sweet acquaintance with Christ that every little indisposition that hindered any degree of communion was grievous to her! You will find a Judas, a Saul, some monstrous offender, confessing great falls that grip his conscience. Everything will be cast up, so that the conscience, being disburdened, may feel a little ease. But how few will you find humbled for dullness of spirit, for lack of love, of zeal, and of cheerfulness in duty? This, when it is accompanied with striving against it, shows a good spirit indeed.

A carnal man is not more humbled for gross sins than a gracious Christian is for shortcomings in good actions, when it is not with him as it has been, and as he would wish. The reason is that where there is a clear and heavenly light, the smaller specks can be seen; and spiritual life is sensitive to any obstruction and hindrance. In the world this passes for needless scrupulousness. The world does not strain at these gnats. But those on whose hearts the Sun of righteousness has shone have both a clear sight and a tender heart.

To come to the words, “I sleep.” The church draws a comparison from the body to express the state of the soul. One use of our body is to help us in spiritual expressions. While the soul dwells in the body, it depends much on the imagination in conceiving things, and the imagination depends on the senses. We come to conceive of spiritual sleep by the sleep of the body, which we are all well enough acquainted with.

The church consists of a double principle, flesh and spirit, mingled together in every part, like darkness and light in the twilight and dawning of the day. So here she expresses her condition with regard to each part. So far as she was carnal, she slept; so far as she was spiritual, she was awake. In this mixed condition the flesh prevailed for the present, yet in such a way that the spirit still had its working: she slept, but her heart waked.

The words contain a confession, “I sleep,” and a correction, “but my heart waketh.” She has a double outlook: one toward the evil, her sleeping; the other toward the good, the heart in some degree awake. The Spirit of God is a discerning Spirit; he reveals what is flesh and what is spirit.

So we must not take this sleep to be that dead sleep in which all people lie by nature. Nor is it that judicial sleep, that spirit of slumber, which is a further degree of that natural sleep, to which God gives some people up as a seal of their desperate condition. Rather, what is meant here is the sleep that arises from the remainder of unsubdued corruption, which here in the church is now prevailing over the better part. Flesh and spirit each have their turns in us, as Moses and Amalek had. Unless we stand on our guard, the flesh will gain the upper hand, as we see here. The best are safe no further than they are watchful.

For a clear understanding of this, observe some correspondence in the comparison. Yet in this, too much curiosity is offensive and smacks of the old postils, and calls the mind away too much from the kernel to the shell. Bodily and spiritual sleep resemble each other in their causes, in their effects, and in their dangerous outcome.

1. The sleep of the body comes from the obstruction and binding up of the senses by vapors that rise out of the stomach. So there are spiritual fumes of worldly cares and desires that obstruct the senses of the soul. Therefore our blessed Savior counts it a spiritual surfeiting when the soul is weighed down with care about the world (Luke 21:34). Lusts put the soul to bed. Prosperity is a strong vapor. If it does not overcome the brain, still it weakens it, as strong liquor does. See it in Solomon himself.

2. The disciples fell asleep in the garden when they were oppressed with heaviness and sorrow (Luke 22:45), and these passions will have the same effect upon the soul.

3. Sleep often arises from weariness and lack of spirits. So there is a spiritual weariness that arises from discouragements, and from spending too much of the soul’s strength on other matters, on irrelevant things that do not concern the best state of the soul.

4. Some are lulled to sleep by music. So many people, by the flattering enticements and insinuations of others, joined with their own flattering, deceitful hearts, are cast into a spiritual sleep.

5. Sleep arises from lack of exercise. When the soul ceases from spiritual exercise about its proper object, a spiritual sleep follows. Exercise keeps us awake.

6. Sleep often arises from cold diseases, such as lethargies, and from cold, gross humors. In the same way, cold, earthly, gross affections for the things here below numb the soul and bring it into a heavy, drowsy, sleepy temper.

7. Sometimes sleep is caused by some kind of poison, especially the poison of asps, which kills in sleep. And do not sinful delights do the same to the soul? Evils we do not feel are the most dangerous evils.

8. At other times slothful, yawning company disposes us to sleep. There is no more common cause of spiritual sleep than keeping company with spiritual sluggards, who count it a high point of wisdom not to be forward in religion. These formal, proud people, as they are cold themselves, so they labor to throw water on the heat of others. Indeed, even those who are otherwise good, if they are declining in their first love, will draw others into fellowship with them in the same careless, complacent temper, so that they will not be reproached by the watchfulness of others.

They are also alike in their effects.

1. People inclined to sleep want to be alone. So too those who are inclined to take a spiritual nap will avoid company, especially the company of those who would wake them. They can hardly bear the means that would rouse them.

2. People draw the curtains and shut out the light when they mean to settle themselves to rest. So when people indulge themselves in some ways that are not allowable, they are afraid of being disturbed by the light. Light uncovers, it awakens, and it stirs up to work. And when people are unwilling to do what they know, they are unwilling to know what they should do. “They that sleep, sleep in the night” (1 Thess 5:7). Asa, otherwise a good king, shut the prophet up in prison for doing his duty (2 Chr 16:10). Much of the anger people bear against the word when it is laid open to them comes from this: it will not let them sleep quietly in their sins. Those who will let them live quietly in their sins are, to them, quiet and honest men. There cannot be a worse sign than when people will not endure wholesome words. It is a sign that they are in an evil league with the very thing they should, above all, wage war against.

3. In sleep, imagination rules, and dreams arise in the imagination. People asleep dream of false good and forget true danger.

Many cherish golden dreams; they dream of food, and when they wake, their soul is empty (Isa 29:8). Vain hopes are the dreams of waking men, just as vain dreams are all the waking of sleeping and carnal men, whose life is nothing but a dream.

In sleep there is no exercise of the senses, and no motion. Just as sleepers then have no feeling of good or ill, so they move toward neither good nor ill. Motion follows feeling. We do not move toward a good we do not feel. This is why sleep is akin to death, depriving us for the time of the use of all our senses. And a complacent professing Christian differs little in appearance from a dead one. Both are inactive in good, and what they do, they do without delight, in an unseemly and unacceptable manner that does not befit the state of a Christian. It comes to the same thing to have no senses and not to use them. We may say of people in this sleepy temper what the Scripture says of idols: “they have eyes and see not, ears and hear not” (Ps 115:5-6).

They are also alike in danger. In sleep, the most precious thing a person carries is taken away without resistance, and sleepers are ready to let go of what they held fast before, however rich a jewel it may be. And so it is in spiritual sleepiness. People let the profession of the truth be wrung from them without much resistance. And in letting their watch fall, they also let fall, if not their grace, then at least the exercise of their graces, and they are in danger of being robbed of everything.

There is no danger that a sleeping man is not open and exposed to. Sisera was slain asleep (Judg 4:21), and Ishbosheth at noonday (2 Sam 4:7). In the same way there is no temptation, no sin, no judgment that a complacent, drowsy Christian is not open to. This is why the Spirit of God presses watchfulness so often in the Scriptures. As spiritual deadness of spirit is a cause of other sins, so it is also a punishment for them. God pours out a spirit of “dead sleep upon men, and closeth up their eyes” (Isa 29:10), until some heavy judgment falls on them. And how many carnal people never wake up in this world until they wake up in hell!

No wonder, then, that Satan labors with all his might to cast people into a dead sleep. He deludes them with dreams of a false good: that their condition is good and likely to stay so, that tomorrow will be like today, that no danger is near, even though God’s wrath hangs over their heads, ready to be revealed from heaven.

So we see how the resemblance holds. Some apply this to the time of Constantine, about three hundred years after Christ, when the church, enjoying peace and plenty, grew careless and allowed abuses in the church to creep in. Religion gave birth to plenty, and the daughter devoured the mother. This led the writers of the church’s history to question whether the church suffers more harm from open persecution or from peace, when one Christian undermines and rages against another.

[The received edition cites Theodoret in support of this question.]

Human inventions multiplied so much that not long afterward, in Augustine’s time, he complained that the condition of the Jews was more tolerable than theirs. For though the Jews were under burdens, those burdens were imposed by God himself and were not human presumptions.

[The received edition quotes Augustine: “The condition of the Jews is more tolerable than ours.”]

But Gerson, many hundreds of years later, carries the complaint further: “If you said this in your time, O Augustine, what would you have said if you had lived now, when people multiply burdens as any whim takes them?” And he was not afraid to say that the number of human ordinances was such that, if they were enforced with full rigor, the greater part of the church would be damned.

[The received edition quotes Gerson: “If you said these things in your time, O wise Augustine, what would you have said in our age? If the ordinances were kept in their strictness, the greatest part of the church would be damned.”]

So, while the farmers slept, the envious man, Satan, did not sleep, but sowed his tares. In this way popery grew up by degrees until it overspread the church, while the watchmen who should have kept others awake fell asleep themselves. And this is how we answer the papists when they argue with us about the beginning of their errors. They ask us when this or that heresy began. We answer that those who should have watched for them were asleep.

Popery is a mystery that crept into the church by degrees, under glorious pretenses. Its errors had modest beginnings. The worship of images arose from keeping pictures of friends, which were afterward brought into the church. The invocation of saints arose from some of the fathers figuratively turning their speech to address certain people who had died. Transubstantiation arose from some overreaching, unguarded phrases of the fathers. The papacy itself arose from certain titles given to the Roman church and its bishop. There is nothing in popery so gross that it did not have some small beginning, which, being neglected by those who should have watched over the church, at length grew unbearable. No wonder the papists are cast into a dead sleep; they have drunk too deeply of the whore’s cup. Those who worship images are, as the Scripture says, “like unto them, they have eyes and see not” (Ps 115:5-8). They cannot discern their errors, however ridiculous and senseless they may be, such as prayer in an unknown tongue and the like.

And from this state of the church let us add this caution.

A Caution. If the best men are so prone to sleep, then we cannot safely build on their judgment at all times. The fathers of the church were not always awake. There are few of them from whom we may not, in some things, appeal from themselves asleep to themselves awake. Even the best, having some darkness still in their understanding and some lusts still unsubdued in their affections, may sometimes write and speak out of the worst part and principle in them as well as out of the best, when they do not keep close to the rule.

When our adversaries press us with the authority of the fathers, we appeal to the fathers where they speak deliberately and with set purpose.

[The received edition quotes Whitaker: “The fathers are ours in the greatest matters, divided in many, and yours in the smallest.”]

When heretics had not yet roused them, the fathers sometimes spoke unworthily and gave advantages to the heretics who came after. It is the way of our adversaries to make the unwarranted practice of earlier times the rule of their own practice, and the doubtful opinions of the ancients their own grand doctrines. In both they deal unsafely with themselves and unjustly with us when, on solid grounds, we dissent in some things. Yet they will take that same liberty for themselves, often when they should not.

But however well this sleepy condition fits the former times of the church, I wish there were no cause to apply it to ourselves in this latter age of the church, in which many of the ancient heresies are revived. Besides this, the evils that accompany long peace are taking hold of us and will prevail too far if we do not rouse ourselves.

The church is within the commonwealth, and usually they flourish and fall together. When the church is asleep, for the most part the state is asleep too. A civil sleep is when there are grounds for danger but no sense of danger. This sleep is a punishment for spiritual sleep, when a state, like Ephraim, has “gray hairs, and knoweth it not” (Hos 7:9), and when judgments abroad will not wake people up. When noise and pinching will not wake someone, the sleep must be deep indeed. Almost the whole world around us is in flames, and many countries thought themselves as safe a little before their troubles as we now think ourselves. If the fear of outward dangers will not wake people, then spiritual dangers will not, since they are more hidden and not obvious to the senses. No wonder, then, that few will believe our report of the fearful condition of wicked people in the world to come. A man who is spiritually dull and stupefied may still be startled and awakened by outward dangers. But he who is careless of outward danger will disregard what we say about spiritual dangers.

The fear of danger may be all the greater when, as it was among the Jews, those who should be watchful themselves and wake others up instead rock the cradle and cry, “Peace, peace, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord” (Jer 6:14; Jer 7:4). Yet we must never forget to be mindful, with thankfulness, of the peace and the gospel of peace that by God’s blessing we still enjoy. And we must always suspect how ready our nature is to grow complacent under an abundance of favors, and so to flatter ourselves in that condition.

Signs of a Sleepy State

1. We know that sleep is creeping upon us by comparing our present condition with our former one, when we were in a more wakeful frame and the graces of God’s Spirit were at work in us. If we differ from what we were, then all is not well.

2. Compare ourselves also with the state and frame a Christian should be in. For sometimes a Christian goes through all the days of his life in an uncomfortable condition, so that he is not fit to make himself his own pattern. The true rule is the description, given in the word, of a waking and living Christian. Consider what a man should be, taking him at his best; any departure from that is a sleepy state. For instance, a Christian should walk “in the comfort of the Holy Ghost” (Acts 9:31) and live and walk by faith. He should depend on God and resist temptations. Faith should work by love, and love for ourselves should move us to honor ourselves as members of Christ and to disdain defiling ourselves with sin. Our hope, if it is awake, will purify us and make us suited to the condition we hope for in heaven and to the company we hope to have fellowship with there.

3. Again, look to the examples of others who are more gracious. A person may say, “I have as many encouragements to be thankful to God and fruitful as they do. They enjoy no more means than I do, and yet they abound in assurance and are comforted in all conditions. I am cast down by a little trouble, given to passion, to barrenness and distrust, as if God had made no promises to those who sow in righteousness.” In this way a person may discern that he is asleep, by comparing himself with others who are better than he is.

4. Again, it is evident that we are drifting into a sleepy condition when we find a reluctance toward spiritual duties, such as prayer, thanksgiving and spiritual conversation. It should be a Christian’s joy, as it is his privilege, to come into the presence of Christ and to be enabled to do what is beyond himself. When the spiritual part of a duty will not go down with us, it is a sign that our souls are in a sleepy temper. Then there is no fit proportion between the soul and its business in heavenly duties. Whom do we speak to but God? Whom do we hear speaking in the word but God? What should be the temper of those who speak to God and hear him speak to them? It should be attentive, reverent and observant.

See what careful attention those who watch a prince’s eye show when they are about to receive anything from him or to present any request to him. “Offer this to thy king,” says the Lord through Malachi (Mal 1:8). When you come to God drowsily, to offer sacrifice, to hear, to pray and so on, offer that kind of conduct to a man; will he accept it from your hands? Oh, the mercy of our patient God, who will put up with such services as we most often perform! By this unwillingness for duty, greater or less, we may discover our sleepiness.

5. Another sign is when the soul begins to admire outward excellencies; when it is wide awake to profits, pleasures and honors; when people admire great men, rich men and high positions. The strength and richness of the soul are used up by feeding on these things, so that when it comes to spiritual things it must be faint and drowsy. By these and similar signs, let us labor to search out the state of our souls.

Motives Against Sleepiness

1. To stir us up all the more, consider the danger of a complacent, sleepy state. There is no sin that a person in a careless, complacent state is not exposed to. That is why the devil labors with all his might to bring people into this temper; he must do this before he can make anyone fall into any gross sin. When a person is asleep, he is in a fit frame for any evil action. He is in a temper fit for the devil to work on, ready to be drawn into any dream or error, and to have his fancies and notions inflamed with outward excellencies. The devil has a special skill in this: making outward things that are worth nothing look great, and making sins look small that would terrify us if we were awake. He works most strongly on the imagination when the soul is sleepy or a little drowsy.

No one comes to gross sin suddenly. He falls little by little: first to slumber, from slumber to sleep, and from sleep to careless complacency, and so from one degree to another. This sleepiness is the doorway to all sins and the beginning of all danger. Therefore the Lord takes the opposite course with his own. When he means to preserve a state or a person, he first plants in them a spirit of faith, to believe that there is such a danger, or such a good to be gained, by watching and going on in a course that befits that condition. Then faith, if the matter is one of threatening, stirs up fear, and fear awakens care and diligence. This is God’s method when he intends to preserve anyone.

2. A man in his sleep is ready to lose everything. A sleepy hand lets anything go with ease. A man has grace and comfort, and in his spiritual sleepiness he lets it go: his grace in great measure, and the sense and comfort of it altogether. A Christian always has the divine nature in him, which works to some degree. Yet with regard to his present temper and feeling, he may be in such a state that he differs in nothing from a reprobate. Indeed, he may come to feel more than any ordinary wicked person feels while he lives in this world, as many good Christians do.

And all this comes through their own carelessness: they allow themselves to be robbed of first beginnings by yielding to delights, company and pleasures. By feeding their imaginations with carnal excellencies, and so favoring their corruptions and flattering what is evil in them, they lose the comfort of all that is good. Who would do this for the sake of a little broken sleep? I say broken sleep, for the better a man is, the more restlessly he will sleep in such a state. If he belongs to God, he will feel jolts and frights in the middle of his carnal delights.

3. Besides this, God meets them with some crosses in this world, so that they gain nothing by it. None of God’s children ever gained by yielding to any corruption or drowsiness, even though God saved their souls. It is always true that a complacent state is a sure forerunner of some great cross or of some great sin. God cannot endure such a temper of soul, nor lifeless and unfeeling performances and sacrifices offered to him who has given us such encouragements. It must be distasteful to God when we go about his work drowsily and heavily. “Cursed is he that doth the work of the Lord negligently” (Jer 48:10). Even if the work were to sheathe his sword in the bowels of his enemy, something man is exceedingly prone to do, yet if it is not done with diligence and with an eye to God, a man is cursed in it.

4. And it is a temper hateful to God. For does he not deserve cheerful service from us? Has he been a “wilderness” to us (Jer 2:31)? Does he not deserve the very marrow of our souls? Does not his greatness require of us that all our senses be awake? And does not his mercy deserve that our love should take every care to serve him who is so gracious and good to us? Is it not the fruit of our redemption to serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness, all the days of our lives (Luke 1:74-75)?

5. It is a state not only hateful to God but wearisome to our own spirits. The conscience is never fully at peace in a drowsy state or in drowsy performances.

Nor is it attractive to others. It breeds in them not love for good things but dislike. Let carnal people see a Christian not carrying himself as one awake, as he should, and though they themselves are a thousand times worse, they still think it should not be so. Such a course does not fit with so much knowledge and so much grace.

Let a person consider why God has given the powers of the soul and the graces of the Spirit. Are they not given for exercise, and to be employed on their proper objects? A man is not a man, and a Christian is not a Christian, when he is not awake. He falls away from himself just so far as he gives way to any unbecoming conduct. Why has God given us understanding, if not to grasp the best things? Why do we have judgment, if not to judge rightly between the things of heaven and earth? Why do we have love planted in us, if not to set it on lovely objects? Why faith, if not to trust God above all? Why hatred, if not to flee evil? Why do we have affections, if not for spiritual things?

So when our affections are dull and lose their edge toward these things, being keen only toward earthly things, what a temper this is! How does such a man answer to his creation, and to the state of a new creature? Why are all the graces planted in the soul, such as faith and love, hope and patience, if not to be in exercise and awake? To have these and let them sleep and lie unused is for a Christian to forget himself and not be himself.

A Christian as a Christian, that is, in his right temper, should be in the act and exercise of what is good in him on every occasion. As we say of God that he is pure act, because he is always working, so the Spirit of God is pure act; in him there is nothing passive, but all is action, concerned with what befits so glorious a nature. So it is with the spirit of a person who has the Spirit of God. He is in act, in exercise, in operation, as the Spirit is more or less in him. In that measure he is more or less in operation, and more or less fruitful. What a world of good Christians might do if they were in their right temper! How much of the evil they lie in might they escape and avoid, if they would rouse up their souls to be as Christians should be, and as their own soul and conscience tell them they ought to be and might be, if they made right use of the means they have!

I sleep, but my heart wakes… (Song 5:2)

As has been shown, the words contain a confession, “I sleep,” and a correction, “my heart waketh.” The confession has been handled; now we come to something of the correction, or exception.

“My heart waketh.” The word heart, as you know, includes the whole soul. The understanding is the heart, as in “an understanding heart” (Job 38:36). To lay things up in our hearts (Luke 2:51) is memory. To cleave in heart is to cleave in will (Acts 11:23). To rejoice in heart (Isa 30:29) is the affection. So all the powers of the soul, the inward man, as Paul calls it (2 Cor 4:16), are the heart.

“I sleep, but my heart waketh.” In fact the church might have said, “My heart sleepeth, but my heart waketh.” For it is the same faculty, the same power of the soul, in both the states in which the soul is, the state of corruption and the state of grace. It is as in the twilight, when we cannot say, “This is light and that is darkness,” because there is such a mixture. In all the powers of the soul there is something good and something ill, something flesh and something spirit. The heart was asleep, and it was also awake. “I sleep, but my heart waketh.”

Observation 1. You see here, then, first of all, in this correction, that a Christian has two principles in him, one good and the other evil. From this comes the weakness of his actions and affections. They are all mixed, as are the principles from which they come.

Observation 2. We may observe, further, that a Christian may know how it is with himself. Though he is a mixture of flesh and spirit, he has a discerning knowledge and judgment by which he knows both the good and the evil in himself. In a dungeon where there is nothing but darkness, both on the eye that should see and on the thing that should be seen, a man can see nothing. But where there is a supernatural principle, where there is this mixture, there the light of the Spirit searches the dark corners of the heart. A man who has the Spirit knows both; he knows himself and his own heart.

The Spirit has a light of its own, just as reason has. How does reason know what it does? By a reflective act inborn in the soul. Shall a natural man reflect on his state, and know what he knows, what he thinks, and what he does, and may not the soul that is raised to a higher state know as much? Undoubtedly it may. Besides, we have the Spirit of God, who is light and self-evidencing. He shows us where he is and what he is.

The work of the Spirit may sometimes be hindered, as in times of temptation. Then, I grant, a man may look wholly on his corruption, and so mistake himself. He judges by what he sees present in himself, and not by the other principle, which is hidden from him for a time. But a Christian, when he is not under such a temptation, knows his own state, and can distinguish between the principles in him of flesh and spirit, grace and nature.

Again, in the church’s saying, “but my heart waketh,” we see that she acknowledges there is good in her as well as evil. As the church is candid in confessing what is amiss, “I sleep,” so she is just as true in confessing what is good in herself, “but my heart waketh.” This gives us another observation.

Observation 3. We should acknowledge what is good in our hearts as well as what is evil.

For we must not bear false witness against others, much less against ourselves. Many help Satan, the accuser, and plead his cause against the Spirit, their comforter, by refusing to see what God sees in them. We must make it a matter of conscience to know the good as well as the evil, however little it may be.

To come to particulars, what is the good the church confesses here when she says that “her heart waketh”?

(1) First, even in her sleepy state, her judgment is sound in what is truth, concerning persons, things, and courses. When Christians sleep, they are not so benighted, or so given up to a reprobate judgment, that they cannot discern differences. They can discern that some people are in a good way and others are not, that some means are good and others are not. A Christian is often forced to do his work out of judgment when his affections are asleep or distracted. Such works are approved by God, insofar as they come from a right judgment and conviction, though the evil in them is chastised.

(2) But it is not all in the judgment. The child of God, while asleep, has a working in the will. He chooses the better part and will cleave to it. He has a general purpose to please God in all things, and no settled purpose in particular to sleep. So, in keeping with his judgment, he chooses the better part and side. He owns God and his cause even in evil times, cleaving in resolution of heart to the best ways, though with weakness.

Take David in his sleepy time between his foul sin and his repentance. If someone had asked him what he thought of the ways of God and of their opposite, he would have given you an answer out of sound judgment, saying this and that. If you had asked him what course he would follow in his choice, resolution, and purpose, he would have answered wisely.

(3) Again, there remains affection answering to their judgment. For a time they may not find it or feel it, since it is perhaps scattered. Yet there is a secret love to Christ, and to his cause and side, joined with joy in the welfare of the church and people of God. There is rejoicing in the prosperity of the righteous, with a secret grief at the contrary. The pulse will beat this way, and good affections will show themselves. Take him in his sleepy state: his judgment is sound in the main, and so are his will, his affections, his joy, his delight, and his sorrow. This is evidence that his heart is awake.

(4) The conscience is awake too. In Scripture the heart is often taken for the conscience. A good conscience, called a merry heart, is “a continual feast” (Prov 15:15). Now, the conscience of God’s children is never so sleepy that it does not wake in some comfortable measure. Though perhaps it may be deadened in a particular act, there is still so much life in it that through speech or conversation, and the like, it will open, and at length yield to the strength of spiritual reason. His conscience is not seared. Nathan roused David only a little, yet you see how he at once candidly confessed that he had sinned (2 Sam 12:13). So too, when he had numbered the people, his conscience immediately struck him (2 Sam 24:10). And when he resolved to kill Nabal and all his family, which was a wicked and carnal passion with nothing in it but flesh, yet when he was stopped by the advice and wise counsel of Abigail, we see how quickly he yielded (1 Sam 25:32 and following). There is a kind of perpetual tenderness of conscience in God’s people. All the difference is one of more or less.

(5) And answering to these inward powers is the outward obedience of God’s children. In their sleepy state they go on in a course of obedience. They may do it lifelessly and coldly, without the glory that would give others a good example or bring themselves comfort, yet there is a course of good duties. A Christian’s ordinary way is good, however he may step aside. His fits may be sleepy while his state is waking. We must distinguish between a state and a fit. A man may have a fit of fever in a sound body. The state of a Christian is a waking state in the inward man. The byways he falls into are only fits, out of which he recovers himself.

Application 1. By way of application, then, let us magnify the goodness of God, who will remain with us by his Spirit, and lets his Spirit stay to preserve life in hearts like ours, so prone to complacency and sleepiness. Let it remind us of other similar merciful and gracious doings of our God for us: that he gave his Spirit to us when we had nothing good in us, when his Spirit met with nothing but enmity, rebellion, and unwillingness. Indeed, consider how he humbled himself and became man, being united to our frail flesh in a wonderful nearness, and all out of mercy to save us.

Application 2. If Satan tempts us on such occasions, let us enter into our own souls and search out the truth of grace in us: our judgment, our wills, our constant course of obedience, and the inward principle it comes from. Then we will be able to stand in the time of temptation. What upheld the church but this reflective act, by the help of the Spirit, by which she was able to judge of the good as well as of the ill? So David says, “The desires of our souls are towards thee” (Ps 38:9); and though all this has befallen us, yet we have not forgotten your name (Ps 44:17). This will enable us to appeal to God, as Peter did: “Lord, thou knowest I love thee” (John 21:15). It is evidence of a good state.

Observation 1. “My heart waketh.” God’s children never totally fall from grace. Though they sleep, their heart is still awake. The prophet Isaiah, speaking of the church and children of God, says, “It shall be as a tree, as an oak whose substance is in them, when they cast their leaves” (Isa 6:13). Though you see neither fruit nor leaves, there is life in the root; the seed remains in them. There is always a seed remaining. It is an immortal seed that we are begotten by (1 Pet 1:23). When Peter denied his Master, he was like a weather-beaten oak; yet there was still life in the root (Matt 26:69 and following). For without question Peter loved Christ from his heart.

Sometimes a Christian may be in so poor a condition that his spiritual life all runs to the heart, and the outward man is left destitute. It is as in war: when the enemy has conquered the field, the people run into the city, and if they are beaten out of the city, they run into the castle. The grace of God sometimes fails in the outward action, in the field, while it retreats to the heart, and in that fort it is impregnable. “My heart waketh.”

When the outward man sleeps, and there are weak, dull performances, and perhaps wrong actions too, still “the heart waketh.” We see this in a swoon or a great fright: the blood, the spirits, and the life leave the face and hands and so on, yet they are in the heart. Scripture says of Eutychus, “His life is in him still” (Acts 20:10), though he seemed to be dead. As Christ said of Lazarus (John 11:4), so one may say of a Christian in his worst state: his life is in him still; he is not dead, but sleeps; “his heart waketh.”

Observation 2. This is a sound and comforting doctrine, agreeable to Scripture and to the experience of God’s people. We must not lose it, therefore, but make use of it against the time of temptation. There are some pulses that reveal life in the sickest man, and so there are some breathings and spiritual motions of the heart that will comfort us in such times. Two things never fail on God’s part: his love, which is unchangeable, and his grace, a fruit of his love. And two never fail on our part: the impression of that love, and the gracious work of the new creature. Christ never dies, says the apostle (Heb 7:25). As he never dies in himself after his resurrection, so he never dies in his children. There is always spiritual life.

Use for comfort. “The heart waketh.” This is a secret of God’s sanctuary, belonging only to God’s people. Others have nothing to do with it. God’s people will always love God, and God will always love them. The apostle says, “Love never fails” (1 Cor 13:8). Gifts, as you know, will be abolished, because the manner of knowing we now use will cease. “We see through a glass… but love abideth” (1 Cor 13:12; 1 Cor 13:13). Does our love to God abide forever, and does not his love to us, from which ours comes? Ours is only a reflection of God’s love. Let us comfort ourselves in this, therefore, for the time to come. Amid all the uncertainty of things in this life, which we have today and lose tomorrow, as we see in Job, there is something a saint may build on that is constant and immovable. “I am the Lord, I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob are not consumed” (Mal 3:6). If God were to vary in this, he would, as it were, deny himself and his own constant nature, which he cannot do.

Observation 3. A Christian is what his heart and inward man is. Divines have a true saying: God and nature begin there. Art begins with the face and outward features, as hypocrisy does, with outward painting and show; but grace begins at the center and goes from there to the circumference. And therefore the church values herself here by the disposition and temper of her heart. As for my outward conduct, I am like this: “I sleep, but my heart, that waketh.”

Therefore let us enter into our consciences and souls to try our state. How is it with our judgments? Do we approve of the ways of God and of the law of the inward man? How is it with our affections and our bent toward good things? How is it with our hatred and our zeal? Are they not stirred more for outward things than for inward? We know what Jehu said to Jonadab when he would have him come up into his chariot: “Is thine heart as mine? Then come to me” (2 Kgs 10:15). So Christ says, “Is your heart as mine? Then give me your hand.” But God must have our hearts first, and then our hands. Otherwise a man is only a ghost in religion, which goes up and down without a spirit of its own; he is only a picture that has an outside and is nothing within.

Therefore, above all, let us look to our hearts. “Oh, that there were such an heart in this people,” God says to Moses, “to fear me always, for their good” (Deut 5:29). This is what God’s children desire, that their hearts may be set aright. “Wash thy heart, O Jerusalem,” says the prophet, “from thy wickedness” (Jer 4:14). Indeed, the whole outward man depends on this (Prov 4:23). Therefore, if Satan can get this fort, he is safe, and so it is with Satan’s vicar too. In the time of Gregory XIII, in Queen Elizabeth’s days, there was a watchword: “My son, give me thy heart. Dissemble, go to church, and do what you will; but give me thy heart, be a papist in heart, and go where you will.” God is not content with the heart alone. The devil knows that if he has the heart he has all; but God, as he made all, both soul and body, will have all. Yet in times of temptation the chief trial is in the heart.

And from this we may see a main difference between one Christian and another. A sound Christian does what he does from the heart; he begins the work there. Whatever good he does, he first loves in his heart and judges to be good, and then he does it.

A hypocrite does what he does outwardly, and does not inwardly approve of the good he does. He would do ill and not good if the choice were his. The good he does is for ulterior ends: to keep in with others, or because he depends on others, or to conform to the times, or to cover his designs under a formality of religion, so that he may not be known outwardly as what he is inwardly, an atheist and a hypocrite. So he has false aims; his heart is not directed to the right mark. But it is otherwise with God’s child. Whatever good he does is in his heart first. Whatever ill he abstains from, he abstains from it from his heart, judging it to be evil; therefore he hates it and will not do it.

Here is a main difference between the church and all others. The church wakes in the heart, though the outward man sleeps. But other men’s hearts sleep while they are awake, just as you know some people will walk and do many things in their sleep. A hypocrite is that kind of man. He walks and goes up and down, but his heart is asleep. He does not know what he is doing, nor does he do it out of judgment or love, but as one asleep, as it were. He has no inward affection for the things he does. A Christian is the contrary: his heart is awake when he is asleep.

You may draw another difference from the words, as follows. A Christian, by the power of God’s Spirit in him, is aware of the contrary things in him; he complains of them and is ashamed of them. But a hypocrite is not so; he is not aware of his sleepiness. “I sleep,” says the church. To the extent that the church says she slept, to that extent she was not asleep; for a man that is asleep cannot say that he is asleep, any more than a dead man can say that he is dead. So far as he says he is asleep, he is awake. Now, the church confesses that she was asleep by that part of her that was awake. Other people do not complain. They are not aware of their sleepiness and slumbering, but settle themselves to slumber and seek darkness, which is a friend of sleep. They would gladly stay ignorant, to keep their conscience as dull and dumb as they can, so that it may not reproach them. This is the disposition of a carnal man: he is not aware of his condition, as the church here is.

Observation 4. A waking state is a blessed state. The church, you see, supports and comforts herself with this: that she was awake in her inner man, and that she was happy in that respect.

Question. How shall we keep and preserve our souls in this waking condition, especially in these drowsy times?

Answer 1. Set waking considerations before our souls. What causes our sleep but a lack of matters that call for more serious attention? No one will sleep when something of more than ordinary excellence is set before him. Let us see, know, and think about the state to which we are now raised in Christ, and what we shall be before long; and yet what a fearful condition we would be in if God left us to ourselves! It would be a state of utter dismay, miserable and wretched beyond words, indeed beyond imagining! In this way the blessed souls of former times exercised their thoughts, raising and stirring them up by meditation, so that they might hold their souls in a high esteem of the best things and not let them sleep. We never fall asleep in earthly and carnal delights until the soul lets go its hold of the best things, and ceases to think of them and to wonder at them. What made Moses turn away from the delights of Egypt? He saw that the lowest things in religion were greater than the greatest things in the court, yes, in the world. “He esteemed the reproach of Christ better than the greatest treasures of Egypt” (Heb 11:26).

2. Make the heart think of the shortness and vanity of this life, along with the uncertainty of the time of our death, and of what wonderful consequence it is to be in the state of grace before we die. Think too of the uncertainty of the gales of grace: there may be a good hour which, if we let it pass, we may never have the like of again (Luke 19:42; Matt 23:37). It is as when the angel came down at a certain hour into the pool of Bethesda (John 5:4), and those who did not enter immediately afterward went away as sick as they came. So there are certain good hours; let us not neglect them. This will help to keep us awake.

3. Think of the necessity of grace, then of God’s free dispensing of it in his own good time, and along with these, of the terror of the day of the Lord. Remembering, says St. Paul, the terror of the Lord, I labor to stir up all men (2 Cor 5:11). Indeed, it should make us stir up our hearts when we consider the terror of the Lord, and think that before long we shall all be brought to an exact account before a strict and precise judge. And shall our eyes be sleeping and careless then? Out of spiritual wisdom we should set these and similar considerations before ourselves, so that we might have waking souls and preserve them in a right temper.

Answer 2. Keep faith awake. The soul takes its character from the object set before it, and from the certainty with which it grasps that object. It contributes much, therefore, to the awakening of the soul to keep faith awake. It is not greatness alone, but the presence of great things, that stirs us. Now it is the nature of faith to make things powerfully present to the soul (Heb 11:1), for it sets things before us in the word of Jehovah, who made all things out of nothing and is Lord of his word, to give being to whatever he has spoken. Faith is an awakening grace. Keep that awake, and it will keep all the other graces awake.

Let a man believe that all these things will be on fire before long; that heaven and earth will fall to pieces; that we shall be called to give an account; and that before that time we may be taken away. And is it not a wonder that we stand so long, when cities and stone walls fall, and kingdoms come to sudden ends? When faith apprehends this and sets it before the eye of the soul, it affects the soul marvelously. Therefore let faith set before the soul present thoughts suited to its temper: sometimes terrible things, to awaken it out of its dullness; sometimes glorious things, promises and mercies, to waken it out of its sadness, and so on. When we are in a prosperous condition, let faith make present to us all the sins and temptations that usually accompany such a condition, such as pride, careless complacency, self-applause, and the like. If we are in adversity, let us think also of the sins that may beset us there. This will awaken in us the graces that suit such a condition, to prevent such sins and temptations, and so keep our hearts in “exercise to godliness” (1 Tim 4:7). Nothing will prevent sleeping more than this.

Answer 3. And along with this, labor for an abundance of the Spirit of God. For what makes people sleepy and drowsy? A lack of spirits. We are dull and overloaded with gross humors, so that our strength sinks and fails. Christians should know that if they will keep themselves awake, they must of necessity keep themselves spiritual. Pray for the Spirit above all things. He is the life of our life, the soul of our soul. What is the body without the soul, or the soul without the Spirit of God? Nothing but a dead lump. And let us keep ourselves in such good ways that we may expect the presence of the Spirit to be with us, which will keep us awake.

Answer 4. We must keep ourselves in as much light as possible. For all sleepiness comes with darkness. Let us keep our souls in perpetual light. When any doubt or dark thought arises and we yield to it, a sleepy temper follows. Sleepiness in the affections arises from darkness of judgment. The more we labor to increase our knowledge, and the more its spiritual light and beams shine in at our windows, the better it will be for us, and the better able we shall be to keep awake. What makes people who live in their corruptions avoid the ministry of the word, or anything that may awaken their consciences? It is their desire to sleep. They know that the more they know, the more they must practice, or else they must have a galled conscience. They see that religion will not stand with their aims. Rich they must be, and great they will be; but if they let the light grow upon them, it will tell them that they must not rise and become great by these and similar courses.

A gracious heart will especially desire spiritual knowledge, and will not care how close the word comes, because such people sincerely and freely desire to be spiritually better. They make all things in the world give way to the inner man. They desire to know their own corruptions and evils more and more. And therefore they love the light, “as children of the light, and of the day” (1 Thess 5:5). Sleep is a work of darkness. Therefore people with dark and drowsy hearts desire darkness, for this very purpose: that their consciences may sleep.

Answer 5. Labor to preserve the soul in the fear of God, because fear is a waking affection, indeed one of the most wakeful. For by nature we are more moved by dangers than stirred by hopes. Therefore the affection that is most concerned with danger is the most rousing and waking affection. So preserve the fear of God by all means. It is one mark of a Christian that when he has lost almost all grace, as far as his feeling goes, the fear of God is still always left with him. He fears sin and its reward, and therefore God makes that awe the bond of the new covenant: “I will put my fear into their hearts, that they shall never depart from me” (Jer 32:40).

One Christian is better than another by so much as he is more awake, and fears more, than the other. Among all Christians, notice that those are the most gracious, spiritual, and heavenly who are most full of awe and most careful in their speech, their ways, and their conduct, tender of offending God even in little things. You will not hear light and common oaths come from them, nor unsavory speech. Sometimes a good Christian, in a state of sleepiness, may be at fault in some way. But as he grows in the sense of the love of God, he grows in the knowledge of the greatness of God and in the experience of his own infirmities. He is afraid to lose that sweet communion in any way, or to grieve the Spirit of God. Therefore, as a man grows in grace, he always grows in reverent awe and in jealous watchfulness over his own corruptions. Therefore let us preserve by all means this reverent affection, the fear of God.

Let us, then, often search the state of our own souls: whether we are going backward or forward; how things stand between God and our souls; how fit we are to die and to suffer; how fit for the times that may befall us. Let us examine the state of our own souls, which will preserve us in a waking condition. Especially, let us examine ourselves with regard to the sins of the place and the times in which we live, and the sins of our own inclination: how we stand affected and inclined in all those respects. And let us see how jealous we are of dangers of this kind. Those who would keep waking souls must consider the danger of the place where they live, and of the times: what sins reign, what sins the company they keep is subject to, and their own weakness to be led away by such temptations. This jealousy is a branch of the fear we spoke of before, arising from the searching of our own hearts and dispositions. It is a notable means of keeping us awake when we keep our hearts in fear of those sins to which we are most prone, whether by our calling, custom, company, or the times we live in, or by our own disposition.

There is no Christian who does not have some special sin to which he is more prone than to another, in one way or another, whether by his course of life or by his temperament. Here, now, is the care and watchfulness of a Christian spirit: knowing his weakness by examining and testing his own heart, he especially fortifies himself against the sin he is most inclined to. And he is able to speak against that sin most of all, and to bring the strongest arguments to dishearten others from practicing it.

Answer 6. In the last place, it is a matter of no small consequence that we keep company with waking and faithful Christians, such as neither sleep themselves nor willingly allow anyone near them to sleep.

It is reported, and truly, of the sweating sickness, that those who were kept awake by the people with them escaped; but the sickness was deadly if they were allowed to sleep. It is one of the best fruits of the communion of saints, and of our good spiritual acquaintance, to keep one another awake. It is unpleasant work on both sides. But one day we shall cry out against all who have pleased themselves and us by rocking us asleep, and we shall thank those who have pulled us “with fear” (Jude 23) out of the fire, though against our wills.

Let us labor upon our own hearts in the conscientious use of all these means, each in its proper time and season, so that we may keep our hearts awake. And we ought to be all the more earnest in this when we consider the present age and season in which we live.

Certainly a drowsy temper is the most common temper in the world. For would people allow idle words, yes, filthy and rotten talk, to come out of their mouths if they were awake? Would a waking man run into a pit, or onto the point of a sword? A man who is asleep may do anything. What do people mean when they are not afraid to lie and dissemble, and to rush upon the pikes of God’s displeasure? When they say one thing and do another, are they not dead? Or, taking them at their best, are they not asleep? If they were awake, would they ever act this way? Will not a bird that has wings avoid the snare? Or will a beast run into a pit when it sees it? There is a snare laid in your playhouses, gaming houses, and common houses, which gentlemen frequent who generally profess religion and take Communion. If the eye of their souls were awake, would they run into these snares, which their own conscience tells them are snares? If there is any goodness in their souls, it is wonderfully sleepy.

There is no one, not even the best, who cannot complain somewhat that they are overtaken by the contagion of these infectious times. They catch drowsy tempers, as our Savior says of those latter times: “For the abundance of iniquity, the love of many shall wax cold” (Matt 24:12). A chill temper always grows from the coldness of the times we live in, in which the best may complain of coldness; but there is a great difference. The life of many, we see, is a continual sleep.

Let us especially watch over ourselves in the use of liberty and of things that are lawful in themselves. It is a blessed state when a Christian so conducts himself in his liberty that his heart does not condemn him for abusing what it allows, and rightly allows, in moderate use. Recreations are lawful; who denies it? To refresh oneself is not only lawful but necessary. God knew this well enough, and therefore has allotted time for sleep and the like. But we must not turn recreation into a calling and spend too much time in it.

Where there is least fear, there is always most danger. Now, because there is least fear in lawful things, there we are in most danger. It is true, for the most part, that we all perish by lawful things: more people perish in the church of God by the abuse of lawful things than by unlawful ones; more by food than by poison. For everyone takes heed of poison, since he knows its venom; but how many people gorge themselves and die by food! In the same way, many people die by lawful things. They perish eternally in the abuse of their liberties more than in gross sins. Therefore let us keep awake, so that we may conduct ourselves in our liberties in such a way that we do not condemn ourselves in the use of them.

We will conclude this point with a meditation on the excellence of a waking Christian. When he is in his right temper, he is an excellent person, ready for every trial. He is then impregnable. Satan has nothing to do with him, for, as it is said, he is then a wise man, and “hath his eyes in his head” (Eccl 2:14). He knows himself, his state, his enemies and adversaries, the snares of prosperity and adversity and of all conditions. Therefore, being awake, he is not overcome by the evil of any condition, and is ready for the good of any state. He who has a waking soul sees all the advantages for good, and all the snares that might draw him to evil. What a blessed state this is! Therefore watch in all things (Mark 13:37): in all states, at all times, and in all actions. There is danger in everything without watchfulness.

There is a scorpion under every stone, as the proverb says, and a snare under every blessing of God and in every condition, which Satan uses as a weapon to hurt us: adversity to discourage us, prosperity to puff us up. If a Christian does not have a waking soul, Satan has him in his snare: in prosperity, to be proud and complacent; in adversity, to murmur, complain, be dejected, and call God’s providence into question. When a Christian has a heart and grace to be awake, then his love, his patience, and his faith are awake as they should be. He is fit for all conditions, to do good in them and to take good by them.

Let us therefore labor to preserve watchful and waking hearts continually, so that we may be fit to live, to die, and to appear before the judgment seat of God; to do what we should do, and suffer what we should suffer, being fitted for every condition whatever.

It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night (Song 5:2).

Up to now, with God’s help, we have heard at length both of the church’s sleeping and of her heart-waking: what this sleeping and heart-waking is; how it comes about; the tests of these opposite dispositions; the danger of sleeping and the excellence of heart-waking; and the helps and means both to shun the one and to preserve the other. Now the church, having so freely and candidly confessed what she could against herself, goes still further and acquaints us with the particulars of her heart-waking disposition, which were twofold. She heard and discerned “the voice of her beloved,” who, for all her sleep, was her beloved still. And more than that, she remembers all his sweet words and allurements by which he pressed her to open to him, saying, “Open to me, my love, my dove, my undefiled.” This is set out and amplified with a further moving argument, drawn from the hardships Christ had suffered while he waited to be welcomed into her heart: “For my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” All of this aggravates her offense, together with his rare goodness and patience toward miserable sinners, in waiting like this from time to time to be admitted into our wretched souls, so that he may rule and govern them by his Holy Spirit.

Therefore, we have great reason to shun this sleepy distemper of soul, which for the time being so locks up the everlasting gates of our soul, that the King of glory cannot enter in (Ps 24:7). And we have great reason to strive for this blessed heart-waking disposition, which may help us at all times to see our dangers and, by God’s blessing, recover us out of them. So the church does here at length, though she is first stung and well beaten by the watchmen, in a world of perplexities, before she can recover the sense of her former union and communion with Christ.

And surely we find by experience what a woeful thing it is for the soul which has once tasted how gracious the Lord is to be long without a sense of God’s love. For when it looks upon sin as the cause of this separation, this is for the time like so many deaths to it. Therefore the church’s experience must be our warning shot, to take heed how we grieve the Spirit and so fall into this spiritual sleep. Yet this is a good sign, that we are not in a desperate dead sleep, when we can say with her, “It is the voice of my beloved that knocks, saying, Open unto me.”

In these words you have:

1. The church’s acknowledgment of Christ’s voice.

2. Christ’s conduct toward her.

1. Her acknowledgment is set down here: “It is the voice of my Beloved.”

2. His conduct: “He knocks.” In this we see:

(1) His patience in suffering things unworthy of him and utterly unbecoming to him. He does not only “knock,” but he continues knocking, till “his head was filled with dew, and his locks with the drops of the night.”

(2) His friendly way of addressing her: “Open to me, my love, my dove, my undefiled.” See, here are sweet actions and sweet words, and all to melt the heart of the spouse!

First, the church’s acknowledgment is to be considered, as she confesses, “It is the voice of her beloved.” The first thing to be observed in this acknowledgment is that the church, however sleepy and drowsy she was, nevertheless had a heart so far awake as to know the voice of her husband. The point is this:

Observation. A Christian soul knows and can discern the voice of Christ, yes, even in a lazy, sleepy condition, but much more when it is in a good and lively frame.

God’s believers are Christ’s sheep (John 10:3). Now, “My sheep,” says Christ, “hear my voice” (John 10:27). It is, as it were, the earmark of a Christian, one of the marks of the new man, to taste words by the ear, as Job says (Job 12:11). He has a spiritual taste, a discerning relish in his ear, because he has the Spirit of God; and therefore he relishes what is of one nature with the Spirit and suited to it. Now the voice of Christ outside us in the ministry and the Spirit of Christ within us in the heart are of one nature and suited to each other.

And surely it is so, that this is one way to tell a true Christian from another: by a taste in hearing. For those who have a spiritual relish can hear with some delight the things that are most spiritual. A heathen once said of a meadow that some creatures come to it to eat one sort of herb and others another, each what is fit for it, while men come to walk in it for delight; all come for ends suited to their nature. So it is in coming to hear the word of God. Some come to observe the elegance of words and phrases. Some, men of a devilish temper, come perhaps to catch some advantage against the speaker. And some come to conform themselves to the customs of the places they live in, or to quiet the clamors of a troubled conscience, which will have some divine duty performed or else goes on in great vexation. But every true Christian comes and relishes what is spiritual. And when outward things can aptly convey spiritual things to the mind by comparisons, he relishes this, not so much because it is elegant and pleases his fancy, as because it conveys the voice of Christ to his soul. So a man may be much helped by his ear to know his state in grace and what he is.

“Itching ears” (2 Tim 4:3) usually belong to those who are led with lust, as the apostle says, and such ears must be scratched. These people are sick, and nothing will go down with them. They quarrel with everything that is wholesome, as the people of old did with the manna. No sermons will please them; no bread is fine and white enough. Yet in truth it is their own distemper that is at fault. With those who go to sea in a ship, it is not the tossing but the stomach that causes the sickness, the bile within and not the waves without. So too the disquiet of these men, with whom nothing will go down, comes from their own distemper. If Christ himself were here preaching, they would be sure to find fault with something, as men did then when he preached in his own person, because they labor under lusts which they are resolved to feed and cherish.

And again, observe this against our adversaries. What do they say? “How shall we know that the word is the word of God? For this heretic says this, and that one interprets it so.” This is the common objection of the great rabbis among them in their writings: how can we know the word to be God’s, considering that there are such heresies in the churches, and such contrary opinions about the Scriptures read in the churches?

Even to object and ask in this way is an argument and testimony that these men do not have the Spirit of Christ. For “his sheep know his voice” (John 10:4). Though they cannot interpret every passage of Scripture, yet they can discern in the Scripture what is suitable food for them. Or, in the unfolding of the Scriptures in preaching, they can discern food agreeable to them, having a faculty to reject what is not fit for nourishment and to let it go. As in nature there are passages fit for digesting and for rejecting, so there is a power in the soul to draw out of the word, even out of what is hard yet wholesome, whatever is fit for the soul and spirit. If the soul is cast down, it feeds upon the promises for direction and consolation. And what is not fit for nourishment it rejects, that is, if it is of a contrary and alien nature.

Therefore we answer them thus: that “God’s sheep hear his voice” (John 10:3); that when his word, left in the church, is unfolded, his Spirit goes together with it, breeding a relish for the word in people’s hearts, so that they are able to taste and relish it; and that it has a supernatural power and majesty in it which carries its own evidence with it. How shall we know light to be light? It carries evidence in itself that it is light. How do we know that fire is hot? Because it carries evidence in itself that it is so. So if you ask how we know the word of God to be the word of God, it carries in itself inbred arguments and marks, so that the soul can say, None but this word can be the word of God. It has such majesty and power to cast down and to raise up, to comfort and to direct, with such power and majesty, that it carries its own evidence with it, and that is argument enough for it (1 Cor 14:24-25; 2 Cor 10:4-5). This is how we answer them, and they can meet it in no way but with quibbles. God’s sheep hear the voice of Christ. He speaks, and the church understands him, and a stranger’s voice they will not hear (John 10:5).

And indeed, this is the only sure way of understanding the word to be of God: from an inbred principle of the majesty in the word, and from a powerful work of the word on the soul itself. And an assent grounded in this way is what makes a sound Christian. If we should ask why there are so many who apostatize, fall away, grow profane, and are so unfruitful under the gospel, though they hear as much as they do, the answer is this. Their souls were never founded and grounded on this, that it is the word of God and divine truth, so as to be able to say, “I have felt it by experience: it is the voice of Christ.” That is why they fall away so soon when Jesuits or seducers set upon them. They were never persuaded by inbred arguments that the voice of Christ is the word of God. Others turn from strictness to profaneness, because they were never convinced by the power and majesty of the truth in itself. And then in the end they despair, despite all the promises, because they were never convinced of their truth. They cannot say Amen to all the promises. But the church can say confidently, on sound experience, “It is the voice of my beloved.”

Again, since the church says here, “It is the voice of my beloved,” and knows this voice of her beloved, we may note:

Observation. The church of God, and every Christian, takes notice of the means God uses for their salvation.

A Christian is aware of all the blessed helps he has toward salvation. To a dead heart it is all one whether it has means or no means; but a Christian soul takes notice of all the means. “It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh.” It sees Christ in all.

And notice what the church says, moreover: “It is the voice of my beloved.” She acknowledges Christ to be beloved by her, though she was asleep. So here is a distinction between the sleep of a Christian and the dead sleep of another, natural man. When the Christian sleeps, his heart not only wakes, but is awake to discern the voice of Christ. It can relish in reading what is spiritual and good, what is savory and what is not. And likewise, take a Christian at his worst: when he is asleep, he loves Christ; he will do nothing against him. “I can do nothing,” says Paul, “against the truth, but for the truth” (2 Cor 13:8). He will do nothing against the cause of religion. There is a new nature in him, so that he cannot do otherwise. He cannot help but love. He cannot sin with full purpose, nor speak against a good cause, because he has a new nature that leads him another way. Christ is her beloved still, though she sleeps.

Observation. Take a Christian at his lowest, and his heart yearns after Christ.

In acknowledging Christ to be his beloved, a Christian shows that there is a conjugal chastity in his soul. Holding firm to the covenant and marriage between Christ and his soul, he keeps it inviolable. Though he may be wayward, sleepy, and drowsy, yet there is always a conjugal, spouse-like affection: “It is the voice of my beloved.”

Now, leaving the church’s notice of the voice of Christ, we come to Christ’s conduct toward her.

1. “He knocketh”; and then we have:

2. His patience in that conduct: “My head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” Here is patience and mercy, to endure this indignity at the church’s hands, to stand waiting on her courtesy to come in. Besides these there is, third, his way of addressing her, which is to be spoken of afterward.

The general observation from Christ’s conduct is this:

Observation. Christ still desires further and further communion with his church.

Even as the true soul that is touched with the Spirit desires nearer and nearer communion with Christ, so he seeks nearer and nearer communion with his spouse by all sanctified means. Christ never has enough of the soul. He would have them more and more open to him. Our hearts are for Christ, who has the heaven of heavens, and the soul of a believing Christian, for himself to dwell in. He is not content to be in heaven alone; he will have our hearts. He knocks here, waits, and speaks in a friendly and loving way, with such sweet words: “My love, my dove…” We had a blessed communion in the state of innocence, and we shall have a glorious communion in heaven, when the marriage is consummated. But now the time of this life is only like the time of betrothal, during which there are still many mutual exchanges of love between him and his spouse, a desire for mutual communion on either side.

Christ desires a further welcome in his church’s heart and affection, so that he may lodge and dwell there. And likewise there is the same desire in the church, when she is in a right temper. So if there is any strangeness between Christ and the soul of anyone who has tasted how good the Lord is, let him not blame Christ for it, for Christ takes no delight in strangeness. He knocks and stands knocking while his locks are wet with the drops of the night; he woos a Christian’s soul with all this love. Does he delight in strangeness? Certainly not.

Therefore, look for the cause of his strangeness, at any time, in your own self. For example, consider whether we cast ourselves imprudently into company not fit to be consulted with, in whom the Spirit is not, and who cannot do us any good, or whether they thrust themselves upon us. Evil company is a great damper, by which a Christian loses much of his comfort, especially that intimate communion with God; and from this we may fall into complacency.

Again, giving up religious exercises is a great cause of Christ’s withdrawing himself. He woos our souls no longer when we neglect the means and give up holy exercises and religious company, when we do not stir up the graces of God’s Spirit. When we are negligent in this way, it is no wonder that Christ woos our souls no longer, since we do not prize and value as we should the communion that should be between the soul and Christ. “Whom have I in heaven but thee?” (Ps 73:25). “Thy lovingkindness is better than life,” says the psalmist (Ps 63:3). When we do not prize this, it is just for Christ to make himself strange. Where love is not valued and esteemed, it is estranged, and for a while it hides itself. So we may find these, along with other courses and failings, to be the ground and reason of the strangeness between Christ and the soul; for certainly the cause is not in him. For we see here that he uses all means to be welcomed by a Christian soul: “he knocks.”

You know what he says to the church of Laodicea: “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock” (Rev 3:20). So here: “It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh.” Therefore, in such a case, search your own hearts. If there is deadness and desertion of spirit, lay the blame on yourselves, and enter into a search of your own ways, and see what may be the cause.

Now, to come more particularly to Christ’s conduct here, knocking at the heart of the sleepy church, we see that Christ does not take advantage of the sins of his church, as if they were a forfeit, to leave them altogether, but woos them further and further. Though the church is sleepy, Christ continues knocking. The church of Laodicea was a lukewarm, proud, hypocritical church; yet “Behold,” says Christ, “I stand at the door, and knock” (Rev 3:20). And it was a vainglorious and conceited church: “I am rich, and want nothing,” when she was “poor, blind, and naked” (Rev 3:17). And here he not only stands knocking, but also suffers indignities, allowing “the dew” to fall on him, which we shall speak of more hereafter. Christ, therefore, does not refuse weak sinners. He commands “that we should receive him that is weak in the faith” (Rom 14:1), and not cast him off from our fellowship and company. Will he, then, reject one who is weak and sleepy? No. What father will pass by or neglect his child for some failings and weaknesses? Nature will move him to regard him as his child.

Now, Christ is merciful both by his office and by his nature. He took our nature upon him so that he might be a merciful Redeemer (Heb 2:17). And then, as God, he is also love: “God is love” (1 John 4:16). That is, whatever God shows himself to be to his church, he does it in love. If he is angry in correcting, it is out of love; if merciful, it is out of love; if he is powerful in defending his church and avenging himself on her enemies, all is love. “God is love,” says John (1 John 4:8); that is, he shows himself to his church only in ways, expressions, and marks of love. So Christ, as God, is all love to the church.

And we see that the Scriptures also set out God as love, both in his essence and in his relations. First, in relations of love to his church, he is a father: “As a father pitieth his child, so the Lord pities them that fear him” (Ps 103:13). And second, he is love also in those sweet attributes of love which are his essence, as we see in Exodus 34:6. In the previous chapter, Moses desired to know God and was told, “Thou canst not see me and live.” Yet when God describes himself to Moses, he would make Moses know him, as far as it was fit for him to be known: “Jehovah, Jehovah, strong, merciful, gracious, long-suffering…” (Exod 34:6). Thus God will be known in these attributes of consolation. So Christ, as God, is all love and mercy. Likewise Christ as man: he became man for this end, to be all love and mercy. Take him in his office as Jesus, a Savior: he carries salvation in his wings, as it says in Malachi 4:2, both by office and by nature.

And here, how excellently the expression of Christ’s mercy, love, and patience is set out! He knocks, “my beloved knocks,” saying, “Open.” He knocks for further entrance, as was shown before. Some entrance he had already, but he would have more. As you know, we have various rooms and places in our houses. There is the court, the hall, the parlor, and the private chamber: the hall for ordinary people, the parlor for those of better standing, the private chamber for a man himself and those who are his intimate friends. So a Christian has room in his heart for worldly thoughts, but his private chamber, his inmost affections, are kept for his inmost friend, Christ, who is not content with the hall, but will come into the private chamber itself. He knocks so that we should open and let him come into our hearts, into our more intimate affections and love. Nothing will content him but intimacy, for he deserves it. As we shall see, he knocks for this end. But how does he knock?

In every kind of way.

1. The image is taken from the custom of men in this matter, God condescending to speak to us in our own language. Sometimes, you know, there is a knocking or calling for entrance by voice, when a voice may serve, and then there is no need for further knocking.

Sometimes it is both by voice and by knocking. If the voice will not serve, knocking comes after. So it is here. Christ both knocks and speaks. He uses the voice of his word, and he knocks by his works, and sometimes both together, whether by works of mercy or of judgment. He labors to enter into the soul, to rouse the sleepy soul in that way. He usually begins with mercy.

(1) By mercies. All the creatures and blessings of God carry in them, as it were, a voice of God to the soul, urging it to welcome his love. A voice of love goes with every blessing. And the love, the mercy, and the goodness of God in the creature is better than the creature itself. As we say of gifts, the love of the giver is better than the gift itself; so the love of God in all his sweet benefits is better than the thing itself. And so it is in what we have. There is a voice, as it were, entreating us to welcome God and Christ in all his mercies. Yes, every creature and benefit, as one says, speaks to us, as it were, like this: “We serve you, so that you may serve him who made you and us.” There is a speech, as it were, in every favor. And if these mercies cannot prevail, then:

(2) Corrections come, which are also the voice of God: “Hear the rod, and him that smiteth” (Mic 6:9).

2. But does the rod have a voice? Yes; for what do corrections speak but amendment of the fault we are corrected for? So we must hear the rod. All corrections tend to this purpose. They are like knockings, so that we should open to God and Christ. And because corrections by themselves will not amend us, God adds a voice to this kind of knocking. He teaches and corrects together: “Happy is that man that thou correctest, and teachest out of thy law,” says the psalmist (Ps 94:12). Correction without teaching is to little purpose. Therefore God adds instruction to correction. He opens the conscience, so that it tells us, “It is for this that you are corrected.” And together with conscience, he gives his Spirit to tell us, “It is for this or that you are corrected. You are to blame in this. You have done this, which you should not have done.”

So corrections are knockings, but especially when they have instruction with them in this way. Both blessings and corrections are messengers from God. They will not go away, especially corrections, till they have an answer, for they are sent from God, who will add seven times more (Lev 26:24 and following); and if the first are not answered, then he sends more after them. Once he begins, he will be sure to have an answer, either in our conversion or in our confusion.

3. He uses many other ways to knock at our hearts. The examples of good people we live among call upon us (1 Cor 10:33). The patterns of their holy lives, and the examples of God’s justice upon others (Luke 13:2-3), are speeches to us. God knocks at our door then. He intends our correction when he visits another, so that if we amend by that, he need not take us in hand.

4. But besides all this, there is a nearer knocking that Christ uses toward the church: his ministerial knocking. When he was here in the days of his flesh, he was a preacher and prophet himself. And now that he has ascended into heaven, he has given gifts to men, and men to the church (Eph 4:11 and following), by whom he speaks to the end of the world. They are Christ’s mouth, as we said of the penmen of holy Scripture: they were only the hand to write; Christ was the head to compose. So in preaching and unfolding the word they are only Christ’s mouth and his voice, as is said of John (Matt 3:3). Now that he is in heaven, he speaks by them: “He that heareth you heareth me, he that despiseth you despiseth me” (Luke 10:16).

Christ is either received or rejected in his ministers, as is said of Noah’s time: The Spirit of Christ preached in the days of Noah to the souls now in prison (1 Pet 3:19). Christ, as God, preached before he was incarnate, by Noah, to the old world, which is now in prison, in hell, because they refused to hear Christ speaking to them by Noah. Much more now, after the days of his flesh, now that he is in heaven, does he speak and preach to us. And if we do not regard it, we are likely to be in prison, as those souls are now in prison for neglecting the preaching of Noah (1 Pet 3:19).

So the ministers are Christ’s mouth. When they speak, he speaks by them; and they are ambassadors of Christ, as it were, whom they should imitate in mildness: We therefore, as ambassadors, beseech and entreat you, as if Christ by us should speak to you; so we entreat you to be reconciled unto God (2 Cor 5:20). And you know what heartbreaking words the apostle uses in all his epistles, especially when he writes to Christians in a good state, as to the Philippians: “If there be any bowels of mercy, if there be any consolation in Christ,” then regard what I say, “be of one mind” (Phil 2:1-2). And among the Thessalonians he was like a nurse to them (1 Thess 2:7). So Christ speaks by them and puts his own affections into them, so that, as he is tender and full of compassion himself, he has put the same compassion into those who are his true ministers.

He speaks by them, and they use every kind of means so that Christ may be welcomed into their hearers’ hearts. They leave no stone unturned, as it were: sometimes threatenings, sometimes entreaties; sometimes they come as “sons of thunder” (Mark 3:17), sometimes with the still voice of sweet promises. And because one man is not as fit as another for all the varieties of conditions and spirits, God therefore gives a variety of gifts to his ministers, so that they may knock at the heart of every man by their various gifts. For some have more rousing gifts, and some more winning ones; some have a more legal spirit, some a more evangelical one; yet all are for the church’s good. John the Baptist, by a more thundering way of preaching, threatens judgment to make way for Christ to come. But then Christ comes with “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” “blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matt 5:3-6). Every kind of means has been used in the ministry from the beginning of the world.

5. And because this ministry is in itself a dead letter, he joins something with the word that knocks at the heart together with the word. It is not severed from the word but is the life of it. Oh, the Spirit is the life and soul of the word! And when the inward word, or voice of the Spirit, and the outward word, or ministry, go together, then Christ knocks more effectually and stirs up the heart.

Now this Spirit knocks with sweet inspirations. He moves the heart, enlightens the understanding, quickens the dull affections, and stirs them up to duty, as it is said in Isaiah 30:21, “And thine ears shall hear a voice behind thee saying, This is the way, walk in it.” The Spirit moves us sweetly, in a way agreeable to our own nature. He does no violence to us, but works as in Hosea 11:4: “I drew them by the cords of a man”; that is, by reasons and motives befitting the nature of man, motives of love. So the Spirit, together with the word, works upon us as men, by rational motives. He sets before us the good that will come if we let Christ in to govern and rule us, and the danger if we do the contrary, and so moves and stirs up our affections. These are “the cords of a man.”

6. And besides his Spirit, God has planted a conscience in us to call upon us and to be his deputy, a little god within us to do his office: to call upon us, direct us, check us and condemn us. In great mercy he has placed it in us.

Thus we see the means Christ uses here: his voice, his works and his word. His works are works of mercy and of correction. His word comes together with his Spirit, and with the conscience he has planted to be, as it were, a god within us, which together with his Spirit may move us to duty. Augustine speaks of this when he says, “God spoke in me often, and I knew it not.” He means it of conscience, together with the Spirit, stirring up motives to leave his sinful courses. God knocked in me, and I did not consider it. I kept crying, “Now, and now,” without measure. I put God off: now I will, and now I will; but I had no moderation, I knew no limits.

And while Christ knocks in this way, all three persons may be said to do it. For it is said elsewhere that “God was and is in Christ reconciling the world” (2 Cor 5:19). Whatever Christ did, he did as the anointed one, by office. And therefore God does it in Christ and by Christ, and so in some sense God died in his human nature when Christ died. So here the Father beseeches when Christ beseeches, because the one who beseeches is sent from him and anointed by the Father. And God the Father stoops to us when Christ stoops, because Christ is sent by the Father and does everything by his Father’s command and commission (John 5:27). So besides his own tender compassion, the Father and the Spirit are with Christ, who does everything by his Spirit and from his Father, from whom he has his commission. Therefore God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit knock at the heart: “Open to me, my love, my dove, my undefiled.” But it is Christ especially who knocks, by his Spirit, because it is his office.

Objection. But some may object: Christ can open to himself, so why does he not take the key and open, and make way for himself? Who will knock when he has the key himself? And who will knock when there is no one within to open? Christ can open to himself, and we have no free will nor power to open.

Bellarmine raises this objection and speaks very crudely. He says that a man is unwise to knock where there is no one within to open; that if Christ knocks and we cannot open, it is a delusion to exhort us to open; and that therefore there must be free will in us to open.

The answer is, first, that Christ speaks here to the spouse. Many such exhortations are given to those who already have the Spirit of God, and who could open by his help. For good and gracious people are first moved by the Spirit, and then they move; they are movers who have first been moved, agents who have first been acted upon. They are first acted upon by the Spirit, and then they act by it, not of themselves, just as the lower heavenly spheres do not move except as they are moved by the higher.

The question, however, is not about those already in the state of grace but about people at their first conversion, when especially, we say, Christ speaks to those he means to convert. He knocks at their hearts, and opens them together with his speech. Then there goes with it a power by which they shall open, for his words are operative words. So it was in the creation: “Let there be light” was an operative word, “and there was light” (Gen 1:3). Let there be such a creature, it was an operative, working word, and at once there was such a creature. So he opens together with that word. With that invitation and command there goes an almighty power to enable the soul to open.

Would it be sound reasoning, when Christ called Lazarus to “come forth” (John 11:43), to conclude that Lazarus had life to yield to Christ because Christ bade him come forth? No, he was almost rotten in his grave. But with Christ’s speaking to Lazarus there went an almighty power that gave life to him, and by that life he heard what Christ said: Arise, Lazarus. So Christ by his Spirit clothes his word in the ministry with a mighty power when he speaks to people. As the minister speaks to the ear, Christ at the same time speaks to the heart, opens it and unlocks it. He gives it power to open, not from itself but from Christ. Paul speaks to Lydia’s ear; Christ speaks to her heart and opens it, as the text says (Acts 16:14), and by this she believes. So Christ opens the heart.

Question. But why does he work in this way?

Answer. Because he will preserve our nature and its principles, and so he deals with us by working accordingly. The way a reasonable creature works is to work freely, by a sweet inclination, not by violence. Therefore when he works the work of conversion, he does it in a sweet manner, though it is mighty in its effectiveness. He admonishes us with entreaty and persuasion, as if we were doing it ourselves. But though the manner is sweet, an almighty power goes with it. So he does it strongly, as it comes from himself, and sweetly, as the speaking is addressed to us, preserving our nature. The action, then, is from him, and it carries an almighty power with it.

As holy Bernard says, “You deal sweetly with my soul in regard of myself”; that is, you work upon me as a man, with words of love, yet strongly in regard of yourself. For unless he adds strength to sweetness, the work will not follow. But when both are present, an almighty work is accomplished in the soul of a Christian. And it is accomplished in such a way that the manner of a man’s working is preserved, sweet and free, while he is changed from one contrary to another. God works so sweetly, and with the greatest reason there can be, in that the person now sees more reason to be good than, in the days of darkness, he saw to be wicked. God speaks to us after the manner of men, but he works in us as the great God. He speaks to us as a man in our own language, sweetly; but he works in us almightily, in a powerful manner, as God. This is how we must understand such phrases as these: “I knock; open to me, my love, my dove.”

We may take further notice of this:

Observation. The heart of a Christian is the house and temple of Christ.

He has only two houses to dwell in: the heavens, and the heart of a humble, brokenhearted sinner (Isa 57:15).

Question. How can Christ come into the soul?

Answer. He comes into the heart by his Spirit. It is a special welcome that he looks for: Open your ears, so that you may hear my word; your love, so that you may love me more; your joy, so that you may delight in me more. Open your whole soul, so that I may dwell in it. A Christian should be God’s house, and a true Christian is the true temple of God. He therefore left the other two temples, but his own body and his church he never leaves. For a house is where a man takes his comfort and his rest, and where he lays up whatever is precious to him. So it is with Christ. A man will repair his house; so Christ will repair our souls and make them better, more holy, more spiritual, and in every way fit for such a guest as he is.

Question. How shall we know whether Christ dwells in our hearts or not?

Answer. We may know by the servants what master dwells in a house. If Christ is in the soul, good speech comes out of the house. And we watch over the senses, so that nothing comes in to defile the soul and disturb Christ, and nothing goes out to offend God. When we hear people full of gracious, sweet speech, it is a sign that Christ dwells there. If we hear the contrary, it shows that Christ does not dwell there. For Christ would move the whole man to do what might edify and comfort.

Again, where Christ comes, resistance comes there. When Christ was born, all Jerusalem was in an uproar; so when Christ is born in the soul, there is an uproar. Corruption arms itself against grace. There is a combat between flesh and spirit. But Christ subdues the flesh little by little. God’s image is stamped upon the soul where Christ is; and if we have opened to the Lord of glory, he will make us glorious.

Christ never has enough of us, nor do we ever have enough of him, until we are in heaven. And therefore we pray, “Thy kingdom come.” And until Christ comes in his kingdom, he desires that his kingdom should come to us. “Open,” he says. “A stupendous condescension!” as one cries out. And it is a stupendous condescension. He has heaven to hold him and angels, those glorious creatures, to attend him. He has command of every creature, and they yield him homage the moment he commands; the frogs and the lice and all the host of heaven are ready to do his will. And yet he stoops to entreat us to be good to our own souls, and to beseech us to be reconciled to him, as if he had offended us, when it is we who have done the wrong and not he, or as if we had power and riches to do him good! Here greatness beseeches lowliness, riches beseech poverty, all-sufficiency beseeches want, and life itself comes to dead, drowsy souls. What a wondrous condescension this is! Yet for all this, Christ deigns to make the heart of a sinful, sleepy man his house, his temple. He knocks, and knocks here, saying, “Open to me.”

Application 1. This is useful in many ways. First, let us cherish all the good thoughts of Christ we can. The time will come when the devil will set upon us with sharp temptations, fiery darts and temptations to despair, and will present Christ falsely, as if he were not willing to receive us. But you see that he knocks at our hearts for us to open to him, and uses mercies and judgments, the ministry, his Spirit, conscience and everything else. Since he seeks this welcome at our hands, will he not welcome us when we come to him? Certainly he will. Therefore let us labor to cherish good thoughts of Christ.

This is both the finishing and the beginning of the conversion of a poor sinful soul: to consider the infinite love and condescension of Christ Jesus for the good of our souls. We need not wonder at his willingness to receive us when we first know that God became man, happiness became misery, and life itself came to die and to be “a curse for us” (Gal 3:13). He has done the greater; will he not do the less? Therefore do not think it strange that he uses all these means, considering how low he descended for us, into the womb of the virgin (Eph 4:9).

Now considerations such as these, when they are mixed with the Spirit and pressed home by him, are effective for the conversion of poor souls. Is there such love in God that he would become man, and be a suitor to woo me for my love? Surely, the soul then thinks, he desires my salvation and conversion. And to what kind of people does he come? No one can plead unworthiness. I am poor: He comes to the poor (Isa 14:32; Isa 29:19). I am laden and wretched: “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and laden” (Matt 11:28). I have nothing: Come and buy honey, milk, and wine, though you have nothing (Isa 55:1). He takes away every objection. But I am stung with the sense of my sins: “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst…” (Matt 5:6). But I am empty of everything: “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt 5:3). You can raise no objection that the Holy Spirit has not taken away, wisely anticipating every objection of a sinful soul. These very thoughts are the beginning of conversion. And when we are converted, these thoughts, entertained with wonder at Christ’s condescension, are effective in giving Christ further entrance into the soul. By them a happier communion is formed, more and more, between Christ and the soul of a Christian.

Application 2. Oh, but take care that these things make no one complacent. For if we do not give Christ entrance, all this will further aggravate our damnation. How this will justify the sentence upon us hereafter, when Christ sets us on the left hand and says, “Depart from me” (Matt 25:41), because I invited you to come to me; I knocked at the door of your hearts, and you would give me no entrance. Depart from us, you said; therefore now, depart from me. What do profane people in the church do but bid Christ depart from them, especially in the motions of his Spirit? They entertain him in the outer room, the brain; they know a little of Christ. But into the heart, the secret room, he must not come to rule. Is it not just that he should say to us, “Depart, ye cursed, I know you not” (Matt 25:41)? You would not give me entrance; I will not give it to you now, as he says to the foolish virgins (Matt 25:12). Wisdom knocks and has no entrance; therefore when people call upon her in times of danger (Prov 1:28), she rejoices at their destruction.

Where God magnifies his mercy in this way, in sweet allurements, and in inviting by judgments, mercies, ministry and Spirit, he will magnify his judgment afterward. Those who have neglected heaven, with such privileges and advantages as these, shall be cast into hell: “Woe to thee, Chorazin” (Matt 11:21), as you know from the Gospel.

This is one thing that may humble us in this place and nation: that after so long a knocking, Christ has no further entrance and no better welcome! For to entertain his word is to welcome him, as it says in Colossians 3:16, “Let the word of God dwell plentifully in you,” and, “Let Christ dwell in your hearts by faith” (Eph 3:17). Compare those places: let the word dwell plentifully in you by wisdom, and let Christ dwell in your hearts by faith. For Christ dwells in the heart when the truth dwells in us. Therefore whatever welcome we give to his truth, we give to him.

Now what means of knocking has he not used among us for a long time? As for works of every sort, he has drawn us by the cords of a man, by every kind of favor. As for mercies, how many deliverances we have had from foreign invasion and from conspiracies at home! No nation has had the like; we are a miracle of the Christian world. How many mercies we enjoy: abundance, together with long peace and plenty! Besides this, in case that would not do, God has added corrections to all these, in every element and in every manner: infection in the air, judgments in floods. We have had rumors of wars, and more. These were threatenings, only the shaking of the rod, but such as might have awakened us. And then he has knocked at our hearts by the example of other nations. By what he has done to them, he has shown us what he might justly have done to us. We are no better than they.

As for his knocking by the ministry: for more than sixty years we have lived under the ministry of the gospel. This land has been a Goshen, a land of light, while many other places are in darkness. This is especially true of us who live in this Goshen, this place and others like it, where the light shines in more abundant measure. Ministers have been sent, with a variety of gifts. There has been piping and mourning, as Christ complained in his own time that people were like peevish children whom neither sweet piping nor doleful mourning would move to be agreeable to their fellows (Matt 11:17). They had John, who came mourning, and Christ comforting with blessing in his mouth. Every kind of means has been used.

And as for the motions of his Spirit, who is there at this time, living like this in the church under the ministry, who cannot say that God has thereby struck their hearts, those hard rocks, again and again, and awakened their consciences, partly with corrections, public and personal, and partly with benefits? Yet for all this, how little way is given to Christ! Many are indifferent and lukewarm either way, but lean rather toward the worse.

Let us consider this, then. The greater the means, the greater the judgments afterward, if we are not won by them. Therefore let us labor to hold Christ and to welcome him. Let him have the best room in our souls, to dwell in our hearts. Let us give up the keys to him, and desire him to rule our understandings, so that we know nothing but him and what agrees with his truth, and yield to no error or corruption. Let us desire that he would rule in our wills and affections: let him sway everything, and let us give everything to him. For that is his meaning when he says, “Open to me”: open, so that I may rule as in my own house, as the husband rules in his family and a king in his kingdom. He will have everything yielded up to him.

And he comes to beat down everything that is exalted against him; that is the reason people are so unwilling to open to him. They know that if they open to the Spirit of God, he will turn them out of their fool’s paradise and make them resolve on other courses of life. Because they will not turn to these, they repel the sweet motions of the Spirit of Christ and pull away his graces, building bulwarks against Christ, such as lusts, strange imaginations and resolutions (2 Cor 10:3-5). Let the ministers say what they will, and let the Spirit move as he will, this is how they live, and this is how they will live.

Let us take notice, therefore, of all the means God uses toward the nation and toward each of us in particular, and let each one labor to amend one, that is, himself. Every soul is the temple, the house, that Christ should dwell in. Therefore let every soul among us consider what means Christ uses to come into his soul, to dwell with him and to rule there.

And what shall we lose by it? Do we entertain Christ to our loss? Does he come empty? No, he comes with all grace. His goodness is a goodness that communicates and spreads itself. He comes to spread out his treasures, to enrich the heart with all grace and strength to bear every affliction and to meet every danger, and to bring peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Spirit. Indeed, he comes to make our hearts, as it were, a heaven. Only consider this. He does not come for his own ends but to empty his goodness into our hearts. As a breast that is full desires to empty itself, so this fountain has the fullness of a fountain, which strives to empty his goodness into our souls. He comes out of love to us. Let these considerations melt our hearts over our unkindness, that we let him stand knocking at the door so long, as it says here.

If we do not find our requests answered as soon as we would like, remember that we have also made him wait for us. Perhaps, to humble us and afterward to encourage us, he will make us wait, for we have made him wait. Let us not give up. Certainly he who desires us to open, so that he may pour out his grace upon us, will not reject us when we come to him (Matt 7:7). If he does not answer us at first, yet he will at last (Hab 2:3). Let us go on and wait, since there is no single duty pressed more in Scripture than this. And we see that it is only fair: He waits for us (Isa 30:18). It is good reason that we should wait for him. If we do not have comfort as soon as we desire it, let us attend upon Christ as he has attended upon us; for when he comes, he comes with advantage (Isa 60:16). So when we wait we lose nothing by it, but are gainers (Isa 64:4), for our patience increases (Jas 1:4). The longer we wait, the more abundant the grace and comfort he comes with in the end, and he shows himself rich and bountiful to those who wait upon him (Isa 40:1 and following).

It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open unto me, my love, my dove, my undefiled. (Song 5:2)

In the first part of this verse we dealt with the church’s own condition, the state she was in after some blessed feelings she had had of the love of Christ.

Now, in the next words, the church sets down an acknowledgment of Christ’s conduct toward her in this sleepy condition of hers: “It is the voice of my beloved that knocks, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove.” She acknowledges Christ’s voice in her sleepy state and describes his conduct this way: how he knocks, and then also speaks, “Open to me.” Then she sets down what he suffered for her: “My head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” And so that nothing might be lacking that might move her heart to regard this conduct of his toward her, he uses sweet titles, a loving form of address: “Open to me,” he says, “my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled,” as so many cords of love to draw her. So here there is no lack of loving conduct, sweet words, or patience. “It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh.”

The church takes notice of the voice of Christ, and so she also takes notice of the means he uses, and sees his love in them all. “It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me.” Here also is another mark that distinguishes a sound Christian from an unsound one. A sanctified spirit sees Christ in the means. “This,” says the heart, “is the word of Christ, and this is the mercy of Christ, to take such pains with my soul, to send his ministers, to provide his ordinances, to give gifts to men, and men to the church” (Eph 4:11-12). “It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh.”

But we must especially understand it of the voice of the ministry, by which Christ chiefly makes way for himself into the heart, and that by all kinds of ways dispensed in it: gifts of all sorts, some rougher, some milder, all kinds of methods and ways in the ministry to make way for himself. First of all, he does it by the threatenings of the law and by terrors. As John was sent before Christ, and as the storm went before the still and calm voice in which God came to Elijah (1 Kgs 19:12), so he uses all kinds of courses in the ministry. And ministers, by the direction of the Spirit, turn themselves, as it were, into all shapes and fashions, both of speech and of spirit, to win people to God. They do so much that God appeals to them: “What could I have done more for my church, that I have not done?” (Isa 5:4).

Application. Therefore let us take notice of this voice of Christ in the word, and not think, as good Samuel thought, that Eli was speaking when God spoke (1 Sam 3:5). Let us think that God speaks to us in the ministry, and that Christ comes to woo us and win us by it.

And we ministers are the friends of the Bridegroom, who are to hear what Christ says and would have said to the church; and we must pray to him that he would teach us what to teach others. We are to procure the marriage contract and to perfect it until the marriage is in heaven. That is our work.

And you who are hearers, if you do not regard Christ’s sweet voice in the ministry, which God has appointed for the government of the world, know that there is a voice you cannot shake off. It is that peremptory voice at the day of judgment, when he will say, “Go, ye cursed, into hell fire” (Matt 25:41). And that God who delights to be called “a God hearing prayer” (Ps 65:2) will not hear you, but says, “Such a one as turns his ear away from hearing the law, his prayer is abominable” (Prov 28:9). It is a grievous thing that he who made us and allures us in the ministry, who follows us with all evidences of his love, and adds many sweet motions of his Spirit together with the ministry, should delight in the destruction of his creatures and not endure the sight of them: “Depart away from me, ye cursed, into hell fire.”

There are scarcely any in the church whom Christ has not allured at one time or another to come in. In many he opens their understandings in a great measure and knocks upon their hearts, so that they, as it were, half open to Christ, like Agrippa, who said to Paul, “Thou almost persuadest me to be a Christian” (Acts 26:28). So Herod “did many things, and he heard gladly” (Mark 6:20). They are half open; they seem to open, but they are not effectually converted. But at last they see that yielding further will not stand with what they are resolved not to part with: their lusts and their present condition, which they make their God and their heaven. Whereupon they shut the door again. When they have opened it a little to the motions of God’s Spirit, they dare give no further way, because they cannot learn the first lesson in Christ’s school, to deny themselves and take up their cross.

This is an undoubted conclusion. Our blessed Savior gives such means and motions of his Spirit to the vilest persons in the church that their own hearts tell them they have more means and sweeter motions than they yield to. Their hearts tell them, too, that the sentence of condemnation is not pronounced upon them merely for not knowing Christ, but upon some grounds of rebellion, in that they do not go as far as they are stirred up and urged on by the Spirit of God. They resist the Holy Spirit (Acts 7:51). There can be no resistance unless the desire and will of the one resisted goes beyond what a person yields. A man does not resist when he gives way as far as he is moved. There is no wicked man in the church who gives as much way as he is moved and stirred to by the Spirit and word of God.

Away, then, with these impudent, ungracious objections about God’s decree in the matter of election. Let us make our election sure. And as for any wrong notions that may rise in our hearts about that other decree, of reprobation, let this quench them all: in the church of God he offers the vilest wretch so much means, with the motions of his Spirit, that in resisting he proves inexcusable. His own rebellion, therefore, is the cause of his rejection. Let men stop their quibbling. God has something in their own breast, in the heart of every carnal man, which will speak for God against him and stop his mouth, so that he will be silent and speechless at the day of judgment (Matt 22:12).

Thus we see that Christ stoops so low as to count it almost a part of his happiness to have our souls as a temple to dwell in and to rule there. Therefore he makes all this earnest suit, with strong expressions of what he suffers.

And since Christ bears this great and large affection to his poor church, it may encourage us to pray heartily for it and to spread its state before God. “Why, Lord? It is that part of the world that is your sister, your love, your dove, your undefiled, whose communion you love above all the rest of the world.” It is a strong argument to prevail with God. Therefore let us commend the state of the church at this time, or at any time, with this confidence: “Lord, it is the church that you love.” They thought they prevailed much with Christ when they labored to bring him to Lazarus, saying, “Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick” (John 11:3). So we say, “The church whom you love, that is, your only love, in whom your love is concentrated, as it were, and gathered to a head, as though you had no other love in the world but your church, this love of yours is in this state and condition.” It is good to think of prevailing arguments, not so much to move God as to move our own hearts, to strengthen our faith to prevail with God. And faith is much fortified by considering Christ’s wondrous loving expressions toward his poor church.

Then come to Christ, offer yourself, and he will meet you. Are not two loving well-wishers well met? When you offer yourself to him, and he seeks your love, will he reject you when you come to him who seeks your love, and seeks it in this passionate, affectionate manner, as he does? Therefore, be of good comfort. He is more willing to receive us than we are to come to him.

And as for those who have relapsed in any way, let them not be discouraged from returning to Christ again. The church here was in a drowsy, sleepy state and treated him unkindly; yet he is so patient that he waits, as it were, until she is ready, and says, “Open to me, my sister, my love.” Thomas was so stubborn that he would not believe “unless he did see the print of the nails” in Christ’s body. Yet Christ was so gracious that he stooped to poor Thomas (John 20:27). So he did to Peter after he had fallen (Mark 16:7), and so he does to the church after backsliding: “Open to me, my sister.”

Hence observe further that Christ never has enough of his church until he has it in heaven, where the kisses of the spouse and of Christ truly are. In the meantime it is still “Open, open.” Christ already had the heart of the spouse in some measure, but there were still some corners of the heart that were not as filled with Christ as they should be. He was not as much in her understanding, will, joy, delight, and love as he would be. Therefore he says, “Open your understanding more and more to embrace me and the divine truths that are offered to you. Open your love to delight me more and more.” For God in Christ has stooped to the terms of friendship, indeed to the intimate terms of friendship in marriage with us. Therefore the church, in her right temper, never has enough of Christ, but still desires further union and communion. It is the description of the people of God that they love the appearance of Christ (2 Tim 4:8; Rev 22:20). As they loved his first appearance and waited for “the consolation of Israel” (Luke 2:25), so they love his second appearing, and are never quiet until he comes again in the flesh to consummate the marriage begun here. So Christ also is as desirous of them; indeed, it is his desires that breed their desires. “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove.”

Again, his love and pity move him to desire to come further into us. Christ knows what is in our hearts. If he is not there, something is there that should not be there. What is in the brain where Christ is not? A great deal of worldly schemes, worth nothing. What is in our joy if Christ is not there? Worldly joy, which cleaves to things worse than itself. If a man were dissected and seen into, he would be ashamed of himself, if he saw himself. Christ, therefore, out of pity to our souls, would not have the devil there. Christ knows it is good for our souls to give way to him; therefore he uses all sweet allurements: “Open to me, my sister, my love.” Christ never has his fill until he closes with the soul perfectly, so that nothing in the soul is above him and nothing is equal to him. Therefore it is still “Open, open.”

Again, to move the church the more to open to him, he sets down the hardships he endured: “My head is filled with dew.” In this he shows what he suffered, and these sufferings are of two sorts: in himself, and in his ministers. In himself, in his own blessed person, what did he endure! What patience he had in enduring the stubborn spirits of men when he was here! How many indignities did he bear in his disciples after their conversion! Toward his latter end, not only was his head filled with the drops, but his body was filled with drops of blood. Drops of blood came from him because of the anguish of his spirit and the sense of God’s wrath for our sins. Upon the cross, what did he endure there! That sense of God’s anger there was only for our sins: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46). What should we say of his going up and down doing good, preaching in his own person, setting whole nights apart for prayer!

And then there is what he suffers in his ministers. There he knocks and says “Open” in them. And how was he treated in the apostles who came after him, and in the ministers of the church ever since! What have they endured! For he put a spirit of patience upon them. And what indignities they endured in the early church, those who were the proclaimers of the gospel! Those sweet proclaimers of it, drawing men to open to Christ, were killed for preaching. So cruel is the heart that people do violence to those who love them most, who love their souls. And what greater love is there than love of the soul! Yet this is the satanic temper and disposition of men’s hearts: they hate those men most who deal most truly and lovingly with them in this way. It is not that the gospel is such a hard message. It is the word of reconciliation and the word of life. But the heart hates it because it would draw men from their present condition; and therefore condemnation is come into the world, in that men hate the light, because their works are evil (John 3:19). Is there anything truly and cordially hated but grace? And are any persons so heartily and cordially hated in the world as the heralds and proclaimers of grace, and those who profess it? It is because grace upbraids most of all, and meddles with the corruptions of men, which are dearer to them than their own souls.

Now, what patience there is in Christ, to suffer himself, in his messengers and his children, to be treated this way! Nor is it strange to say that Christ stands this way in his ministers; for it is said that Christ by his Spirit preached in the days of Noah, to the souls now in prison (1 Pet 3:19). Christ preached in Noah’s time, before he was incarnate; much more does he preach now. And as he was patient then to endure the old world, to whom Noah preached a hundred and twenty years, so he is patient now in his ministers, to preach still by the same Spirit, even to us. And yet the reception in many places is as Paul complains: “Though the more I love you, yet the less I am beloved of you” (2 Cor 12:15).

Application 1. Let these things move us to be patient toward God and Christ if we are corrected in any way, considering that Christ is so patient toward us, and let them move us to wait on him with patience. How long he has waited for our conversion! How long he still waits for the thorough giving up of our souls to him! Shall we begrudge, then, waiting a little while for him?

Application 2. And let this Spirit of Christ strengthen us likewise in our dealing with others, so that we bear with evil men and, as it is put, “wait, if God will at any time give them repentance” (2 Tim 2:25-26). Nor may we be so short-spirited that if we do not get an answer, we immediately give up. We should imitate Christ here. Never give up as long as God continues life with any advantage and opportunity to do good to any soul. Wait, if God at any time will give them grace. “Open to me, my sister, my love.”

Application 3. Let this again work upon us: that our Savior Christ here would set forth his love, and his patience in his love, in bearing with us like this, under the likeness of a lowly suitor who comes from far off, stands at the door, and knocks. That Christ should stoop like this in seeking the good of our souls, let this win and quicken our hearts to receive him with all readiness and thankfulness when he comes to work in our souls. Since Christ takes such care of us by himself, by his ministers, and by the motions of his Spirit, who joins with his ministry, let us not be careless of our own souls, but let it move our hearts to melt toward him. The motives may be seen more fully in the particular titles by which he addresses her: “Open to me, my sister, my love.”

“My sister.” This was spoken of before, in the previous verse. The church of God is Christ’s sister and spouse. We are knit to him both by kinship of blood and by kinship of marriage. The nearest kinship by marriage is marriage itself, and the nearest kinship of blood is a sister. So there are all bonds to knit us to Christ. Whatever is strong in any bond, he knits us to himself by it. Is there any love in a husband, a brother, a mother, a friend, in a head to the members? In anything in the world? Is there any love scattered in any relationship? Gather it all into one, and all that love, and a thousand times more than that, is in Christ in a more eminent way. That is why he names himself by all these sweet relations: to show that he has the love of them all. Will a sister shut out her brother when he comes to visit her and to do her every good? Would it not be unkindness even in nature to look coldly on a near relative who comes and says, “Open to me, my sister”? If the sister should shut out her brother, would it not be most unnatural? And is it not monstrous in grace, when our brother comes for our good, and in pity to our souls, to let him stand outside the door?

Remember that Christ has the same affections now in heaven, to count us his brothers and sisters, as he had when he was on earth. For after his resurrection he says to his disciples, “I go to my God, and to your God, to my Father, and to your Father” (John 20:17). He calls himself our brother, since we have one common Father in heaven, and one Spirit, and one inheritance, and so on. This is a sweet relation. Since Christ is our brother, his heart cannot help melting toward us in any affliction. Joseph disguised himself for a while out of shrewd policy (Gen 42:7 and following). But because he had a brother’s heart toward Benjamin, at last he could not hold back, but melted into tears, though he had kept his face as if he did not care. So our Joseph, now in heaven, may seem to withdraw all tokens and signs of brotherly love from us, and not to acknowledge us. But it is only in appearance; he is our brother still. Sooner or later his heart will melt toward his brothers, to their wonderful comfort. “My sister.”

“My love.” We have not yet dealt with that word. It also deserves that we dwell on it a little, for all these four words are, as it were, the cords that draw the spouse: he draws her not only by showing what he had suffered, but by sweet titles, “My love, my dove.”

What, did Christ have no love but his spouse? Did his love go out of his own heart into her, as it were? It is strange, yet true. Christ’s love is so great toward his church and children, and so constant toward it, that his church and people, and every Christian soul, is the seat of his love. Since that love in his own breast is in them, they are his love, because he himself is there and is one with them (John 17:26).

He loves all his creatures. They all have some beams of his goodness, which he cannot help but love. Therefore he loves them as creatures, and according as they are more or less capable of a higher degree of goodness. But as for his church and children, they are his love indeed.

Question. But what is the ground of such love?

Answer 1. He loves them as he sees them in his Father’s choice, as they are elected by God and given to himself in election: “Thine they are, thou gavest them me” (John 17:6). Christ, looking on us in God’s election and choice, loves us.

Answer 2. Again, he loves us because he sees his own graces in us. He loves what is his in us. Before we are actually his, he loves us with a love of goodwill, wishing us every good. But when we have anything of his Spirit, so that our natures are altered and changed, he loves us with a love of the most intimate friendship: with the love of a head, a husband, a friend, and whatever else we can imagine. He loves his own image. Paul says that the wife is the glory of her husband (1 Cor 11:7), because whatever is in a good husband, the wife shows it back by reflection. So the church is the glory of Christ. She reflects his excellencies, though in a weak measure. They show forth his virtues, or praises, as Peter puts it (1 Pet 2:9). In this way he sees his own image in her, and the Holy Spirit in his church. He loves her, and these things in her, so that whether we consider the Father, or himself, or his Spirit, the church is his love.

Answer 3. If we also consider what he has done and suffered for her, we may well say that the church is his love. Besides the favors already mentioned, to say nothing of election (he chose us before we existed), in time he chose us by an actual election, by which he called us. We had an existence then, but we resisted. He called us when we resisted. And then he also justified us and clothed us with his own righteousness, and afterward he feeds us with his own body. As the soul is the most excellent thing in the world, so he has provided the most excellent ornaments for it. It has food and ornaments to match. What love is this, that he should feed our souls with his own body and clothe us with his own righteousness!

“He loved me,” says Paul (Gal 2:20). What was the effect of his love? “He gave himself for me.” He gave himself so that we might have a righteousness to clothe us in the sight of God, and he gave himself so that he might be the bread of life: “My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed” (John 6:55). The guilty, self-accusing soul feeds on Christ dying for its sins. Again, in Revelation 1:5-6 you have his love set forth: “He loved us.” And how does he witness to it? “He hath washed us with his own blood, and hath made us kings, and priests.” You have the same thing here: “He loved us, and gave himself a sweet sacrifice to God for us” (Eph 5:2).

When this world is at an end, we shall see what his love is. He is not satisfied until we are all in one place. What does he pray to his Father for? “Father, I will that those whom thou hast given me be with me where I am” (John 17:24). Run through the whole course of salvation (election, calling, justification, glorification), and you will see his love in all of them. But it would be an endless subject to pursue, to show the love of Christ, which is beyond all knowledge (Eph 3:19). It is too large for us to know all its dimensions, to see its height, breadth, depth, and length. Yet it is a love we should always be thinking, speaking, and meditating on, because the soul is in the fittest temper to serve, love, and glorify God when it is most aware of his great love.

This phrase implies several things.

1. That there is no saving love to any outside the church, which is his love. His love is, as it were, confined to the church, as if all the beams of his love met in that center. We see that when the beams of the sun meet in a glass, they burn, because many of them are united there. So all his love meets in the church.

2. The church is also his love because whatever she has or hopes for is from his love, and is nothing but his love. The church, as it is a church, is nothing but the love of Christ. That there is a church so endowed, so graced, so full of the hope of glory, comes from his love.

And as for the properties of this love:

(1) It is a free love, a love that goes before us. He loved us before we could ever love him. He loved us when we resisted him and were his enemies.

(2) It is a most tender love, as you have it in Isaiah 49:15-16: “Can a mother forget her sucking child? If she should, yet will not I forget thee. Thou art written on the palms of my hands.” He holds us in his heart, in his eye, in his hand; in a mother’s heart, and beyond it. He has a tender eye and a powerful hand to maintain his church (Deut 33:3).

(3) It is a most transcendent and caring love. All comparisons fall short of it.

(4) And it is a most intimate, invincible love, which nothing could quench. As we see here, the church was drooping and had many infirmities, yet she is Christ’s love. So the love of Christ is a kind of love that cannot be conquered. No water will ever quench it; no sin of ours, no infirmity. So it is a great comfort that the church, considered under her infirmities, is still the love of Christ. “I sleep, but my heart waketh,” and yet Christ comes with “My love, my dove.”

Question. But what? Can Christ not see in the church matter of weakness and sinfulness, matter for hatred and dislike?

Answer. Oh yes, but he sees it in order to pity, help, and heal it, not at all to diminish his love, but to show it all the more. His love is a tender love, sensitive to everything by which we displease him; yet it is so invincible and unconquerable that it overcomes everything. Again, he does indeed see evil in us, but he also sees in us some good of his own, which moves him more to love than the evil in us moves him to hate. For what he sees of ours, he sees with a purpose to vanquish it, put it to death, and eat it away. The Spirit is like fire to consume it; he is like water to wash it away. But what he sees of his own, he sees with a purpose to increase it more and more and to perfect it. That is why he says, “my love,” even though the church was asleep.

Application. This, therefore, serves greatly for our comfort: let us search out what good Christ by his Spirit has worked in our hearts, what faith, what love, what sanctified judgment, what fire of holy affections toward him and toward the best things. Oh, let us value ourselves by what is good, by what Christ has in us. We are Christ’s love even though we are sleepy. Suppose we are displeased with this condition of ours, so that as Christ dislikes it, we too by the Spirit dislike it. Then the question is not what sin we have in us, but how we are disposed toward it. Is there evil in us that is truly the grief of our hearts and souls, which we abhor as Christ dislikes it, and which we long to be purged and rid of? Is it the grief of our hearts and souls that we cannot be better and more lovely in Christ’s eye? Then let us not be discouraged. For Christ esteems his church highly, as his very love, even at the time when she was sleepy.

This may also teach us, in times of temptation, not to listen to Satan, who then moves us to look altogether at what is bad in us, so as to weaken our love for Christ and our sense of his love for us. For he knows that if we are aware of Christ’s love for us, we shall love him in return. For love is a kind of fire, an active quality, which will set us to work glorifying God and pulling down Satan’s kingdom. As we say in nature, fire does everything (for what work can a person do, almost, without fire, by which all instruments are made and heated?). So grace does everything by love.

God first shows our souls his love for us in Christ, and quickens us by his Spirit, bearing witness to his love for us. With it he warms our hearts, kindling and inflaming them with love, so that we love him in return. That love has a constraining, sweet force that drives us to every duty: to suffer, to do, to resist anything. If someone is in love with Christ, what in the world will be harsh to them? The devil knows this well enough. Therefore one of his main devices and temptations is to weaken our hearts in the sense of God’s love and of Christ’s. So let us be as wise for our souls as he is cunning and scheming against them, as watchful for our own comfort as he is to rob us of comfort and make us despair. Let us be wise to gather all the evidence of Christ’s love that we can.

Question. But how shall we know that Christ loves us in this special way?

Answer. 1. Search what course he takes, and has taken, to draw you nearer to himself. “He chastiseth every one that he loveth” (Heb 12:6). Timely corrections, when sanctified, are a sign of Christ’s love: when he will not let us thrive in sin; when we cannot speak or act wrongly without his either lashing us in our conscience for it and checking us by his Spirit, or else stirring up others, or one thing or another, to make us fall out of love with sin.

2. Again, we may gather Christ’s love from this: if we have any love for divine things, and can set a great price on the best things. We set it on the word, because it is Christ’s word; on grace, prizing the image of Christ and the new creature. When we can value communion with Christ, the sense of his love in our hearts, and all spiritual privileges and excellencies above all things, this is an excellent evidence of Christ’s love for us. Our love is only a reflection of his. And therefore if we have love for anything that is good, we have it from him first. If a cold wall becomes hot, we say the sun must of necessity have shone on it first, because in itself it is nothing but cold stone. So if our hearts, which are naturally cold, are heated with the love of divine things, we may certainly say that Christ has shone here first. For our hearts are naturally of a cold temper. There is no such thing as spiritual love growing out of our natures and hearts.

Many poor souls who cannot tell whether Christ loves them or not are helped by this. It helps them a little: they can find undoubted evidence of their love for Christ, for his image, and for his servants, and of their relish for the word, though they find much corruption. And this love of theirs for divine things tells them, by demonstration from the effects, that Christ loves them, because there is no love for divine and supernatural things without the love of Christ first. And the graces in our hearts are love tokens given to the spouse. He gives common favors, as Abraham gave gifts to his servants and others, but special gifts to his spouse. If, therefore, there is any grace in us (a tender and soft heart, a prizing of heavenly things, love for God’s people and for the truth), then we may comfortably conclude that Christ loves us. This is not only because these are reflections of God’s love, but because they are jewels and ornaments that Christ bestows only on his spouse; he does not bestow such precious jewels as these on reprobates.

3. By his revealing his secrets to us (Ps 25:14), for that is evidence of love. Does Christ by his Spirit reveal the secret love he has borne toward us before all worlds? Does he open to us the heart of his Father, and his own heart (John 15:15)? This revealing of secret affections, of wholehearted love, shows our happy state. For that is one privilege of friendship. And the chief revealing of secrets is when he gives us a personal right to truths as our own, so that we can go and lay claim to them: “These are mine; these belong to me; these promises are mine.” This revealing of the secret love of God, and of the interest we have in the promises, is a sign that Christ loves us, and that in a special way we are his love.

Application 1. Let us be like our blessed Savior: where we see any saving goodness in anyone, let us love them. For should not our love meet with our Savior’s love? Shall the church of God be the love of Christ, and shall it be our hatred? Shall a good Christian be Christ’s love, and shall he be the object of my hatred and scorn? Can we imitate a better pattern? Oh, let us never think our condition good unless every child of God is our love as he is Christ’s love. Can I love Christ, and yet not love the one in whom I see Christ? When I hate his image, it is a sign that I hate Christ himself. It is a wonder that the devil has prevailed with any so far as to make them think they are in a good condition, when their hearts rise against the best people, and as those people grow in grace, they grow in their dislike of them. Is the Spirit of Christ here?

Application 2. And here let those likewise be reproved who are glad to see any Christian limp, slip, and go astray. The best Christians in the world have in part what is wholly in another person: they have flesh in them. Shall we take an utter dislike to a Christian for that? The church was now in a sleepy condition, and yet, for all that, Christ does not take advantage of the church’s weakness to dismiss her and hate her. Rather, he pities her the more, and takes steps to bring her back into a good state and condition. Let us not, therefore, be glad at the infirmities and failings of any who show any true goodness in them. It may be our own case before long. Their failings do not cast them out of Christ’s love; they dwell in his love still. Why, then, should we cast them out of our love and affections? Let them still be our loves, as they are the love of Christ, notwithstanding their infirmities.

My love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night. I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; and how shall I defile them? (Song 5:2-3)

That the life of a Christian is a perpetual conflict appears plainly in this book. Its passages, together with our own experience, make clear enough what combats, trials, and temptations the saints are subject to after their new birth and change of life. They are now up, now down; now full of good resolutions, now sluggish and slow again, not to be wakened or moved forward by the voice of Christ, as it was with the church here. She will not come out of her sleep to open to Christ, though he calls and knocks and stands waiting to come in. She is now inclined to pity herself, and needs no Peter to urge her to it. The flesh of itself is prone enough to draw back and make excuses, to hinder the power of grace from its proper working in us. She has laid herself down, as it were, to rest. Yet she is not so asleep that she cannot discern the voice of Christ. But get up and rise she will not.

Here we may see the truth of our Savior’s saying confirmed: “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit” (John 3:6). The flesh pulls her back; the Spirit would raise her up to open to Christ. Meanwhile he leaves her without excuse, and by his knocking, waiting, and departing he prepares her both for a state of further humiliation and for a state of further exaltation. But how lovingly he speaks to her!

1. “Open unto me, my love.” He calls her “my love” for two reasons especially. The first is that his love was settled upon her. It was in his own breast, but it did not rest there; it seated itself upon and in the heart of his spouse, so that she became Christ’s love. We know, as the saying goes, that a lover’s heart is more where it loves than where it lives. And indeed there is a kind of going out, as it were, toward the thing loved, with a heedlessness of everything else. Where affection is at all excessive, it carries the whole soul with it.

2. But besides this, when Christ says “my love,” he shows that as his love goes out and plants and seats itself in the church, so it is united to her, and is not scattered among other objects. There are beams of God’s general love scattered throughout the whole world, but this love, this exceeding love, is fastened only upon the church. And indeed there is no love comparable to this love of Christ, which surpasses the love of women, of father or mother, if we consider the course he takes to show it. For nothing in the world could reveal his love so greatly as this gift, the gift of himself. And so he gave himself as well, the best thing in heaven or on earth, to show his love. The Father gave him, though he was God, equal with his Father. He loved his church and gave himself for it. How could he reveal his love better than by taking our nature to show how he loved us? How could he come nearer to us than by becoming incarnate, and so being bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh (Eph 5:30), taking our nature to show how he loved it?

Love draws things nearer wherever it is. It drew him out of heaven into the womb of the virgin, there to become incarnate. And after that he was born to be not only a man, but a man of misery, because we could not be his spouse unless he purchased us by his death. We must become his spouse by a satisfaction made to divine justice. God would not give us to him except in a way that preserved his justice. What sweet love it is to heal us, not by searing or lancing, but by making a plaster of his own blood, which he shed for those who shed his in malice and hatred! What wondrous love it is that he should pour out tears for those who shed his blood, saying, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem…” (Matt 23:37), and that he prayed for those who persecuted him (Luke 23:34)! And what wondrous love it is now that he sympathizes with us in heaven, counting the harm done to the least member he has as done to himself: “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” (Acts 9:4). And what love, that he should take us into one body with himself, to make one Christ (1 Cor 12:27)! Nor is he content with anything he can do for us here. His desire is that we may be one with him more and more, and be with him forever in the heavens, as you have it in that excellent prayer in John 17:24.

Application 1. Now this should stir us up to be fully persuaded of his love, who loves us so much. Christ’s love in us is like the lodestone to iron. Our hearts are heavy and sink downward of themselves. We may know his love especially by this: it draws us upward and makes us heavenly-minded. It makes us desire further and further communion with him. There is always a magnetic, drawing force in Christ’s love. Wherever it is, it draws the heart and affections after it.

Application 2. And from this we may draw one argument to prove the stability of the saints and the immortality of the soul: Christ calls the church his love. Moreover, where love is entire and in any great measure, to be without one’s love is a misery. Christ, then, would suffer if those on whom he has set his love, whom he truly loves, should either fall away forever or not be immortal forever. Christ will not lose his love. And as this is an argument for persevering in grace, so it is also an argument for the everlasting being this soul of ours has. For the soul is capable of the love of Christ, since there is a sweet union and communion between Christ and the soul. It would make Christ miserable, as it were, in heaven, the place of happiness, if he and his spouse should not meet. There must therefore be a meeting, for this marriage is forever, so that both may be happy in one another forever (Hos 2:20).

Application 3. Let us often warm our hearts with the consideration of this, because all our love comes from this love of his. Oh, the wonderful love of God, that such transcendent majesty and such infinite love should dwell together! We have a saying that majesty and love never dwell together, because love lowers the soul to every kind of service. But in this case the saying is false, for here majesty and love dwell together in the heart of one Christ. And that majesty has stooped as low as his almighty power would allow. Indeed, it took almighty power for him to stoop so low and still be God, keeping his majesty all the while. For God to become man, to hide his majesty for a while, not to be known as God, and to hide himself so far in this nature as to die for us: what almighty power that was, which could go so low and yet keep himself God still! Yet this is what we see in our blessed Savior: the greatest majesty meeting the greatest abasement that ever was, and all out of love for our poor souls.

There was never any stooping, any abasement, so low as Christ’s abasement for us, even to go without the comfort of his Father’s presence for a time. There was a union of grace; but the union of solace and comfort that he had from his Father was suspended for a time, out of love for us. For in his own person he had a right to be in heaven immediately. Now for him to live so long out of heaven, and often, especially toward the time of his suffering, to be without that solace (so that he might be a sacrifice for our sins), to have it suspended for a time: what condescension that was! It is said in Psalm 113:6 that God stoops to behold the things done here below. It is indeed a wondrous condescension that God will look upon things below. But that he would become man, and out of love to save us suffer as he did here, is humility wondrous to the point of astonishment! We think humility is not a grace properly befitting the majesty of God. And indeed it is not. Yet there is some resemblance of that grace in God, especially in Christ, in that he should veil himself with flesh to reveal himself, and all out of love for us. Considering these things is wonderfully effective, both to strengthen faith and to kindle love. Let these serve as a taste to direct our meditations on this.

It follows: “My dove.” We know that when Christ was baptized, the Holy Spirit appeared in the shape of a dove (Matt 3:16) as a symbol of his presence, to reveal this much:

(1) That Christ should have the nature and disposition of a dove, and be meek and gentle. For indeed he became man for that very end, to be a merciful Savior. “Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly” (Matt 11:28-29). He said, “And I will not quench the smoking flax, nor break the bruised reed” (Matt 12:20). And therefore the Spirit appeared upon him in the shape of a dove.

(2) Likewise, to show what his office would be. For just as the dove in Noah’s ark was sent out and came home again to the ark with an olive branch, to show that the waters had abated, so Christ was to preach deliverance from the deluge of God’s anger, and to come with an olive leaf of peace and reconciliation in his mouth, to show that God’s wrath was appeased. When he was born, the angels sang, “Glory to God on high, on earth peace, and goodwill towards men” (Luke 2:14).

Now, as Christ had the Spirit in the likeness of a dove, so all who are Christ’s, the spouse of Christ, have the disposition of Christ. The Spirit that shaped him to be like a dove shapes the church to be a dove, just as the ointment poured on Aaron’s head ran down to the lowest skirts of his garments (Ps 133:2).

Now, the church is compared to a dove partly for the disposition that is, and should be, in the church, resembling that creature, and partly also because the church is in a mournful, suffering condition.

1. For the like disposition that is found in a dove. There is some good in all creatures. There is no creature without some beam of God’s majesty, of some attribute, though some have more than others. There is an image of virtue even in the lower creatures. That is why the Scripture sends us to them for many virtues, as it sends the sluggard to the ant (Prov 6:6). And indeed we may see the true perfection of the first creation, its original state, more in the creatures than in ourselves, for no creature has degenerated as man has.

(1) Now, what the Scripture aims at in the dove, the first thing in which we should resemble it, is especially its meekness. The church is meek both toward God and toward man, not given to murmuring and revenge. To be meek is this: to hold one’s tongue without murmuring, as it says in the psalm, “I was dumb” (Ps 39:2). This is a grace that God’s Spirit forms in the heart of the church and of every individual Christian: to be meek toward God by a holy silence, and likewise toward men, to put on the “bowels of meekness,” as we are exhorted: “As the elect of God, put on the bowels of meekness and compassion” (Col 3:12). By this we will show ourselves to be Christ’s and to have the Spirit of Christ.

And this grace disposes us to nearer communion with God than other graces do. It is a grace God most delights in and would have his spouse adorned with, as is shown in 1 Peter 3:4, where the apostle tells women that it is the best jewel and ornament they can wear, and is of great price with God. Moses, we read, was a mighty man in prayer, and a special means that helped and fitted him for it was that he was the meekest man on earth (Num 12:3). And therefore, “seek the Lord, seek meekness” (Zeph 2:3). It fits a man for communion with God, “for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the meek and humble” (1 Pet 5:5). It is a grace that empties the soul of self-conceit, so that a man thinks himself unworthy of anything, and so it makes the soul spacious, lowly, and fit for God to fill with a larger measure of his Spirit. It takes away the roughness and swelling of the soul that keeps out God and grace. Therefore in this grace especially we must be like this meek creature, which is not vindictive and has no way to avenge itself.

(2) Again, it is a simple creature, without guile. It has no way to defend itself except by flight. There is a simplicity that is sinful, when there is no mixture of wisdom in it. And there is a simplicity that is pure simplicity; in this sense God is simple, and this simplicity of God is the ground of many of his other attributes. For because of it he is eternal, since there is nothing contrary in him; there is no mixture in him of anything opposite. So there is a good simplicity in us when there is no mixture of fraud, no duplicity in the soul. “A double-hearted man is inconstant and unstable in all his ways” (Jas 1:8). Now we must imitate the dove in simplicity insofar as it is a virtue, for there is a sinful, dovelike foolishness. In Hosea 7:11, Ephraim is said to be “like a silly dove without heart; they call to Egypt, they go to Assyria.”

There is a fatal simplicity that usually comes before destruction, when we hate those who defend us and count them enemies, and rely more on those who are really enemies than on our friends. So it was with Ephraim before his destruction: he was a silly dove without heart; he called to Egypt, and went to Assyria, false friends who were enemies of the church of God. Yet they trusted them more than God or the prophets. Men have a world of tricks to undermine their friends, to ruin them, and to do harm to those who would with all their hearts do them good, while all the time they can gratify the enemy, please them, and keep up dealings with them, as Ephraim did here. “Ephraim is a silly dove.” This, then, is not what we must aim at. We must aim to be simple, and children where evil is concerned, but not in ignorance and simplicity of that kind.

(3) Again, this creature is a faithful creature. That is the main thing aimed at here. It is faithful to its mate. So the Christian soul is made faithful to Christ by the Spirit of God. It keeps its judgment chaste and is not tainted with errors and sins. The Christian keeps his affections chaste as well, and sets nothing in his heart above Christ. “Whom hath he in heaven but him, and what is there in earth he desires beside him?” (Ps 73:25). You know that in the Revelation the spouse of Christ is presented as a betrothed virgin, but the Roman Church as a whore. Therefore the church of God must beware of the Roman Church, for that is not a dove.

We must be virgins, keeping chaste souls for Christ, as you have it: “Those that follow the Lamb wheresoever he goeth, they have not defiled themselves with women” (Rev 14:4). The meaning is spiritual: they have not defiled themselves with idolatry and spiritual fornication; they have hearts chaste toward Christ. So in this respect they resemble the dove. Those, therefore, who draw away from the love of religion into mixture, to become courtesans and harlots in religion, are not Christ’s doves. So far as they yield to this, it is evidence that they have false hearts. Christ’s church is a dove. She keeps close to him and inviolate.

(4) Again, this creature is of a clean disposition. It will not lodge where it will be troubled with stench and annoyed in that way, and it also feeds cleanly on pure grain, not on carrion. You see this in the ark. When the raven was sent out, it lit upon carrion, of which there was plenty at the time, and therefore it never came into the ark again (Gen 8:7). But the dove, when she went out, would not light on carrion or dead things, and so, finding no fit food, she came back again to the ark. In this respect the Christian soul is like a dove: it will not feed on worldly carrion or sinful pleasures, but on Christ and spiritual things. The soul of a carnal, natural man is accustomed to feed on dust, earth, and earthly things. But the soul of a true Christian, which has the taste of grace, feeds cleanly. It will not feed on what is base and earthly, but on heavenly and spiritual things.

(5) It is a flocking bird, a bird that loves communion and fellowship. As the prophet says, “Who are those that flock to the windows as doves?” (Isa 60:8), for doves are accustomed to flock to their houses in companies. So the children of God love communion and fellowship with one another. They keep themselves apart from the world as soon as ever they are separated from it, delighting in all who share the same nature. Doves will keep company with doves, Christians with Christians, and with no one else. They can relish no other company. These and similar properties of the dove may profitably be considered. To dwell on them at length would wrong the design of the Spirit of God; to neglect them altogether would wrong it just as much. Therefore we have touched on only some of these properties.

2. Now, for the sufferings of the church, it is like a dove in this: the dove is harassed by all the birds of prey, being the common prey of all the other ravenous birds. So the poor church of God is persecuted and harassed. “Oh that I had wings like a dove,” says holy David (Ps 55:6). It is an old saying, and forever true, that crows and their kind escape better than doves. The punishment that should fall on ravens often falls on doves. This is how God’s dove, God’s church, is treated.

But what defense does God’s poor church have? Why, no defense. Yet it has these:

First, flight, just as the dove has nothing but flight. It has no talons to wound, but it has flight. So we are to fly to God as to our mountain, to fly to the ark, that God may take us in. The church of God has no other refuge but to be housed in God and Christ (Prov 18:10). He is our ark.

Second, to mourn, as Hezekiah says of himself, he mourned as a dove, and chattered like a crane (Isa 38:14). The state of the church of God is like the turtledove’s: it mourns in all afflictions, desertions, and harassments of wicked men, and it mourns to God, who hears the moanings of his own Spirit in them. And woe to all other birds, the birds of prey, when the turtledoves mourn because of their cruelty. It is an omen of ruin to them when they force the turtledove to sorrow and mourning.

Third, they have another refuge besides flight and mourning, which is to build high, away from vermin that would otherwise trouble them. Instinct teaches them to escape their enemies in this way, by building high, and so to secure themselves. So there is a gracious instinct put into God’s children, an antipathy to their enemies, which tends to their safety in that they do not mingle themselves with them. And God likewise breeds in them a familiarity with himself, and stirs them to build in him as on a rock, to be safe in him.

Objection. But you will object: If the church of God is his dove, why do things go with it as they do? Why should God allow his love, his dove, his turtledove, to be preyed upon, as it were? “Give not the soul of the turtle to the beasts,” says the psalmist (Ps 74:19). If the church were God’s dove, would he not esteem it more highly than he does, and not allow it to be persecuted like this?

Answer. God never forsakes his dove, but is an ark for it to fly to and a rock for it to build on. The dove always has a refuge in God and in Christ in the worst times. You have a notable passage for this: “Though you have lain among the pots,” that is, smeared and sullied, “yet they shall be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold. When the Almighty scattered kings in it, it was white as the snow in Salmon” (Ps 68:13-14). So though the church of God lies among the pots for a while, all smeared and soiled and sullied with the ill-usage of the world, yet as long as it keeps itself a dove, unspotted by the filth of the world and of sin (though it is smeared with the world’s ill-usage), we see what God promises here: “yet shall they be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.” So at length God will bring his dove out of all these humiliations with glory. So much for the title of dove.

It follows, “My undefiled.” Undefiled is a high word to be applied to the church of God here, for it is a great thing that the church, groaning under infirmities, should be counted perfect and undefiled. Yet Christ, who judges his church rightly and knows best what she is, judges this of her. But how is that? The church is undefiled especially in that it is the spouse of Christ, and clothed with the robes of his righteousness. For there is an exchange as soon as ever we are united to Christ: our sins are upon him, and his righteousness is made ours. And therefore in Christ the church is undefiled.

Christ himself, the second person, is the first lovely thing next to the Father; and in Christ all things are loved as they have relation to him, as they are in him. Christ’s human nature is loved next to the second person. It is united to him, and is first pure, holy, and beloved. Then, because the church is the mystical Christ, it is near to him; in a manner, as near as that sacred body of his, both making up one mystical Christ. And so the church is lovely and beloved even by God himself, who has pure eyes; yet in this respect he looks upon the church as undefiled.

Christ and his church are not to be considered as two when we speak of this undefiledness, but as one. And the church, having Christ with all that is Christ’s, has the field and the pearl in the field together. And Christ, in giving himself to the church, gives his righteousness, his perfection, and his holiness; all is the church’s.

Question. But how can it be the church’s, when it is not in the church but in Christ?

Answer. It is safe for the church that it is in Christ, who is perfect and undefiled for us, to make us appear so. And so it is in Christ, the second Adam, for our good. It is not in him as in another person; it is in him as the church’s Head, and Head and church make one Christ. The hand and the foot do not see, but both hand and foot benefit from the eye, which sees for them. No member of the body understands, but the head does it all for them. Suppose we do not have absolute righteousness and undefiledness inhering in us, in our own natures and persons. Yet we have it in Christ, who is one with us and has it for our good. It is ours, for all the comfort and good that we may have from it. And so the church in Christ is undefiled, yes, even when it feels its own defilements. And here arises that wondrous contradiction found in the way a believer apprehends things. The nature of faith is to lay hold of righteousness in the sense of sin, happiness in the sense of misery, and favor in the sense of displeasure.

And the ground of it is this: at the same time the soul may be in some measure defiled in itself, and yet be undefiled in her head and husband, Christ. Hence the guilty soul, when it feels corruption and sin, nevertheless sees itself holy and clean in Christ the head. And so at once there is a conscience of sin and no more conscience of sin, as the apostle says (Heb 10:2). When we believe in Christ and are purged with his blood, there is no more conscience of sin; that is, there is no more guilt of sin binding us over to eternal damnation. Yet there is nevertheless always a conscience of sin, for we are guilty of infirmities: “And if we say we have no sin, we lie, and deceive ourselves” (1 John 1:8).

Objection. But how can this be, that there should be conscience of sin and no conscience of sin, that one should be a sinner and yet a perfect saint and undefiled?

Answer 1. The conscience knows its own imperfection, and so it is defiled, and accuses of sin. And as it looks to Christ, so it sees itself pure, and purged from all sin. Here is the conquest, the fight, and the victory of faith: in the deepest sense of sin, pollution, and defilement in ourselves, at the same time to see an absolute and perfect righteousness in Jesus Christ. Herein is the very triumph of faith, by which it answers God. And Christ sees our imperfections, but he sees them to purge and cleanse them away, not to damn us for them. At the same time he sees us in his own love, clothed with his righteousness, as one with himself, endowed with whatever he has, his satisfaction and obedience being ours as truly as anything in the world is. This is how he looks on us, and this is how faith looks upon him too. Together with the sight and sense of sin, faith at the same time lays hold of righteousness, perfect righteousness, and so is undefiled.

This is the main point in religion, and the comfort of Christians: to see their perfection in Christ Jesus, and to be lost in themselves, as it were, and to be only “found in him, not having their own righteousness, but the righteousness of God in him” (Phil 3:9). This is a mystery that no one knows but a believing soul. None see corruption more; none see themselves more freed. They have an inward sight to see corruption, and an inward faith to see that God does not take advantage of it. And surely there can be no greater honor to Christ than this. In the sense of sin, of wants, imperfections, stains, and blemishes, we still wrap ourselves in the righteousness of Christ, God-man; and by faith, thus covered with that absolute righteousness of Christ, we go with boldness to the throne of grace, clothed in the garments of this our elder brother. It is an honor to Christ to attribute so much to his righteousness that, clothed with it, we can boldly break through the fire of God’s justice and all those terrible attributes, when we see them all, as it were, fully satisfied in Christ. For Christ, with his righteousness, could go through the justice of God, having satisfied it to the full for us. And we, clothed with this righteousness and satisfaction of his, may go through too.

Answer 2. But besides that, there is another undefiledness in the church, in respect of which she is called undefiled: that is, in purity of disposition, tending to perfection. And God regards her according to her better part, and according to what he will bring her to in due time. For we are chosen to perfection, and to be holy in his sight, and perfectly holy, undefiled, and pure. We are not chosen to weak beginnings.

In choosing us, what did God aim at? Did he aim at these imperfect beginnings, to rest there? No; we were elected and chosen to perfection. For as it is in this natural life, God purposed that we should not only have all the limbs of men, but grow from infancy to vigor and perfection. Since God from the first intended so much for our bodies, no doubt he intends as much for the soul as well. He intends not only that we should have the features of Christianity, a sanctified judgment with affections partly renewed; he has chosen us to perfection by degrees. As the seed first lies rotting in the ground, then grows to a stalk, and then to an ear, so God’s wisdom shines here in bringing things by degrees to perfection and undefiledness. His wisdom will have it so (otherwise his power might have it another way), because he will have us live by faith: trusting his mercy in Christ, and not trusting the undefiledness that is begun in us, but admiring what we have in Christ himself.

And indeed it is the mark of a judicious, believing Christian soul that he can set a price on and value the righteousness of Christ outside himself, laboring, living, and dying to appear in that; and yet can comfort and sustain himself during this conflict and fight between the flesh and the Spirit with this, that in time this inherent grace shall be brought to perfection.

And Christ looks upon us as he means to perfect the work of grace in us little by little, as he means to purge and cleanse us (Eph 5:26-27). The end of redemption is that he might purge his church, and so never leave it until he has made it a glorious spouse in heaven. He looks upon us as we shall be before long, and therefore we are said “to be dead to sin,” while we are only dying to it. And he says, “you have crucified the flesh with the affections, and lusts thereof” (Gal 5:24), when we are only crucifying it. But it is said so because it is as sure to be done as if it were done already. A man who is condemned and on his way to execution is a dead man; so there is a sentence passed upon sin and corruption. It shall be abolished and die. Therefore it is dead in sentence, and dying in execution. It is done: “They that are in Christ have crucified the flesh, with the lusts thereof” (Gal 5:24). It is as sure to faith as if it were done already.

So we are said “to sit in heavenly places with Christ” (Eph 2:6). We are with him already. For Christ, having taken us so near to himself in affection, will never leave us until he has made us such as he may have full contentment in, which is in heaven, when the contract between him and us shall be fulfilled in the consummation of the marriage. Thus faith looks, and thus Christ looks upon us. This should comfort us in our weakness: God does not regard us in our present imperfections, but as he means to make us before long. In the meantime, so that he may look upon us in love, he looks upon us in the obedience of his Son, in whom whatever is good shall be perfected at the last.

Application 1. What then should we do, if Christ makes his church thus “his love,” “his dove,” “his undefiled,” by making his love meet in it as its center, to which he confines all his love, as it were? We should confine our love to him in return, and have no love outside Christ, since he has no love outside us. There should be an everlasting mutual shining and reflection between him and the soul. We should lay open our souls to his love, as indeed he especially desires the communion of our affections. We should reflect love back to him. This perpetual, everlasting interchange between Christ and his spouse is her chief happiness here and her eternal happiness in heaven. As we look on him who has done so much for us, he shines on us, and we look back again upon him.

Does Christ love us so intimately and so invincibly that no indignities or sin could overcome his love? It was a love that made him endure what he hates most, “to become sin for us” (2 Cor 5:21); and more, the loss of what was more to him than all the world, the loss of the sense of God’s favor for a time: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46). Has Christ loved us this infinitely, and shall we not make him our love in return? In their degree the saints of God have all done so. It was a good saying of Ignatius the martyr, “My love Christ was crucified!” So a Christian should say, “My love was crucified,” “My love died,” “My love is in heaven.” And as for things on earth, I love them as they have a beam of him in them, as they lead me to him. But he is my love; there my love is set, even upon him.

This is the ground of these Scripture phrases: “But our conversation is in heaven, from whence we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Phil 3:20); and “set your affections on the things that are above” (Col 3:2). Why? Christ our love is there. The soul is more where it loves than where it resides. It dies, as it were, to other things, and lives in the thing it loves. Therefore our thoughts and affections, our joy and delight, should be drawn up to Christ. For indeed his love has such a magnetic, attracting force that wherever it is, it will draw up the heavy iron, the gross soul, and make it heavenly. For there is a binding, drawing force in this excellent affection of love.

Application 2. “My love, my dove.” These are all words of sweetness. He labors to express all the affection he can. For the conscience is apt to reproach and to clamor loudly, so a great deal of persuasion is needed to still the accusing conscience of a sinner, to settle it, make it quiet, and persuade it of God’s love. Therefore he uses all heavenly rhetoric to persuade and move the affections.

Application 3. Since the church is undefiled in Christ, let us learn, when we are afflicted in conscience, not so much to judge ourselves by what we feel in ourselves as by what faith suggests. Let us therefore judge ourselves in Christ, by what we are in him. We are poor in ourselves, but have riches in him. We die in ourselves as regards this life, but we have a life in him, an eternal life. We are sinners in ourselves, but we have a righteousness in him by which we are righteous in his sight (2 Cor 5:21). We are foolish, unskillful, and ignorant in ourselves, but he is our wisdom in whatever is amiss in us. Let us labor to see a full supply for our wants made up in Christ. This is to glorify God as much as if we could fulfill the law perfectly. If we were as undefiled as Adam was, we could not glorify God more than when we find ourselves and our conscience guilty of sins, and yet by the Spirit of God go out of ourselves, see ourselves in Christ, and so cast ourselves on him, embrace him, and take that gift of God given us (John 4:10), Christ offered to us, because God so commands.

We honor God more than if we had the obedience that Adam had at first, before his fall. For now, in the covenant of grace, he will be glorified in his mercy, in his forgiving, forbearing, rich, transcendent mercy, and in going beyond all our unworthiness and sins by showing that there is a righteousness provided for us, the righteousness of God-man. His obedience and satisfaction is more than our disobedience, because ours is the disobedience of man only, but his obedience and righteousness is the obedience and righteousness of God-man. So it satisfies divine justice, and therefore ought to satisfy conscience to the full. Our faith must answer to Christ’s dealing with us. We must therefore account ourselves “undefiled” in him, because he accounts us so. Not in ourselves, but as we have a being in him, we are undefiled.

Application 4. Again, see here that Christ accounts us, even in regard of habitual grace, undefiled, though we have many corruptions for the present. Let us therefore learn a lesson of moderation from so excellent a teacher; let us not be ashamed to learn from our Savior. What spirit shall we think they have who will unchurch churches because they have some defilement and some unbrotherly brethren, counting them no churches and no brethren because they have some imperfections? Why then does Christ not have a quarrel with the church? Is he blind? Does his love make him blind? No; he sees corruption, but he sees better things, something of his own, that makes him overlook those imperfections. For they are such as he means to mortify, subdue, wear away, and burn out by the power of his Spirit, which like fire shall consume all those corruptions in time. So it is with the church. Suppose she has some corruptions, and it is not with her as it should be; yet she is a church nevertheless. Take the church of Corinth: we see that Paul calls them saints and brethren, with all those sweet names (1 Cor 1:2), even though they had many corruptions among them.

Application 5. We have a company of malignant spirits, far worse than these, atheistical persons who have no religion at all, who out of malice and envy watch for the stumbling of good Christians. They can see nothing but defilement in those who have any good in them, nothing but hypocrisy, gloominess, everything that is bad; and if they can devise any blemish, they put it upon them. Christ, on the other hand, sees a great deal of ill in the church, but he sees it in order to pardon it, subdue it, and pity the church for it, while extolling and magnifying its goodness. What kind of spirits are those that watch to see imperfections in others whom their own hearts tell them are better than they are, only so that they may disgrace them by it? For goodness they will see none.

Application 6. And likewise, it should teach us not to wrong ourselves with false judgment. We should have a double eye. One eye should see what is amiss in us, our own imperfections, so that we carry ourselves in perpetual humility. But another eye, the eye of faith, should see what we have in Christ, our perfection in him, so that we account of ourselves accordingly and glory in this our best being: that in him we have a glorious being, one by which God esteems us perfect and undefiled in him only. The one sight should drive us to the other, which is one reason why God leaves corruption in his children in this world.

Oh, since I am thus undefiled, shall I rest in myself? Is there any harbor for me to rest in my own righteousness? Oh, no; it drives a man out of every harbor. No, I will rest in that righteousness which God has worked by Christ, who is God-man. That will endure the sight of God; clothed with it, I can endure the presence of God. So this sight of our own unworthiness and wants should not be a ground of discouragement, but a ground to drive us wholly out of ourselves, so that by faith we might renew our title to that righteousness in which is our special glory. Why should we not judge ourselves as Christ does? Can we see more in ourselves than he does? Yet notwithstanding all he sees, he accounts us undefiled.

Application 7. Again, since he accounts us undefiled because he means to make us so, and now looks on us as we shall be, in all our falls and infirmities let us comfort ourselves that it shall not always be this way with us. Oh, this flesh of mine shall fall and keep on falling, and shall decay like Saul’s house, and the Spirit shall conquer at the last in all this! I am not chosen to this beginning, to this conflicting course of life. I am chosen to triumph, to perfection of grace: this is my comfort. So we should comfort ourselves, and set upon our enemies and fight in this hope of victory: “I shall get the better of myself at the last.” Imperfection should not discourage us, but comfort us in this world. We are chosen to perfection. Let us still rejoice that we are chosen to sanctification, which is begun a little, being a down payment of other blessings. Let us not rest in the pledge or in the down payment, but labor for a further pledge of more strength and grace.

For those who have the Spirit of Christ will strive to be as unspotted and as heavenly as they can, to fit themselves for that heavenly condition as much as may be. Because they cannot yet be in heaven, they will still keep company there as much as they can; and because they cannot be wholly with such company, they will be with it as much as they may, laboring as far as they are able to be what they shall be hereafter. Imperfection does not content them, and therefore they still pray in the Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come” (Matt 6:10). While there is any imperfection, their hearts are enlarged more and more; nothing contents them but perfection. And indeed God accounts us unspotted in this way for this end, because he would encourage us. Where he sees the will and the endeavor, he gives the title of the thing desired.

“I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?” (Song 5:3).

Here is a candid confession made by the church of her own waywardness. Notwithstanding all the heavenly rhetoric and persuasion that Christ used, she still draws back, and seems to have reason to do so. “I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on again” to let you in? “I have washed my feet.” It is a phrase taken from the custom of those hot countries, in which they used to wash their feet. “I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them” in rising to open the door to you? There is a spiritual meaning here, as if she had said, “I have some ease by this sleepy profession, some freedom from evil tongues, and some exemption and immunity from some troubles I was in before. Then, perhaps, I was too indiscreet. Now will you call me back to those troubles that I have wisely avoided? No; ‘I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?’ I like this condition very well; I am content to be as I am, without troubling myself.” This is how the church puts off Christ. This I take to be the meaning of the words. What is to be observed is this: that it is not an easy matter to bring the soul and Christ together into close fellowship.

We see here how the church draws back. The flesh urges us either not to yield to duty at all, or to be cold, uncertain and unsettled in it. The flesh knows that close communion with Christ cannot stand with favoring any corruption, and so the flesh will do something, but not enough. It will yield to something, but not to what it should do, not to that communion and fellowship we ought to have with Christ. Let me give some particular instances, as a rule and measure of something of what we should be.

Observation 1. A Christian life should be nothing but communion and fellowship with Christ, a walking in the Spirit. To be spiritual, and to favor the things of the Spirit altogether, a Christian should study to adorn his profession by a lively and cheerful performance of duty (Matt 5:16), and be an example to others. He should be in such a frame that he may walk continually in the comforts of the Holy Ghost (Acts 9:31), undismayed and undaunted, and abound in the fruits of the Spirit, and do all the good he can wherever he goes. He should “keep himself unspotted of the world” (Jas 1:27) and go against the stream. He should be continually in such a temper that it would be the joy of his heart to be dissolved and to be with Christ (Phil 1:23). One might go on like this through a world of particulars, but that would take too long. If we could attain to this excellence, it would be a happy life, a heaven on earth. This is what we should aim at. Will the flesh endure this, do you think? No, it will not, as you will see more particularly in the next observation.

Observation 2. One way in which the unregenerate part in us hinders this communion with Christ, and hinders a believer from shining in a Christian course, is by false pretenses, reasons and excuses: “I have washed my feet; I have put off my coat.”

The flesh never lacks excuses and pretenses to shift and shuffle off duties. (No one ever yet came to hell without some plausible pretense for coming there.) There was never yet any careless, sinful course that did not have the flesh to justify it with one reason or another. It is good, therefore, to understand the sophistical evasions of the flesh, and the pretenses and shows it has. And as it is good to know the truth of God, and of Christ revealed in his word, so it is good to know the falseness and deceitfulness of our own hearts. Both are mysteries, and almost equally hard to know. Let us labor, then, more and more to know the falsehood of our own disposition, and to know the truth of God.

To give instances in a few particulars: you see that in the church the difficulty of her communion with Christ comes from the idle pretenses and excuses she has. Everyone has his own particular pretexts, according to his state and condition. We think we would be losers if we gave ourselves to the same degree of goodness that others do. Yet God curses those blessings which men get by neglecting their duty to him. If we seek first the kingdom of heaven, all other things that are good for us shall be cast upon us (Matt 6:33).

Objection. You will lose the favor of such and such a person?

Answer. Never care for any favor that you cannot keep along with God’s favor. The favor of man is a snare. Beware of the favor that ensnares you. You lose their favor and company, but you gain the favor of Christ and the company of angels.

Objection. But they will rail at you, and reproach you with your old sins?

Answer. Do not care about that. “God will do thee good for that,” as David said when Shimei cursed him (2 Sam 16:12).

Objection. But I will lose my pleasure?

Answer. Oh, but such pleasures end in death. They are only the pleasures of sin for a season, and you will not lose by the exchange. “The ways of wisdom are pleasant ways” (Prov 3:17). What a sweet aftertaste one day leaves when it is spent religiously in keeping a good conscience! Joy is in the dwelling of the righteous. It becomes the righteous to be joyful. However things seem outwardly, there is a paradise within.

The flesh raises many such objections. Some take offense at the prosperity of the wicked and the affliction of the saints, and from this take occasion to rot in their dregs of sin. But what does Christ say? “Happy is the man who is not offended in me” (Matt 11:6). As for the prosperity of the wicked, do not envy them. They stand in slippery places, and flourish like a green bay tree, but they quickly vanish. Take no offense at them, nor at the cross. Do not look at this, but at the comfort that follows. “Blessed are they that suffer for righteousness’ sake” (1 Pet 3:14). Bind such words to your head as your crown. God reserves the best comforts for the worst times; his people never find it otherwise.

Objection. Yes, but if I am this strict, the times are so bad that I will be alone.

Answer. Do not complain about the times when you yourself make them worse. You should make the times better. The worse the times are, the better you should be; for this is your glory, to be good in an evil generation. This was Lot’s glory (2 Pet 2:7). Paul tells what evil times they were, but he says, “Our conversation is in heaven, from whence we look for a Savior” (Phil 3:20). What brings destruction on God’s people but their joining with the wicked? When they joined with the children of men, then the flood came. These and similar pretenses keep men from goodness altogether, or else from such a measure of it as may bring honor to God and comfort to themselves.

Or if men are great, why, it is not honorable to act like this, as you know Michal said to David: “How glorious was the king of Israel this day! like a fool…” (2 Sam 6:20). To attend upon the word of God with reverence, to make a matter of conscience of religion: oh, that does not fit with greatness, and so on. But the Spirit of God answers this in David: “I will yet be more vile for God” (2 Sam 6:22). It is a man’s honor here to stand for God and for good things; and it is our honor that God will honor us so much.

Those who are worldly have their excuses too: “Alas, I must attend to my calling.” And they have Scripture for it as well: “He that provides not for his family is worse than an infidel” (1 Tim 5:8). As if God had set up any callings to hinder the calling of Christianity! As if that were not the greatest calling, and the best part, which will remain with us forever! As if it were not the part of a Christian to redeem time from his calling for the duties of Christianity! “I have no time,” says the worldling. “What would you have me do?” Why, what time did David have, when he meditated on the law of God day and night (Ps 1:2)? He was a king. The king is bound to study the Scriptures (Deut 17:18-19). And yet whose employment is greater than that of the chief magistrate?

So everyone has his own particular pretenses and excuses, according to his state and condition. The excuse of those who are young is, “We have time enough for these things later.” Others are like those who neglected to build the second temple: “The time is not yet,” they say (Hag 1:2). Yet the uncertainty of this life of ours, the weightiness of the business, the danger of the habit of sin, and the entangling of our hearts deeper and deeper in the world make it a more difficult thing to be a Christian. The more we sin, the more it darkens our understanding; and the further we have run on in an evil course, the more it estranges our affections from good things.

Time is a special mercy; but you have not only time, but also the means, good company and good stirrings within. You may never have such a gale again; your heart may be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. Again, who would want to go without the comforts of religion for now? As Augustine says, “I have lacked your sweetness too long.” What folly it is to go without the sweetness and comfort of religion so long, when we may have it!

Some others plead that religion is uncomfortable: “I will lose my comforts.” But in fact there is no sound comfort without having our hearts in perfect communion with Christ, walking with God and breaking off from our evil courses. What is the reason for discomfort, irresolution and unsettledness? It is that we do not know where we are, where we are going, or what our condition is. Unsettledness breeds discomfort. And indeed there is no pleasure like the pleasure that comes with serving God. As fire always has light and heat in it, so there is no holy action that we perform thoroughly but, as it brings an increase of strength, so it has an increase of comfort and joy joined to it.

There is a present reward joined to all things that are spiritually good. They carry present peace and joy with them. The conscience has a present comfort that consumes all discouragements whatever. This is always found in the experience of the soul that has gained such mastery over itself as to break through discouragements to the practice of holy duties. Believers have a joy and comfort that others know not of (Rev 2:17), a hidden kind of manna and contentment.

Men frame these and a thousand similar discouragements for themselves: “My health will not allow it.” “I will endanger my life.” “There is a lion in the way,” says the sluggard (Prov 26:13), who with his excuses thinks himself wiser than the wisest in the city (Prov 26:16). No one is so wise as the sluggard, for his cunning in serving his own comfort teaches him a great many excuses, which he thinks will pass for wisdom, because by them he hopes to rest without harm. He is only a sluggard for all that. And though he pleads “yet a little while,” poverty will come upon him as an armed man (Prov 6:11), not only outward poverty but spiritual poverty and barrenness of soul. It will leave him destitute of grace and comfort, when at last he sees what an evil course of life he has led: that he has yielded so much to his lazy flesh as to be drawn away by discouragements from duties that he was convinced agreed with the word.

Now, what may be the grounds and causes of these false pretenses and excuses which hinder us from holy duties? There are many causes.

1. One cause of this in us is this: by nature, so far as we are not guided by a better spirit than our own, we are inclined too much to the earthly, present things of this life, because they are present and pleasant, and we are nestled in them; and whatever pulls us away from them is unwelcome to us. This is one ground.

2. Again, join with this the fact that by nature, since the fall, the soul of man, having lost the wisdom to guide it to what is truly good, has wit enough left to devise perverse evasions to excuse what is evil. In this fallen state, the former ability to devise things thoroughly good has turned into a perverse cleverness joined with evasion. “God made man right, but he hath sought out many inventions” (Eccl 7:29). Carnal wit serves carnal will very well, and carnal lusts never lack an advocate to plead for them, namely, carnal reason. Since the fall, then, the bent of the soul is toward evil things such as pleasure, ease and honor, whatever condition pleases the outward man; the bent and weight of the soul goes this way, and wit goes along with it. Having lost the image of God in holy wisdom, the soul turns to evasion. This is also a reason why delays are joined with evasions.

3. Again, there is another ground: corrupt nature sets a man on this way; in this it is like the devil and sin, which never appear in their own colors. Who would not hate the devil if he appeared in his own likeness? Or sin, if it appeared in its own colors? And therefore wit stretches itself to find evasions. For the heart says, “Unless there are some evasions and pretenses to cover my shame, I will be known to be what I really am, which I would hate to happen. I would have the sweetness but not the shame of sin, the credit of religion but not the cost that comes with true religion, which is to deny myself.” Corrupt courses never appear in their own colors. In this they are like the devil.

4. And then, again, by nature there is a great deal of hypocrisy in us. We may do duties to satisfy conscience, for something must be done: to hear now and then, to read, and to come to prayer between sleeping and waking, with yawning prayers, when we can do nothing else. Something must be done. Otherwise conscience will cry out against us that we are atheists and will be damned. So some slipshod service must be done. Yet for all that, our hypocrisy lies here: we cannot bring our hearts to do it as it should be done, to good purpose. It is true that there is much imperfection in the best actions, the best performances. Yet this is hypocrisy, when men do not do it so that God may accept it and so that it may give them comfort. The heart draws back. Duties it will do and must do, but it will not do them in a way that will bring it comfort. This is inbred in the heart by nature. Conscience forces it to do something, though the flesh and corruption pull back. This is the disposition of all men until they have gained the victory over their own atheistic hearts.

5. And then, again, another ground may be this: a false notion of God and of Christ, that they will take anything from our hands. Because we love ourselves and think we do very well, we think that God is such a one as we are, as it says, “Thou thoughtest that I was like unto thee” (Ps 50:21). We think that God will be put off with anything, and that any excuse will serve the purpose. There is not a swearer, or a filthy, careless person, who does not think, “God is merciful, and Christ died for sinners; and I was provoked to it,” and so on. He still thinks he has some excuse for it, and that his excuses will stand good with God. This atheism is in us by nature. Even when we are plainly to blame in the judgment of others, and of ourselves in our sober senses, we still attribute more ignorance and carelessness to God than to ourselves. “Tush, God regards it not.” “It is the times; I would be better.” “It is the company, and I must give way to them,” and so on. They think God will accept these things from them.

6. But one main ground of it is the stumbling blocks that we meet with in the world. This is indeed a ground, because our own false hearts are willing to catch at anything. “You see,” they say, “what these men are who make a profession of religion.” And then the devil will thrust some hypocrite into the profession of religion, and they judge all by one or two, and will be sure to do so. That is where their cleverness lies. And if they can see any weakness in those who are incomparably better than themselves, oh, they are safe! Here is warrant enough to dislike religion and all good courses, because some people do such and such, as if the course of religion were the worse for that.

So they wrap themselves in these excuses, as men wrap their hands to protect them from thorns. This is the vile poison of our hearts: they will be wicked, and yet, for all that, they will have a reason for being so. The saying goes that wickedness never lacked pretexts. As this is true of great wickedness, it is much more true of what passes in the world for a drowsy, lukewarm profession, under which many sink to hell before they are aware of it. They never lack reasons and pretexts to cover their sin. There is a mint and forge of them in the soul, and it can coin them in a moment.

So we see that our wits serve us excellently well to lay blocks in our own way to hinder us from heaven. We are dunces, and dull at doing anything spiritually good, of which we are incapable. But if it is a matter of laying blocks in our own way to heaven, of quarreling with God and his ordinances, with the doctrine of salvation, with the instruments, the teachers and those who lead us a better way, our wit is ready enough for that. But when it comes to taking a course that will do us good another day, to laying up comforts in which we might end and close our days, there we are backward, and have one evasion after another.

I have added this to explain the point further, because it is so necessary. For unless our hearts are uncovered to us, we will never know what religion means, except to know as much as may bring us to hell through the winding, turning, evasion and falsehood of our own nature. In this we are worse enemies to ourselves than the devil is, for he could not hurt us unless we betrayed ourselves. But he has agents within us to do his business. Our own carnal wit and affections are in league with him, so that all the harm he does us comes through the dealings our nature has with Satan. That is the Delilah which betrays all the Samsons, the sound and worthy Christians in the world, to their spiritual enemies.

Therefore we can never be taught enough what a vile nature we have, so opposed to religion insofar as it is saving. Corrupt nature does not oppose religion so far as it is practiced in a slovenly, slipshod way, but so far as it may bring us to the state we should be in. We have no worse enemies than our own hearts. Therefore let us watch ourselves continually, and use all the blessed means God has appointed by which we may escape out of this dangerous, sleepy disposition of soul, which cost the church so dearly, as we will hear hereafter, God willing.

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them? (Song 5:3)

We are now, with God’s help, to speak of the remedies against the lazy distempers we are prone to in spiritual things, taking up where we left off last time.

Question. What course should we take, then, to come out of this distempered laziness? How may we attain a spiritual taste and relish of heavenly things, so that we do not loathe religious exercises, or delay them and put them off with excuses?

Answer. 1. Resolve not to consult with flesh and blood in anything. For flesh and blood always counsels us toward ease, as Peter counseled Christ, “Master, pity thyself” (Matt 16:22). So we have a nature in us like Peter’s: spare yourself, favor yourself, pity yourself. Like Eve and Job’s wife (Gen 3:6; Job 2:10), we have a corrupt nature that is always soliciting us away from God and drawing us toward vanity.

Take heed of taking counsel with flesh and blood. If men were in a city surrounded on every side by enemies, would they consult with those enemies about what to do for the defense of the city? Would that not be madness? And is it not a greater madness when Christians consult with flesh and blood about what they should do in duties of obedience? Flesh and blood will always press us toward ease, the favor of men, contentment and the like, and if a man yields to these, he will never enter heaven. Take heed, therefore, of consulting with our enemy, since all the dealings Satan has with us he has through that enemy which we harbor in our own bosom. In this case the harm he does us by his sophistry comes through ourselves. We betray ourselves by our carnal reason, by which Satan mingles himself with our imaginations and notions.

Let us therefore beware of listening to the counsel of flesh and blood, especially once the matter comes to suffering, for there, above all other things, flesh and blood draws back. Everyone has a Peter within who says, “Spare yourself. You are unwise to venture yourself on this or that hazard.” But where the judgment is convinced of the goodness of the cause, whether it concerns religion or justice (whether the first table of the law or the second, that does not matter), if the judgment is convinced of the thing, then do not consult with flesh and blood, whatever the suffering may be. It is not necessary that we live in riches, honors, pleasures and esteem with the world. But it is necessary that we live as honest men and good Christians. Therefore, when flesh and blood raises objections of this kind, do not consult with it. First, because it is an enemy, and therefore is to be suspected and disregarded. Secondly, because it is said, “flesh and blood shall not inherit the kingdom of heaven” (1 Cor 15:50).

2. And therefore we should practice that first lesson in religion, heavenly wisdom. To help us in this, Christ, knowing what an enemy we are to ourselves in the ways of God, says, “Let a man deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (Matt 16:24). Since our flesh is so full of cavils and excuses, there is no following Christ unless we practice that heavenly lesson of his, “to deny ourselves”: our whole self, our wit and reason in the matters of God, our will and affections. Say no to all the sluggishness of the flesh. Silence all these at once, as soon as ever they discourage you from holy ways. Consider where they come from, and that is enough: from God’s enemy and ours, and the worst enemy we have, the one that lies in our own bosom.

And to enable us the better, mark what Paul says: “We are no more debtors to the flesh” (Rom 8:12). We owe nothing to it. I owe no such obedience, no such subjection, to the flesh and carnal reason; I renounced it long ago. What! Am I to be subject to one to whom I owe no service? We owe the flesh no service or obedience. What! Shall we yield to what we renounced long ago?

3. And along with this, in spiritual courses, let us arm ourselves with resolution. First, settle whether the thing is so or not so. Let our judgments be convinced. For resolution is a disposition arising immediately from the will; but it comes from the will once it has been convinced, by sound judgment, of the goodness of the thing, and after that the will resolves. Get resolution from a sound conviction that such things are good; that they are best for us, and best for us at this time, the sooner the better; that there is an absolute necessity to have them; and that they are everlastingly good. Oh, these considerations will drive us on with full force to obtain them! It is our duty, and we shall sin against God, against our conscience, against the Spirit of God, and against others who take the same liberty from our example, if we yield to our base lusts and suggestions in this kind.

And to help resolution all the more, let us set before our eyes the examples of God’s worthies. Like David’s worthies, who broke through the army of the Philistines for water (2 Sam 23:16), they have in every age broken through all discouragements, and have made it more a matter of conscience to please God and to hold communion and fellowship with Christ than to keep up any friendly dealings with the world.

Look to blessed Paul: “What do ye vexing of me and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to go to Jerusalem, but to die for Christ’s sake” (Acts 21:13). And look at Christ, how he shakes off Peter: “Get thee behind me, Satan” (Matt 16:23). Look to Moses, how he shook off all the enticements of a court, “Because he had an eye to the recompense of the reward” (Heb 11:26). Look to Joshua: “I and mine house will serve the Lord” (Josh 24:15). Let others in the world do what they will; if others will go to the devil, let them. As for me, I and my house, those I have charge of, will serve the Lord.

This was a noble resolution in good Nehemiah: “Shall such a man as I flee?” (Neh 6:11). What! Shall I flee? Shall I do this, and yield to this base discouragement? Shall I discourage others by my example, like those spies sent into Canaan? This is why, after the catalog of worthies set down in Hebrews 11, that notable chapter, that little “book of martyrs,” what we are exhorted and pointed to at the beginning of the next chapter is the practice of the same virtues in imitation of them. Since we have before us “such a cloud of witnesses,” and are surrounded by them, the exhortation is, “Let us therefore shake off everything that presseth down, and the sin that hangeth so fast on” (Heb 12:1). As the cloud was a guide to the Israelites out of Egypt to Canaan, so the cloud of good examples is, as it were, a light going before us to the heavenly Canaan.

In this case, above all, let us look to Christ, “who is the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb 12:2). This will make us break through discouragements and resolve in earnest. What could hinder him? His love is so fiery that nothing could hinder him from coming from heaven to the womb of the virgin; from there to the cross, and so to the grave, to be abased lower than any creature ever was. His love for us carried him through all discouragements and disgraces. “Consider him, who endured such speaking against of sinners” (Heb 12:3). The consideration of Christ’s love and example will carry us through all discouragements whatsoever.

4. And further, let us be able by sound reasons to justify the ways of God, and to answer cavils; to give an account of what we do, to ourselves and to others, with reasons why we keep the Sabbath holy, why we hold such communion with God in prayer, why we disregard the fashions of the world, and so on. To have reasons ready from Scripture is an excellent thing, when we are able to justify whatever we do by the word against all the quarrels of our own hearts and of others. When we are led to do things only by the example of others, or out of regard for people, we are often hard-pressed by sudden temptations, because we are not able to justify what we do. Let us labor, therefore, to do things on good grounds, and to be able to justify all the ways of religion, as they are easily justified.

For nothing in this world is so agreeable to reason as exactness in the ways of God. Nothing in the world has so much reason on its side as being not only Christians but exact Christians, making conscience of all our ways and courses, as Paul says to Agrippa, “Would to God you were not almost, but altogether as I am, saving these bonds” (Acts 26:29). It is the most reasonable thing in the world to justify religion by unanswerable reasons, such as may put down corrupt nature and stop the mouth of the devil himself.

And here let us often put sound and strong questions to ourselves. Are the things I am moved to do good, or are they not? If they are good, why do I not do them? If they are bad, why do I do them at all? If they are good, why do I hesitate over them? How do I prove them to be good? Always have some Scripture ready, or a reason drawn from it, which is just as good. The reasons of the word are most divinely strong; let them be ready against all objections whatsoever. For instance, against careless oaths, think of what Christ says, that we must give an account for all idle words (Matt 12:36). How much more for atheistic oaths! So against grosser sins, learn to reason this way: a decent man of the world, or a heathen, would not do this.

So also, when the flesh moves us to any backwardness in religious courses, let us have some Scripture ready, or reasons deduced from it. For example:

(1) From the dignity of our profession, and from the great hopes we have of being glorious another day. And reason the matter out: How does what I am moved to do suit my hopes and my expectation of what is to come? How does it further my journey homeward?

And consider this as well:

(2) That no excuse will stand at the day of judgment except one that arises from an invincible infirmity or an irremovable impediment. Such an excuse, taken from an invincible infirmity, may stand then. That is the case when we cannot possibly do a thing because of impediments that all the means in the world cannot remove; as, a poor man cannot be generous, and so on. Excuses drawn from impossible impediments, such as invincible weakness, may also avail: for instance, if a man has an infirm body, so that he cannot do what another man can. With a gracious God these excuses will stand, for they are not so much excuses as a just plea. But otherwise our perverse excuses will not stand.

What hindered those in the Gospel who were invited to the supper (Luke 14)? Excuses about oxen, wives, and so on. Was it not lawful to buy oxen? And was it not lawful for a married man to take contentment in a wife? Another had married a wife. Were not all these things lawful? Entirely lawful. The farm does no harm, provided it does not hinder us; nor does the wife, nor the oxen, nor anything else. But in this case, when we regard these things more than the invitation to come to the feast of holy things, here is the malice of the devil, which brings that doleful message, “They shall never taste of my feast” (Luke 14:24).

There is such an infinite disproportion between the good of religion (peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Spirit here, and heaven and happiness hereafter) and anything in this world, that to allege any hindrance that keeps us from maintaining a good conscience and preserving assurance of salvation is the most extreme folly and atheism. If I fetch excuses from the things of this life to keep me from religion, from the fear of God, and from working out my salvation with fear and trembling, then I do not believe in a better life, the disproportion between the state of this life and a better one being so great. These excuses will not stand. Not only will they fail with God at the day of judgment; our own consciences also will tell us that we are hypocrites to make such a plea.

Therefore, when men become dishonest in order to provide for wife or children, and take corrupt courses that keep them from religion, under the pretext of their callings, for fear of losing one day in seven, this employment cannot prosper, since it slights duties under false pretenses. Oh, they can toil for the paltry gain of the world! But in the matters of their souls they shamefully put everything off, as if there were no God to judge them, no heaven to reward them, and no hell to punish them. Will such excuses stand? Oh, no! They cannot stand with conscience, much less with God the Judge, who is greater than our conscience. This is another way to cut off these idle cavils: to consider that these excuses will not serve, either to comfort conscience in this world or to uphold us in our plea at the day of judgment. Remember that.

5. And then again, let us accustom ourselves to bear the yoke of religion from our youth, which will make it easy afterward. It would be an excellent thing if those who are young, in the prime of their years, would accustom themselves to the exercise of religion. This would make it easy for them to read the word of God and to open their spirits to him in prayer. By this means it may please God that they may yet be called to religion, even though they are negligent in it. But for an old man there is much work to do to read, and to get anything into his brain, when his memory is cluttered with other things and the corrupt nature in him is armed with a world of excuses. All this might have been prevented by a timely and seasonable training up in a course of religion. Profane young people do not know what they are doing when they put off religion. Do they have excuses now? They will have many more later, when Satan and corruption will be much stronger.

Oh, let them bear the yoke of religion; that is, let them accustom themselves to duties that become Christians, which may ease the yoke and make it easy and pliable, so that it may not be harsh to our nature. If a man does not hear, pray and read, he can never have faith, grace, knowledge, and the mortifying of corruption, in which religion consists. But because these lead to duties that are hard and harsh to nature, it is wisdom to train young ones in them early. Then, having used themselves to these preparing duties, they may be the better fitted for the essential ones; and, having things in the brain by reading and hearing, they may have grace formed in the heart, since the passage from the brain to the heart is easier. When a man is converted, it is an easy matter to bring what is in the brain to the heart; whereas a man who has been negligent in his youth must then be instructed in the principles of religion.

Therefore it is a miserable case (however shrewd men may be in the world) to have been negligent in this until old age. It breeds a great deal of difficulty for them before they can come into the state a Christian should be in. Remember this, therefore, and do as Paul advises Timothy, a young man, “to exercise himself in godliness” (1 Tim 4:7). It is a good thing for all who are young to exercise themselves in all the duties of religion; otherwise pretenses will grow up with age, by which they will be more indisposed every day than the day before. Experience generally shows it. We may believe it. If we will not, we shall find it all too true hereafter by woeful experience.

6. And then again, little by little, let us not only be accustomed to the yoke of religion but also learn to endure difficulties, opposition, and hardship, as the apostle insists to Timothy, to endure hardship and afflictions from the beginning (2 Tim 2:3). If the thing is good and warranted, disregard the speeches of the world. What are the speeches of a company of men in the state of nature, in their miserable condition, that we should regard them so much as to refuse to endure hardship in things whose goodness we are convinced of? But in these days men take up a delicate profession of religion. Men will be religious, but they will suffer nothing, not a taunt or a scoff. They will part with nothing, be at no loss, suffer no cross, and take no pains with religion beyond what is consistent with all the earthly contentment of this world. This delicate profession, if anything among us, threatens the removal of the gospel and of the blessed truths we enjoy, because we will not part with any pleasure now. How will they suffer afflictions for the gospel, if such times come, who will not part with a vain oath, a corrupt fashion of life, or a superfluity, and who will not part with rotten, unsavory talk that reveals a rotten spirit and infects others? Here is a profession of religion indeed, one that cannot gain so much mastery over the corrupt heart as to deny and overcome itself in things that are grossly evil! How will a man part with his blood and life who will not part with the things he ought to part with? I mean not only giving something to the poor and to good uses, but parting with some sinful course of life, and with wicked and ungodly lusts that fight against the soul. Such people will not endure so much as a rebuke. Rather than come under that censure with which the world is pleased to disgrace religion, they will live and die like atheists. This extreme tenderness in the matters of God and of salvation is the reason why many perish eternally.

7. Again, to cut off all vain excuses, let us often keep in the thoughts of our hearts what we should be, what we should all aim at, and how far we all come short of it. A Christian who hopes for good from his religion should live by faith and depend on God in the use of lawful means. If he is as he should be, he ought to walk with God, keep his watch with him, and do nothing unbecoming in the eye of God. When his corruption draws him to be careless, then he is not as he should be. For in a right temper he ought to be fitted for every good work, ready for every opportunity of doing anything that is good, because the time of this life is the seedtime, the time for doing good. The time of reaping is in the world to come. Therefore, when the heart is shut whenever any opportunity of doing good is offered, he may conclude with certainty, “I am cold and dull. Whatever I pretend, I am not as I should be.”

A Christian ought to “abound in the work of the Lord” (1 Cor 15:58), especially since we have such an abundance of encouragements. What a world of encouragements a Christian has! None compare with those of religion, from the inward contentment it brings here, at the hour of death, and in glory hereafter. When we are drawn to be scanty, stingy, and mean-spirited toward things that are good, surely this is not as it should be. Whatever we pretend to the contrary, this is a fault. A Christian should at all times be fit to yield and render up his soul to God, because our life is uncertain. Therefore, when we are moved by corruption to live in a state that we could not bear to die in, because we are under the guilt of some sin, then certainly, whatever we pretend, our state is bad to the extent that there is unfitness and unwillingness to die. Let us therefore keep in the eye of our soul what a Christian should be, and aim at it. And when we stop at a lower measure and pitch, let us think that, whatever we pretend, it all comes from fleshly cleverness and scheming, the greatest enemy that religion has.

We pray in the Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come; thy will be done in earth, as it is done in heaven.” These are great desires, and they should be the desires of all our hearts. But here we play the hypocrite. While we pray this way, that the kingdom of God may come and that Christ may rule in our hearts over our lusts and desires, we nevertheless put forward this excuse and that, so that we may be led by this lust and that. We cross our own prayers. Yet the prayer shows what pitch we should aspire to: “to sanctify the Lord in our hearts” (1 Pet 3:15), to delight in him, and to trust in him above all. When we do not do this, we fall short of our own prayers. And when we cannot bring our hearts to suffer and to do what God would have us do, but are led away by our own wills, we are not as we should be. Our wills should be conformed to Christ’s in all things. It is our prayer, and therefore we should aim at it.

Now when flesh and blood sets up a pitch of religion (“I am well enough”) and yet prays, “Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done,” such a man is a hypocrite. For his prayer leads him further and further still, until he comes to heaven, where all perfection is. Until then, our life is a life of endeavor and progress. However perfect we may be, Christ may still rule more and set up his kingdom yet more in the heart, and bring our will further to his in all things. When flesh and blood raises quibbles against this, we play the hypocrite with God and cross ourselves.

Therefore, let us uphold as right a measure of religion beyond our present pitch, whatever it is, and uphold it more and more still. Let us think that we are never as we should be until we are in heaven. Let us never congratulate ourselves, but think that we should always be on the growing side. And whatever excuse comes to hinder us from zeal and earnestness in the profession of religion, though it carries a show of reason, let us count it as coming from our corrupt hearts.

8. Again, remember to do all things for God and not for man, both in our calling of religion and in our particular callings; and then, whatever discouragement comes from men, we should not be discouraged. We will hear people continually complain of others: “They are unthankful people; why should we do anything for them?” Why, do it for God! If it falls within our callings, let us do justice and show mercy. God will accept it, though men do not. This cuts off many discouragements in our duties. It is best to have God’s reward. In this world it is good to meet with worthless, unthankful people, because otherwise we would meet with all our reward here. It is good to do something for God’s sake and for religion’s sake, let people be as unthankful as they will, and to say, “I did it not for you, but for God.”

If a man regards the discouragement of the world, he will never do what is good, for people in the world are so unthankful and so regardless toward those who wish them best and do best by them. But if a man does a thing for God, and does it out of duty and conscience, he may hold on. However many discouragements he has in the world, he will lose nothing. All will be rewarded, and all is regarded.

9. Likewise, be sure to carry this in mind: that sin is the greatest evil, and grace and goodness the best thing in the world. Therefore there is no excuse for sin from anything in the world, for it is the worst thing in the world; it stains the soul and keeps it from comfort. And as for grace and goodness in the inner man, it is the best thing in the world. Therefore, purchase it, even at a disadvantage. It is best to avoid sin even by enduring evil; yes, to avoid the least sin by enduring the greatest evil. It is wisdom to do good at a disadvantage when the disadvantage is confined to this life alone, since what I do is something that furthers my reckoning at the day of account. Therefore always keep this in consideration: “Whatever I suffer in this world, I will not sin.” This will cut off a world of excuses.

Therefore, let us labor to cut off all quibbles and to “arm ourselves”; it is the apostle Peter’s exhortation (1 Pet 4:1). As David’s worthies broke through the pikes to fetch him water from the well of Bethlehem (2 Sam 23:16), so let all Christian worthies who look to be crowned be armed inwardly with resolution for good things, and take up resolutions that they will do them. Paul tells his pupil Timothy of his purpose: “Thou knowest my purpose, and manner of living” (2 Tim 3:10). This is the manner of a Christian life: “This I will not break for all the world.” So there is a purpose of living honestly, a manner of life, not by fits and starts, now and then speaking a word and doing a good deed; there is a purpose and a manner of life for it. He always resolves for the best things.

And to this end, beg of God his Spirit, who is above all impediments. The more Spirit, the more strength and courage against impediments. The more we attend on holy means, the more spiritual and heavenly light and life is set up in the soul. The more spiritual we are, the more we will tread underfoot all those things that stand between us and heaven. Let us therefore labor more and more for the Spirit, and then we will offer a holy violence to good things, as was said of John the Baptist’s time: “The kingdom of God suffered violence” (Matt 11:12). People were so eager for it that they seized it by violence, as one takes a castle by surprise. There is no way to take heaven except by offering violence to discouragement, corruption, and whatever stands in the way. Only the violent take heaven by force.

Now when we are spiritual, we will not plead, as the sluggard does, that “there is a lion in the way” (Prov 26:13), that there are difficulties; the sluggard thinks himself wiser than many men who can render a reason. But we will go on boldly and courageously, knowing that there are more encouragements to good, and stronger ones, than the world has allurements to wickedness. Those allurements are only for the present life, but we have inward encouragements that will hold out in the hour of death and after. Therefore, go on boldly and resolutely in good things, always remembering to beg for the Spirit of God, who may arm our spirits with invincible courage.

Now the Spirit of God brings faith with him, which is a conquering, victorious grace over the world and “sees him that is invisible” (Heb 11:27). He brings love also, “which is strong as death” (Song 8:6); and when the soul is warmed by it, love constrains us to do our duties in spite of all impediments. The Spirit of God will also strengthen our hope of heaven, which strengthens us against all the discouragements that stand in our way. For this hope rests on greater and better grounds than the discouragements do, and he who gives us this hope will enable us to possess it.

Therefore labor, first, to have a clear understanding of the things of God, and of their excellence, for light will cause heat. Why did the kingdom of heaven in John the Baptist’s time “suffer violence”? Why were people then so violent to cleave to Christ? Because from that time the gospel was more clearly revealed. And the more heavenly truths are uncovered and laid open, the more they work on the heart and affections, for there is such excellence in them. Therefore “the kingdom of heaven suffered violence.” And where are people more earnest after good things than in those places where the gospel truths of God are most laid open? There they break through all discouragements whatsoever.

And so, labor for faith to believe those truths. Faith is the most victorious and conquering grace, and it will carry us through all discouragements whatsoever, because it sets greater things before us than the discouragements are. Are we afraid of men? Faith sets hell before us. Are we allured by the world? It sets heaven before us. It conquers the world, with all its discouraging temptations. Do the discouragements come from impossibilities? “Oh, it is hard; I cannot do it.” Yes, but Paul says, “I am able to do all things through Christ that strengthens me” (Phil 4:13). There is a kind of omnipotence in faith: “O woman, be it unto thee as thou wilt” (Matt 15:28). We have abundance of strength in Christ. Faith is only an empty hand that goes to Christ to draw from him what it needs: “In Christ I can do all things.”

So also, labor to have our hearts warmed with love to him. This grace of the Spirit will make us pass through all discouragements, for it has a constraining power. “The love of Christ constrains us,” says the apostle (2 Cor 5:14). If our hearts are once warmed with the love of Christ, it will make us think nothing too dear for Christ, and it will cut off all excuses and pretenses whatsoever that come from coldness of affection. “Love is strong as death,” as we have it in this book; “much water cannot quench it” (Song 8:6-7). All oppositions and discouragements whatsoever, all the water that the devil and the world have or use, cannot quench the heavenly fire of love once it is kindled in any measure.

What carried the blessed saints and martyrs of God in all ages through the pikes of all discouragements? The Spirit of God, by the spirit of love, proceeding from a spirit of faith and a heavenly conviction of the excellence and truth of these things. They saw such a light that it worked on their affections and carried them at full force against the stream (contrary to the stream of the times in which they lived), so that the worse the times were, the better they were.

10. And let us consider again that Christ will not always be alluring us this way; we will not always have these encouragements, such truths and such stirrings of God’s Spirit as perhaps we feel now. Therefore, when we feel any good stirring raised in us toward Christ, welcome it at once. Perhaps we will never hear of it again. The longer we delay and put it off, the worse. Take a man rowing in a boat: let him neglect his stroke, and neglecting one may make him tug at it five or six times afterward to catch up with those ahead of him. So nothing is gained by sloth and negligence. We only set ourselves back the more.

11. And let us help ourselves by setting the glory to come before our eyes: with Moses, to have a patriarch’s eye on him “that is invisible” (Heb 11:27), and to see a country afar off. Now “we are nearer salvation than when we believed” (Rom 13:11). Let us help our backward souls this way, so that, having glory always in our eyes, it may help us to go through all discouragements, whatever they are. We know that Zacchaeus, when he was afraid he would not see Christ, went on ahead of the crowd, and by climbing to the top of a tree, he helped himself. So grace helps itself by glory. And grace is so far from raising objections and pleading hindrances that it makes up even more in God’s service, as David did, who in this case was content to be thought vile (2 Sam 6:22).

Let us look to the recompense of the reward, not to the present discouragements but to the prize at the end of the race. What makes a soldier fight hard for the victory in the end? The sweetness of the triumph. What makes a farmer go through all discouragements? He hopes to receive a crop in the end. Consider the outcome that follows a conscientious, careful, and Christian life, a nearer and more perfect walk with God, maintaining communion with him. Let there be whatever discouragements there will be in the world, “the end thereof is peace.” “The end of that man is peace” (Ps 37:37). On this ground the apostle exhorts us to be fruitful and abundant in the work of the Lord; knowing that “your labor is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Cor 15:58).

I rose to open to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself (Song 5:6).

By nature we are prone to delay in heavenly things, and then to cover it all with excuses. A man is a sophist to himself: he deceives himself first, before the devil or the world deceives him. This is why Scripture so often mentions it: “Be not deceived, God is not mocked” (Gal 6:7). Be not deceived, neither adulterer, nor covetous person, nor such and such, shall ever enter into the kingdom of heaven (1 Cor 6:9). “Be not deceived” is a hint that by nature we are very prone to be deceived in points of the greatest consequence in the world, and to flatter ourselves with false excuses, as the church does here: “I have put off my coat” (Song 5:3). But in this next verse we will now see what becomes of all those excuses and all that backwardness of the church by which she puts Christ off.

“My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him. I rose to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet-smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. I rose to open to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself” (Song 5:4-6).

This came of her sluggishness and drowsiness: Christ absented himself and withdrew. Three things are set down in these verses we have just read.

1. Christ’s withdrawing of himself.

2. His gracious dealing after he has withdrawn himself. He does not altogether leave his church, but puts his finger into the hole of the door, and then leaves some sweetness behind him before he goes. After this is set down,

3. The outcome of Christ’s departure and withdrawal from her.

(1) Her heart, which was hard before, was stirred within her.

(2) She rose up out of her bed, where she had earlier settled and composed herself to rest.

(3) She seeks him and calls after him.

But the doctrinal points to be observed from these verses are these.

Observation 1. Christ sometimes leaves his children, as he did the church here.

Observation 2. The cause lies in the church herself. We see how unkindly she had treated Christ, letting him wait on her convenience so long. Therefore he, standing on his holy dignity, leaves the church. The cause of his forsaking us lies in ourselves. We have ourselves to thank for it.

Observation 3. Though Christ deals with us in this way, he never leaves us wholly, without some footprints of his saving grace and everlasting love. He leaves some remnants and prints upon the soul, so that it lingers after him and never rests until it finds him. He always leaves something. There is never a total desertion, as we see here in Christ’s dealing: he puts his finger into the hole of the door. He stands at the door and leaves myrrh behind him, something in the heart that causes a lingering and restless affection in her toward Christ.

Observation 4. Because of this gracious dealing of Christ (leaving something behind him), the church becomes aware of her former unkindness, grows restless, and stirs herself up to strive more and more, until she has recovered the communion and sweet fellowship with Christ that she had before. She never gives up until Christ and she meet again in peace, as we shall see as the passage goes on. These are the chief points to consider.

Observation 1. Christ sometimes leaves his church, as he does here: “My beloved had withdrawn himself.”

But what kind of leaving is it? We must distinguish between Christ’s various ways of leaving and withdrawing himself. They concern either outward or inward comforts and helps.

1. Outward. Christ sometimes leaves his church by taking away the means of salvation, the ministry, or by taking away outward comforts, which are a withdrawing of his. This is especially so if he accompanies their removal with some signs of his displeasure or some sense of his anger, as usually happens. This is what embitters all crosses and losses: when they come from Christ as a testimony of his anger for our former unkindness.

2. Sometimes his forsaking is more inward, and that is of two kinds. It concerns either peace and joy, the sweet inward comfort the soul used to feel in the holy ordinances by the Spirit of Christ, or strength and assistance. There is a desertion in regard to comfort and a desertion in regard to strength. Sometimes he leaves them to themselves in regard of strength and support, to fall into some sin, perhaps to cure some greater sin.

Now, that Christ leaves his church in this way is true of all, both of the body and of each particular member of the church.

(1) It is true of the whole body of the church. You have the church complaining, “God hath forgotten me” (Isa 49:14), and God answering again, “Can a mother forget her child?” (Isa 49:15). So also in Psalm 44:9; and in other places the church complains of being forsaken. Scripture is full of complaints of this kind.

(2) It is true of the individual members, and especially of the most eminent members. We see holy Job complain as if God had set him, as it were, as a target to shoot at (Job 6:4; Job 7:20), and had set himself against him. So David complains of God’s anger (Ps 88:7; Ps 77:9; Ps 60:1), and in other psalms: “Correct me not in thine anger” (Ps 6:1). The Psalms are so full of this that it would be time unprofitably spent to enlarge on a point so clear, which everyone who reads and understands the Psalms knows well enough. Jonah likewise felt a kind of forsaking when he was in the midst of the sea, when the waves were without and terrors within, when he was in the midst of hell, as it were (Jonah 2:2). So you see that the instances make the point clear.

The ends God has in it are many.

(1) To make his presence dearer to us, since we slighted it too much before. It is our corruption not to value things until they are gone. We do not set the true price on them while we enjoy them. When we enjoy good things, we look at the grievances mixed in with the good and forget the good; and when it is gone, then we remember the good. The Israelites could remember their onions and garlic and forget their slavery (Num 11:5). So too, because manna was always present, they despised manna, and that for the one inconvenience it had: it was ordinary with them (Num 21:5). This is how the corrupt heart of man tends to behave in the enjoyment of favors. If a favor has any grievance attached, the heart murmurs at that; and this troubles people and makes them forget all the goodness and sweetness of what they enjoy. But on the contrary, when God withdraws those good things from us, then we forget the former inconveniences and begin to think what good we had from them. This is the poison and corruption of our nature.

(2) Again, Christ seems to forsake us in order to test the truth of the graces and affections in us, whether they are true or not, and to make us go after him when he seems to forsake us. And undoubtedly we will, wherever any measure of true grace is planted in the heart.

(3) And with regard to others, he does it to teach us heavenly wisdom in how to deal with those in affliction (2 Cor 1:4). When we have felt the same particular grievance ourselves, it makes us wise, tender and successful in dealing with others, as in Galatians 6:1: “Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, you that are spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.” Experience of spiritual grief of this kind will make us fit, able and wise in every way to deal with others.

(4) This also serves to wean us from the world, in the midst of plenty and abundance of all earthly things. Take a Christian who has no cross in the world. Let him find some estrangement of Christ from his spirit, so that he no longer finds the comforts of the Holy Spirit and the enlargement of heart he enjoyed in former times, and then all his wealth and all the earthly contentments he enjoys do not please him. Nor can they content a soul that has ever felt sweet communion with Christ. Again, how could we pray with earnest affection, “Thy kingdom come,” in a time of prosperity, unless there were something of this kind to raise the soul up to desire to be gone? Now, our being subject to these alterations and changes, these ebbings and flowings, sometimes having the sense of God’s love in Christ and sometimes lacking it, sometimes feeling his love and sometimes again the fruits of his anger and displeasure, serves exceedingly to stir up our desires for heaven.

(5) In this place, the special end was to correct the complacency and wrong conduct of the church.

(6) Likewise, it was to prepare the church, by this desertion and seeming forsaking, for nearer communion. For indeed Christ did not forsake her, except to her feeling. He did it to bring her in the end to nearer communion and union with himself than she had ever had before. God forsakes so that he may not forsake. He seems a stranger so that he may be all the more friendly. This is Christ’s way. He plays the part of an adversary when he intends to show the greatest effects of his love, as we may see later in the passages that follow.

(7) Also, it is to make us know thoroughly the bitterness of sin, so that we may grow into a further hatred of what deprives us of so sweet a communion. We think sin a trifle, and never know it well enough until the time of temptation, when conscience is awakened and opened and sin appears in its true colors.

(8) Again, it is so that we may know what Christ suffered and underwent for us in the sense of God’s wrath, in the absence of his favor for a time. His human nature could never have endured this if his divinity had withdrawn itself. Now all of us must sip from that cup whose dregs Christ drank, and have a taste of what it is to have God forsake us. For the most part, God deals this way with believers who live any length of time, especially those of great gifts. To weaker Christians he is more indulgent. At such times we learn what use a Mediator is, and how miserable our condition would be without one to bear and overcome the wrath of God for us. He could never have undergone that burden, but would have sunk under it, had it not been for the hypostatic union.

Application 1. Let us not, therefore, condemn any Christian whose course we find has been good and gracious, even though they seem to lack comfort. Let us not wonder at them as if God had utterly forsaken them. Indeed, sometimes they think themselves forsaken, and the world thinks so too, that God regards them not, that they are people of no account either to God or to others, just as you have the church in the Psalms complaining as if God had forsaken them (Ps 44:9). So they think themselves forsaken, and the world thinks so too and neglects them. Therefore, in doing this, we would condemn the generation of the righteous. It was so with the Head of the church, with the whole church, and with every particular member. Nor is it fitting that we should always enjoy the sense of God’s love. Christ, in heavenly wisdom, dispenses his sweetness, comforts and peace as is consistent with our souls’ best good. And we should be just as careful not to condemn ourselves in that condition, as if we were rejected and cast away by God. At such times we must judge ourselves by faith and not by feeling, looking to the promises and word of God and not to our present sense and perception.

Application 2. Again, if this is so, learn to prepare for it and expect it beforehand. Get some grounds of comfort, some promises out of the word, and keep a good conscience. Oh, it is a heavy thing when God seems to be angry with us and at the same time our conscience accuses us; when the devil lays our sins hard to our charge, and at the same time some affliction lies heavy upon the sore and guilty soul. If we have not laid something up beforehand, what will become of the poor soul when heaven and earth and hell and everything seem to be against it? Few come to heaven who do not know what these things mean. It is good, therefore, to expect them and to prepare some comforts beforehand.

But what is the inward moving cause here? It lies in the church herself, for notice the connection. She had turned Christ away with excuses, pretenses and delaying answers, and now, immediately upon this, Christ forsakes her as far as her feeling goes, and as far as the sweet comfort she formerly enjoyed. The point is this:

Observation 2. The reason Christ withdraws comfort from our souls lies in ourselves.

If we search our own hearts we will find it so. Usually the causes in ourselves are these, as they were in the church here:

1. When we are unkind to Christ and repel the sweet motions of the Spirit.

2. When we do not make good use of the precious means of salvation we enjoy.

3. When we are careless about our conduct and our company.

4. When we linger after fleshly liberties and ease.

5. When we give way to fleshly calculation and evasions that keep us off from the power of religion, so that we go on in a lukewarm course.

6. When we linger after earthly things and comforts and wrap ourselves up in fleshly calculation for the sake of ease.

7. When we do not tremble at God’s judgments and threatenings, and at the signs of them; along with many such things.

Where these dispositions are, we need not wonder if we do not find the comforts of Christ and of the Holy Spirit in us, along with the gracious presence of his Spirit. The cause is in ourselves. But complacency has already been spoken of at length, where the church’s sleep was treated. Therefore the point will not be enlarged on here, but only some use made of it, as may serve the present purpose.

Application 1. If Christ should take away the comforts we enjoy and remove himself and his dwelling from us (for he is still among us now and knocks at our doors), do we not give him just cause to depart? What a spirit of slumber possesses us, which nothing will wake to seek after Christ! How few lay hold upon God, press upon him and wrestle with him in prayer, to hide themselves before the evil day comes, as they should! Therefore, if Christ has absented himself from the church in general for a long time, and withdrawn the comfort and presence of his ordinances, and if in particular he has withheld the sweet comforts of our spirits and our peace, so that we see him in the contrary signs of his displeasure and anger, as if he did not regard and respect us, we have given him just cause to do so. We see here how the church treated Christ, and so do we, with the same complacency, a spirit of slumber, and unkindness. For all the provocations Christ uses to win us, he does not leave us until he is left first. For he desires nearer acquaintance, communion and fellowship with the soul, as we have seen in the former verse: “My love, my dove, my undefiled, open to me” (Song 5:2). Therefore, if we do not enjoy more acquaintance with Christ than we do, and walk more in the comforts of the Holy Spirit (Acts 9:31), it is entirely from our own indisposition and complacency. Therefore let us blame ourselves in this matter, and not call Christ an enemy, as if he had forgotten us and God had forsaken us. Beware of such a spirit of murmuring. If such a state befalls us, let us strive to lay our hand upon our mouth and to justify Christ: “It is just of you to leave me like this, to give me over to this terror, to deal with me this way, when I have dealt so unkindly with you.” To justify God in this way and accuse ourselves is the best way to recover spiritual comfort.

Observation 3. Well, now for the third point. However much Christ is provoked by the church’s ingratitude, drowsiness and careless conduct to leave her as far as her feeling and inward comfort go, he is nevertheless so gracious as to leave something behind him, which shows that he had not left the church altogether, but only in some respect. For although Christ leaves it in regard to one order of his providence, yet in regard to another order of his providence, care and mercy he does not leave it. One way that he takes must sometimes give place to another way of his working in ordering things. Sometimes he is present in a way of comfort; that is one order of his dispensation. And when he sees that this is neglected, he withdraws his comforts and hides his gracious countenance. Yet he is still present then in another order and way, though we do not discern it: in a way of humbling the soul and letting it see its sin. So here, although Christ had withdrawn himself in regard to this manner of his dealing, in respect of comfort, so that the church did not now see his grace and favor, yet he left behind him a spirit of grace to affect her heart with grief, sorrow and shame, and to stir up her efforts to seek after him. As it is said here: “I rose to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped myrrh, and my fingers sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock” (Song 5:5).

Here observe these three things. They will only be briefly named, because they will be touched on elsewhere.

Observation 1. Christ’s grace is the cause of our grace. He first leaves myrrh, and then her fingers drop myrrh. Our oil is from his oil. The head being anointed, “the oil ran down to the skirts of Aaron’s garments” (Ps 133:2). “Out of his fulness we receive grace for grace” (John 1:16); that is, our grace answers to the grace of Christ. We have everything from him: favor for his favor. Because he is beloved, we are beloved. We have the grace of sanctification from him. He was sanctified with the Spirit, therefore we are sanctified. We have the grace of privilege for his grace. He is the Son of God, therefore we are sons. He is the heir of heaven, therefore we are heirs. So it is from his grace that we receive everything. Whether we take grace for favor, or for the grace of sanctification, or for the grace of privilege and prerogative, all our graces are from his: our myrrh from his myrrh.

Application. This should teach us the necessity of depending upon Christ for whatever we have or would have. This dependence upon Christ is the life of our life, the soul of our souls.

Again, observe from this that the church’s fingers dropped myrrh when she opened the door and stirred herself up to act. When her heart was first stirred, she made for the door, and then her hands dropped myrrh. So,

Observation 2. We experience the grace of Christ especially when we stir ourselves up to act. “Arise and be doing, and the Lord shall be with thee” (1 Chr 22:16), says David to Solomon. So let us rouse ourselves to act, and we will find a gracious presence of Christ and a blessed assistance of the Spirit of Christ, who will show himself in the midst of our efforts. “To him that hath shall be given” (Matt 25:29). What does that mean? To him who has, if he exercises and stirs up the grace of God in him, shall be given. Therefore let us stir up the graces of God in us. Let us set about acts of obedience and follow them up with prayer. Whatever we pray for and desire, let us set about practicing it. We mock God if we do not strive for what we desire. There was myrrh left on the door, but she did not feel it until she rose, opened the door, and laid her hand upon the lock.

I appeal to any Christian’s experience whether, in the midst of obedience, they do not find the comfort they looked for, and find that it is meat and drink to do God’s will. Therefore do not hang back and say, “I am dead and drowsy, so I will always be so.” You are deceived. Set about obedience and the practice of holy duties, and in the midst of them you will find the presence and assistance of God’s Spirit. That will comfort you.

Observation 3. The third thing to observe from this is that God’s graces are sweet. They are pleasant and sweet, compared here to myrrh, which was an ingredient in the holy oil. Grace makes us sweet. Prayers are sweet, as in Revelation 8:4. Christ mingles them with his own sweet odors, and so takes them and offers them to God. Holy obedience is sweet and delightful to God and to the conscience. It brings peace and delight to others. That is why they are called fruits. Fruit not only implies and shows the issuing of good things from the root; there is also a pleasantness in it. So there is a delightfulness in good works, as there is in fruit to the taste. Therefore, if we want to be sweet and delightful to God, let us strive to have grace. If we want to think of ourselves with contentment and have inward sweetness, let us strive for the graces of God’s Spirit. These are like myrrh. The wicked are an abomination unto the Lord (Prov 15:8), who abhors them and whatever is in them. But the righteous and sincere man is his delight (Prov 15:8). Therefore, if we want to approve ourselves to God and feel that he delights in us, let us strive to be such as he may delight in.

Application. Let the discouraged soul, then, make this use of it: not to be afraid to do what is good for fear that we should sin. Indeed, sin will cling to what we do, but Christ will pardon the sin and accept that which is sweet, as coming from his own Spirit. Let us not think meanly of what Christ thinks highly of, and let nothing be vile in our eyes that is precious in his. Let us labor to bring our hearts to a cheerful obedience, for it is a sweet sacrifice to God.

Now, where did all this come from? From what is mentioned here: “My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him” (Song 5:4). First, take that expression, that he put his finger in by the hole of the door. It implies that Christ, before he departed, left an impression on the church’s heart by his Spirit, which deeply moved her to seek after him.

The fingers spoken of are nothing else but the power of his Spirit. The usual Scripture phrases are “This is God’s finger” (Exod 8:19) and “God’s mighty hand,” and without that power all ordinances are ineffectual. Paul may plant, and Apollos may water (1 Cor 3:6-7), but all is nothing without the working of the Spirit. His motions are most strong, being God’s finger, and by it he worked all that affection in the church which is expressed here. Before Christ leaves the church, he puts his finger into the hole of the door. That is, he works something in the soul by his Spirit, which stirred up a constant endeavor to seek after him. Why else does it follow, “her bowels were moved after him”? This implies a work of the Spirit upon her affections. It showed itself in her grief for his absence and her shame for refusing him entrance, and by it her heart was moved and turned within her to seek after him. From this, thus explained, observe:

Observation 1. Outward means will do no good unless the finger of Christ comes to do all that is good.

The finger of Christ is the Spirit of Christ. That is, a kind of divine power goes out from him in the hearing and speaking of the word of God, and in prayer. There is more than a man’s power in all this. If these things are to work any effect, Christ must put his finger in. When duties are unfolded to us in the ministry of the word, it is all to no purpose, nothing but the sound of a voice, unless the finger of Christ opens the heart and works in the soul.

Application 1. Therefore let us make this use of it: not to rest in any means whatsoever, but to desire the presence of Christ’s finger to move and work upon our hearts and souls. Many careless Christians go about the ordinances of God and never regard this power of Christ, this mighty power, the finger of Christ. As a result, they find nothing at all divine and spiritual worked in them. For just as it took God to redeem us, by taking our nature so that in it he might restore us, so it likewise takes the power of God to change our natures. We could not be brought into the state of grace without a divine satisfaction, and we cannot be changed into a gracious frame without a divine finger, the finger of God working upon our hearts and souls.

This should move us, in all the ordinances of God that we attend, to lift up our hearts in the midst of them: “Lord, let me feel the finger of your Spirit writing your word upon my heart.” “Turn us, O Lord, and we shall be turned” (Lam 5:21). Pray for this quickening and enlivening, this strengthening Spirit. Everything comes by it.

From what is said here, that Christ puts his finger into the hole of the door before he removed it and withdrew himself, observe:

Observation 2. How graciously Christ deals with us, that he always leaves some grace before he offers to depart. So let us, for the time to come, lay this up and store it as a ground of comfort. However Christ may leave us, he will nevertheless never leave us wholly. As he gave us his Holy Spirit at first, so he will continue him in us by some gracious work or other, either by way of comfort or of strength to uphold us.

Perhaps we may need more sorrow and more humility than any other grace. For winter is as good for the growing of things as the spring. Were it not for winter, where would be the killing of weeds and worms, and the preparing of the ground and land for the spring? In the same way, it is as needful for Christians to find the presence of Christ in the way of humiliation and abasement, causing us to afflict our own souls, as to feel his presence in peace, joy and comfort. In this life we cannot be without this gracious dispensation.

We may therefore comfort ourselves that, however Christ leaves us, he will always leave something behind him, as here he left some myrrh after him upon the handle of the door. Some myrrh is always left behind him upon the soul, which keeps it in a state and frame of grace and sweetens it. Myrrh was one of the ingredients in the holy oil, as appears in Exodus 30:23. So this leaving of myrrh behind him signifies the oil of grace left upon the soul, which enabled the church to do all the things spoken of afterward.

Objection. But you will say, how does this appear, when in some desertion a Christian finds no grace, strength or comfort at all, so that nothing seems to be left?

Answer. They always have something left. Take those who have at any time experienced the love of God and of Christ in the past. Take them at their worst, and you will find in them some sparks of grace, some broken words of secret comfort they have tasted, some inward strength and struggling against corruptions. Their spirits are endeavoring to recover themselves from sinking too low, and something in them withstands both despair and corruption. Take a Christian at his worst, and some evidence of the Spirit of Christ will still appear left in him, in spite of all desertion.

This is universally true of all in some measure, though perhaps it is not discerned by the Christian himself, but only by those who are able to judge. Sometimes others can read our evidences better than we can ourselves. A Christian in temptation cannot judge his own condition, but others can. And so, even at the very worst, he always has something left in him by which he may be comforted. Christ never wholly leaves his church and the children who are his. Those who are wholly left never had saving grace, as Ahithophel, Cain, Saul and Judas were left to themselves. But as for the children of God, if they ever found the power of sanctifying grace, then whom Christ loves, he loves to the end (John 13:1). He does not depart from them without leaving something behind him that sets an edge on their desires to seek after him.

Application 2. Make this second use of it: to magnify the gracious love and mercy of Christ, who deals so graciously with us even when we deserve the contrary, to be left altogether. Behold the mercy of Christ in this dealing of his. He will not allow the church to remain in a state of complacency. Rather, to cure her, he will bring her into the opposite state of grief and sorrow. We shall see this in the next point: what Christ left in the heart of the church so afflicted her that her heart was stirred with grief. Upon this she rises, seeks, and inquires after Christ of the watchmen and others.

So she says of herself, “My bowels were moved in me.” What was that? My heart was filled with sorrow and grief for my unkind dealing with Christ. By this, those affections which before were sleepy and complacent were stirred up to godly grief, sorrow and shame. For God has planted affections in us and joined them to conscience, as executioners are joined to the judge. So whenever conscience accuses us of any sin, whether of omission or commission, the affections are ready to be the executioners within us. Thus, to prevent eternal damnation, God has set up a throne in our own hearts, to take revenge and correction by our own affections, by godly sorrow and mourning, as the church says here: “My bowels were turned in me.” It was a shame and grief springing out of love to Christ, who had been so kind, patient and full of forbearance toward her. “My bowels were turned in me”; that is, sorrow and grief came upon me for my unkind dealing.

The observation from this is that complacency, a cold and dull state, produces a contrary temper. That is, when people are cold, dull and complacent, and put Christ off, he allows them to fall into sharp sorrows and griefs.

We commonly say that cold diseases must have hot and sharp remedies. This is most true spiritually. Complacency is a kind of lethargy, a cold disease, a forgetting of God and of our duty to him, and it must have a hot and sharp cure. Lethargy is best cured by a burning fever. So Christ deals here. He puts his finger in at the hole of the door and leaves grace behind to work upon the church’s affections, to make her grieve and be ashamed for her unkind dealing. Thus he cures complacency by sorrow. This is the best conclusion sin can come to.

We may observe as well that even sins of omission bring grief, shame and sorrow. And in the end, through Christ’s sanctifying them, the things these sins breed consume their parent. That is, sin brings forth sorrow, shame and grief, which are a means to cure sin. Complacency breeds this stirring of the affections, and this moving cures complacency. Would we, then, prevent sorrow, shame and grief? Then let us beware of complacency, the cause that leads to them. Yes, and beware of sins of omission, in which there is more danger than in sins of commission.

The sins of carnal, wicked men are usually sins of commission; most of them break out outrageously, and so stain themselves with open sins. But the sins of God’s people, who are nearer to him, are for the most part sins of omission: negligence, coldness, carelessness in duty, lack of zeal, and lack of the care they should have in stirring up the graces of God in them. So it was with the church here, who did not give way to Christ nor shake off her complacency.

Application. However lightly we may think of sins of omission and carelessness, they are enough to bring men to hell, if God is not all the more merciful. It is not only required that we do no harm and keep ourselves from outward evils. We must also do good, and do it in a good manner, and take care to be fruitful and watchful. If we do not, this temper will bring grief, shame and sorrow afterward. As here, even for sins of omission, deadness and dullness, we see the church is left by Christ, and her heart is stirred with grief. For careless neglect and omission of duty to God is a sign and forerunner of some downfall and dejection.

And it is commonly true that when someone is in a complacent and careless state, he may read his destiny there, however good he has been; indeed, all the more if he is good. Such a person is in danger of falling into some sharp punishment or into some sin. For of all states and tempers, God will not allow a Christian to remain in a complacent, lazy, dead state, in which he cannot do anything with comfort to God, to himself or to others. A dead, complacent condition (decay in our first love, this lukewarm temper) is so hateful to him that he will not endure it. It goes before one thing or another: some great sin, cross, affliction or judgment.

“My bowels were moved in me.” And with good reason. It was a fitting correction for the sin in which she had offended. For Christ’s heart was moved toward her in love and pity: “My love, my dove, my undefiled.” In that case, since she neglected him, it was fitting that she should find a stirring of the heart in another sense, out of love too, but in shame and mourning. Christ, who had waited and attended on her leisure before, now leaves her to seek after him, as we shall see later.

The next thing we may observe here, in that her heart was stirred by something left in the hole of the door by the Spirit of Christ, is that Christ has our affections under his government.

He has our affections under his rule and government more than we ourselves have. We cannot of ourselves rule our grief, shame, sorrow, or affections like these. The wisest man in the world cannot ward off grief and sorrow when God chooses to turn it upon his heart and make him ashamed and confounded within himself. All the wit and policy in the world cannot suppress those affections. For Christ rules our hearts: The hearts of kings are in his hand, as the rivers of water (Prov 21:1), and so are the hearts of ordinary people.

If he sets anything upon the soul to afflict it and cast it down, it will afflict it, even if it is only an imagination. He by his Spirit guards our souls with peace, by commanding tranquility. But if he takes the reins away from the soul and leaves it to its own passion, removing its guard, then let him only leave it to itself and it will tear itself apart. So it was with Ahithophel, who, being left to himself, tore himself in pieces (2 Sam 17:23). Cain also, being left in this way, was disquieted, tormented, and racked himself (Gen 4:13). So too with Judas in this case: divided against himself, you see what became of him (Matt 27:5). Let Christ only leave us to our own passion of sorrow, and what will become of us but misery? So he has more rule over our passions than we ourselves have, because we cannot rule them graciously, nor can we stop them when we would.

Application. Therefore this should strike an awe of God into us, with a care to please him. For there is not the wisest man in the world but, if God removes his guard from that man’s soul and leaves him to himself, he would be made his own tormentor and executioner, even if there were no devil in hell. Therefore the apostle makes this sweet promise. He bids them pray to God, and “the peace of God which passeth all understanding” should guard their souls (Phil 4:7). That is the very word in the original. It is a great matter for the keeping of God’s people to have their souls guarded.

“Her bowels were turned in her.”

Here again, as the conclusion of all this, when we see this condition of the church, we may wonder at Christ’s conduct toward her in this world. Christ is wonderful in his saints and in his goodness toward them (2 Thess 1:10). He is wonderful sometimes in alluring them, as we see Christ alluring the church here; wonderful in patience, in spite of their provoking him; wonderful in his desertions; wonderful in leaving something behind him in those desertions. He will not leave those who are his without grace, by which they shall seek him again. Indeed, the falling out of lovers shall be the renewing of fresh and new love, more constant than the former ever was. Thus our blessed Savior goes beyond what we deserve, taking advantage even of our complacency for our greater good, and making all things work for good in the end (Rom 8:28). This shall end in a nearer and closer communion between Christ and his church than ever before.

Carnal people do not feel these changes, these ebbings and flowings. They are not acquainted with God’s forsakings. Indeed, their whole life is nothing but a forsaking of God, and God’s forsaking of them. He gives them outward comforts, peace and friends in the world, and in these they take their solace. But as for inward communion with him, any strength for holy duties or against sin, or being instruments for God’s honor and service, to do any good, they do not care. For they live here to serve their own turns, and leave their estate and inheritance behind them. The Scripture says, “They have no changes, therefore they fear not God” (Ps 55:19), and so they go down to hell quietly and complacently.

Oh, but it is otherwise with God’s children! They are tossed up and down. God will not allow them to prosper, or to live long, in a complacent, drowsy, sinful state. To continue in such a state is a fearful evidence that a person as yet has no saving grace and does not yet belong to God. For Christ hates such a state and will not allow his own to remain in it long. He will shift and move them from vessel to vessel, from condition to condition, until he has worked in them such a disposition of soul that they regard and love him more and more, and have nearer and nearer communion with him.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself and was gone: my soul failed when he spake; I sought him, but could not find him; I called him, but he gave no answer (Song 5:6).

So we see that the life of a Christian is trouble upon trouble, as wave upon wave. God will not let us rest in complacency. One way or another he will burn us out of our hiding holes and make us run after him. How much better it would be for us, then, to do our works cheerfully and joyfully, “so to run as we may obtain” (1 Cor 9:24), than to be hurried up and down like this. Through our own fault we come into desertions, and there we receive rebukes and blows and delays before we have peace again. So it turned out with the church in what follows, for this text is only the beginning of her seeming misery. After this the watchmen “found her, and wounded her” (Song 5:7). But heaven is worth more than everything, now that her affections are set on fire. From then on she stirs herself and is resolved to find her beloved, whom she values far above all this world. We have heard how her affections were stirred when Christ put his finger in at the hole of the door. Now follows her action on that, for here is rising, opening, seeking, calling, and inquiring after Christ.

Action follows affection. After her affections are stirred, she rises and opens. From this we may further observe:

Observation 1. Where there is true affection, it will show itself in the outward man in one way or another. If there is any affection of love and devotion to God, there will be eyes lifted up, knees bent down, and hands stretched out to heaven. If there is any grief for sin, there will be a face cast down, eyes looking down, some expression or other. If there is a desire, there will be a reaching out toward the thing desired. For the outward man is commanded by the inward, which has a kind of sovereign, commanding power over it. It says, “Do this,” and it does it; “Speak this,” and it speaks it. Therefore, when people’s courses of life are not gracious, their affections and their hearts are not good; for where the affections are good, the actions will match them. “Her bowels were moved in her,” and immediately she shows the truth of her affection by going after him.

1. Her soul failed when he spoke.

2. She goes after him.

“My soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him.” We spoke before in general of Christ’s withdrawing himself, so we will leave that and go on.

“My soul failed when he spake.” That is, her soul failed when she remembered what he had said when he stood at the door and said, “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is wet with the dew” (Song 5:2). Now, when God’s Spirit had worked on her, she remembered what Christ had said. All those sweet invitations were effective with her now, especially when she saw that after those sweet invitations Christ had withdrawn himself. That is the meaning of these words, “My soul failed when he spake unto me.” He was not speaking now. Rather, her soul failed after he spoke, for that is how it should be read; that is, after she remembered his speech to her. For now, when she opened, he was not there, and so he could not speak to her.

Observation 2. The word of Christ, however ineffective it may be for the present, will afterward be effective in the remembrance of it. For those who are gracious, it will be effective when the Holy Spirit comes to seal it further on their hearts. Christ said many things to his disciples which they forgot. But afterward, when the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, had come, his office was to bring all things to their remembrance that they had forgotten before (John 14:26). The Holy Spirit did not teach them new things but brought former things to their remembrance. For God will make the word effective at one time or another. Perhaps the word we hear is not effective for the present. It may be afterward, many years later, when God awakens our consciences.

And just as this is true of God’s children, that the seed now sown in them will not grow up until many years later, so it is also true of those who are not God’s children. They think they will never hear again of the things they hear. Perhaps they will see to it, by sensuality and by hardening their hearts, with God’s judgments also concurring, that conscience does not awaken in this world. But it will awaken one day. For conscience is put into the heart to take God’s side and to witness against us for our sins. It will have its office and perform it hereafter, however you treat it now, and it will preach over again the things you hear now. You will hear of them again, but it will be a barren hearing. Now we may hear fruitfully, to our good; but afterward we will call to mind what we have heard, and it will cut us to the heart. The rich man, Dives, as we know, had Moses and the prophets to instruct him (Luke 16:29), but he never heeded them in his life, until afterward, to his torment. So people never heed what they hear and read. They put everything off and lull their consciences to sleep, but God will afterward bring it all back to their remembrance.

But because this is especially a point of comfort to the church, let all of us labor to make this use of it: to be diligent and careful to hear and attend on the ordinances of God. For however what we hear may be ineffective for the present and seem like dead seed cast into the heart, yet God will give it a body afterward, at one time or another, as the apostle speaks (1 Cor 15:38). And what we hear now, the Holy Spirit will bring to our remembrance when we stand in most need of it.

“My soul failed when he spake.” She was in a spiritual swoon and fainting at his withdrawing. From this the point to consider is that Christ sometimes leaves his church and brings it very low in its own apprehension, so that their hearts fail them for want of his presence. So it was with David (Ps 38:2-3); so with Jonah (Jonah 2:2); so with the church (Lam 3:1 and following). We see it there at large.

Reason. The need of our souls and of our condition requires this. Sometimes a body may be so corrupt that it must be brought as low as possible before there will be a spring of new and good blood and spirits. In the same way we may fall into such a state of complacency that nothing but extreme purging will bring us to a right temper. And God usually deals this way with people of strong minds and gifts, if they are holy. David and Solomon were men of excellent qualities, yet when they tasted too deeply of the pleasures and contentments of the world, they had desertions to match. And so others will usually have such desertions as will make them smart for their sweetness, as was shown before.

But on what occasions especially does a Christian think that God leaves him, forsakes him, and fails him?

First, this failing and fainting of the soul sometimes arises from an apprehension as if God and Christ had become enemies, as Job says (Job 7:20), and as if he had set us up as a target to shoot at. But this is not all that a gracious and pure heart sinks for.

But secondly, it sinks also for the absence of Christ’s love, though it feels no anger. For a loving wife, her husband’s not looking lovingly at her as he used to is enough to cast her down and make her spirits fail. In the same way, suppose God looks on the soul not with an angry countenance, yet with a withdrawn one; that is enough to cast it down. For anyone who depends on another, to see that person’s countenance withdrawn, and their face not shown as before, is enough to daunt and dismay them, if there is any sweet disposition in them at all.

No, thirdly, and moreover, when they do not find their former assistance in holy duties: when they find that their hearts are shut up and they cannot pray as they did when they had the Spirit of God more fully, and when they find that they cannot bear afflictions with their usual patience, “Certainly Christ has withdrawn himself,” they say. This shows itself first when we hear the word of God without the delight and profit we used to have. When they find that they come near to God in holy communion, and yet do not feel that sweet taste and relish in the ordinances of God that they used to, they conclude, “Certainly God has hidden his face.” Then they are cast down; their spirits fail.

And do not wonder that it should be so, for it is so in nature. When the sun hides itself from the world for many days, it is a cheerless time; the spirits of the creatures droop and wither. We see it so in the body: if the animal spirits in the brain, which are the cause of motion and sense, are obstructed, apoplexy and deadness follow. So it is between Christ and the soul. He is the “Sun of righteousness” (Mal 4:2), by whose beams we are all comforted and cheered; and when they are withheld, our spirits decay and are discouraged. Summer and winter arise from the presence and absence of the sun. What causes the spring to be clothed with all those rich ornaments? The presence of the sun, which comes nearer then. So what makes summer and winter in the soul, but the absence or presence of Christ! What makes some so much more vigorous than others, but the presence of the Spirit! As it is in nature, so it is here. The presence of Christ is the cause of all spiritual life and vigor, and when he withdraws his presence a little, the soul fails.

“My soul failed when he spake to me: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called, but he gave me no answer.”

Observation 1. The church repeats her complaint to show her passion. A large heart has large expressions. She took it to heart that Christ did not show himself in mercy. Therefore she never stops: “I sought him but I could not find him, I called but he gave me no answer.” Affection makes eloquent and large expressions.

Observation 2. But mainly, observe from this failing of the church the difference between the true children of God and others. The child of God is cast down when he does not find the presence of God as he used to; his spirits fail. A carnal man, who never knew what this presence meant, does not regard it and can bear the want of it. He does indeed find a presence of God in the creatures, though he does not think of it. There is a sweetness in food, drink, and rest, and a contentment in honor, advancement, and riches; and in this way God is always present with him. But any other presence he does not care for. No, he shuns every other presence of God and labors to avoid his spiritual presence.

For why does a carnal man shun the applying of the word and the thinking about it, except because it brings God near to his heart and makes him present? Why does he shun his own conscience, and why is he loath to hear the just and unanswerable accusations it would charge on him, except because he cannot bear the presence of God in his conscience? Why does he shun the sight of holier and better men than himself? Because they present God to him, being his image, and they call his sins to memory (1 Kgs 17:18) and rebuke his wicked life. This is where that satanic hatred comes from, more than human, in carnal, vile men toward those who are better than themselves: they hate all presence of God, in the word, in the ministry, and in all God’s holy servants. They hate all such presence of God. One main reason is that they are criminals, wicked rebels, and intend to remain so. And as a criminal cannot endure so much as the thought of the judge, so they cannot think of God, in the course they are in, as anything other than a judge. So they tremble and quake at the very thought of him and avoid his presence.

You know that great man Felix, to whom Paul spoke (Acts 24:25). When Paul spoke of the judgment to come and of those virtues of temperance and righteousness which Felix lacked, being guilty of the contrary vices, he quaked and could not endure to hear him speak any longer. Wicked men do not love to be arraigned, tormented, accused, and condemned before their time (Mark 5:7). Therefore they cannot bear anything that sets their future terrible condition before them. It is evidence that a man is in a cursed condition when he cannot endure the presence of God like this. But what will God and Christ say to them at the day of judgment? Such men desired to have nothing to do with the presence of God here, and it is just for Christ to answer them there as they answer him now. “Depart, depart, we will have none of thy ways,” they say (Job 21:14). “Depart, ye cursed,” he says. He only answers them in their own language: “Depart, ye cursed, with the devil and his angels” (Matt 25:41).

But you see that the child of God is of an altogether different temper. He cannot be content to be without the presence of God and of his Spirit, enlightening, quickening, strengthening, and blessing him in spiritual things. When he does not find his presence helping him, when he finds that Christ, his life, is absent from him, he is immediately discouraged. For “Christ is our life” (Col 3:4). Now, when a man’s life fails, everything fails. When, therefore, a man finds his spiritual taste and comfort not what they were before, then, oh, “the life of my life” has withdrawn himself! And so he is never at rest until he has recovered his life again, for Christ is his life (Col 3:4).

And because there is a presence of God and of Christ in the word and sacraments, a sweet presence, the godly soul droops and fails if it is kept from these. He will not excommunicate himself, as many do who are perhaps asleep when they should be at the ordinances of God. But if he is excommunicated and banished, oh, how he takes it to heart! “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, O God” (Ps 42:1). The whole of Psalm 84 is to that purpose: “O how amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts.” He finds a presence of God in his word and sacraments, and when he does not taste a sweet presence of God in them, he droops and sinks.

A carnal man never heeds these things, because he finds no sweetness in them. But the godly, finding Christ in them, droop for want of them and cannot live without them. “Whither shall we go?” says Peter to Christ; “thou hast the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). I find my soul quickened by your speaking. So a soul that feels the quickening power of the ordinances will never be kept from the means of salvation, but droops and is never well until it has recovered itself again.

Again, another difference may be observed. When carnal men feel God’s anger, they do not seek God’s favor, but think worse and worse still, and so run from God until they are in hell. But when those who are God’s children fail and feel God’s displeasure, they are sensitive to it and do not give up seeking God. They do not run further and further from him. The church here, though she did not find Christ present with her, still seeks him and never gives up. From this again we may observe:

Observation 3. Although the church is said to fail and not to find Christ, yet he is present with her then. For who enabled her to seek him? To explain this, there is a double presence of Christ: one felt, the other not felt.

(1) The presence felt is when Christ is graciously present and is also pleased to let us know it, which is a heaven on earth. The soul is in paradise then, when she feels “the love of God shed abroad in the heart” (Rom 5:5), and the favorable countenance of God shining on her. Then she despises the world, the devil, and everything, and walks as if she were already half in heaven. For she finds a presence, and a manifestation of it, a more glorious state than the world can afford.

(2) But there is a presence of Christ that is secret: when he seems to draw us one way and drive us another, so that we are both driven and drawn at once; when he seems to put us away and yet, nevertheless, draws us. When we find our souls going to Christ, there is a drawing power and presence; but when we find him absent, here is a driving away. We see this here in the church, and in the “woman of Canaan” (Matt 15:21 and following). We see what an answer she had from Christ: at first none, then an uncomfortable one, and lastly a most unkind one: We must not give the children’s bread to dogs (Matt 15:26). Christ seemed to drive her away, but at the same time he drew her to himself by his Spirit, and in that way was secretly present in her heart to increase her faith. When Christ wrestled with Jacob, though he contended with him, at the same time he gave Jacob power to overcome him, to be Israel, a prevailer over him (Gen 32:28). So at the same time that the church seems to fail and faint, there is nevertheless a secret, drawing power pulling her to Christ, so that she never gives up but still seeks and calls after him.

It is good to observe this way Christ deals with us, because it will keep us from being discouraged when we find him absent. If there is still any grace left moving us toward what is good, if we find the Spirit of God moving us to love the word and ordinances, to call on him in prayer, and to be more earnest, we may certainly gather that there is a hidden, secret presence here drawing us to these things. More than that, the purpose of this seeming forsaking and distance is to draw us nearer and nearer, and at length to draw us into heaven to himself. God’s people are gainers by all their losses, stronger by all their weaknesses, and the better for all their crosses, whatever they are. And you will find that the Spirit of God is more forcible in them after a time of distance, stirring them up to go after Christ more eagerly than before, as the church does here. For her eagerness, constancy, and earnestness grow as Christ’s withdrawing of himself grows.

Application 1. Let us therefore learn from this how to judge ourselves: if we are in a dead, lifeless state, both in regard to comfort and in regard to holy duties, are we content to be so? If we are not content, but press toward Christ more and more, it is a good sign that he has not forsaken us and that he will come again more gloriously than ever before, as we will see afterward it was with the church here. He seems distant, but it is to draw the church to show her affection, to make her ashamed of her former unkindness, and to make her sit more securely and hold on more firmly than she did before. Everything ends in a most sweet communion.

Application 2. We should labor, therefore, to answer Christ’s dealings with suitable apprehensions of soul when he is present secretly in this way, though he seems to withdraw himself in regard to some comforts and our former experience of his love. It should teach us to depend on him and to believe, though we feel no comfort, yes, even against comfort, when we feel signs of displeasure. If he can love and support me, strengthen my soul, and show it a presence of what is fit for me, then certainly I should answer this way by my faith: I will depend on him, though he kill me, as Job did (Job 13:15). Our souls should never give up seeking Christ, praying and striving, for there is true love where he seems to forsake and leave. Therefore in these desertions I ought to cleave to him in life and in death.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer (Song 5:6-7).

The pride and complacency of the spouse often provoke the Lord, her husband, to bring her very low, since they cannot stand with Christ’s dwelling in her. Pride is an affection contrary to his prerogative, for it sets up something in the soul higher than God, the Highest.

Complacency is a dull temper, or rather a distemper, that makes the soul neglect her watch and rely on some outward privilege. Where this evil pair is entertained, Christ commonly withdraws himself, even to the failing and fainting of the soul.

The spouse is here in her fainting fit, yet she seeks after Christ. She still does not give up. So it was with Jonah: “I am cast out of thy presence,” he says, “yet notwithstanding I will look toward thy holy temple” (Jonah 2:4). And with David: “I said in my haste, I am cast out of thy sight; yet notwithstanding thou heardest the voice of my prayer” (Ps 31:22). He said it, but he said it in his haste. God’s children are taken by surprise and suddenly think they are cast away; but it is in haste, and as soon as they can, they recover themselves. “I said it is my infirmity,” said David (Ps 77:10). It is only in a passion.

Here, then, is the difference between the children of God and others in desertions: they rise again, while the others lie still and despair. There is life in the substance of the oak (Isa 6:13), which makes it lift up its head above ground even though it is cut down to the stump. Indeed, we see further here that the church is not put off by any discouragements; rather, her faith grows stronger, as the faith of the woman of Canaan did (Matt 15:21 and following).

The reason for this is as follows.

1. Faith looks to the promise and to the nature of God, not to his present dealings.

2. And then, by a secret work of his Spirit, God draws his children nearer and nearer to himself by such dealings, even though he seems to be an enemy. All this strangeness is only to mortify some former lust, or to consume some former dregs of complacency.

“I sought him, but I could not find him.” Here is one of the greatest discouragements of all: when prayer, which is left to the church as a salve for all sores, has no answer. This is the church’s complaint, but in truth it is her error; for Christ did hear the church, though he seemed to turn his back.

But how shall we know that God hears our prayers?

First, among many other things, this is one: when he gives us inward peace, then he hears our prayers, for that is how the two are connected (Phil 4:6-7).

Or secondly, if we find a spirit to pray still, a spirit to wait and to hold out, it is evidence that God either has heard or will hear those prayers.

And as this is evidence that God hears our prayers, so it is also evidence of the presence of Christ. For how could we pray except from his inward presence? Christ was now present, and more present with the church when he seemed not to be found by her than he was when she was complacent. For where else does this eagerness of desire come from, this spirit of prayer, this earnestness of seeking? “I called, but he gave no answer.”

Directions for how to carry ourselves in such a state. How shall we carry ourselves when it happens that our hearts fail of what we seek, when we pray without success and find no present answer, or are in any similar state of desertion?

1. We must believe against belief, as it were, hope against hope, and trust in God (Rom 4:18), however he shows himself to us as an opponent. It does not matter what his present dealing with his church and children here may be. The nature of faith is to break through all opposition, to see the sun behind a cloud, and more than that, to see one contrary in another: life in death, a calm in a storm, and so on (2 Cor 6:8-9 and following).

2. Labor for an absolute dependence on Christ, with poverty of spirit in ourselves. This is the purpose of Christ’s withdrawing himself: to purge us of self-confidence and pride.

3. Stir up your graces. For as nature, joining with medicine, helps it to work and carry away the malignant humors, so by the remainder of the Spirit that is in us, let us set all our graces to work until we have carried away whatever offends and clogs the soul, and let us not sink under the burden. For this is a special time for exercising faith, hope, love, diligence, care, watchfulness, and similar graces.

And let us know, for our comfort, that even this condition of conflict is a good state. In a sick body it is a sign of life and approaching health when the humors are stirred, so that a man complains that the medicine is working. So when we take our present condition to heart, though we fail and do not find what we would, yet this will work at length to subdue corruption. It is a sign of future victory when we are discontented with our present evil state. Grace will get the upper hand, as nature does when the humors are disturbed.

4. Again, when we are in such a seemingly forlorn state, let us have recourse to former experience. Why is it that God, for the most part, grants his children at the beginning of their conversion, in their first love, an experience of his love to the point of rapture? It is so that afterward they may have recourse to that love of God they felt then, to support themselves and also to stir up endeavor and hope. Finding that things are not so well with them now as they have been formerly, and comparing one state with the other, their desires may be stirred up to be as they were, or rather better (Hos 2:7).

And as the remembrance of former experiences serves to stir up endeavor, so it serves to stir up hope. I hope it will be as it was, because God is unchangeable. I change, but Christ does not alter. The lower, elemental world changes. Here there is fair weather and foul, but the sun keeps its perpetual course. And as on the gloomiest day there ever was, there was light enough to make it day and to distinguish it from night, though the sun did not shine, so in the most disconsolate state of a Christian soul there is light enough in the soul to show that the Sun of righteousness is there, that Christ has shone upon the soul, and that it is day with the soul and not night (Ps 112:4).

5. And when we are in this condition, learn to wait for God’s leisure, for he has waited for ours. It is for our good that the Lord absents himself: to prepare us for further blessings, to mortify and subdue our corruptions, and to enlarge the capacity of the soul. Therefore Bernard says well, “Christ comes and goes away for our good.” When he withdraws the sense of his love, the soul is stretched with desire as a result, longing to be as it was in former times, in the days of old. So much for that.

“I sought, but could not find him: I called, but he gave me no answer.”

Objection. Here we must answer one objection before we leave these words. This seems to contradict other Scriptures, which promise that those who seek shall find (Matt 7:7).

Answer. It is true that those who seek shall find, but not immediately. God’s times are the best and fittest. Those who seek shall find if they seek constantly, with their whole heart, in all the means. Some do not find because they seek in one means and not in another. They seek Christ in reading, but not in the ordinance of hearing; in private meditation, but not in the communion of saints. We must go through all the means to seek Christ; not one must be left out. If we seek him in this way, he will undoubtedly make good his promise.

Indeed, in some sense he is found before he is sought, for he is in our souls to stir up the desire of seeking him. He goes before us with desires, and in some sense answers us before we pray (Isa 65:24). When he gives us a spirit of prayer, it is a pledge to us that he means to answer us.

Therefore it is a spiritual deception when we think Christ is not in us, and that we are neglected by him, because we do not have all that we would like. Among the many other deceptions with which Christians deceive themselves in this matter, here are two.

1. They judge grace by its quantity and not by its value and price. Yet the least measure of grace and comfort is to be prized, because it is an immortal seed cast into the soul by an immortal God, the Father of eternity (Isa 9:6).

2. Another deception is that we judge ourselves by sense and feeling, and not by faith.

“The watchmen that went about the city found me, and smote me, and took away my veil from me.” Here the poor church, after setting down her own exercise in her desertion, now sets out some outward ill treatment she met with, and that from those who should have been her greatest comforters. “The watchmen that went about the city found me, they wounded me: the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.”

Thus we see how trouble follows trouble. “One depth calls upon another” (Ps 42:7). Inward desertion and outward affliction often go together. The troubles of the church are often like Job’s messengers: they come fast one upon another, because God means to perfect the work of grace in their hearts. All this is for their good. The sharper the winter, the better the spring.

Learn from this, therefore, first of all and in general, that it is no easy thing to be a sound Christian. We see here that after the church had betrothed herself to Christ and welcomed him into her garden, she then falls into a state of complacency and sleep, from which Christ labors to rouse her. Then she treats him unkindly. After that he withdraws himself, so far that her heart fails her. Then, as if this were not enough, the watchmen who should have looked after her smite her, wound her, and take away her veil. See here the variety of the church’s treatment and the changes of a Christian. He is not long in one state; he is ebbing and flowing.

Therefore let no one take a dislike to the way of godliness because it is a state subject to change and variety, whereas carnal men are settled on their lees and find no changes.

Objection. But you will say, “Not all Christians are tossed up and down like this, so deserted by God and persecuted by others.”

Answer. I answer, indeed there is a difference. Where does this difference come from? From God’s liberty. It is a mystery of the sanctuary, which no one in the world can give a reason for: why, of Christians equally beloved by God, some should have a fairer passage to heaven, and others a rougher and more rugged one. It is a mystery hidden in God’s breast. It is enough for us if God will bring us to heaven by any way, as the blessed apostle says: “if by any means I might attain to the resurrection of the dead” (Phil 3:11). Through thick or thin, if God will bring me to heaven, it does not matter. “If I by any means.”

“The watchmen that went about the city smote me.” By the watchmen here are meant especially the governors of state and church.

Why are they called watchmen?

It is a borrowed expression, taken from the custom of cities under siege. As a matter of sound policy they have watchmen to spot the danger they are exposed to. So magistrates are watchmen of the state. Ministers are the watchmen for souls, watching over our souls for good (Heb 13:17).

Question. Why does God use watchmen?

Answer 1. Not for any lack of power in him, but to demonstrate his goodness. For he is the great watchman, who watches over our commonwealths, churches, and persons. He has an eye that never sleeps. “He that watcheth Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps” (Ps 121:4). Yet he has subordinate watchmen, not for lack of power, but to demonstrate his goodness. He shows his goodness in being willing to use a variety of subordinate watchers.

He does it also to show his power in using many instruments, and his care for us when he keeps us together by his own subordinate means.

And the fact that God has set watchers over us, ministers especially, implies that our souls are in danger. And indeed there is nothing in the world so beset as the soul of a poor Christian. Who has so many and such bad enemies as a Christian? And among them all, the worst and greatest enemy he has is nearest to him and keeps company with him daily: himself. Therefore there must be watchmen to uncover the deceits of Satan and his instruments, and of our own hearts; to uncover the dangers of Jerusalem, and the errors and sins of the times in which we live. The church is in danger, for God has set watchmen; and God and nature do nothing in vain or needlessly.

Again, the fact that God takes such care for the soul shows its wondrous worth. There are many arguments to show that the soul is a precious thing. It was breathed by God at the first. Christ gave his life to redeem it. But this is a special one: that God has ordained and established a ministry and watchmen over it.

And as God has set some watchmen over others, so he has appointed every man to be a watchman over himself. He has given every man a city to watch over, that is, his own estate and soul. Therefore let us not depend altogether on the watching of others. God has planted a conscience in every one of us; and as he uses others for our good, so he uses our own care, wisdom, and foresight, which he raises up and sanctifies.

“The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me.”

We come now to the conduct of these watchmen. Those who should have been defensive prove most offensive.

They smote the church and wounded her in many ways, though the particulars are not set out here: (1) with their evil and scandalous lives; (2) sometimes with corrupt doctrine, and at other times with bitter words; and (3) with their unjust censures, as we see in the history of the church, especially the Church of Rome. They have excommunicated churches and princes. But not to speak of those synagogues of Satan, if we come nearer home we may sometimes see among ourselves that those who are watchmen, and should be for encouragement, smite and wound the church and take away her veil (3 John 10).

What is it to take away the veil?

You know that in the times of the Old Testament a veil was what covered women for modesty, to show their subjection; and it was also an honorable ornament. “They took away the veil”: that is, what the church was covered with. They took away what made the church comely, and laid her open and, as it were, naked.

Now the church’s veil is taken away in both these ways by false and wicked watchmen.

1. As the veil is a token of subjection, they take it away when by their false doctrines they labor to draw people from Christ and from their subjection to him. The church is Christ’s spouse. The veil was a token of subjection. Now those who draw the people to themselves, as in the popish churches, who desire to sit high in the consciences of the people and so make the church undutiful, take away the veil of subjection, and so force Christ to punish the church, as we see in former ages.

2. As the veil is for honor and comeliness, so they take away the veil of the church when they take away the credit and esteem of the church, when they lay open the church’s infirmities and weaknesses. It is strange that the watchmen should do this. Yet it often happens that those who are watchmen by their place are the bitterest enemies of the church. Who were bitterer enemies of the poor church in Christ’s time than the scribes, Pharisees, and priests? And so it was in the time of the prophets. Who were the greatest enemies the church had, but false priests and prophets?

Question. What is the ground of this, that those men who by their standing should be encouragers are rather dampers of the church’s zeal in its pursuit?

Answer. There are many grounds for it.

Sometimes it comes from a spirit of envy in them at the graces of God’s people, which are lacking in themselves. They would not have others better than themselves.

Sometimes it comes from idleness, which makes them hate all who provoke them to take pains. They raise up the dignity of outward things too much, as we see in popery. They make everything confer grace, as if it had a special virtue in it. But they neglect that to which God has joined an efficacy: his own ordinances.

Application 1. This should teach us to be in love with Christ’s government, and to see the vanity of all things here below, however excellent they may be in their ordinance. Such is the poison of man’s heart, and the malice of Satan, that they turn the edge of the best things against the good of the church.

What is more excellent than magistracy? Yet many times the point of the sword is directed the wrong way. “I have said ye are gods” (Ps 82:6). Magistrates should govern as God himself would govern, and ask themselves, “Would God, if he were now a watchman of the state, do such and such?” But I wish woeful experience did not testify to the contrary.

So ministers are Christ’s ambassadors (2 Cor 5:20), and should conduct themselves just as Christ would. They should strengthen the feeble knees and bind up the brokenhearted, not discourage them; and they should not sew pillows under the arms of wicked and carnal men (Ezek 13:18). But, alas, we see that the edge of the ordinance is often turned another way by the corrupt, proud, unbroken hearts of men and by the malice of Satan.

Application 2. Again, it should teach us not to think the worse of anyone for the disgraces of the times. The watchmen here take away the church’s veil, and her zeal is disgraced by them. Take heed, therefore, that we do not entertain rash opinions of others on the basis of the treatment they meet with abroad in the world, or among those who have a standing in the church; for in that way we would condemn Christ himself. How was he judged by the priests, scribes, and Pharisees in his time? And this has been the lot of the church in all ages. Its true members were called heretics and schismatics. The veil was taken off.

It is the poisonous pride of man’s heart that, when it cannot raise itself by its own worth, will try to raise itself by ruining others’ credit through lying slanders. The devil was first a slanderer and liar, and then a murderer (John 8:44). He cannot murder unless he slanders first. The credit of the church must first be taken away, and then she is wounded. Or, as the common proverb has it, those who kill a dog make the world believe that he was mad first; so they have always first slandered the church to the world, and then persecuted her.

Truth always has a scratched face. Falsehood often goes about in better clothes than its own, which God permits in order to exercise our skill and wisdom, so that we might not depend on the rash judgment of others, but might consider what grounds they have. We should weigh not what men do, or whom they oppose, but from what cause they do it: whether from a spirit of envy, idleness, jealousy, and pride, or from good grounds. Otherwise, if Christ himself were on earth again, we would condemn him, as men now condemn the generation of the just, whom they smite and wound, and whose veil they take away from them.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me: the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me (Song 5:7).

The watchmen, those who by their place and standing ought to be watchmen indeed, struck the church. Bernard complained of this almost five hundred years ago. “Alas, alas!” he says, “those who seek privileges in the church are the first to persecute it.” And, as his manner is, speaking with a kind of rhetorical play, “They were not pastors, but impostors.” There are two ordinances without which the world cannot stand:

1. Magistracy.

2. Ministry.

Magistrates are nursing fathers and nursing mothers to the church. Ministers are watchmen by their place and standing.

Now, for shepherds to become wolves, for watchmen to become smiters, what a pitiful thing that is! Yet so it is. The church has always been persecuted by such men under pretense of religion, and that is the sharpest persecution of all in the church. It is a grievous thing to suffer at the hands of an enemy, but worse at the hands of a fellow countryman, worse than that at the hands of a friend, and worst of all at the hands of the church. Nevertheless, by the way, we must understand that the persecuted cause is not always the best, as Augustine was forced to argue in his time against the Donatists. Sarah was a type of the true church, and Hagar of the false. Now Sarah corrected Hagar. It does not follow, therefore, that the suffering cause is always the better one. So in passages of this kind we must judge things by the cause, and not by the outward course of things.

“They took away my veil.”

Question. What should we do in such cases, if we suffer any indignity, if our veil is taken off? That is, if our shame, infirmities, and weaknesses are laid open by false accusations.

Answer. In this case we must labor for the innocence of the dove, and along with it the wisdom of the serpent (Matt 10:16). If innocence will not serve, labor for wisdom, as indeed innocence will not serve alone. For then the wicked would labor with cunning to disgrace righteous people.

Objection. But what if that will not serve either? Christ was wisdom itself, yet he suffered most.

Answer. When innocence and wisdom will not do it (because we must be conformed to our Head), then we must labor for patience, knowing that not one hair of our heads shall fall to the ground without the providence of the Almighty. Let us commend our case, as Christ did, by faith and prayer to God who judges.

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you see my beloved, that you tell him that I am sick of love” (Song 5:8). Here the church, after her ill treatment by the watchmen, is driven to the company of other Christians who are not so well acquainted with Christ as she is. “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved… tell him…” What should they tell him? “Tell him I am sick of love.”

The church is restless in her desire and pursuit of Christ until she finds him. No opposition, you see, can take her off her endeavor.

1. Christ seems to leave her inwardly.

2. Then she goes to the watchmen. They smite and wound her.

3. Then she turns to the daughters of Jerusalem for help.

Generally, before we come to the particulars, we may observe this from the connection: love is a fire kindled from heaven. Nothing in the world will quench this grace (Song 8:7), no opposition at all. No, opposition rather sharpens and kindles endeavor.

The church was not at all discouraged by the ill treatment of the watchmen. She only complains; she is not insensible. A Christian may, without sin, feel indignities. Only it must be the mourning of doves (Isa 38:14), and not the roaring of bears. It must not be murmuring and impatience, but a humble complaint to God, that he may take our case to heart, as the church does here. But sensitive as she was, she was not a bit discouraged, but still seeks after Christ in other means. If she does not find him in one, she will try another. Here we see the nature of love. If it is in any measure perfect, it casts out all fear of discouragements.

And indeed, it is the nature of true grace to grow up with difficulties. As the ark rose higher with the waters, so the soul grows higher and higher; it mounts up as discouragements and oppositions grow. More than that, the soul takes vigor and strength from discouragements, as the wind increases the flame. So with the grace of God: the more the winds and waves of affliction oppose it, with so much the more violence it breaks through all oppositions, until it attains the hope it desires.

To apply it: those who are soon discouraged, who pull in their horns at once, show that they are very cold and have but little grace. For where there is any strength of holy affection, people will not be discouraged, nor will their zeal be quenched and damped. So those who are soon discouraged make religion subordinate to their own ends, as temporary believers do. Wherever there is any love to Christ, the love of Christ is of a violent nature. It rules in the heart, as the apostle says: “The love of Christ constraineth us” (2 Cor 5:14).

If we find this unconquerable resolution in ourselves to go on in a good cause, notwithstanding all discouragements, let us acknowledge that fire to be from heaven. Let us not lose so great an evidence of the state of grace as the suffering of afflictions with joy. The more we suffer, the more we should rejoice, if the cause is good, as the apostles rejoiced that they were accounted worthy to suffer anything (Acts 5:41).

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that ye tell him I am sick of love.” She goes to the “daughters of Jerusalem” for help. From this we may learn that if we do not find comfort in one means, we must turn to another. If we do not find Christ present in one, let us seek him in another; and perhaps we shall find him where we least expected him. Sometimes there is more comfort in the company of poor Christians than in that of the watchmen themselves.

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem…” Here we have:

1. A charge given: “I charge.”

2. The parties charged: “the daughters of Jerusalem.”

3. The particular thing they are charged with, that is, if they find Christ, to tell him she is sick of love.

The parties charged are “the daughters of Jerusalem,” the daughters of the church, which is called Jerusalem because of certain resemblances between Jerusalem and the church. A few of these shall be touched on, to shed light on the point.

1. Jerusalem was a city compact in itself, as the psalmist says (Ps 122:3); so is the church, the body of Christ.

2. Jerusalem was chosen out of all the places of the world to be the seat of God; so the church is the seat of Christ. He dwells there, in the hearts of his children.

3. It is said of Jerusalem that people went up to Jerusalem, and down to Egypt and other places. So the church is from above (Gal 4:26). The way of wisdom is on high (Prov 15:24). Religion is upward. Grace, glory, and comfort come from above, and they draw our minds up to have our way of life and our desires above.

4. Jerusalem was “the joy of the whole earth” (Ps 48:2); so is the church of God. What would the world be without it but a company of incarnate devils?

5. In Jerusalem, records were kept of the names of all its citizens; so all the true citizens of the church have their names written in the book of life in heaven (Heb 12:23).

The daughters of Jerusalem, therefore, are the true members of the church, who are both bred and fed in the church (1 Pet 1:23; 1 Pet 2:2). Let us put ourselves to the test, whether we are daughters of Jerusalem or not. We may make this trial of ourselves in these ways:

1. If we find freedom in our conscience from terrors and fears. If we find spiritual liberty and freedom to serve God, it is a sign that we are daughters of Jerusalem, because Jerusalem was free (Gal 4:26).

2. Or if we mind things above, and the things of the church. If we take the cause of the truth to heart, it is a sign that we are true “daughters of Jerusalem.” We know what the psalmist says: “Let my right hand forget her cunning if I forget thee, O Jerusalem, if I do not prefer Jerusalem before my chief joy” (Ps 137:5-6). If the cause of the church goes to our hearts, if we can rejoice in the church’s joy and mourn in the church’s abasement and suffering, it is a sign that we are true daughters of Jerusalem and living members of the body of Christ. On the other hand, when we hear that the church is going down and that the opposing side prevails, and we rejoice, it is a sign that we are daughters of Babylon and not of Jerusalem. Therefore let us ask our affections what we are, as Augustine writes excellently in his book The City of God: “Ask your heart of what city you are.”

But what does the church say to the daughters of Jerusalem? In the first place, “I charge you.” It is a kind of exclamation, which may be filled out like this: “I charge you, as you love me, your sister, as you love Christ, as you tenderly regard my case, who am treated like this, as you would prove that you are daughters of Jerusalem and not of Babylon, tell my beloved that I am sick of love.” It is a strong charge, an elliptical speech, which gives us this observation: true affections are serious in the things of God and of religion.

She lays a weight upon them: “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem.” True impressions have strong expressions. Therefore, if we are cold in matters of religion in our conversation, it is because we lack these inward impressions. The church here was full; she could not contain herself, because of the largeness of her affections. “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem…” We may find out the truth of grace in the heart by the way it reveals and expresses itself in our conduct in general.

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that ye tell him I am sick of love.” Here the church speaks to others humbler than herself. She would have the church tell Christ, by prayer, the surest messenger, how she was treated, how she languished and was sick for him, and cannot be without him.

Question. Why did the church not tell Christ herself?

Answer. She did, as well as she could; but she desired the help of the church in this way also. Sometimes it is so with the children of God that they cannot pray as well as they should and as they would, because the waters of the soul are so troubled that they can do nothing but utter groans and sighs, especially in a state of desertion. So Hezekiah could only chatter (Isa 38:14), and Moses could not utter a word at the Red Sea, though he strove in his spirit (Exod 14:15). In such cases they must be indebted to the help of others.

Sometimes a person is sick in body, as James says: If any man be sick, let him send for the elders, and let them pray (Jas 5:14). There may be such distemper of body and soul that we are unfit to lay open our condition to our own satisfaction. It is often so with the best of God’s children. Not that God does not regard those broken sighs and desires, but they do not satisfy the soul. The poor paralyzed man in the gospel, not able to come by himself, was carried on the shoulders of others and lowered through the house to Christ (Mark 2:3-4). Often we may be in such a paralyzed state that we cannot bring ourselves to Christ, but must be content to be carried to him by others.

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye tell my beloved I am sick of love.” The point I want you to observe from this is that at such times as we do not find our spirits enlarged to comfort and joy, from any cause, outward or inward, then is the time to desire the prayers and help of others.

It is good to have stock at work everywhere. Those thrive best who have the most prayers made for them, who have stock going in every country. This is the happiness of the saints. To press home this instruction to desire the prayers of others, we must show that there is a wonderful force in the prayers of Christians for one another. It is more than a compliment. Would that it were so!

See how the great apostle Paul urges the Romans to strive and contend with God with a holy violence by their joint prayers for him (Rom 15:30). So too he asks the Thessalonians to pray for him, that he might be delivered from unreasonable men (2 Thess 3:2). It is usual with him to say, “Pray, pray.” And pray for us too, for such people are in favor in the court of heaven. Despise no one in this case. The prayers of a true, downright, experienced Christian are highly esteemed by God. Our blessed Savior himself, when he was going into the garden, though his poor disciples were sleepy and very unresponsive, still wanted their company and prayers (Matt 26:38).

“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that ye tell him I am sick of love.” To speak a little about the matter of the charge, “I am sick of love”: I love him, because I have found comfort, strength, and sweetness from him before, so that I cannot be without him. To be lovesick, then, as the church is here, is to have strong affections toward Christ, from which comes a wonderful disquiet of spirit in his absence. Here there is something good and something ill. First, this is her virtue, that she loved fervently. This was her infirmity, that she was so much disturbed by her present lack. These two together breed this sickness of love. From this we observe that where the thing loved is not present in a way that answers to the desires of the soul that loves it, there follows disquiet and distemper of the affections. That is what is here termed sickness of love.

The reason for this is that natural contentment lies in union with the thing loved. The more excellent the thing loved, the more contentment there is in communion with it; and where that communion is hindered in any degree or measure, there is disquiet. The grief, sorrow, and sickness in parting answer to the contentment in enjoying. Since the happiness of the church consists in fellowship with Christ, it is therefore her misery and sickness to be deprived of him, not to enjoy him whom her soul so dearly loves. There are few in the world sick of this disease. I wish there were more sick with the love of Christ. There are many who are surfeited with fullness instead, who think we have too much of this manna, of this preaching, of this gospel. They think there is too much of this knowledge of the ordinances. These are not sick of love.

Application. Let us make a use of trial from this, then: whether we are in the state of the church or not, by our valuing and prizing the presence of Christ in his ordinances, the word and sacraments.

There are many foolish sicknesses in the world. There is Amnon’s sickness, who was sick of love for his sister Tamar (2 Sam 13:2); his face betrayed it. And Ahab is sick with desire for his neighbor’s vineyard (1 Kgs 21:1 and following). You have many strange sicknesses: many sick with fires kindled from the flesh, from hell, but few sick of this sickness spoken of here.

1. If we find ourselves carried toward Christ, running in that stream as strongly as the affections of those who are distempered with the sickness of love for other things, it will show us whether we are truly lovesick or not.

2. Take a person who is sick for any earthly thing, whether with Ahab’s or Amnon’s sickness or with anything else, take it as you will: what the soul is sick of in love, it thinks of daily. It dreams of it in the night. What, then, do our souls think of? What do our meditations run after? When we are in our most considered and best thoughts, what do we think of most? If of Christ, of the state of the church here, of grace and glory, all is well. What makes us, in the midst of all worldly discontents, count all things dung and dross in comparison with Christ, but this sickness of love for Christ?

If our love is in such a degree that it makes us sick, it makes us not hear what we hear, not see what we see, not regard what is present. The soul is in a kind of ecstasy; it is carried so strongly and taken up with the things of heaven. It is deadened to other things, when our eyes are no more led by vanity than if we had none, and the flesh is as mortified as if we were dead men, because of the strength of our affections, which run another way, toward better things which are above.

3. Thus we see it is in love. Talk with someone who is in any heat of affection, and you talk with one who is not at home; you talk with one absent. The soul is more where it loves than where it dwells. Surely where love is in any strength, it draws up the soul, so that a man often pays no heed to his calling and ordinary employments, but passes through the world like a man wandering at random. He does not regard the things of the world, for Christ has gotten into his heart and draws all the affections to himself. Where the affection of love is strong, it does not care what it suffers for the one loved; no, it glories in it. So it is said of the disciples that when they were whipped and scourged for preaching the gospel, it was a matter of glory to them (Acts 5:41). It is not labor, but favor. Where there is love to the one loved, what is suffered is taken not as labor and vexation, but as favor. Where the love of Christ is, as it was here in the church, labor is no labor, suffering is no suffering, trouble is no trouble.

4. Again, it is the property of one who is sick of this disease to take little contentment in other things. Tell a covetous worldling who is in love with the world about learning, and what does he care for learning? Tell him of a good bargain, of a matter of gain, and he will listen to that. So it is with the soul that has felt the love of Christ shed abroad in his heart. Tell him of the world, especially if he lacks what he desires, the peace and strength that he found from Christ in former times, and he has no relish for your talk.

Let us labor, therefore, every day more and more to have larger and larger affections toward Christ. The soul that loves Christ is the more joyful the nearer it is to Christ, when he thinks of those mutual embraces when Christ and his soul shall meet together there. This happiness is there, where the soul enjoys the thing loved; but that is not here, but in heaven. Therefore, in the meantime, he frequents with joy and thankfulness the places where Christ is present in the word and sacrament. And so that we may come to have this affection, let us see what our souls are without him: mere dungeons of darkness and confusion, with nothing good coming from us. This will breed love for the ordinances, and then we shall relish Christ both in the word and in the sacrament. For he is food for the hungry soul, and requires nothing of us but good appetites; and this will make us desire his love and presence.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him I am sick of love. What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? (Song 5:8-9).

The soul is of an immortal substance, and so, when it is in its right and true temper, it aspires toward immortality, unless it is clouded and overpressed with “that which presseth downwards, and the sin which hangeth so fast on,” as the apostle speaks (Heb 12:1). This is the reason for those many and varied tossings and turmoils of the enlightened soul: now up, now down; now running at full speed homeward, and now again sluggish, idle and lazy, until it is roused by extraordinary means and presses on again. As fire mounts upward to its proper place, and as the needle keeps trembling until it stands at the north, so the soul, once inflamed with a heavenly fire and acquainted with its first origin, cannot be at rest until it finds itself in that comfortable way which certainly leads homeward.

We have an instance of this in the church here. She had lost her sweet communion with Christ, and so had paid dearly for her former neglect and for slighting his kind invitations. She was troubled and restless in mind, beaten and wounded by the watchmen, bereft of her veil. Yet this heavenly fire of the blessed Spirit, this water of life (John 4:10) springing up so restlessly in her, makes her lovesickness and ardent desire after Christ so strong that she cannot contain herself, but breaks out in this passionate charge and request: “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him I am sick of love.”

Here we may see that the way to heaven is full of changes. The strength of corruption often clouds over and dampens our joys. How many different tempers the church has been in! Sometimes she is made up entirely of joy, vehemently desiring the kisses of her best beloved. She holds her beloved fast and will not let him go. At other times she is gone: she has lost her beloved, is in a sea of troubles, seeks him and cannot find him, and becomes sluggish, negligent and overtaken with self-love. After that, when she has smarted for her omissions, as here, she is all on fire after Christ again. As we say, no ground will hold her; away she flies after him, and is restless until she finds him.

By the way, we see here that permanence and stability belong to the life to come; our portion here is to expect changes, storms and tempests. So these things must not seem strange to particular persons, since this is the portion of the whole church. She must enter into glory in this way, by sufferings and by conformity to the Head (2 Cor 4:17-18), while God makes his power perfect in our weakness (2 Cor 12:9), overcomes Satan by unlikely means, and so gets glory for himself even out of our greatest infirmities, temptations and abasements.

God makes all things work for good to his children (Rom 8:28), even the devil, sin and death, desertions, afflictions and all. Yet we must be warned by this not to tempt God by neglecting the means appointed for our comfortable passage. We must open to Christ when he knocks, embrace him joyfully in his ordinances, and let our hearts fly open to him. For though our wounds are cured through his mercy, who would choose to be wounded in order to try such dangerous experiments as befell the church here in her desertions, because of her sluggish negligence, deadness and self-love?

So we see that nothing is gained by indulging ourselves in carnal liberty and complacency, or by yielding to the flesh. The church stood on terms with Christ when he would have come in to her, but what followed? She fell into a grievous desertion, and not only that, but she met with very hard treatment abroad. She might have prevented all of this by watchfulness, carefulness and opening to Christ when he knocked. It is a spiritual error, to which we are all prone, to think that much is gained by indulging ourselves; but we shall find it otherwise.

See here, again, that God will bear with nothing, even in his own. He will sharply punish them even for omissions, and not only with desertion; sometimes they will also meet with opposition in the world. David cannot escape with one proud thought in numbering the people, but he must smart for it, and his people too (2 Sam 24:1). God is wonderfully careful to correct his children, while he lets strangers alone (Amos 3:2). It is a sign of love when he goes to this trouble with us. And it should bind us to be careful of our behavior and not to presume on God’s indulgence. For the nearer we are to him, the more careful he is over us: “He will be sanctified in all that come near him” (Lev 10:3). We see that because the Corinthians came irreverently to the Lord’s table, though they were otherwise holy men, some of them are sick, some weak, others sleep, that they might not be condemned with the world (1 Cor 11:30, 32).

Let no one think, therefore, that the profession of religion brings any exemption. It is rather a stricter bond, for “judgment begins at the house of God” (1 Pet 4:17). Whatever God tolerates abroad, he will not tolerate disorders in his own house. As the prophet says, “You only have I known of all the families of the earth,” therefore you shall not go unpunished (Amos 3:2). The church is near him; she is his spouse whom he loves, and therefore he will correct her and will not endure any abatement or decay of her first love. For this very reason he threatens the church of Ephesus to remove her candlestick (Rev 2:5).

To proceed. The poor church here is not discouraged, but opens and empties herself to the daughters of Jerusalem. It is the nature of ordinary kitchen fire not only to mount upward, but also to reveal itself by light and heat. So it is with this heavenly fire. Once it is kindled from above, it not only aspires upward in its motion, but also shows itself by affecting others with its qualities. Here in the church it could not contain itself; she must go to the daughters of Jerusalem: “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love.” Those who do not express this fire in earnest, therefore, may well doubt whether it is kindled in them at all, for of all the affections, love will not be concealed. David wonders at his own love: “Oh, how I love thy law! Oh, how amiable are thy tabernacles!” (Ps 119:97; Ps 84:1).

Again, we see here that where the soul is sick of love, it does not stand on any terms, but humbles and abases itself. We say that affection and majesty do not go together. This is why Christ’s love to us moved him to abase himself by taking our nature, so that he might be one with us. Love did not stand on terms of greatness. We see the church going to those who were lesser proficients in religion than herself, to pour out her spirit to them, “to the daughters of Jerusalem.” She abases herself to any service (1 Thess 1:3). Love endures all things (1 Cor 13:7), anything, to attain the thing it loves. So we see that Shechem the son of Hamor would endure painful circumcision for the love he bore to Dinah (Gen 34:24). So too it is said that the apostles went away rejoicing after they were whipped, because they loved Christ (Acts 5:41). The spirit of love made them rejoice when they were most disgracefully treated.

Sometimes, where this affection of heavenly love prevails so far that a man is sick with it, its distempers overflow into the body and react upon it, as we see in David: that his moisture became as the drought of summer (Ps 32:4). This is because there is a marriage and a sympathy between the soul and the body, in which the excessive affections of the one overflow into and react upon the other.

“Tell him that I am sick of love.” Here is a sickness, but not unto death; it is unto life, a sickness that never ends except in comfort and satisfaction. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after Christ; they shall be satisfied (Matt 5:6), as we shall see more fully later.

Knowledge is not what names a person good or evil, for we may know ill and be good, and we may know good and be evil. It is the affection of the soul, which cleaves to the things it knows, that does so. The truth of our love is what marks a person’s state as good or ill. Love is the weight and the wing of the soul, which carries it wherever it goes. If it carries us to earth, we are base and earthly; if to heaven, we are heavenly. We should take special care how we fix this affection, for as it is, so is our condition. As Augustine says, “Ask your love what city you are of, whether of Jerusalem or Babylon.”

Now the daughters of Jerusalem reply to the church, wondering at her earnestness: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?” Instead of satisfying her, they reply by asking new questions: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved…” Here you have the question doubled, to show how serious it is.

Their answer has two parts.

1. A loving and sweet form of address: “O thou fairest among women.”

2. The doubled question: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” And again, “What is thy beloved… that thou dost so charge us?” It is as if they should say, “You lay a serious charge upon us; so there must surely be some great matter in your beloved, that you make such inquiry after him.” So the weaker Christians, stirred up by the example of the stronger, ask this question and become inquisitive in this way.

But let us speak of these in their order.

“O thou fairest among women.” Here is the form of address. The church is the fairest among women in the judgment of Christ. He calls her so: “O thou fairest among women” (Song 1:8). And here the fellow members of the church call her so too: fair, and the fairest, incomparably fair.

Question. But how does she come to be so fair?

Answer 1. It is because she is clothed with Christ’s robes. A woman is mentioned who is clothed with the sun (Rev 12:1). We were all ennobled with the image of God at the first, but after we had sinned we were bereft of that image. So now all our beauty must be clothing, which is not natural to man but artificial, fetched from other things. Our beauty now is borrowed; it is not native to us. The beauty of the church now comes from the Head of the church, Christ. She shines in the beams of her husband, not only in justification but in sanctification also.

2. The church is lovely and fair again, as from Christ’s imputed righteousness, so from his righteousness inherent in her, the graces she has from him. For of him we receive grace for grace. There is not a single grace that is not beautiful and fair, for what is grace but the beams of Christ, the Sun of righteousness? So all that comes from the first fair must be fair, and all that comes from the first beauty must be beautiful.

This beauty of grace, by which it makes the church so fair, springs from these grounds.

First, grace comes from a divine principle and origin. It is not basely bred, but comes from heaven. Therefore it raises the soul above nature, and makes those in whom it dwells surpass all other men as far as men surpass beasts.

Second, in regard of its continuance, it is everlasting, and it makes us continue forever. “All flesh is grass, and as the flower of grass,” says the prophet (Isa 40:6), and this is repeated in various places in the New Testament. All worldly excellence is like the flower of grass. “The grass withereth and the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord” (that is, the grace that is imprinted in the soul by the Spirit with the word) “abideth for ever” (1 Pet 1:24-25), and it makes us abide as well.

Application 1. From this fairness of the church, let us take occasion to contemplate the excellence of Christ, who puts this luster of beauty on the church. Moses married a woman who was not beautiful, but he could not alter the complexion and condition of his spouse. Christ can. He takes us wallowing in our blood, deformed and defiled. He is such a husband as can put his own disposition into his church and transform her into his own likeness. He is such a head as can give life to his members, such a root as instills life into all his branches, such a foundation as makes us living stones. There is a virtue and power in this husband above all others.

Objection. But she is black.

Answer. She is indeed, and she confesses herself to be so: “I am black, but comely” (Song 1:5).

(1) She is black in regard of the afflictions and persecutions from others that she meets with in this world.

(2) She is black, again, in regard of scandals. For the devil hates the church more than all other societies in the world, and therefore there are often more scandals in the society of the church than among other people. So the apostle tells the Corinthians that there was incest among them such as was not found even among the heathen (1 Cor 5:1).

(3) She is black through the envy of the world, which looks more at the church’s faults than at her virtues.

(4) The church is black and unlovely, differing in nothing from others, in regard of God’s outward dealings. “All falls alike to all” (Eccl 9:2). Her members are sick and deformed. Outwardly they have all things whatever in common with others.

(5) Lastly and principally, she is black in respect of her infirmities and weaknesses; she is subject to weakness and passions, as other men are. The beauty of the church is inward and altogether hidden from the carnal eye. The scribes and Pharisees saw no virtue in Christ himself. It is said that he came among his own, and his own could not discern of him: the darkness could not comprehend that light (John 1:5, 11). Now, as it was with Christ, so it is much more with the church. Let this, then, be the use of it.

Application 2. Set this state of the church against the false judgment of the world. The world sees nothing but black in the church, and nothing else that is good. Christ sees what is black too; but then his Spirit in his people, together with the sight of their blackness, sees their beauty as well: “I am black, but comely.” Do not be discouraged, therefore, at the censure of the world. Blind men cannot judge colors. It is said of Christ, “he had no form or beauty in him, when we shall see him” (Isa 53:2): that is, (1) not in outward glory, nor (2) in the view of the world. If we are thought to be black, then, we are thought of no differently than the church and Christ have been before us.

Application 3. Again, let us make this use of it against Satan in the time of temptation. Does Christ think us fair for the good we have, and not value us altogether by our ill? And shall we believe Satan, who joins with the distempers of melancholy or the weakness we are in (which he uses as a weapon against the soul) to make us think otherwise? Satan is not only a murderer, but a liar from the beginning (John 8:44). We must not believe one who is both an enemy and a liar. Rather, consider how Christ and the church judge, who have better discernment.

And let us beware that we are not Satans to ourselves. For even if there were no devil, in the time of temptation and desertion we are still subject to discouragement and to giving false witness against ourselves. We are apt to look on the dark side of the cloud. The cloud that went before the Israelites had a double aspect, one side dark and the other light (Exod 14:20). In temptation we look on the dark side of the soul, and we are clever at pleading against ourselves. Oh, but consider what Christ judges of us: “O! thou fairest among women.” And consider what those about us judge of us, those who are learned and can read our evidences better than we can ourselves. Let us trust the judgment of others in the time of temptation more than our own.

Application 4. Learn again here what to judge of the spirits of those men who are wholly given to disgracing and defacing the poor church. Their table talk is of the infirmities of Christians. They light on them as flies do on sore places, and will see nothing that is good in them. Oh, where is the Spirit of Christ, or of the church of Christ, in those who scratch at the face of the church like this? And yet their hearts often tell them that these poor despised ones will one day be better than themselves, for grace shall have the upper hand of all excellences.

The church is fair, and the fairest. Grace is a transcendent good, and all the excellence of civility and morality is nothing to it. This is what makes the church the fairest. She is not gilded, but pure gold; not painted, but of a true natural complexion. All other excellences are only gilded, painted excellences. The whore of Babylon is wonderfully fair! But in what does her beauty consist? In ornaments and ceremonies to deceive simple people who go no further than fancy. It is an excellence that never reaches the judgment. The excellence of the church is different. She is “the fairest among women.” She has a natural fairness. As gold is pure gold, so the church is of a pure composition, glorious within. It belongs to the false, whorish church to be glorious only outwardly; but the true church is glorious within.

But what we should especially observe is this: we should labor to answer this commendation, not only to be fair but the fairest; to be transcendently and singularly good; to do something more than others can, and to have something more in us than others have.

For this befits the state of a Christian. Is a Christian of an excellent rank above other men? Let him show it by a conduct that is more gracious, more fruitful and more plentiful in good works. Men strive after a kind of excellence in other things; much more should we desire to be excellent in what is good, so that we may not be fair only, but the fairest. The apostle Paul presses this excellently on Titus, his student, and on all of us in other places, that we should be “a peculiar people, zealous of good works” (Titus 2:14): not only doing them, but being zealous for them, and going before others in them, standing as standard-bearers.

[The received edition adds: “Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people.”]

Therefore those who think they may go too far in religion, that they may be too fruitful, are not worthy of the name of the spouse of Christ. For she is fair, yes, the fairest among women. “The righteous is more excellent than his neighbour” (Prov 12:26). Therefore we should excel in good works, as the apostle exhorts us to labor after things that are excellent (1 Cor 12:31; 2 Pet 1:8), as if he should say, “If anything is better than another, labor for that.” Some people are so far from this disposition that they cry down the excellences of others, for fear that the fairness of others might expose their own blackness.

So we leave the form of address and come to the question.

Question. “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” And they double it: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou so chargest us?”

Questions are of various kinds; we shall not dwell on them. This is not a question merely of ignorance, for they had some knowledge of Christ, though weak. Nor was it an idly curious or an entrapping question, like those the scribes and Pharisees put to Christ. To take Pilate’s as an example: “What is truth?” (John 18:38), when Christ had just told him the truth. “What is truth?” he says, in a scornful, profane manner; as indeed profane spirits cannot hear savory words without dismissing them with scorn: “What is truth?” The question here in the text is not of that kind. It is a question that tends toward further resolution and satisfaction: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?”

First of all, observe that these members of the church were stirred up by the example of other members of the church to be inquisitive after Christ, so that they might be satisfied. From this observe that there is a wonderful force in the examples of Christians to stir up one another. We see here that when the church was sick of love, the other part of the members began to think, “What is the reason the church is so earnest to seek after Christ? Surely there is some excellence in him.” For wise men do not use great efforts in little matters. Great things are carried on with great movings. We do not stage tragedies over trifles or make mountains out of molehills. The endeavors and conduct of great persons who are wise, judicious and holy correspond to the nature of the things they deal with. And indeed the church judges rightly in this.

See, then, the force of good example. Any man who has his wits about him, when he sees others serious, earnest and careful about something for which he can see no reason at present, especially if they have gifts equal or superior to his own, will immediately reason like this: “Why is such a one so earnest, so careful, watchful, laborious and inquisitive? It is not for want of wit; surely he has gifts enough, and he understands himself well.” And then he begins to think, “Surely I am too cold.” Then come competition and rivalry: “Surely I will be as good as he.”

Application. Let us labor, therefore, to be an example to others and to express the graces of God, for in this way we shall do more good than we are aware of. There is a secret influence in good example. As one says, even if a good man says nothing, there is a way to profit from him though he holds his peace; his course of life speaks loudly enough. We owe this to everyone, even to those who are outside, to do them at least so much good as to give them a good example. We wrong them when we do not, and we hinder their progress by an evil or a dead example.

Let this be one motive to stir us up to it: that in proportion to the good we do in this way will be our comfort in life and in death, and our reward after death. For the more widely our good spreads, whether in word, life or conduct, the more settled our consciences will be in considering a good life well spent, and our reward will correspond to our sharing and spreading of good. Otherwise it will lie heavy on the conscience, not only in this life but at the day of judgment and after, when we shall think not only of the personal ill we stand guilty of, but of the ill of our example as well.

It should move those of the lesser sort, therefore, to look to all good examples, as the church here looked to the love of the other part of the church. Why else are there examples among us, except that we should follow them? We shall be answerable not only for the abuse of knowledge, but also for the good examples we have had and neglected. Does God kindle lights for us, and shall we not walk by their light? It is a sin not to consider the sun, the moon, the stars, the heavens and the works of nature and providence; much more is it a sin not to consider the works of grace. But one place of Scripture shall close all this up: Romans 11:11, which shows that the example of us Gentiles shall at length stir up and provoke the Jews to believe. Example shall be so forcible with those stiff-necked Jews that it shall prevail with them to believe and be converted. If example has such force as to convert the Jews, who are so far off, how much more does it, or should it, have force to convert Christians! Wonderful is the force of good example!

So we come to the question itself: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?”

We see that holy conversation is of excellent use. When the church comes to the daughters of Jerusalem and speaks of Christ her beloved, saying that she is “sick of love,” the daughters of Jerusalem become inquisitive to know Christ more and more. Here is the benefit of holy conversation and good speech. One thing draws on another, and that draws on another, until at length the soul is warmed and kindled with the consideration and meditation of heavenly things. What is little at the beginning may bring forth great matters. This exchange with the church and her talking with them, “I charge you, if you find my beloved, to tell him that I am sick of love,” breeds questions in others: “What is thy beloved?” Then, as she describes her beloved, her heart is kindled and she finds her beloved. So talking of holy and heavenly things is good both for others and for ourselves.

1. It is good for others, as it was good for the daughters of Jerusalem here, for by it they are stirred up to be inquisitive after Christ. And it was good for the church herself, for it gave her occasion to make a large commendation of Christ, in which she found much comfort.

2. Good conversation, then, is good for ourselves. For we see that a little seed at length brings forth a great tree, a little fire kindles much fuel, and great things often rise out of small beginnings. It was a small occasion that brought about the conversion of Naaman the Syrian (2 Kgs 5:2). There was a poor banished woman, a stranger, a Jewish maidservant. She told her lord’s servants that there was a prophet in the land of the Jews who could heal him. So he went there, and was converted and healed. And Paul shows that the mere report of his bonds did a great deal of good in Caesar’s household (Phil 1:13). Report and fame are a little matter, but little matters make way for greater ones.

This may remind us to spend our time fruitfully in good conversation, choosing an appropriate time with discretion. When we begin, we do not know where we may end. Our souls may be carried up to heaven before we are aware, for the Spirit will enlarge itself from one thing to another. “To him that hath shall be given more and more still” (Matt 13:12). God graciously seconds good beginnings. We see the poor disciples, when they were downcast over the loss of Christ: he comes afterward, meets them and talks of holy things, and in that very conversation their hearts were warmed and kindled (Luke 24:32). For next to heaven itself, our meeting together here is a kind of paradise. The greatest pleasure in the world is to meet here with those with whom we shall live forever in heaven. Those who are good should not spend such opportunities fruitlessly.

And to this end, labor for the graces of the communion of saints, for there is such a state; we believe it as an article of our creed. How shall we prove ourselves to be those who have a share in the communion of saints, unless we have spirits able to communicate good to others, pitying and loving spirits, so that we may speak a word in due season?

What a world of precious time is spent in idle talk, as if time were a burden, and as if no profit were to be made of the good gifts of others! Sometimes, even though we know what we ask of others as well as they do, good conversation will still draw us to know it better by giving occasion to speak more of it. The Spirit works more effectually by this and imprints it more deeply, so that it becomes a more rooted knowledge than before. For that knowledge does good which is graciously known, and that is graciously known which the Spirit seals upon our souls. Perhaps the knowledge I have is not yet sealed sufficiently; it has not been rooted by conversation. Though I hear the same things again, I may hear them in a fresh way, and so have them sealed more deeply than before. Experience finds these things to be true.

Again, we should labor here to have inquisitive hearts. The heathen man counted it a grace in his student, and a sign that he would prove promising, that he was full of questions. Christians should be inquisitive about the ways of righteousness; inquisitive about the right path that leads to heaven, how to conduct themselves in private and in their families, and how in every condition; inquisitive about the excellence of Christ: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” Questions usually end in resolutions, for the soul will not rest except in satisfaction. Rest is, as it were, the happiness of the soul. When a question is raised, the soul will not be quiet until it has satisfaction. So doubting at the first breeds resolution at the last.

It is good, therefore, to raise questions about the practice of all necessary points, and to make use of the good gifts and abilities of those we converse with to give us satisfaction. What an excellent profit this is from communion and company, when, whatever troubles our spirit, we may have satisfaction from others upon putting it to them! Perhaps God has laid up satisfaction for our souls in the gifts of others, and has so determined it that we shall be perplexed and vexed with scruples until we turn to some whom he has appointed to help us in this way. Many go mourning a great part of their days in a kind of sullenness on this account, because they do not open their condition to others. You see here the contrary practice of the church. She doubles the question: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?”

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us? My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand (Song 5:9-10).

The last time we met, we left the church sick of love. That strange affection in her, together with her passionate charge to the daughters of Jerusalem, moved them to put this question to her: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” To be in love is much; to conceal it is grievous; but to vent it with such fervency and passion breeds astonishment in these younger Christians. They wonder what it is that can so draw away the church’s love and run away with her affections. They knew of no such excellences in the person the church so admired, and therefore they double the question to her: “What is thy beloved? what is thy beloved?”

In this we see the excellence of the soul, which still aspires toward perfection and does not rest in any state inferior to the most excellent. That is also why the church is sick of love here: she desires a nearer union and communion with Christ than she had at this time.

For there are degrees of spiritual languishing. Until we are in heaven, we are always under some degree of this sickness of love, though the soul has more communion at one time than at another. Yes, the angels themselves are under this wish, to see Christ together with his church in full perfection. So until we are in heaven, where there will be a perfect reunion of soul and body, and of all the members of the church together, a kind of sickness and languishing attends the church.

The question asked is, “What is thy beloved more than another’s beloved, O thou fairest among women?”

What! Fair now, when her veil was taken away? Fair now, when the watchmen humiliated her? Fair now, when she was disgraced? Yes, fair now; and fair now in the sight of the daughters of Jerusalem, and in the sight of Christ, who calls her the fairest among women. So under all disgraces, infirmities, and scandals, under all the shame that rises in the soul over sin, under all these clouds, there is an excellence in the church. She is “the fairest among women” notwithstanding all these. “O thou fairest among women.”

Question. Where does this fairness come from, under such seeming foulness and disgrace?

Answer. It comes from outside her. It is borrowed beauty, as you have it in Ezekiel 16:14. By nature we lie in our blood. A beauty must be put upon us. We are fair with the beauty we have out of Christ’s wardrobe. The church shines in the beams of Christ’s righteousness; she is not born this fair, but new-born fairer. The church of Christ is all glorious, but it is within, not seen by the world (Ps 45:13). She has a life, but it is a hidden life: our glory and our life is hidden in Christ (Col 3:3). Sometimes it is hidden even from the church herself. She sees only her deformity and not her beauty, her death but not her life, because her “life is hid.”

Here is a mystery of religion: the church is never more fair than when she judges herself most deformed; never more happy than when she judges herself miserable; never more strong than when she feels herself weak; never more righteous than when she feels herself most burdened with the guilt of her own sins. The reason is that the sense of one contrary drives us to the other. The sense of evil drives us to the fountain of good, to be supplied from there. “When I am weak, then am I strong,” says Paul (2 Cor 12:10). Grace and strength are made perfect in weakness.

Application. This should teach us what to think of the church and people of God. Even under their seeming disgraces, we should still judge them the most excellent people in the world: “All my delight is in those that are excellent” (Ps 16:3). And we should join ourselves to them. This is to be understood especially of the church as it is the mystical body of Christ; not as a mixed body, as a visible church, but as it is the temple of the Holy Ghost (1 Cor 3:17).

The visible church sometimes has terms of excellence put upon it, but that is in regard to its better part. Unrefined gold is called gold, because gold is the better part; and a heap of unwinnowed wheat is called wheat, though there is much chaff in it. The body of Christ itself always has excellent terms given it: “O thou fairest among women.”

Those who look upon the church through the spectacles of malice can see no such beauty in her, though they are quick-sighted enough to spy out faults (as the devil could in Job, Job 1:9 and following), to quarrel, and to slander. But here we see the church in the judgment of the “daughters of Jerusalem”: she is the “fairest among women.”

The papists have a painted beauty for their catholic church, but there is no such beauty here. It suits a whore to be painted, to be made as fair as her hands can make her, with a feigned beauty. But the church of Christ has a beauty from her husband, a real, spiritual beauty, not discerned by the world.

Application. This should also be of use to God’s children themselves, to help them when conscience upbraids them (as if they had no goodness in them) because they have a great deal of evil. Christians should have a double eye: one to set and fix upon what is evil in them, to humble them, and another upon what is supernaturally gracious in them, to encourage themselves. They should look upon themselves as Christ looks upon them, and judge themselves as he judges them, by the better part. He does not look so much at what evil we have, for that shall be worked out little by little and abolished. It is condemned already, and the sentence will be carried out little by little until it is wholly abolished. But he looks upon us in regard to the better part. So we should look upon ourselves, though at times we should also look upon our black feet (our infirmities), when we are tempted to pride and haughtiness. But let the low thoughts we form of ourselves always make us fly to Christ.

“What is thy beloved more than another beloved?”

Here is a question, and a question answered with a question. Questions breed knowledge; as the Greek proverb says, doubts breed resolution. That is why the inquisitive soul usually proves the most learned, judicious, and wise. Therefore that great philosopher counted it a virtue in his scholars that they were inquisitive. So the scholars of righteousness are inquisitive: they inquire the way to Canaan, and the way to Zion with their faces thitherwards (Jer 50:5).

It is a special part of Christians’ wisdom to draw out the excellence of others by asking questions, to have a bucket to draw from the deep wells of others. As Solomon says, the heart of a wise man is as deep waters, but a man of understanding can tell how to fetch those waters out (Prov 20:5). There are many people of deep and excellent gifts who are lost to the world because others do not know how to make use of them. Therefore, while we have people who excel in any kind, it is good to make use of them. It is an honor to God as well as a benefit to ourselves. Does God allow lights to shine in the world so that we should take no notice of them? That is a wrong to ourselves and a dishonor to God.

“What is thy beloved more than another beloved?”

A further point from this is that if we would encourage others to come to us for any good, we should learn to be so excellent as to adorn religion. “O thou fairest among women, what is thy beloved?” They inquire of her because they have a good opinion of her. A world of good might be done if a good opinion of people were bred in others. We say in sickness, “A good opinion of the physician is half the cure.” So in teaching, a good opinion of the teacher is half the learning. The “daughters of Jerusalem” had a good opinion of the church here in their questioning: “O thou fairest among women, what is thy beloved more than another beloved?”

Let us labor, therefore, to be such as may bring honor and credit to religion and make it lovely, so that what we do may make others think we do it to great purpose. This is often a special means and occasion of their conversion. Properly speaking, the cause of conversion is the Spirit of God in the ordinances. Yet many times the inducement and occasion is observing the course and conduct of those who excel and are known to be eminent in gifts and in graces. Emulation spurs the soul on: “Do those who are wiser than I take such courses, and shall I not take the same course too?” Paul says that the emulation of the Gentiles shall be a means of the conversion of the Jews (Rom 11:11). When the Jews see the Gentiles embrace Christ, they will be encouraged to do so also. What shall we think, then, of those who live in such a way that they bring an evil report, scandal, and reproach upon religion? Great and fearful is the wickedness of those who, like Hophni and Phinehas, discredit the ordinances of the Lord by their evil conduct (1 Sam 2:17).

Now the church answers the former question about Christ in this way: “My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest of ten thousand.” She is not afraid to set out her beloved’s beauty, for there is no envy in spiritual things. Among men it is a want of wisdom to commend something very lovely to others, and so to put an edge on their affections, when both cannot share it; for of all things here below, the more one has, the less another has. But in spiritual things there is no envy at others sharing in what we love ourselves, because all may be loved alike. Christ has grace and affection enough for all his own. He does not have only “one blessing,” as Esau speaks (Gen 27:38). No, he can make all his people happy. Therefore the church does not hold back or stand on terms. When the “daughters of Jerusalem” inquire about her beloved, she says, “I tell you freely what my beloved is.”

First, in general, the answer is, “My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.” Afterward comes a specification of the particulars. She will not stop at the whole taken together, but wonders at every part of the one she loves. Everything in him is lovely, as we shall see in the particulars afterward.

“My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.”

We will take what is safe, because we want sure footing, as near as we can, in this mystical portion of Scripture.

Question. What is this “white and ruddy”? Why does the church set forth the spiritual excellencies of Christ by what is outwardly most excellent and most beautiful?

Answer. Because of all complexions, the mixed complexion of these two colors, white and ruddy, is the purest and the best. Therefore she sets out the beauty and spiritual excellence of Christ by this “white and ruddy.” Beauty arises from the mixture of these two. First she sets out the beauty of Christ positively, and then by way of comparison: “the chiefest among ten thousand.”

But what is this white and ruddy? What is beauty?

1. To make beauty there is required a sound, healthy constitution, so that the particular parts have a due proportion. There must be a harmony of the parts, each suiting the others; for comeliness consists in oneness, when many things are, as it were, one. Uncomeliness lies in diversity, when diverse things that belong to many different heads are jumbled together; as we say, it is uncomely to have an old man’s head on a young man’s shoulders. But when all things are so suited that they make one, agreeing exactly, there is beauty and comeliness.

2. Besides soundness of constitution and comeliness of proportion, there is a grace of color that makes beauty, which arises out of the other. So soundness and goodness of constitution, together with the exact proportion of the variety of parts, having with it this gracefulness of color and complexion, makes up what we call beauty.

In a word, then, this carnation color, white and ruddy, may be understood of that excellent and sweet mixture that gives Christ such gracefulness. In him there is wonderful purity and holiness, and yet a wonderful weakness. There is God, the “great God,” and a piece of earth, of flesh, in one person; a bloody, pierced body and a glorious, shining body; humility and glory; justice, wonderful justice, and yet exceeding love and mercy: justice to his enemies, mercy to his children.

Observation. Christ is a most beautiful person, not as God only, but as man, the Mediator, God and man. The person of the Mediator is a beautiful person. In Psalm 45:2 there is a notable description of Christ and of his church: “Thou art fairer than the children of men, grace is poured into thy lips.”

But the loveliness and beauty of Christ are especially spiritual, in regard to the graces of his Spirit. Take a deformed person, man or woman, of a homely complexion and constitution. Yet when we discern by their conduct that they are very wise and of a lovely and sweet spirit, very able and at the same time wonderfully willing to impart their abilities, being wonderfully useful, what a world of love it breeds, though we see nothing lovely in their outward appearance!

Consider, then, what sufficiency there is in Christ: wisdom, power, goodness, and love, which made him come from heaven to earth, to take our nature upon him, to marry us, and to join our nature to his (that he might join us to him in spiritual bonds). Consider his meekness and gentleness, how he never turned back anyone who came to him. These considerations should make us prize him highly. Indeed, some went back of their own accord (as the young man did in discontent, Matt 19:22), but Christ did not turn them back. No, he loved the appearance of goodness in the young man and embraced him. He is of so sweet a nature that he never reproached those who followed him with their former sins, as he did not reproach Peter with his denial, and the like. He is of so gracious a nature that he took no notice of petty infirmities in his disciples, but tells them of the danger of those sins that might hurt them. He is of so sweet a nature that “he will not quench the smoking flax, nor break the bruised reed” (Isa 42:3). His whole life was nothing but doing good. “He did all things well” (as the gospel speaks), excellently well (Mark 7:37).

Now, considering what a gracious Spirit is in Christ cannot but be a lodestone of love and make him beautiful. Therefore Bernard says well, “When I think of Christ, I think at once of God, full of majesty and glory, and at the same time of man, full of meekness, gentleness, and sweetness.” So let us consider Christ as the “mighty God,” powerful, and at the same time consider him as a gentle and mild man, who came riding meekly on an ass, as the Scripture sets him out (Matt 21:5). He welcomed all comers and gave entertainment to all: “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden…” (Matt 11:28). For the weakest and most miserable person of all had the sweetest welcome from him: “He came to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10).

Let us, I say, think of him both as the great God and also as a meek man: the one to establish our souls, that he is able to do great things; the other to draw us to him, because he loves us. We are afraid to go to God, who is “a consuming fire” (Heb 12:29). But now let us think that we go to bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, to our brother, to one who out of his goodness humbled himself on purpose that we might be one with him. He loved us more than his own life, and was content to carry the curse for us, that we might be blessed by God forever, and to suffer a most painful and shameful death, so that he might make us heirs of everlasting life.

Christ is spiritually lovely, “the chiefest of ten thousand.” The church sets him out by comparison: “a standard-bearer,” a carrier of the “banner of ten thousand.” For as the goodliest men are commonly the ones to carry the ensign, the banner, so he, the goodliest of all, is the standard-bearer.

Observation. From this we gather that Christ, as he is beautiful and good, so he is incomparably good, beyond all comparison. He is “a standard-bearer, one among ten thousand”; he is “anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows” (Ps 45:7).

First, because he is so near to God by the personal union.

And likewise because all others have all they have from him. Of his fullness we receive grace for grace (John 1:16). Ours is only a derived fullness. His glory and shining is like the shining of the body of the sun; ours is like the light of the air, which is derived from the glory of the sun. Ours is only the fullness of the stream and of the vessel, but the fullness of the fountain and of the spring is his. That is why he is called “the head of the church” (Col 1:18). The head is the tower of the body; it has all five senses in it, and wisdom for the whole body. It sees, hears, understands, and does everything for the body, having influence into its other parts. So Christ is above all and has influence into all his church: not only eminence, but influence.

What is excellent in the heavens? The sun. So Christ is the “Sun of righteousness” (Mal 4:2). The stars. He is the “bright morning star” (Rev 22:16). The light. He is the “light of the world” (John 9:5). Come to all the creatures: there is not one excellent thing among them but Christ is named from it. He is “the lion of the tribe of Judah” (Rev 5:5), the “lily” and the “rose” (Song 2:1), “the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world” (John 1:29), “the tree of Life” (Rev 22:2). There is not a thing necessary to nature but a title from it is given to Christ, to show that he is as necessary as bread and water, the food of life (John 6:35; John 4:14).

So when we see light, let us think of the “true light” (John 1:9). When we see the sun, let us think of the “Sun of righteousness” (Mal 4:2). So in our common food, let us remember the bread and water of life. Therefore the sacraments were ordained, so that as we go to the sea by following the rivers, so we might go to the sea of all excellence and goodness by following these rivers of goodness, being led by every excellence in the creature to that of our Mediator Christ, who is “the chiefest among ten thousand.”

To speak more particularly of his excellencies, leaving aside his two natures in one person, God and man, let us consider his offices: king, priest, and prophet. He is the chief in all these, and so all the good kings before him were types of him, as were the prophets and priests also. He was all in one. No one before him was ever king, priest, and prophet as he was, king, priest, and prophet in one. So in every respect he was incomparable, above all.

1. He is such a king as is King of kings, and he subdues things unconquerable to all other kings, even the greatest enemies of all. He is such a king as conquered the world, death, hell, and sin, all things that are terrible. Death, you know, is called “the king of fears” (Job 18:14), because it terrifies even kings themselves. Christ is such a king as takes away these terrible, greatest evils of all. He is such a king as rules over the soul and conscience, the best part of man, where he settles and establishes peace; such a king as sets up his kingdom in our very souls and hearts, guides our thoughts, desires, actions, and affections, and sets up a peaceable government there. So he is an incomparable king even in regard to that office. “He is the chiefest of ten thousand.” He is such a king as carries the government on his own shoulders, as it is in Isaiah 9:6. He does not hand off the care to another, to manage it as he pleases, and so become a mere cipher himself; he carries it all on his own shoulder. He needs no pope for his vicar.

2. Again, as a priest, he is such a high priest as offered himself a sacrifice by his eternal Spirit. As God, he offered up his manhood. He is such a priest as has satisfied the wrath of God and reconciled God to man. All other priests were only types of this priest, who is such a priest as never dies, but lives for ever to make intercession for us in heaven (Heb 7:25), by virtue of the sacrifice he offered in the days of his flesh. He was both priest and sacrifice. He is such a priest as is touched with our infirmities (Heb 4:15), so mild and gentle, full of pity and mercy. There is no priest to compare with this priest. From this sacrifice alone God smelled a sweet savor.

3. And as for his prophetic office, he is a prophet beyond all others. He is such a one as can instruct the soul. Other men can propound doctrines, but he can open the understanding (Luke 24:45); he has the key of the heart, the “key of David” which can open the soul (Rev 3:7). By his Holy Spirit he can make the very simple full of knowledge (Prov 1:4). He is such a prophet as has his chair in the very heart of man: this great “Bishop of our souls” (1 Pet 2:25), “the angel of the covenant,” that Word, the messenger of the Father. So, whether you consider him as king, as priest, or as prophet, he is “the chief of ten thousand.”

Application. The use of this is exceedingly rich, comforting, and large: that we have such a Savior, such an eminent person, so near, so much our own. Our beloved, my beloved. If he were a “beloved, the chief of ten thousand,” it would be no great matter; but he is mine. He is excellent in this way, and excellent with this added to it, that he is our own possession, and our own in a peculiar way. Being our own, and peculiarly our own, together with transcendent excellence, makes us happy, if there is any enjoying of it. Therefore do not repent of your repentings. Think rather, “I have not cast away my love, but have set it on such an object as deserves it, ‘for my beloved is the chiefest of ten thousand.’”

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand (Song 5:10).

Love is such a boundless affection that, where it once breaks out in praises on a good foundation, it knows no measure. We see this here in the church. The “daughters of Jerusalem” had provoked her and, as it were, exasperated her, pressing her to explain the excellence of the one she had sought so incessantly and with so much affection. So that she might justify her choice, before she descends to particulars she breaks out into this general description of her beloved, by which she cuts off all hope of anyone equaling him: “My beloved is white and ruddy” (exceedingly fair); indeed, “the chief among ten thousand” (none like him). She would not have us think that she had bestowed her love on anyone but the most excellent of all, “the chief of ten thousand.”

It would be well for us if we could do the same in our love, so that we might be able to justify our choice, and not spend it on sinful, vain, and unprofitable things that bring repentance and mourning in the end. The church here worthily clears herself of that, in that she had chosen “the chief among ten thousand.”

And she placed her affections most justly on so excellent an object. He was so full of “all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col 2:3); he is the life of our life, the one in whom dwelt “all the fulness of the Godhead bodily” (Col 2:9). In him there was a gracious mixture and compound of all heavenly graces, where greatness and goodness, justice and mercy, God and man, meet in one person. He is one who breaks no “bruised reed, nor quenches the smoking flax” (Matt 12:20). He does not refuse sinners but invites them to himself, offering to heal all and cure all who come to him. He is a king indeed (John 18:37). This too commends her choice: he rules all, commands all, judges all. What then can she lack who has such a friend, such a husband, whose government is so winning, mild, and merciful?

He is not the kind of monarch who loves to gain authority by sternness, like Rehoboam (1 Kgs 12:12), but by those lovely graces of gentleness and love. All the excellencies of holiness, purity, and righteousness are sweetly tempered with love and meekness in him. You may see, for instance, how he takes his disciples’ part against the Pharisees, and how he takes the part of the poor woman who came to wash his feet and kissed them, against the Pharisee who had invited him to dinner (Luke 7:44). The church is a company of despised people, scorned by proud, Pharisaical spirits, who perhaps have morality and strong natural abilities to commend them. Now Christ takes the part of broken spirits against all proud spirits.

Although he has gone to heaven, where he is full of majesty, he has not forgotten his meekness, nor changed his nature along with his change of honor. He is now more honored than he was, for “he hath a name above all names, in heaven or in earth” (Phil 2:9-10); yet he is still full of pity. “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” (Acts 9:4). He still makes the church’s case his own. Together with beams of glory, there is tender pity in him, the same that he had here on earth. This is what makes him so lovely to the truly brokenhearted, believing soul: “My beloved is white and ruddy.”

He is also set out by comparison with all others whatever: “He is the chief of ten thousand.” This is a definite number put for an indefinite one; that is, he is the chief among all. In all things Christ has the preeminence. “He is the first-born from the dead” (Col 1:18); “he is the first-born of every creature” (Col 1:15). He is the eldest brother; he is the chief among all. For all the kings, priests, and prophets before him were only types and shadows of him. He is the body, the truth, and the substance.

And, as was shown before, he is all three in one: king, priest, and prophet. He is the great teacher and prophet of his church, who spoke by all the former prophets and speaks by his ministers to the end of the world. He is “the angel of the covenant,” the Word, who expresses his Father’s heart; who, as he came from the bosom of his Father, so lays open his counsel to mankind. It was he who spoke by Noah and preached by his Spirit to the souls that are now in prison, as Peter says (1 Pet 3:19). So “he is the chief among all.”

But he is chief especially in regard to his righteousness, for which Paul accounted all dung and dross, to be found in Christ, not having his own righteousness, but the righteousness that is in Christ (Phil 3:8-9). This righteousness is more than the righteousness of an angel, since it is the righteousness of the God-man, and it is above all the righteousness of the law.

Question. But what is this to us, or to the church?

Answer. It is a great deal, for his beauty and excellence belong to the church, because he belongs to the church. “My beloved is white and ruddy, and my beloved is the chief among ten thousand.” It is the special interest the church has in Christ that gives her spirit its relish: excellence joined with her own right in him. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” (Song 6:3). The more excellent the husband is, the more excellent the wife is. She shines only in his beams. Therefore it is the interest we have in Christ that endears Christ to us.

But to come to a more particular application. Is Christ this excellent, super-excellent, so transcendently excellent, “white and ruddy,” “the chief of ten thousand”? This serves:

1. To draw those who are not yet in Christ to him.

2. To comfort those who are in Christ.

Application 1. As for those who are not yet in Christ, not yet betrothed to him, to draw them: what can prevail more than what is in Christ? Beauty and excellencies, greatness and goodness. And indeed one main purpose of our calling, the ministry, is to lay open and unfold the unsearchable riches of Christ, to dig up the mine, and so to draw the affections of those who belong to God to Christ.

Application 2. But it is not enough to know that there are excellencies in Christ to draw us to him; there must also be a sight of our misery, of what beggars we are and how deeply in debt. Before we are in Christ, we are not our own. The devil lays claim to us as his; death lays claim to us. We are under sin; we cannot make satisfaction for one in a thousand. Therefore this drives us to go out and join ourselves to him who can discharge all our debts, answer all the suits against us, and have Satan’s suit thrown out of the court of heaven. Once we are married to the Lord of heaven and earth, all is ours. We have a large charter: “All things are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s” (1 Cor 3:22-23).

Question. Why are all things ours?

Answer. Because we are married to Christ, who is Lord of all. It is the purpose of our calling to seek a marriage between Christ and every soul. We are the friends of the bridegroom, to bring the church to him, and the friends of the church, to bring Christ to them. It is the purpose of our ministry to bring the soul and Christ together, and let no debts, no sins, hinder it. For he especially invites those who are aware of their sins. “Where sin abounds, grace abounds much more” (Rom 5:20). “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden” (Matt 11:28). And, “He came to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). He requires no more than that we be aware of our debts and miseries, and he works that awareness too by his Holy Spirit.

Application 3. Again, as for those who have welcomed Christ, let them see what an excellent, gracious person they have welcomed, one who is “the chief of ten thousand.” The world thinks those who make choice of Christ, religion, the word, and such things are a company of simple, insignificant people. But their choice is justified. They choose him who is “the chief of ten thousand.” “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,” says the spouse, “for thy love is better than wine” (Song 1:2); yes, better than life itself. A Christian must justify the choice he has made, with Mary, “of the good part” (Luke 10:42), against all who disparage his choice. Let the world think of Christians whatever it likes, calling them a company of deluded, besotted people, fools and madmen; the Christian is the only wise man. Wisdom is seen especially in choosing, and here is the choice of what is excellent, the most excellent of all, “the chief of ten thousand.”

Application 4. So also we may see here the desperate and base folly of everyone whatever, except true Christians. What do they choose to join themselves to? To what is base: the condemned world, vain and passing things. And they refuse Christ. Are people in their right minds who refuse a husband who is noble by birth, rich in estate, mighty in power, abundant in kindness and love itself, excellent in every way, and take a base, ignoble, beggarly person instead? This is the choice of the world. God complains, “Israel would none of me” (Ps 81:11).

What then shall we judge of those who will have none of Christ when he woos them and pleads with them, but who prefer, with Esau, a “mess of pottage” to their eternal birthright (Heb 12:16); with Adam, an apple to paradise; and with Judas, thirty pieces of silver to Christ himself? This is the state of many people. To be married to Christ is to take him as a husband, to be ruled by him in all things. Now when we prefer base gains and pleasures to peace of conscience and the enjoyment of his love, what is that but refusing Christ for money and profit, for thirty pieces of silver (perhaps for sixpence, a thing of nothing)? Yet this is the condition of base worldlings who live by sense and not by faith.

So then, as this serves to comfort those who have made a true choice, it also serves to show the madness and folly of all others. One day they will feel their hearts full of horror and confusion, and their faces full of shame, when they think: “What? Has Christ pleaded so with my heart to win my love? Has he ordained a ministry to bring me in? Has he made such large promises? Is he so excellent? And was all this revealed to me, and yet I would have none of him? What did I choose, and what did I leave? I left Christ with all his riches and chose the pleasures and profits of sin, which are but for a season (Heb 11:25).”

When the conscience is once thoroughly awakened, this will torment it. This is the punishment of loss: not simply loss, such as the loss of Christ and the loss of heaven, but the loss of a Christ and a heaven so revealed and opened. Therefore there is no condition in the world so terrible as that of those who live in the church and hear these things of Christ crucified unfolded before their eyes. As Paul says of the ministry, it sets Christ’s cross so openly before them that it is as if he had been crucified before their eyes (Gal 3:1). Yet, for all that, they yield to their base hearts’ desires and affections rather than to these excellencies, which, if they had a spirit of faith, would draw their hearts to him.

Therefore let us consider how we hear these things. It concerns us closely. On the one side, we see what we gain if we join with Christ: we have him and all that is his. On the other side, we lose him; and not only that, but we gain eternal misery and perish eternally. Oh, what baseness of mind possesses us! Christ left all things out of love for us, and we leave Christ for any paltry thing in the world: almost merely to please and satisfy the whims of sinful people, to attain a few empty titles, to get a little wealth, to enjoy a little pleasure.

You see, then, the justice of that terrible threatening you have: “If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha” (1 Cor 16:22). Let him be accursed forever who does not love the Lord Jesus Christ. If anyone sins, there is a remedy to discharge his sin in Jesus Christ, if he will marry him and take him. But when Christ is offered and we will have none of him, we sin against the gospel, and then there is no remedy; there is nothing but “Anathema and Maran-atha.” Therefore the most dangerous sins of all are those against the light of the gospel, when we still choose to live as we please rather than join ourselves to Christ.

To this purpose, in Hebrews 2, Paul draws an application from the first chapter, in which he sets out the excellence of Christ, whom the angels adore. He is so beautiful, so lovely, that God the Father is in love with him and declares, “This is my beloved Son” (Matt 3:17). At the beginning of the second chapter, “Wherefore,” he says, “how shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation; for if they escaped not that despised Moses’ law… how shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?” (Heb 2:3). He does not say, if we oppose Christ, but if we neglect him, if we do not love so great salvation. So it is said in 2 Thessalonians 1:8, Christ will come in flaming fire to take vengeance of all those that do not know God, and obey not the gospel of Christ, even though they do not persecute it.

Application 1. Therefore this rebukes all respectable, moral people who think they have riches enough: not only debauched people, but self-sufficient people who think they have any righteousness of their own. Let them know that Christ shall come in flaming fire, to take vengeance of such. This is the scope of the second psalm, which, as you know, sets out the excellence of Christ: “I have set my king upon Zion” (Ps 2:6). There God the Father anoints Christ king of the church. To what end? That we should kiss the Son: kiss him with the kiss of subjection, as subjects kiss their prince; with the kiss of love, as the spouse kisses her husband; and with the kiss of faith.

But what if we do not kiss him, and do not submit ourselves to him, love him, and believe in him? “If his wrath be once kindled, happy are all those that trust in him” (Ps 2:12). He is a lamb, but a lamb who can be angry. It is said, the kings and great persons of the world fly from the wrath of the Lamb (Rev 6:16). He is so sweet, mild, and gentle if we join with him; but on the other hand, if we do not come to him, we will find the wrath of the Lamb a terrible wrath, from which the greatest rulers in the world will long to be hidden. “If his wrath be once kindled, blessed are all those that trust in him,” and woe to those who do not receive him.

Application 2. For us who profess ourselves to be in Christ, and to be joined to him who is so excellent, let us make this use: to make him the rule of our choice in other things. In choosing friends, choose those who are friends to Christ. Beware of keeping company with idolaters, or with profane, wretched people. If you will be joined to Christ, and profess yourselves to be so, then let us join ourselves to none but those whom we can enjoy and Christ too. So in marriage, let the rule of choice be the love of Christ. And likewise, let the measure of our regard for all things be our regard for Christ. Let us measure our love for wife and children, for relatives, friends, and all creatures whatever, by how it may stand with love for Christ. Obey in the Lord, marry in the Lord, do all things in the Lord, in a way that may stand with the love and approval of the Lord (1 Cor 7:39-40).

Application 3. Let us also make a use of direction: how we may come to value Christ in this way, so as to keep a high esteem of him. For this follows infallibly and undeniably: if Christ is “the chief of ten thousand,” he must have the chief of our affections, “above ten thousand.” For as he is in excellence, so he must have a corresponding place in our hearts. Our souls are as they should be when they judge of things, and set their affections on them, as those things are in themselves.

1. First, let us enter into a serious consideration of the need we have of Christ, of our misery without him, and of our happiness if we are joined with him. Once the soul is convinced in this way, the affections must follow the sanctified judgment.

What will come of it if Christ is set in the highest place in our hearts? If we crown him there, and make him “King of kings and Lord of lords,” by heartily submitting all the affections of the soul to him? While the soul continues in that frame, it cannot be drawn to sin, discouragement, and despair. The honors, pleasures, and profits that are gained by base subservience to the whims of men, what are these compared with Christ? When the soul is rightly possessed of Christ and of his excellence, it scorns to let anything come into competition with him.

2. Again, such a soul stands firm against all discouragements whatever, for it sets Christ, who is “the chief of ten thousand,” against them all. The soul in this case will set Christ against the anger and wrath of God, against Satan, and against all our spiritual enemies. Christ is the angel of the covenant. Satan is a lion, a roaring lion; Christ is the lion of the tribe of Judah. Satan is a serpent, a dragon; but Christ is the true bronze serpent, the very looking on whom will take away all the stings and fiery darts of Satan whatever. That is why it is said that faith is what “overcometh the world” (1 John 5:4). How does faith overcome the world? Because it overcomes everything in the world, on the right hand pleasures, profits, and honors, and on the left hand threats, pains, losses, and disgraces, by setting Christ against them all.

3. Again, if we want a right judgment and esteem of Christ, let us labor to wean our affections as much as possible from other things. For fleshly hearts that have run so deeply into the world and the vanities of this present life, it is in a way an extraordinary task to be drawn away and pulled from the world, like a child from a full breast that it has sucked so long. Now for sweet affections that are still tender, it is an excellent advantage to consider early that there is something in religion and in the gospel worth their best and first affections, the flower and marrow of them. Let them begin, like young Timothy (2 Tim 3:15), Daniel, and Joseph, to love Christ from their childhood.

On the other hand, it is a desperate folly to put off attending to good things until later, when we will be less fit: when the understanding will be darkened and the affections blunted, when we will not have that edge, our nature being decayed and the world having taken such possession of the soul that we will not value this excellence. Therefore let us begin early to make the marriage between Christ and the soul. No time, indeed, is too late; but it would be much to be wished that the young would be this wise for their souls early.

4. Besides this, if we would value Christ highly, let us beg God for a spirit by which we may judge rightly of our corruptions. For in whatever measure we can discern the height, breadth, and depth of our corrupt nature, in that measure we will judge the height, breadth, and depth of the excellence of Christ. The sweetest souls are the most humble souls. Those who love Christ most are those who have been stung most with the sense of their sins. Where sin most abounds in the sense and feeling of it, grace much more abounds in the sense and feeling of grace (Rom 5:20). Did any soul ever love Christ more than the woman who had so many devils cast out of her (Luke 8:2)? Or more than Paul, who had such great sins forgiven? Does anyone love his creditor as much as the one who has had a large debt forgiven? That is our Savior Christ’s own reasoning.

Therefore these two things always go with the true church: first, the true knowledge of the corruption of nature, and of our misery because of it; and second, the true sense and feeling of it, with true and heartfelt sorrow for it. Under popery they make light of original sin, that mother and breeding sin. Actual sins they count venial, and many sins no sins at all. And therefore they think so lightly of Christ that they join saints, the pope, works, and satisfaction with him. Because they do not know the depth of the disease, how black sin is, and what a cursed state we are in by nature, they have slight, shallow, and weak notions of sin. Therefore they have correspondingly weak and shallow notions of Christ, and of his righteousness and excellence.

So the conviction of our sins goes before the conviction of righteousness in Christ, as it is said, the Holy Ghost shall convince the world of sin and then of righteousness (John 16:8). For unless the soul is convinced of sin, and of the evil in itself, it will never be truly convinced of the good and the righteousness in Christ.

The Passover was always eaten with sour herbs, so that they would add relish to the feast. So we never truly relish Christ, the true Passover, without sour herbs: the consideration of sin, with what it deserves. Christ tastes different to a man humbled for his sins than he does to another man who is not touched by them; different to a poor man than to a rich one; different to a man for whom the world is not going well than to a prosperous man. One savory discourse about Christ is sweeter to an afflicted soul than seven discourses are to those who are drunk with prosperity, who have neither a head strong enough to grasp heavenly things nor an appetite to relish them.

Why, then, do we murmur at the cross, when it is all meant to recover our spiritual taste and relish? Solomon had lost his taste and relish for Christ. He never composed his Song of Songs while he was in his idolatrous way, nor was he so in love with Christ and his excellencies while he doted so much on his wives. No; but once he had recovered his spirit’s taste and relish for heavenly things, then he wrote the book of the Preacher. When he had run through a variety of things and seen that all were nothing but vexation of spirit, and vanity besides, then he passed his verdict on all things, that they were vanity.

So it is with us; we can hardly prize Christ without some afflictions, some cross or other. Therefore the church here has to endure a spiritual desertion, to put an edge on her affections. Now, when she is in her desertions in this way, “Christ is white and ruddy, the chief of ten thousand.”

We value things more, and set a higher price on them, when we lack them (such is our corruption) than when we enjoy them. And if God does not visit us with affliction, then let us afflict, humble, and judge ourselves. Let us enter into our own souls to see how we stand affected toward Christ, toward heaven, and toward heavenly things. How do I relish and esteem them? If I have lost my esteem and valuing of them, where did I lose it? Consider in what sin, in what pleasure, in what company I lost it; and have no more to do with those who dull our affections toward heavenly things.

5. And let us likewise make use of our infirmities and sins for this purpose, to set a high price on the excellencies of Christ. We always carry infirmities and corruptions about with us. What use shall we make of them? Not to trust in our own righteousness, which is “as a defiled cloth” (Isa 64:6), but to flee to Christ’s righteousness, which is the righteousness of the God-man, everything else being as dung and dross compared with that.

Often think to yourself: What am I? A poor, sinful creature; but I have a righteousness in Christ that answers for everything. I am weak in myself, but Christ is strong, and I am strong in him. I am foolish in myself, but I am wise in him. What I lack in myself I have in him. He is mine, and his righteousness is mine, which is the righteousness of the God-man. Clothed with this, I stand safe against conscience, hell, wrath, and whatever else may come. Though I daily experience my sins, there is more righteousness in Christ, who is mine and who is the chief of ten thousand, than there is sin in me. When we know Christ in this way, then we will know him to good purpose.

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His head is as fine gold; his locks are bushy and black as a raven; his eyes are as the eyes of doves, by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set. (Song 5:10-13)

Objection. From this we may likewise answer some doubts that may arise, such as why the death of one man, Christ, should be of value to make satisfaction for the sins of the whole world. How can this be?

Answer. Oh, but what kind of man was he? “The chief among ten thousand,” especially considering that his excellence arises from the grace of his personal union of God and man. The first Adam tainted thousands, and would have tainted a world of men more if there had been more; yet he who did this was a mere man. And shall not Christ, God and man, the second Adam, advance the world, and ten thousand worlds if there had been more? He is chief among ten thousand.

“His head is as most fine gold; his locks are bushy and black as a raven.”

1. Positively, “He is white and ruddy.”

2. Comparatively, “He is the chiefest of ten thousand.”

The church does not think it enough to set out Christ in general in this way; she descends into a particular description of him by all the parts of a body that are conspicuous. First, in general, observe from this that it is the nature of love, on every occasion, to reflect upon the thing loved. So the church here borrows phrases and comparisons from things that are excellent in the world to set out the excellence of Christ, exalting him above everything else. Whatever the soul of a Christian sees in heaven or earth, it takes occasion from it to think of Christ.

Again, in general, since the church draws comparisons from doves’ eyes, from the body of a man, and from other things, observe from this that there are some beams of excellence in every creature. There is something of God in every creature. This is what makes meditation on the creature useful. There is no creature, even the meanest, that does not have a being, and by that being it sets out, in its own way, the being of God. Why does God call himself a shield, a rock, a buckler, a shadow, and the like, but to show that there is something of him in these? And so he teaches us to rise from them to him, in whom all the excellences that are scattered in them are united.

In innocence we knew God, and in him we had knowledge of the creature; but now we are forced to help ourselves up from the knowledge of the creature to the knowledge of God.

“His head is as fine gold.” First, a little in general. See the boldness and largeness of the church’s affections. Though she had been ill treated by the watchmen and others, she is not disheartened for all this. No; she goes on and sets out particular commendations of her beloved. Where love has any strength, no water can quench it. You see that the church here found only a cold reception from the watchmen and others who should have been better.

Indeed, she was in desertion, yet she was not discouraged, no, not even by the desertion Christ left her in; she seeks after him whom her soul loved. Oh, this is the sign of a true, sanctified soul, touched from heaven: never to give up seeking Christ, nor setting out his praises, no, not even when it thinks itself not loved by Christ. Ask such people, “Do you love God, his children, and his word?” Oh, you will find them eloquent! No words are enough to set out their affections.

And this is one reason, which we may note in passing, why God plants in his children at their first conversion a sweet love, which we call “the first love”: so that when desertions come, they may call to mind what they felt from Christ and what love they bore to him. And on this basis the church concludes, I will return to my first love, for then was I better than now (Hos 2:7). From what does the church here commend her beloved, if not from something that was left in her soul, some inward taste of the love of Christ in her? She called to mind how it had been with her before, in the former part of this chapter and in the latter end of the previous one, and what an excellent state she had been in. This helped her to recover herself.

Now you may say, Why is she so exact in reckoning up so many particulars of her beloved, his head, locks, eyes, lips, and the like? Why is this?

1. It comes from largeness of affection. A large heart always has large expressions. When we are barren in expressions toward Christ and about good things, where does this come from but from narrow, poor affections? The church had large affections; therefore she had expressions to match.

2. And then she goes into such particulars because Christ has not one excellence but many. Everything in him is excellent, inward and outward, as his head, and so on. For indeed beauty consists not only in sweetness of color, but in the agreement and proportion of all the parts. Now in Christ there is all sweet proportion. So it should be with Christians. They should not have one excellence, but many. Those who receive grace for grace from Christ (John 1:16) have not only head, eyes, hands, and feet good; they are lovely in all, “grace for grace,” answering to the variety of graces in Jesus Christ, in whom all things together, and everything individually, are lovely.

3. Then she shows her particular care and study to be exact in this knowledge of Christ. To lay him open and anatomize him like this, from head to foot, shows that she had studied Christ well before she could attain this excellence. So it should be the study and care of every Christian to study the excellences of Christ. Do not study them only in general terms, saying as much as you have in the Creed (he was born for us of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, dead, and buried, and so on), which every child can say. Be able to particularize the high perfections and excellences of Christ, as the church does here. Study his nature and offices, the state he was in, and how he carried himself in his humiliation and exaltation; what good we have by both states, redemption by his abasement and the application of it by his advancement; what he did for us on earth, what he does in heaven, and what he does in justification, adoption, sanctification, and in the glory to come. Study everything, and warm the heart with meditating on them.

This particular spreading out and laying open of the excellences of Christ is a thing worthy of a Christian. We make slight work of religion. We can be particular and eloquent enough in other things, but in that one thing where all eloquence is too little, how barren we are! How ashamed we are to speak of Christ and his excellences in base company, as if it were a dishonor! Let us therefore learn this from the church here: to be much in thoughts and meditations on the excellences of Christ, and then our expressions will answer to our meditations. So it was with the holy fathers who were godly (until another kind of divinity came into the world, full of quirks and subtleties): there was none of them who was not excellent in this way. Paul is admirable here, accounting all dung and dross in comparison with Christ. In speaking of him, once he begins, he goes on from one thing to another as if he were ravished, and did not know how or where to end.

The soul has sights of Christ that God shows to it, and sights that the soul presents to itself by the help of the Spirit. The sights that God shows in this way are given especially to those in affliction, as Daniel and Isaiah saw Christ in his glory in a vision. So Ezekiel had a vision, and so did John (Rev 1), where Christ was presented to him gloriously. So there is a glorious description of Christ present to the church (Rev 4:5).

And as there are sights let down from God into the soul, so there are sights that the soul frames of Christ, such as the church here conceives of him by faith. In this way Moses saw him before he was incarnate, and Abraham saw his day and rejoiced (John 8:56). So we too should now have spiritual sights, ideas of Christ framed in our souls. This is to employ our souls as we should. So much in general; now we come to some particulars.

“His head is as fine gold; his locks are bushy and black as a raven.”

“His head is as fine gold.” He begins by setting out the excellence of the chief part, the head. The head of Christ is God, as 1 Corinthians 11:3 says. He is above all, and God alone is above him. All is yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s (1 Cor 3:22-23). But that is not so much intended here as Christ’s headship over the church, as God and man. His head is as fine gold; that is, his government and headship is a most sweet and golden government.

In Daniel 2 you have an image of the monarchies, the first of which had a golden head, which was the Chaldean. The best monarchy is set out by the best metal, gold. So Christ, the head of the church, is a precious head, a head of gold.

A head has an eminence above all the others, and an influence and motion above all the other parts. It is the seat of the senses. So this golden head is more eminent than all, governs the whole church, and has influence into all. “In him we live, and move, and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

Question. Why is Christ as king compared in this way to a head of gold?

Answer. Because gold is the chief, the most precious, and the most durable metal of all. Christ is a king forever and has an everlasting government. Gold is also the most pliable metal. You can beat it out into leaves more than any other metal whatsoever. Christ is all gold indeed. His love has beaten himself out as low as could be, all for our good. What abasement is like Christ’s? What is most precious gives most freely, like the sun, a glorious creature. What does so much good as the sun? So Christ, as he is the most excellent of all, “the chief of ten thousand,” so he also gives most freely. What good compares with the good that Christ did? Out of love to mankind he was beaten out to the lowest abasement for us. Though this is not mainly aimed at here, yet in passing, since we are speaking of gold, we may set such comforting meditations before ourselves.

Application 1. Well then, is Christ such an excellent head, a golden head, “in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom” (Col 2:3), to govern his church? What need do we have, then, to go to that triple crown, when we have such a golden head? The apostasy of the church has found out another golden head. Is Christ not precious enough? Let us take heed of leaving the head, Christ, as in Colossians 2:19. It is a damnable thing to forsake him. Leave the apostate church alone with her antichrist.

Application 2. Again, if Christ is a golden head, let us, his members, labor every one to be suitable. Though there is a difference between the head and the members in many respects, especially in those three named earlier (eminence, government, and influence), yet in nature they are one. Head and members make only one. So as the head of the body is gold, every member should be gold too. That is why the seven churches are called seven golden candlesticks. Everything in the tabernacle was gold, even to the snuffers, to show that in the church everything is excellent. The tabernacle was gold, most of it, though it was covered with badgers’ skins. The church indeed has a poor covering, as of badgers’ skins, and is not gilded as hypocrites are; but it is precious within.

Again, as Christ is gold, so he is fine gold, whole gold. He has not only the crown on him; his head is gold itself. Other kings have crowns of gold, but their heads are not gold. But there is such a precious treasure of wisdom in him that his head is gold. So let the church and every Christian labor not to be gilt, but gold: to be thoroughly good, to have the inside as good as the outside, the heart as good as the conduct. The church is glorious within (Ps 45:13). Beloved, is Christ an excellent golden head, and shall we have a base body? Is anyone fit to be united to a golden head who is a common drunkard, a swearer, a beast in his life and conduct? Is this suitable?

Application 3. Again, is our head so golden, and does whatever excellence we have come from our head? Then, like the church in the Revelation, let us cast all our crowns at his feet (Rev 4:10). Do we have crowns of gold, anything excellent within, any grace, any comfort? Let us lay it down at his feet, for all is from him. Natural men have golden images of their own. Israel would have golden calves. Nebuchadnezzar sets up a golden image, and all must worship it. So too in the declining times of the church, they framed golden images, that is, a golden, whorish religion, gilded and painted, framed by their own brains, to which all must stoop. But the true gold is what we must respect, submit ourselves to, and admire. The others are only golden dreams and images, as Nebuchadnezzar’s was. Christ’s head is of fine gold.

All that comes from this head must be fine gold. His word is gold, seven times purged in the fire. His ordinances are gold, in the Scripture phrase (Ps 19:10). The city, the new Jerusalem, which signifies the state of the church in this world when it shall be refined to the utmost, is all of gold: the walls of precious stones, the gates of pearl, and the pavement of the streets of pure gold (Rev 21:21). This shows the excellence of reformation, and those golden times are yet to come. In the meantime let us go on and wait for them.

“His locks are bushy, and black as a raven.” I think this is only added to complete the description, to fill up the rest. It is nothing but a commendation of his freshness, a foil to his beauty. Therefore we need not dwell on it in particular.

“His eyes are as doves’ eyes by the rivers of waters.” His eyes are as doves’ eyes, and such eyes as are by the rivers of waters, where they are cleansed and washed with milk so that they may be the clearer, and fitly set: neither bulging nor sunk into the head, but fitly set, like a jewel in a ring, neither too far in nor too far out. All this sets out the comeliness of this part, the eye, which is the glory of the face.

Question. Why is Christ said to have the eyes of doves?

Answer. The dove has many enemies; the white dove especially is a fair mark for the birds of prey. Therefore God has given that creature a quick sight, so that she may discern her enemies. In this way Scripture helps us to conceive of the quickness of Christ’s eye (Rev 5:6). There are seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God. Here Christ, the Lamb, has seven eyes and seven horns. What are these? Christ has not only horns of power, as the enemies have horns of violence (he has horn against horn), but seven eyes, that is, a quick sight to see all the danger the church is in. And it says seven eyes: seven is a word of perfection; that is, he has many eyes, an accurate sight.

He has not only an eye of providence over the whole world, but an eye of grace and favor, lively and lovely, toward his church. All things are naked and open before his eyes, as Hebrews 4:13 says. He can see through us; he knows our very hearts and inmost parts, which he must do by virtue of his office, because he must be our judge. He who is judge of all needs eyes that will pierce through all. It must be a quick eye that is to judge the heart and affections. But what may we learn from this? That we have a Savior who has doves’ eyes, that is, clear eyes, able to discern.

Application 1. Take it first as a point of all comfort to the church. When any charge is laid on us, that we are this or that, Christ has quick eyes; he knows our hearts. “Thou knowest,” says Peter, “Lord, that I love thee” (John 21:15). In all false charges, rest in the eyesight of Christ. He knows it is otherwise with us.

Application 2. Then again, in all abasement, know that there is an eye that sees all. He sees with his eye and pities with his heart. As he has a quick eye, so he has a tender heart. Though he seems to sleep and to shut his eyes, it is only so that we may wake him with our prayers. When we have done that, we will see that Christ has seen everything all this while, and that the violence the enemies of God have offered to his church, the spouse, has been in his sight, and that they will come to know it at length, to their cost.

Likewise it is a point of terror to all hypocrites and others who think to blindfold Christ again. Can they blindfold him in heaven who has such a sharp eye? No; he sees all their courses and projects, what they are and what they tend to; and as he sees them, so he will lay them all open before long.

Application 3. And as it is a point of comfort and terror, so it is a point of instruction to us all: since we have to deal with a judge who sees all, we should worship Christ in spirit. If we knew that such an eye of God is fixed on us in all places, in all our affections and actions, would we give liberty to base and filthy thoughts, to cruel designs, and to treacherous aims and intentions? Would we hatch a hell, as it were, in our hearts, and carry a fair show outwardly? It could not be. Men are not afraid of their thoughts, affections, desires, and the inward delights of their soul, because there is no eye of justice upon them. But if they considered that the all-seeing God observes these inward evils, and will call them to account for them one day, then they would be as afraid to think evil as to do evil.

“His cheeks are as beds of spices, and as sweet flowers.” Cheeks are the grace of the face. They are used here to denote the presence of Christ, which is sweet as spices and flowers. His presence is glorious in heaven, when we shall see that goodly person of Christ who became man for us, that transforming sight that will make us like himself. But not only that: the spiritual presence of Christ in his ordinances, which we are capable of here, is also like spices and flowers.

Objection. But you will say that cheeks, face, and presence present colors to the eye, not smells, as spices and flowers do, which are the proper object of another sense.

Answer. Oh, but Christ is the object of all the senses. Beloved, he is not only beauty to the eye, but sweetness to the smell and to the taste. That is why faith takes the name of all the senses (to see, hear, taste, and smell) and does them all, because it carries us to Christ, who is in place of all things to us. But the point is this:

The manifestation of Christ to his church and children by his Spirit, in any of his ordinances, is a sweet manifestation, delightful as spices and flowers. As it says in Song 1:3, “Because of the savor of thy good ointments, thy name is as an ointment poured out, therefore the virgins love thee.” The very name of Christ, when he is known and laid open by the ministry, is a precious ointment, and the virgins, that is, all chaste souls, follow him by the smell of his ointments. All his ordinances convey a sweetness to the soul. His sacraments are sweet, his word is sweet, the communion of saints is sweet. The presence of the sun, you know, is known in springtime by the freshness of all things, which put forth what life and little liveliness they have in them, some in blossoming and some in flowers. What lay, as it were, dead in winter comes out when the sun draws near. So when Christ comes and shows his presence and face to the soul, he refreshes and delights it.

Hence we see that those who hinder the manifestation of Christ, by which his face might be seen and his lovely cheeks discerned, are enemies to Christ and to the souls of God’s people. Those who hate and undermine the ordinances of God hinder the comforts of their own souls.

And they are enemies to Christ. For when does Christ have glory but when the virgins follow him in the scent of his sweet ointments? When the soul, in the sense of his sweetness, follows him and cleaves to him with joy, love, and delight, this makes Christ Christ, and sets him up in the heart above all others. This is the proper work of the ordinances. Those, therefore, who are enemies to the ordinances of Christ are enemies to the souls of God’s people, and to the glory and honor of Christ himself. Thus far we may go safely, comparing this with the other Scriptures.

His lips are like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh; his hands are as gold rings set with beryl; his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphire: his legs… (Song 5:13-15)

In speaking of these particulars we must be very careful, for here we do not have the same foundation that we have in the general points. No doubt the Spirit of God intended here more to set out the great affection that the church had for Christ than to suggest any great particular meaning in every one of these details. Therefore let us only pick out and take those things that are easier to explain.

“His lips are as lilies, dropping down sweet myrrh.”

That is, his doctrine is as sweet as the lilies, and as sound as the myrrh, which keeps things from decay. For it is the nature of myrrh that, as it is sound itself, so it makes other things sound. In the same way, the speech of Christ makes the soul that embraces it sound. What was ever sweeter than the truth of Christ? When he spoke himself, they all hung upon his lips (Luke 4:20), as the phrase is in the gospel, as a man hangs upon the lips of another whom he longs and delights to hear speak; and they marveled at the gracious words that came out of his lips. Grace was in his lips (Ps 45:2).

All that came from him was sweet, for it came from the excellence of his Spirit. His words were dyed in these affections of his heart. In the learned language, the same word means both speech and reason, to show that speech is only the current of reason flowing from the heart, the seat of reason. Therefore Christ’s speeches were sweet, because his heart was sweet, full of all love, grace, mercy, and goodness (Matt 12:34-35). His heart was a treasure; his lips, then, could not help but be sweet.

Therefore, beloved, let us test ourselves by this and see what our condition is: whether the words that come from Christ when he speaks to us in his ministry are sweet to us or not.

To some kinds of people the word is like the northern air, which parches and cuts. Ahab could not endure the breath of Elijah (1 Kgs 21:18 and following), nor Herodias the breath of John the Baptist (Mark 6:19), nor the Pharisees the breath of Stephen and Paul (Acts 7:54; Acts 22:22). So too, many nowadays cannot endure the breath of divine truth when it cuts and pierces. These words are arrows that stick. If they do not stick savingly, they stick to kill. If we cannot endure Christ’s breath, we are not his spouse, nor do we have any communion with him.

“His lips are like lilies, dropping sweet myrrh.”

This is one excellence of Christ and of his truth: it preserves the soul in a pure state. It is pure itself, and so it preserves the soul. Myrrh is a liquid that keeps things from decay. Nothing preserves the soul except the word that endures forever. Error, on the other hand, is of a putrefying nature, corrupting and defiling the soul.

“His hands are as gold rings set with beryl.”

Hands are the instruments of action, and Christ’s actions are precious. Whatever he does to the church, and indeed even when he uses evil men to afflict and exercise the church, he has a hand there: a golden, precious hand within the evil hand of wicked men. God does all things by Christ. He is, as it were, God’s hand, through which all things pass. Just as Joseph was the second man of Egypt, through whose hands all things came to the rest, so all things come through Christ’s hands to us (Heb 1:2; John 5:22); and whatever is his handiwork is good. As it was said of him in the days of his flesh, “he did all things well” (Mark 7:37), so still in the church all his workmanship is exceedingly well done. Though we cannot see its excellence, it is all well, both in the government of the church and in his workmanship in our hearts, “the new creature.”

“His belly is as bright ivory overlaid…”

His belly, that is, his inward parts. In the Hebrew the word is used for the inward affections. They are as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires; that is, they are pure. All the inside of Christ, all the affections that he bears, are wonderfully good. His love, his desires, his joys, his hatred are all pure, like pure water in a crystal glass. It may be stirred sometimes, but it is still clear. There are no dregs at the bottom, because there was no taint of sin in him.

“His legs are as pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold.”

That is, all his courses and ways are constant and firm, just like pillars of marble. His children are so too, as far as they are endowed with his Spirit. Christ is yesterday, today, and the same forever (Heb 13:8). With regard to his enemies, he is set out under another kind of image, as having legs of brass to trample them all in pieces (Rev 1:15). But with respect to his constant truth and ways of goodness toward his church, his legs are as pillars of marble.

“His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.”

Lebanon was a fine forest lying on the north side of Judea, in which there were excellent plants of all kinds, especially cedars. Christ’s countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars; that is, his presence is noble, stately, and majestic. So it is, and so it will be when he shows himself indeed for the vindication of his church. Then its enemies will know that his presence is as Lebanon, and excellent as the cedars.

The children of God are like cedars too, for they are the mystical Christ. Other people are mere shrubs compared with them, of no value; but they are cedars, and grow like cedars in Lebanon, from perfection to perfection, bearing the most fruit in their old age. Wicked men are sometimes cedars too, and are said to grow and flourish like the cedars in Lebanon. But look a little while, and you will see their place no more (Ps 37:10). They have no good root, no good foundation. A Christian is a cedar set in Christ, the chief cedar. He is a plant that grows in him. He has an eternal root, and therefore he flourishes eternally.

“His mouth is most sweet, he is altogether lovely.”

His mouth is most sweet. She doubles this commendation. She had said before, “his lips are as lilies dropping sweet myrrh.” Here she says again of his mouth that it is most sweet, to show that this is the chief lovely thing in Christ. The repetition shows the earnestness of the church’s affection for Christ, and the excellence of that part. The chief lovely thing is what comes from his heart through his words and his lips; as indeed the most excellent thing we can think of is the expression of the heart of God in Christ, and of Christ’s love to us.

“His mouth is most sweet.” And indeed, the best evidence of a true affection for Christ, and of a true state of grace, comes from our affection for the word of Christ. Wherever there is an interest in Christ, there is a high regard for the word. “My sheep hear my voice” (John 10:27); and you know what Peter says in John 6. Many of Christ’s hearers and followers forsook him over some sayings of his that they thought hard. Christ says to Peter, “Will ye also leave me?” Peter answered, “Whither, Lord, shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). The apostles, who had the Spirit of God, perceived an incredible graciousness sitting on his lips, and therefore they hung upon his lips. “Whither shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.” If we leave his speech, we leave our comfort; we leave our life.

As a commentary on this, see Psalm 19, where we have a high commendation of God’s excellence: first from the book of nature, the works of God, “the heavens declare the glory of God”; then from the word of God, and on this the psalmist is wonderfully full. “The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testimonies of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple; the statutes of the Lord are right, and rejoice the heart; the commandments of the Lord are pure, and enlighten the eyes; more to be desired than gold, yea, than fine gold; sweeter also than the honey or the honeycomb.”

But notice the order. When is the word of God as precious as gold, sweeter than the honey or the honeycomb? Only when the former commendation has taken place. Where the word is perfect, converting the soul, and where it is sure, making wise the simple, and where the fear of the Lord is clean, there it is more to be desired than fine gold, and sweeter than the honeycomb. So the church here, finding first of all that the word is a converting word and gives understanding to the simple, cannot help speaking of the sweetness of the word of Christ: his lips are as lilies dropping sweet-smelling myrrh; his mouth is most sweet. In this way a person may know their state in grace by their relish for the word.

There is a divine and heavenly relish in the word of God. Take, for instance, the doctrine of his providence, “that all things shall work together for the best to them that love God” (Rom 8:28). What a sweet word this is! A whole kingdom is not worth this promise: that whatever befalls a Christian in this world, there is an overruling providence to sway everything to good, to help forward his eternal good.

That Christ will be present with us in all conditions (Matt 28:20), what a sweet word and promise this is! That he will give his Holy Spirit, if we beg it (Luke 11:13); that he will not fail us nor forsake us (Heb 13:5); that if we confess our sins, and lay them open, he is merciful to forgive them (1 John 1:9); that if our sins were as red as scarlet, they shall all be white as wool (Isa 1:18). What incredible sweetness there is in these to a heart that is prepared for these comforts! How sweet are the doctrines of reconciliation, of adoption, of glory to come, of the offices of Christ, and the like! They have a wonderful relish to a sanctified soul.

Let us therefore discern our state in grace by this: how do we relish divine truths? Do they agree with our nature and suit us? Do we love them more than our appointed food? Are they dearer to us than thousands of gold and silver (Ps 119:72, 127)? Do we like them above all other truths whatever? Every truth in its rank is lovely, and is a beam of God, for truth is of God wherever we find it. But what are other truths compared with this heavenly, soul-saving truth, this gospel truth that comes from Christ? “His mouth is most sweet.”

In our nature there is a contrary disposition and antipathy to divine truth. We love the law better than the gospel, and any truth better than the law. We love a story, or any trifling, worthless thing concerning our ordinary occupations, better than divine truth. In divine truth, the more spiritual things are, the more remote they naturally are from our love and liking. Gospel truths will not go down with a natural heart. Such a person would rather hear a clever point about some vice or virtue finely dwelt upon than anything about Christ, because he was never truly convinced of his corrupt and miserable state by nature. But when the grace of God has changed him, and his eyes are opened to see his misery, then of all truths the truth of Christ savors best. Those truths that come out of the mouth of Christ, and out of the ministry concerning Christ, are the sweetest of all.

Oh, how sweet are those words in the gospel to the poor man: “Thy sins are forgiven thee” (Matt 9:2)! Do you think they did not go to his heart? So too to the woman: her many sins are forgiven her, for she loved much (Luke 7:47). Oh, they were words that went to her soul! And to the thief on the cross: “This day thou shalt be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). How do you think those words affected him? So it is with us, if we have ever been brought low by the sense of our sins. Oh, how sweet a promise of mercy is then! He that brings it is as one of ten thousand, that comes to declare to man his righteousness (Job 33:23), to lay open the mercy that belongs to a distressed soul. Oh, the very feet of those who bring these glad tidings are beautiful (Rom 10:15)!

When our blessed Savior, after his resurrection, spoke to Mary and called her by her name, after she had sought him and could not find him, “O Rabboni,” she says. The words of Christ melted her at once. Let Christ once call us by our names, for he knows us by name, as he knew Moses (Exod 33:17; Isa 43:1); let him by his Spirit speak to us by name and own us, and then we call him Rabboni. We own him in return, for what is our love but the reflection of his love back to him? Therefore the psalmist says, “Let me hear the voice of joy and gladness, that the bones that thou hast broken may rejoice” (Ps 51:8). “Let me hear”: that is, I long to hear your word; not the bare ministerial word, but the word of the Spirit.

But the church does not rest here; she says further, “He is altogether lovely.” Altogether desirable; as if she should say, “Why should I dwell on particulars? He is altogether, from top to toe, amiable, lovely, and delightful.”

“He is altogether lovely.” Lovely to God, to us, to the soul; lovely to him who can best judge of loveliness. The judgment of God, I hope, will carry weight with us; and what does God the Father judge of Christ? “This is my beloved Son” (Matt 3:17). He is the Son of God’s love (Col 1:13), since God cannot but love his own image. He is lovely also as man, for he was pure and holy; lovely as mediator by office, for he was anointed by God to convey the Father’s love to us. He in whom all others are loved must surely be lovely. “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased”; outside him I am well pleased with nobody. And indeed he was filled with all the graces that might make him lovely. All the treasures of wisdom are in him, and of his fullness we all receive grace for grace. He is made a storehouse of all that is good for us.

He is lovely to God in whatever he did. He conducted himself in a lovely way and pleased his Father in all his doings and sufferings. God loved him especially because he was obedient, even unto the death of the cross. Therefore God gave him a name above all names; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, both in heaven and in earth (Phil 2:8-10). As for the angels, they look upon him with admiration. They attended him, and counted it an honor to wait on him. He is lovely to all who are above us, and shall he not be lovely to us?

Objection. But you will say, Was he lovely when he was nailed to the cross and hung between two thieves? Was he lovely when he wore a crown of thorns, when he was whipped, when he lay groveling on the ground, when he sweated water and blood? What loveliness was there in him when he was laid in his grave?

Answer. Oh, yes! Then he was most lovely of all to us, and all the more lovely the more he was abased for us. This is what makes him more lovely: that out of love he would humble himself so low. When greatness and goodness meet together, how beautiful it is! That Christ, so great a majesty, should have such tender compassion! Majesty alone is not lovely, but awe-inspiring and fearful; but joined with such condescending grace, it is wonderfully lovely. How lovely a sight it is to see so great a person so meek and gentle! It was so incomparably lovely in the eyes of the disciples that they stood and marveled to see him, who was the eternal Word of the Father, stoop to talk with a poor Samaritan woman (John 4:6 and following). And what loveliness there was in his conduct toward Peter! Peter did not deserve it, for he had denied him and renounced him with oaths; yet Christ restored him to the place he had formerly held in his heart, and loved him as much as he ever had before. In a word, what sweetness, gentleness, tender meekness, pity and compassion he showed to those who were in misery! We cannot dwell on the particulars.

There is a remarkable passage in the story of King Alphonsus, a king not very well liked by some. When he saw a poor man pulling his beast out of a ditch, he put his own hand to it to help him. After that, as the record says, his subjects always loved him the better. It was a wonderful condescension. And is it not just as wonderful that the King of heaven and earth should stoop so low as to help us poor worms out of the ditch of hell and damnation? And that, when he has set us in a state of deliverance, he should not leave us there, but advance us to such a state and condition as is beyond our wonder, which neither heart can conceive nor tongue express? Is not this a wonderful condescension?

Application 1. To make further use of this point: Is Christ altogether lovely, so lovely to us and so beloved by God the Father? Then let us rest on his obedience and righteousness. Let us build on it, knowing that God cannot refuse that righteousness whose whole subject is altogether lovely. Let us come clothed in the garments of our Elder Brother, and then we need not doubt that we will be accepted; for it is in Christ that God loves us. It is in this well-beloved Son that God is well pleased with us. If we put on Christ’s righteousness, we put on God’s righteousness; and then how can God hate us? He can no more hate us than he hates his own Son. No, he loves us, and loves us with the same love with which he loves him; for he loves the whole mystical Christ, Head and members (John 17:23). Let this strengthen our faith. If Christ is so altogether lovely in himself and to the Father, then we may come before the Father with comfort, clothed in the garments of our Elder Brother, and so rest ourselves on the acceptance of his mediation, since he is so beloved a Mediator.

Application 2. Again, if Christ is so lovely, “altogether lovely,” then let us labor to be in him, so that we may be lovely to God. For he is the first lovely thing in the world, the one in whom we are all made lovely. All our loveliness is in the beloved Christ.

Application 3. Again, if Christ is so lovely, here alone we have something on which to spend the marrow of our best affections. Is it not a pity that we should waste as much of our affection as we do on other things? Christ is altogether lovely; why should we dote on other things so much, and set up idols in our hearts above Christ? Is he altogether lovely, and shall he not have all our loving affections, especially when we are commanded, under pain of a curse, to love the Lord Jesus? “Anathema Maran-atha” is pronounced on those who do not love Christ (1 Cor 16:22). Let us therefore labor to place all our sweet affections that are meant to be exercised on what is good, such as love, joy, and delight, on this object, this lovely and deserving object, Christ, who is “altogether lovely.” When we let a pure stream, as it were, run through a dirty channel, letting our affections run after the things of the world, which are worse than ourselves, we lose both our affections and ourselves.

Let the whole stream of our affections, therefore, be carried to Christ. Love him, and whatever is his; for since he is altogether lovely, everything that comes from him is lovely. His promises, his directions, his counsels, his children and his sacraments are all lovely. Whatever has the stamp of Christ on it, let us love it. We cannot bestow our hearts any better than to lose ourselves in the love of Christ, and to forget ourselves and the love of everything else. Yes, to hate everything in comparison with him, and to count everything dung and dross compared with Christ, is the only way to find ourselves. And in fact we have a better condition in him than in the world or in ourselves. Cut off from him, our condition is vain and will come to nothing; but what we have in him is wonderful and everlasting. We cannot conceive the happiness to which we poor wretches are raised in Christ, or the excellent things that await us, which come from the love of God to us in Christ, who is so altogether lovely. Therefore let us labor with all our might to kindle in our hearts an affection toward Christ, considering that he is so lovely.

Application 4. And let us make a use of trial, to test whether he is lovely to us in this way or not. We may see from this whether we love Christ or not. We may judge our love by our esteem.

1. How do we value Christ? What price does the church set on him? “He is the chief of ten thousand.” What place, then, should he have in our hearts? If he is the chief of ten thousand, let us rather offend ten thousand than offend him. Let us say with David, “Whom have I in heaven but thee?” (Ps 73:25). And when the soul can say to Christ, or to anything that is Christ’s (for I speak of him in the full breadth of his truths, promises, sacraments and communion with his children), “What have I in heaven but thee?” then it is in a happy condition. If these things have the same place in our esteem that they have by reason of their own worth, then we may say truly, without hypocrisy, “He is altogether lovely to us,” and that we truly love him.

2. In the next place, are we ready to suffer for Christ? We see that the church here endures anything for Christ. She was mistreated by the watchmen. They scorned her, and her veil is taken away; yet in spite of all this, she loves Christ still. Do we stand ready and willing to suffer for Christ, to be disgraced and censured by the world? And are we still resolved not to give up? More than that, do we love Christ the more for it, and hold to his truth the faster? Certainly, where the love of Christ is, there is a spirit of courage, as we may see in the church here, who is not discouraged from Christ by anything. He is still the chief of ten thousand. When she was wronged for seeking after him, he was still altogether lovely. On the other hand, there are some who, for the frowns of the great, for fear of loss, or for hope of advancement, will bend their conscience and do anything. Where is their love for Christ and for religion now? Whoever loves Christ loves him the more for his cross, as the Holy Spirit has recorded of some, that they rejoiced that they were thought worthy to suffer for Christ (Acts 5:41). So the more we suffer for him, the dearer he will be to us. For indeed he presents himself in love and comfort most of all to those who suffer for his sake; and so their love is increased.

3. Again, where love is, it enlarges the heart, and the heart, once enlarged, enlarges the tongue as well. The church can never have enough of commending Christ and setting forth his praise. The tongue is loosed because the heart is loosed. Love will change a man’s disposition. As we see by experience, if a man is stingy by nature, love will make him generous; if he is tongue-tied, love will make him eloquent. Let a man love Christ, and though before he could not speak a word in commendation of Christ or for a good cause, yet, I say, if the love of Christ is in him, you will hear him speak and labor earnestly in the praises of God. This hot affection, this heavenly fire, will so mold and change him that he will be a completely different man. We see this in the church here. After a spirit of love was kindled in her, she cannot have done with Christ. When she had said all she could, she adds, “He is altogether lovely.” As for those who cannot speak of Christ, or for Christ, with large hearts in defense of good causes, but are tongue-tied and cold in their affections, where is their love? Put any worldly man on a worldly subject that he is practiced in and speaks of every day, and he has wit and words at will. But put him on a subject of godliness, and you lose him: he is out of his subject and out of his element. But it is not so with those who have ever felt the love of God in Christ. They have large affections. How full Paul is! He cannot speak of Christ without rising to the height, breadth, length and depth of the love of God in Christ, and the knowledge of God that is above all knowledge. In this way we may discern the truth of our love by the way it expresses itself, as it does here in the church.

4. Again, the church here is never content until she finds Christ. Whatever else she had, nothing contents her. She lacked her beloved. As we see here, she goes up and down asking after him until she finds him. So it is with a Christian. If by his own fault he has lost his former communion with Christ, he will not rest or be satisfied. He searches here and there in the use of this means and that. He runs through all God’s ordinances and means until he finds Christ. Nothing in the world will content him, neither honor, riches, position nor friends, until he finds what he once enjoyed but has now lost for a season: the comfort and assurance of God’s love in Christ.

Now, if we can settle down contentedly with other things, and can go without Christ and the assurance of salvation, that sweet witness of the Spirit that we are his, and still be content enough, this is a bad sign that a man is in a bad condition. The church was not of that disposition here. She was never quiet, and never gave up her searching and her speaking of Christ (so that by speaking of the object of her love she might warm her affections), until at last she met with Christ.

These and similar signs there are of the truth of our love for Christ. But where there is a flaming love for Christ, there is this further degree: a desire for the appearing of Christ, a desire for his presence. For if Christ is so lovely in his ordinances, if we find such sweetness in the word and sacraments, in the communion of saints and in the stirrings of the Spirit, what sweetness, do you think, do the souls in heaven enjoy, where they see Christ face to face and see him as he is? This is why the spouse says, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth” (Song 1:2). Oh, that I might live in his presence! This is the desire of a Christian soul when the flame of love is kindled with any strength: “Oh, that I might see him!” And therefore it longs even for death. For as far as a man is spiritual, he desires to depart and to be with Christ. So it was with Simeon when he saw him, even in his humiliation: “Now I have enough; let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation” (Luke 2:29-30). The presence of Christ, even when he was still in the womb, caused the babe in Elizabeth’s womb to leap when Mary, the mother of Christ, came to her. There is such comfort in the presence of Christ, even when he is only in the womb, that it made John leap. What, then, will his presence in heaven be? How will it make the heart leap there, do you think? For what is most lovely in Christ is still to come. That is why the saints who have any degree of grace are described in the New Testament in this way: they were those who loved the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ. How could it be otherwise? If they love Christ, they love the appearing of Christ, when we will be made lovely, as he is lovely.

Here we are not “altogether lovely,” for we have many dregs of sin, many weaknesses and stains. Shall we not, then, long for that time when, as he is “altogether lovely,” so we too will be made a fit spouse for so glorious a husband?

To conclude this point, let us test our affections by the church’s affections in this place, to see whether Christ is so lovely to us or not. It is said, “There is no beauty in him when we shall see him, and he was despised of men” (Isa 53:2). He was so with regard to his cross and sufferings, in the eyes of the world and of carnal men. Herod scorned him; when Pilate sent him to Herod, Herod treated him as a nobody, as the word in the original means. They looked at the outward appearance of Christ in the flesh when he was humbled. “There was no form nor beauty in him,” says the Holy Spirit; that is, to the sight of carnal men. But those who saw their sins with spiritual eyes could judge Christ otherwise. The poor centurion saw an excellence in him when he said he was not worthy that he should come under his roof (Matt 8:8). The poor thief saw the excellence of Christ on the cross, in the midst of those torments: “Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom” (Luke 23:42).

So those souls that were enlightened, that saw their own misery and saw God’s love in Christ, held Christ in high esteem in his deepest humiliation. Therefore, if we have a low esteem of the children of God as contemptible people, of the ordinances of God as mean things, and of the government of Christ (such as he has left in his word) as base, it is evidence of a sinful, unworthy disposition. Christ has never been at work effectually by his Spirit in such a soul; for everything in him is lovely, even the bitterest thing of all. There is a majesty and excellence in all the things of Christ. The censures of the church are excellent when they proceed and are carried out with judgment, as they should be, “to deliver such a man over to Satan, that he may be saved in the day of the Lord” (1 Cor 5:5).

Now, if the ordinances of Christ, the word and sacraments, and the shutting of sinners out of the church, are scorned as powerless things, it shows a degenerate, wicked heart that is not acquainted with the ways of God. If we have a low esteem of men who suffer for Christ and stand up for him, if we call them this or that, shall we think ourselves Christians all the while? When Christ is altogether lovely, shall those who carry the image of Christ be unlovely? Can we love him who begets, and hate those who are begotten of him? Can we love Christ and hate Christians? It cannot be.

1. Now, so that we may get this affection and esteem for Christ, who is so lovely, let us labor to make our sins bitter and loathsome to us, so that Christ may be sweet.

Question. Why is it that we set no higher a price on Christ?

Answer. Because we do not judge ourselves as we really are, and we lack the spiritual eye salve to see into ourselves rightly.

2. And let us attend on the means of salvation, to hear of the unsearchable riches of Christ. What makes anyone lovely to us, except hearing of their riches, their beauty and their good intentions toward us? In the word we are made acquainted with Christ’s good intentions toward us, with the riches of mercy in forgiving our sins, and with the riches of glory prepared for us. The more we hear of him, of his riches and his love for us, the more it will inflame our love for Christ. Those who live where the ordinances of Christ are held forth with life and power have more heavenly and enlarged affections than others, as the experience of Christians will testify.

3. Again, if we want to esteem Christ highly, so that he may be lovely to us, let us join with company that esteem Christ highly, and with such as are better than ourselves. What deadens the affections so much as carnal, worldly company, who have nothing in them but mere civility? By keeping company with those who talk of nothing but the world, a man who has heavenly affections will quickly dull them and be in danger of losing them. We may deal with such people in civil matters; but when we want to set ourselves to be heavenly and holy minded, let us keep company with those who are of a heavenly bent. As we see here, “the daughters of Jerusalem” are won to love Christ. By what? By conversing with the church. Upon the church’s discourse of his excellencies in particular, they begin to ask, Where is Christ? (as in the next chapter); and so they are all brought to the love of Christ.

His mouth is most sweet; yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem (Song 5:16). Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee? My beloved is gone down… (Song 6:1-2).

By this time the church has acquitted herself well on that safe subject, commending her beloved, first in general and then in particular. In effect she affirms that there was none like him in general, and afterward she makes this good in all the particulars of her description. Now she sums it all up with a kind of overflowing expression. What more shall I say of him? If what has been said is not enough, then know further that he is altogether lovely. There would be no end to going through all his perfections; but look at him as a whole: “he is altogether lovely,” and therefore he deserves my love. So there is no reason for you to wonder at the strength of my affections, and at my care to find this my beloved and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Thus we see how high an enlightened soul aims. It aspires to things suited to itself: toward God, to union and communion with Christ, to supernatural objects. Nothing here below is worthy of the name of its beloved. It does not fasten on earthly, base things. But this is my beloved, and this is my friend: this so excellent a person, this Jedidiah, this beloved Son, this Judge of all, Lord of all, this chief among ten thousand. Here the church fixes her affections. She does not hide them as though ashamed of them; rather, in a kind of triumph, she boasts of her choice. She concludes everything with a kind of resolute assurance that the object of her choice is far beyond all comparison: “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.”

This is the close of her commendation of Christ: “This is my beloved, and this my friend.” We will only touch on it, because we had occasion to speak of it before. She calls Christ her beloved. Although he had withdrawn himself as regards the comfort and communion she had enjoyed with him before, he is still her beloved.

What we must chiefly insist on is that the church here sets out her beloved Christ not only piece by piece but in general: “This is my beloved.” She boasts, as it were, in her beloved. From this observe:

A Christian soul seems, as it were, to glory in Christ.

“This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.” But to unfold this point more fully, there are three or four ends for which the church dwells in this way on the excellences of Christ, both in particular and in general.

1. The first is to show that it is entirely just that she should love and respect him in whom there is all this to deserve love: both in himself, in regard to his own excellencies, and in relation to us, in regard to his merits and deservings.

2. Second, to justify her large affections before the world and all opponents. For the world thinks, What do these people who are called Christians mean by frequenting the exercises of religion and spending so much time on good things? They wonder at it for lack of better information. Now the church here, to justify her large expressions, says, “This is my beloved, this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.”

3. And not only to justify, but also to glory in it, as you have it in Psalm 44:8. There the church boasts of God: “I will make my boast of thee all the day long.” So Christians may not only justify their course of life against enemies, but in some sense boast of Christ, as Paul often does. And he shows the reason for it: God has made Christ everything to us, “wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption” (1 Cor 1:30), so that whoever glories might glory in the Lord (1 Cor 1:31). For is it not a matter for glorying in the church, when she has such a head and such a husband? “This is my beloved.” The wife shines in the beams of her husband. Therefore this yields matter not only for justification but for glory.

4. Next, in the fourth place, the church is this expansive, and closes everything with a repetition, “This is my beloved,” to enlarge her own affections and to feed her own love. For love feeds on this fuel, as it were: on expressions and meditations of the person or thing loved. Love is, as it were, its own wages; the pains it takes are gain to itself. To the church here it is a pleasing subject, and she enlarges on a rich theme. I may truly say there is no greater comfort to a Christian, nor a readier way to enlarge the affections toward Christ, than to speak often of the excellencies of Christ, and to have one’s tongue furnished in this way, like the pen of a ready writer: “This is my beloved.”

5. In the fifth place, another end of this may be to make her own shame weigh more heavily. God’s children indeed dwell much on this argument, so that by their second thoughts of Christ’s worthiness, reflecting at the same time on their own unworthiness and unkindness, they may relish Christ the better. So the church here, that it might appear to herself, for her humbling, how unkind she had been to shut the door against Christ when he knocked (for which he deservedly withdrew himself and made her seek him so long in sorrow), says, I tell you what kind of beloved he is: excellent in this way and in that. How the consideration of God’s kindness and love melted David’s heart after that horrible sin in the matter of Uriah (2 Sam 12:13)! And the sweet looks of Christ upon Peter, who had been so unkind, melted him (Matt 26:75).

So here the church considered how unkind she had been to Christ her beloved, so incomparably excellent above other beloveds, in letting him stand at the door till his locks were wet with the dew of the night; and the consideration of it made her ashamed of herself. What! That so excellent, so deserving a person as my beloved is to me should be so used by me! What an indignity this is! There is no question that the church takes this course in order to set her unkindness in its full weight. For God’s children are not like perverse worldlings and hypocrites, afraid to search and understand themselves. The child of God loves to be well read in his own heart and his unworthy ways. Therefore he lays all the blame he can on himself in every way. He knows he loses nothing by this, for there is more mercy in Christ than there is sin in him; and the more sin abounds in his own feeling, the more grace will abound. He knows the mystery of God’s dealings in this respect. Therefore, for this end among the rest, she says, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend,” whom I have used so unkindly.

6. The last reason why the church is so expansive was to draw out and wind up the affections of those well-meaning Christians who were just setting out, who were asking the way to Zion. O daughters of Jerusalem, so that you may know there is some reason to seek after Christ more than you have done before, I tell you what an excellent person my beloved is. She speaks to whet their affections more and more. And we see the success of this excellent discourse at the beginning of the next chapter: “Whither is thy beloved gone?”

These and similar reasons lie behind the church’s large expressions of the excellencies of Christ: “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.” But out of these reasons we will single out for application the one I think fittest for us to make use of.

Let us then often think of the excellencies of Christ for this end: to justify our endeavors and the pains we take in the exercises of religion, and to clear God’s people of the false charges the world lays on them, as if they were negligent in other matters and too much busied with spiritual things. You see how expansive the church is in setting out the excellencies of her beloved; and then, being able to say no more, she closes everything by justifying our cause: “This is my beloved, and this is my friend.” Do you wonder, then, that I seek after him so much? Or do you wonder at Christians when they take such pains to keep up their communion with Christ in a holy walking with God and depending on him? These are no wonders if you consider how excellent Christ is, what he has done for us, and what he keeps for us in another world: that he will preserve us to his heavenly kingdom until he puts us in possession of that glorious condition he has purchased. Let the hearts of men dwell on the consideration of these things, and then you will see that God’s children are rather to be blamed for being no more careful, watchful, and industrious than to be criticized for being so much.

Our Savior Christ said, “Wisdom is justified of all her children” (Luke 7:35). If you would prove that you are children of wisdom, you must be able to justify the wisdom of God in every way: to justify your reading, your hearing, your communion of saints; to justify all the exercises of religion from an experiential taste of their sweetness, as the church does here: “This is my beloved.” What does Joshua say? This is the choice I have made. Do what you will, it does not matter to me; but I and my house will serve the Lord (Josh 24:15).

So Paul makes a voluntary profession of his affection: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ” (Rom 1:16). Let the gospel be received in the world as it will, and let others think of me as they will, that I am overeager in preaching it; I am not ashamed of it. And he had good reason not to be ashamed, for it is the power of God to salvation to all who believe; yes, the saving power to us. And do I not have cause to stand in its defense? So also he says, “I know whom I have believed” (2 Tim 1:12). I am not ashamed to suffer bonds for his sake. Though the world thought him a person of no account, his answer is, I will not be scorned out of my faith and religion by shallow, empty people who do not know what Christ and religion mean. No: “I know whom I have believed; he is able to keep that that I have committed to him against that day.” Let us therefore be able to justify sweet divine truths from a judicious understanding of them.

You see what justifications there are of the church of God: “Wherefore should the heathen say, Where is now their God?” (Ps 115:2). Oh, it went to David’s heart when they said, “Where is now their God?” (Ps 42:10) and asked what had become of his God, when he was left in trouble, as the church is here. And what does he answer? Does he let it pass with a question? No, he says; our God is in heaven (Ps 115:3), and he has done whatever he pleased.

And you may know this justification of religion by this sign: it goes together with forsaking every kind of discourse that is opposed to religion. He who justifies the truth thinks meanly of other courses and discourses. Therefore in the next verse the church vilifies the idols. Our God is in heaven and does whatever he pleases; the idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands; they have eyes and see not, ears and hear not (Ps 115:6). And the more we justify Christ, the more we will be against antichrist and his religion. We may know that we own the one truth by our vilifying the other. Let us labor, therefore, to grow to such a convincing knowledge of Christ, of the good things in him, and of the ways of God, that we may be able to stand out against all the opposition of the gates of hell whatever.

And to this end, go on in the study of Christ and to a deeper search of him, and of the excellencies and good things in him, so that we may say, as in Micah 7:18, “Who is a God like to thee, that pardons sins and iniquities?” and as David says in Psalm 113, “Who is a God like our God, that humbleth himself to behold the things done here below?”

And for this purpose, desire also the spirit of revelation, which Paul prays for in Ephesians 3:18, that we may know that knowledge that is above all knowledge, the height, depth, and breadth of God’s love in Christ. So sweet is God in the deepest humblings of his children that he leaves such a taste in the soul of a Christian that from it he can say, “This is my beloved,” even when his beloved seems not to care for him. When the church seemed to be disregarded and neglected by Christ, she still says, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.”

Shall rich men boast of their riches? Shall men who are in favor boast of the favor of great persons? Shall a man who has large possessions boast, and think himself as good and as great as his estate is? Shall a base-minded worldling be able to boast? “Why boastest thou thyself, O mighty man?” (Ps 52:1). Indeed, you will even find malignant-spirited men boasting of their malignant, destructive power: I can do this and that mischief. Shall a man boast of mischief, that he is able to do mischief, and does a Christian not have more cause to boast in God and in salvation? Lord, shine on me, says David (Ps 4:6); let me enjoy the light of your countenance, and that will bring me more joy than they have when their grain and wine increase. Know this, as he goes on to say in the same psalm, that God accepts the righteous man.

Therefore let us consider that we have much more cause to boast of God and of Christ in a spiritual manner than the worldling has to boast of the world. Are not God and Christ our portion? And having Christ, do we not have all things with Christ? Suppose all things were taken from us. If a man has Christ, he is rich though he has nothing else. If he has everything without him, his plenty is beggary, as one of the fathers says, and as it is in truth. But whoever has Christ may rejoice with David in this way: “The lot is fallen to me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage” (Ps 16:6). Would we have more than God in Christ, a ring with a very precious diamond in it?

Now the daughters of Jerusalem, hearing this large expression of affection, ask, “Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee” (Song 6:1).

Here is another question. The first one the daughters of Jerusalem ask is, “What is thy beloved?” Upon this the church took occasion to express what her beloved was, closing up her description with this general statement: “This is my beloved, and this is my friend.”

Then the second question is, “Whither is thy beloved gone?” One question begets another. And indeed, if the first question, what Christ is above others, is well answered, this will follow in turn: Where is he? How shall I get him? How shall I seek him? Why is this second question so seldom asked: where has he gone, and how shall I get Christ? Because the former question, namely, “What is Christ?” is so seldom asked. For if we once knew what Christ is, we would be sure, with the daughters of Jerusalem, to ask where he has gone, so that we may seek him with you.

We see here a growth in the desires of the daughters of Jerusalem, from which we learn:

That grace, though it is in ever so small a proportion at first, is always growing.

From the first question, “What is thy beloved?” here comes a second, upon better information: “Whither is thy beloved gone, that we may seek him with thee?” Nothing is smaller than grace at first; nothing in the world is so little in proportion. The kingdom of heaven is compared to a grain of mustard seed (Matt 13:31 and following). That is, the work of grace in the heart, as well as in the preaching of the gospel, is little in the beginning. It is true of the work of grace, as well as of the word of grace, that it is like a grain of mustard seed at first. “What is thy beloved?” the daughters of Jerusalem ask at first; but when they hear of the excellency of Christ, then it is, “Whither is thy beloved gone?”

Grace begets grace. There is a connection and knitting together in religion. Good things beget good things. It is a strange thing in religion how great a matter arises from a little beginning. The woman of Samaria had only a small beginning of grace, and yet she immediately drew many of her neighbors to believe in Christ. So did Andrew (John 1:41). As soon as he was converted, he found his brother Simon, told him that he had found the Messiah, and so brought him to Christ. And Philip, as soon as he had gained a spark of faith himself, drew Nathanael to come to Christ too. Paul speaks of his bonds, how the noise of them was in Caesar’s court (Phil 1:13), and many believed upon the very report. Although such a report is not a working cause, it may yet be a preparing, inducing, leading cause toward such things, from one thing to another, until this change and full conversion follows.

You see here the daughters of Jerusalem growing. Therefore let us labor to be under good means. Some of the Roman Catholics, and others who are unsound and poorly grounded on that point, think that the effectiveness of grace comes from what we call the congruity, the fitness and proportion, of the means to the heart and will of man. On this basis, they say, God converts one and not another, because a congruous and fitting offer of the means is made to one when he is fitly disposed, while the other is not fitly disposed, and therefore effectual calling does not follow in his case. In their view, then, the power of the means offered depends on the suitableness and fitness of the person to whom the means are offered, and not on the power and blessing of God. Truly, this is plausible, and it goes down very smoothly with many weak persons. But it is a false and gross error. For unless God works by the means through his Holy Spirit, no planting and watering will bring any increase or change the heart and mind. Though there were greater means in Christ’s time, when he worked these miracles, than at any time before, yet all those could not convert that perverse generation. And it was Moses’ complaint in the wilderness, where they had an abundance of means: “God hath not given you a heart to perceive, and eyes to see, and ears to hear until this day” (Deut 29:4).

When a man is planted under good means and frequents them, then ordinarily it pleases God, by the inward workings of his own powerful Spirit, to work greater things. But as for those who keep out of God’s reach, who will not come to places where they may hear good things, there is no hope of them. Though there are many bad fish in the net, there is no hope of catching those that are outside the net. So for those who are kept out of all the opportunities and occasions by which God’s Spirit may work on them, there is no hope.

Let us learn this heavenly wisdom, to turn things to our own advantage in this way by making use of every good opportunity by which we may learn; for God works by outward means. Good company and good conversation breed excellent thoughts. Therefore, as we love our souls, let us take every advantage in which the Spirit of God works. We will find incredible fruit from it, more than we would believe. But to come to the question.

1. See here, first of all, in this question, the blessed success of the church’s inquiry after Christ in the daughters of Jerusalem, after they heard the large explanations of the excellencies of Christ, especially from the church, of whom they had a good opinion, for they call her “the fairest among women.”

They saw, likewise, the confidence of the church (she stands by it: “This is my beloved”), and also an eagerness in the church to seek after him; so they would seek him with her. So where these things meet, the word, I say, when so handled, never fails of wonderful success: where there is a large unfolding of the truth of God, and that by persons who are known to be good, well accepted and well thought of; and where there is a large demonstration of real affection, and the things are spoken of with confidence, as by those who know what they say.

(1) For in the course of reason, what can I have to say, considering the person who speaks is an excellent person? He is wiser and holier than I am. He takes these things to heart; and should I not set my affections on what those with better gifts and graces set theirs on?

(2) Then, besides this, I see not only that excellent persons do it, but how earnest they are. Surely there is something in it. For persons so holy, so wise and so gracious to be so earnest, either they are to blame or I am too dull and too dead; but I have the most cause to suspect myself.

(3) And then I see them carried along with a spirit of confidence, as if they were well enough advised when they deliver this: “This is my beloved,” in particular, and then sum up all in general, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend.” I say, when there is grace and life in the heart, and earnestness joined with confidence, this, together with the unfolding of the heavenly excellencies of Christ and of religion, has admirable success. So it is here with the church, “the fairest among women.” The “daughters of Jerusalem” saw the church so earnest, so confident and so full in unfolding the excellencies of Christ; and see how it works. It draws out this question from them with resolution. They join with the church in seeking Christ: “Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee” (Song 6:1). Observe by the way that, as the church before doubled it, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend,” so they answer with a double question: “Whither is thy beloved gone? whither is he turned aside? O thou fairest among women.” From the title they give her, note this:

2. If we would be happy instruments to convert others, being converted ourselves, let us labor to be such as the world may think good and gracious. “O thou fairest among women”: fair in the robes of Christ, taken out of his wardrobe. All the beauty and ornaments the church has, she has from Christ. Let us labor to be such that the world may think us good people. We say of physicians that when the patient has a good opinion of them, the cure is half done. So a doctrine is half believed when people have a good opinion of the speaker.

3. Again, labor to be earnest. If we would kindle others, we must be warmed ourselves; if we would make others weep, we must weep ourselves. Even the natural philosophers could observe this. The church spoke this with large expressions, indeed with more than can be expressed. Let us labor to be deeply affected with what we speak, and to speak with confidence, as those who know what they are saying. So the apostle John does at the beginning of his epistle, to bring others to be better persuaded of his doctrine. He affirms that what he delivered to them was “that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with these our eyes, which we have looked upon, and these hands of ours have handled of the word of life” (1 John 1:1).

For when we are confident from spiritual experience, it is wonderful how we become God’s instruments to win others. So Peter: “We followed not,” he says, “deceivable fables, when we opened unto you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but with our eyes we saw his majesty” (2 Pet 1:16).

Do not think this belongs only to the ministry. There is an art of conversion, of winning others, that belongs to every grown Christian.

“Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?”

The next observation from the words comes from the large unfolding of Christ, because that is the chief thing that works on the daughters of Jerusalem. What most of all stirs up holy affections to search after Christ is the large unfolding of his excellencies.

Then be in love with the ministry of the gospel and the communion of saints, whose tongues and hearts are taught by God to speak excellently. Their tongues are as refined silver (Prov 10:20); their hearts are enriched to increase the communion of saints. Mark this one excellency of that excellent ordinance of God in Christ, of which Paul says, To me is committed this excellent office, to lay open the unsearchable riches of Christ (Eph 3:7-8). These are riches such as may draw you to wonder, such “as eye hath never seen, nor ear heard, nor hath entered into the heart of man to conceive” (1 Cor 2:9); and so they draw the affections of people after them.

And because it is the special office of the ministry to lay him open, to hold up the tapestry, to unfold the hidden mysteries of Christ, let us labor, therefore, to be always speaking something about Christ, or something tending that way. When we speak of the law, let it drive us to Christ; when we speak of moral duties, let it teach us to walk worthy of Christ. Christ, or something tending to Christ, should be our theme and the mark we aim at.

What, then, shall we judge of those who hinder this glorious ordinance of Christ in the gospel? They are enemies of conversion and of the calling of God’s people, enemies of their comfort. And what shall we think of those wretched and miserable creatures who, like Cain, are vagabonds, who wander about and will not meekly submit themselves to any ordinance, but keep themselves out of this blessed opportunity of hearing the excellencies of Christ, which might draw their hearts to him? We are made forever if Christ and we are one. If we have all the world without him, it is nothing; if we have nothing in the world but Christ, we are happy. Oh, how happy, then, when this match is made between Christ and the soul! The friends of the bride and of Christ, by laying open the unsearchable riches of Christ to the spouse, draw her affections, work faith, and so bring the bride and the bridegroom together.

So much for the question. Now we have the church’s answer to the daughters of Jerusalem: “My beloved is gone into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies” (Song 6:2).

The question was not asked for bare satisfaction, but came from a desire the church had to seek Christ: “Whither is thy beloved gone, that we may seek him?” It was not a curious question, but a question of inquiry tending to practice. Many are inquisitive; but when they know another person’s meaning, that is all they want. “Now I know your meaning,” they will say, “but I do not intend to follow your counsel.” The daughters of Jerusalem had a more sincere intention: “O thou fairest among women, whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.” To this the church answered, “My beloved is gone into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens.”

Here we see that the church does not hold back, but answers the question directly. For there is no envy in spiritual things, because each person may possess them whole. One may have as much as another, and all alike. Envy has no place in things that are not divided up; in other things, the more one has, the less another has. But there is no envy in grace and glory, because all may share alike. So there is no envy in her answer here, as if she would deny the daughters of Jerusalem the enjoyment of her beloved. No. “If you want to know,” she says, “I will tell you directly where my beloved is gone.”

“My beloved is gone into his garden, to the beds of spices.”

God has two gardens. The universal church is his garden, and every particular church is a garden and a bed of spices, in that many Christians are sown there in whom Christ’s soul delights, as in sweet spices. We spoke of this at length before, on chapter 5, verse 1 (Song 5:1): why the church is called a garden, being a place severed from the waste. The church is severed from the wilderness of the world in God’s care and love; and he tends and weeds his church, his garden, accordingly. As for the waste of the world, he is content that the wilderness should have barren plants, but he will not endure such in his garden. Therefore those who give themselves liberty to be wicked in the church of God, he will have a time to root out. Trees that are not for fruit shall be for the fire; and above all other trees, those that grow in God’s garden without fruit shall have the heaviest doom. That fig tree shall be cursed (Luke 13:6-9).

People like to answer the bill of accusation against them like this: “Are we not baptized? Do we not come to church?” and so on. “What do you make of us?” Yet they are abominable swearers and filthy in their lives. To such I say: the more God has lifted you up and honored you in the use of the means, the more just your damnation will be, since you bring forth nothing but briers and brambles (Heb 6:4 and following), the grapes of Sodom and the vine of Gomorrah (Deut 32:32). Heavy will be the doom of many who live in the church’s bosom, for whom it would have been better to have been born in America, in Turkey, or in the most barbarous parts of the world. They have a heavy account to give who have profited so poorly under such abundance of means. Therefore this ought to be taken to heart.

“My beloved is gone into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.” That is, having first planted them as lilies here, he goes to gather them and to transplant them out of the garden here into the garden in heaven, where there shall be nothing but lilies. For since the first paradise, which was a resemblance of them, the church of God has two gardens or paradises: the paradise of the church and the paradise of heaven. As Christ says to the good thief, “This day thou shalt be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43), so those who are good plants in the paradise of the church shall also be glorious plants in the paradise of heaven. We must not always be here; we shall change our soil and be taken into heaven. “He is gone into his garden to gather lilies.”

1. Christians are compared to lilies for their purity and whiteness. They are unspotted in justification; and in their endeavors after sanctity and holiness they shall at length be wholly unspotted as well. This is the end to which they are chosen, “to be holy without blame before him in love” (Eph 1:4). God and Christ look on them as without blame, not as they are here, defiled and spotted, but as those who intend, little by little, to purge and purify themselves by the Spirit that is in them, so that they may be altogether without blame. They are lilies by being clothed with the white garment of Christ’s righteousness, not by having any natural whiteness and purity. The whiteness and purity of God’s children is borrowed. All their beauty and garments are taken out of another’s wardrobe. The church is all glorious within, but she borrows her glory, as the moon borrows all her light from the sun. The church’s excellency is borrowed. It is her own, but by gift; and once it is her own, it is her own forever.

The church was likened before to a garden set apart, an Eden, a paradise. Now in paradise, you know, there were four streams, sweet and goodly rivers, which watered it; and the heads of those rivers were outside it. So it is with the church of God. Her graces are her own; that is, the Spirit of God comes through her nature, and purges and purifies it. But the spring of those graces, as in paradise, is outside herself.

2. And then the lily is a tall, goodly plant; therefore the church is compared to lilies. Other people are compared to thorns, not only for a noxious, hurtful quality in them, but for their baseness as well. What are thorns good for, but to cumber the ground, to eat out its heart, to hide snakes, and for the fire? Wicked people are not lilies but thorns. They are base, mean persons. Antiochus is said to be “a vile person” (Dan 11:21), though he was a king, because he was a wicked man. Wicked people, however great they may be, being void of the grace of God, are vile persons. Though we must respect them in regard of their positions, yet as to their character, they are vile and base thorns. But the church is not so; she is as a lily among thorns, that is, among vile and abominable persons.

Application 1. The use of this is to comfort God’s children. They have an excellency and glory in them which, though it is not from themselves, is still theirs by gift, and eternally theirs. Therefore let them comfort themselves against all the censures of sinful people who labor to trample them underfoot, and who think basely and meanly of them, as of the offscouring of the world. Let the unworthy world think of them as it will; they are lilies in God’s esteem, and are so indeed. They are glorious persons who have the Spirit of glory resting on them (1 Pet 4:14), and of whom the world is not worthy (Heb 11:38), though their glory is within. Therefore let us glory in this above any other privilege: that God grants us saving grace.

Application 2. Again, it comforts us in all our wants whatever, that God will take care of us. Christ uses this argument. God, he says, clothes the lilies of the field with excellent beauty; he cares even for the lowliest plants, and will he not take care of you, “ye of little faith” (Matt 6:30)? Does he care for lilies, which are here today and tomorrow are cast into the oven, and shall he not care for the lilies of paradise, the living lilies, those holy, rational lilies? Undoubtedly he will. Our Savior Christ’s reasoning is undeniable. He who puts such beauty on the poor plants that flourish in the morning and wither before night, he who puts such beauty on the grass of the field, will he not put more excellency on his children? Will he not provide for them and feed them? Undoubtedly he will. Thus we have shown why God’s children in the church of God are compared to lilies.

“To gather lilies.” Christ is said to gather these lilies; that is, he will gather them together. Christ will not have his lilies alone and scattered. Though he often leaves them alone for a while, yet he will gather them into congregations and churches. In the original language, the word for a church signifies nothing but a company gathered out of the world. Do we think we are lilies by nature? No; we are thorns and briers. God makes us lilies, and then gathers us to other lilies, so that one may strengthen another. The Spirit of God in his children is not a spirit that separates Christians from Christians, but a spirit that separates them from the waste, wild wilderness of the world. As we say of fire, it gathers together things of the same kind and separates things of a different kind. It gathers all things of one nature, such as gold, but separates things of another nature and consumes the dross. So the Spirit of God severs thorns and gathers lilies; he gathers Christians together in the church, and will gather them forever in heaven.

Thus we see what the church’s answer to the daughters of Jerusalem was, together with the occasion of it, the question of the daughters of Jerusalem: “Whither is thy beloved gone?” So the church was indebted to the daughters of Jerusalem for putting such a question to her, which gave her occasion to know better what her beloved was. Indeed, we often gain by weaker Christians. Good questions, even from weak ones, call forth fitting answers. There is a Greek proverb that “doubting begets plenty and abundance,” for doubting at first begets resolution at last. Oh, that we could take occasion from this to think on it! What excellent virtue there is in the communion of saints when they meet about heavenly exercises! What a blessing follows when, though their affections may be flat and dull as they come in, they do not part so! Christ heats and inflames their hearts to do much good to one another. Oh, should not those who shall live together forever in heaven delight to live more together on earth?

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; he feedeth among the lilies (Song 6:3).

These words are a kind of triumphant acclamation upon all the former passages. They are, as it were, the closing refrain of the song. The church had spoken earlier of her ill-dealing with Christ, and of how he then absented himself from her, along with many other passages; and now she shuts up all at last with this: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”

Now she begins to feel some comfort from Christ, who had estranged himself from her. “Oh!” she says, “in spite of all my sufferings, desertions, crosses and the like, ‘I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.’” These words express the wonderful comfort, joy and contentment the church now had in Christ, her heart being inflamed with love for him once he had shown himself to her soul. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.”

There is a mutual exchange here, a claiming of each other back and forth between Christ and his church. I am Christ’s, and Christ is mine. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”

From the connection and order of the words, coming as they do after a desertion that lasted for a while, observe this: Christ will not be long away from his church.

Spiritual desertions (forsakings, as we usually call them) are very grievous to the church, which loves communion with Christ. It is grievous to a loving soul to be deprived of the sense of her beloved. Yet however grievous they are, they are only short. Christ will not be long away from his church. His love and her desire will not let him. They offer violence. “Why are you absent?” they say. “Why are you so far off, hiding yourself?” Joseph may conceal himself for a while, but he will find it very hard to hold out long and keep himself so restrained toward his brothers. His feelings will break out. So Christ may seem hard to persuade, as though he were acting against his own sweet disposition, as he did with the woman of Canaan. But he will not keep at this distance for long. He is soon overcome: “O woman, great is thy faith; have what thou wilt” (Matt 15:28). When she strove with him a little (for faith is a striving grace), see how she won him over! So the angel and Jacob may strive for a while, but in the end Jacob proves to be Israel; he prevails with God (Gen 32:24 and following).

So it is with the Christian soul and Christ. There may be desertion, for the causes mentioned before: partly because the church was negligent, as we have heard, and partly for the time to come, so that Christ by his estrangement might sweeten his coming again. But however much distance there may be for a time, Christ will return to his spouse.

Application 1. The use of this should be not only for comfort to steady us in such times, but to teach us also to wait, and never give up. If the church had given up here, she would not have had such gracious manifestations of Christ to her. Learn this lesson from it, then: wait for God’s good time. God will wait to do good to those who wait on him (Isa 30:18). If we wait for his time, he will wait for an opportunity to do us good. When God seems not to answer our prayers, let us still wait. We will not lose by our waiting. He will wait to do us good.

Application 2. In the next place, observe that after this temporary desertion, Christ visits his church with more abundant comfort than ever before.

Now the church cannot hold back: “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” And Christ cannot hold back either, but breaks out in a full commendation of his spouse in return. As she was generous in praising him, so he is generous in praising her, and more generous still. He will have the last word. Therefore learn from this experience “that all things work together for the best to them that love God” (Rom 8:28). All things. What, evil? Yes, evil. Why, even sin turns to their humbling; yes, and desertion (one of those spiritual ills) turns to their good. For Christ seems to forsake us for a while so that he may come afterward with a greater abundance of comfort. First he enlarges the soul with a spacious desire for his coming, so that it says, “Oh, that he would come!” When the soul is stretched in this way with desire, in the sense of its want, then he fills it again until it bursts out, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.”

Bernard, a holy man in evil times, made a good observation from experience, speaking of Christ’s dealing with his church. He comes, and he goes away, for your good. He comes for your good, to comfort you. After that, if you are not careful to maintain communion with him, he goes away for your good: to correct your error, to enlarge your desire for him again, and to teach you to lay a surer and firmer hold on him when you have him, and not to let him go again.

If you would like to see a passage parallel to this, look in Song of Songs 3, where there is a similar case of the spouse and Christ: “By night on my bed I sought him.” The church sought Christ not only by day but by night: “I sought him whom my soul loved.” Though she lacked him, yet her soul loved him constantly. Though a Christian’s soul may not have present communion with Christ, yet he may truly say, “My soul loves him,” because he seeks him diligently and constantly in the use of all the means. So we see that the church, before my text, still calls him “my beloved,” though she lacked communion with him.

Well, she goes on: “I sought him, but I found him not.” Would the church give up there? No. Then she rises and goes about the city and about the streets, and seeks him whom her soul loved. She seeks him and will not give up. So: “I sought him,” but I did not obtain what I sought; “I found him not.” What comes next? The watchmen go about the city, and find her. When she could not find Christ by her own seeking, she inquires of them, “Saw you him whom my soul loveth?” She inquires of the watchmen, the guides of God’s people, who could not satisfy her fully.

She could not find her beloved. Yet what does she do? She shows us in Song 3:4. It was only a little while that she waited after she had used all the means, private and public: in her bed, out of her bed, by the watchmen and others. Yet, she says, it was only a little that she had passed from them. She did not have an answer immediately, though the watchmen gave her some good counsel. It was not immediate, yet it was not long after. Christ will exercise us for a while with waiting: “It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loved.”

After all our seeking, there must be waiting, and then we will find him whom our soul loves. Perhaps we have used all the means, private and public, and still do not find the comfort we are looking for. Oh, but wait a while! God has waited a long time for you. Be content to wait a while for him. We will not lose by it, for it follows in the same verse, after she had found him whom her soul loved: “I held him, I would not let him go.”

So this is the outcome of desertions. They stir up diligence and searching in the use of the means, private and public. And they exercise patience to wait for God’s good time, for he will not allow a gracious soul to fail in its expectation. In the end he will fulfill the desires of those who fear him (Ps 145:19), and this comes of their patience. Grace grows greater and stronger: “I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him unto my mother’s house.” So you see how the Spirit expresses the same truth in another condition of the church. Compare one passage with another.

To go on: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” The words themselves are a passionate expression of long-awaited consolation. The affections have an eloquence of their own beyond words. Fear has its own proper expression. Love vents itself in broken words and sighs, delighting in a peculiar eloquence suited to the height and pitch of the affection, which no words can reach. So there is more in words breathed from such an inflamed heart than ordinary grammar can pick out of them. “I am my beloved’s” comes from a full and large heart, and expresses the union and communion between Christ and the church, especially after a desertion. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”

First, I say, the words express the union, that is, the union of persons, which comes before all comfort and communion of graces: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Christ’s person is ours, and our persons are his. It is as it is in marriage. If the husband’s person were not the wife’s, his goods would not be hers, nor his titles of honor. All these come to her because his person is hers, since he has passed over the right of his own body and person to his wife, as she has passed over all the right of herself to her husband. So it is in this mystical marriage. What entitles us to communion of graces is the union of persons between Christ and his church. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved himself is mine.”

And indeed nothing else will content a Christian’s heart. He would not care so much for heaven itself if he did not have Christ there. The sacrament, the word and his comforts: why does he value them? Because they come from Christ, and because they lead to Christ. It is only an adulterous and base affection that loves anything severed from Christ.

Now from this union of persons comes a communion of all other things whatsoever. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” If Christ himself is mine, then all is mine. What he has done and what he has suffered is mine; the benefit of it all is mine. What he has is mine. His prerogatives and privileges, to be the Son of God and heir of heaven and the like, are all mine. Why? Because he himself is mine. Union is the foundation of communion.

So it is here with the church: “I am my beloved’s.” My person is his. My life is his, to glorify him and to lay it down when he wills. My goods are his, and my reputation is his. I am content to sacrifice everything for him. I am his, and all that is mine is his. So you see there is union and communion, mutually, between Christ and his church.

The origin and spring of this is that Christ first unites and communicates himself to his church. The spring gives the stream its beginning. What does the stream or cistern have in it but what it has received from the spring? First we love him, because he loved us first (1 John 4:19). Augustine spoke truly: whatever is good or lovely in the world is either God or from God; it is either Christ or from Christ. He begins it.

It is said that in nature love descends. The father and the mother love the child before the child can love them. Love, indeed, is of a fiery nature. Only here is the difference: fire ascends, but love descends. It is stronger descending from the greater to the lesser than ascending from the lower to the greater, and that for this reason among others: because the greater person looks upon the lesser as a piece of himself, and sees himself in it. The father and mother see themselves in their child. So God loves us more than we can love him, because he sees his image in us.

Nor is there only a priority of order, in that he loves us first and then we love him. There is also a priority of causality. He is the cause of our love, and not only by way of motive, as if it were merely that he loves us and therefore, out of a noble spirit, we must love him in return. Rather, he gives us his Spirit and circumcises our hearts to love him (Deut 30:6). For all the motives and moral persuasions in the world cannot, without the Spirit, make us love. Paul says that we are taught by God to love one another (1 Thess 4:9), our brothers whom we see daily; much more do we need to be taught to love him whom we have never seen. So his love kindles ours by way of reflection.

In the new covenant God works both parts, his own part and ours too. Our love for him, our fear of him, our faith in him: he works it all, just as he shows his own love to us.

If God loves us like this, what must we do? Meditate on his love. Let our hearts be warmed with the thought of it. Let us bring them to that fire of his love, and then they will grow hot within us. And let us beg for the Spirit: “Lord, you have promised to give your Spirit to those who ask for it” (Luke 11:13), and to circumcise our hearts to love you and to love one another. “Give your Holy Spirit, as you have promised.”

In a word, to join both parts of these words together, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”:

1. They imply a mutual ownership. Christ has a right of ownership in me, and I in Christ. And it is a special ownership. Christ is mine as nothing else in the world is mine. He is so much mine that I can say, “Whom have I in heaven but Christ?” (Ps 73:25). And what is there on earth in comparison with him? He is mine, and mine in a special way, and I am his in a special way. Here is ownership joined with a special possession.

2. Then again, these words, “I am his,” imply mutual love. Everything in them is mutual: mutual ownership, mutual special possession and mutual love. “I love Christ as I love nothing else. There is nothing above him in my heart, just as Christ loves me more than anything else,” says the church, and so says every Christian. “He loves all and gives outward benefits to all, but to me he has given himself; and so I love him.” The husband loves everyone in the household, his cattle and his servants, but he gives himself to his spouse. So Christ is mine, he himself is mine, and I myself am Christ’s. He has my soul, my affections, my body and everything. He has ownership of me and a special possession of me. He has my affection and love to the uttermost, as I have his, for there is a mutual exchange in these words.

3. Then again, they imply mutual familiarity. Christ is familiar to my soul, and I to Christ. He discloses himself to me in the secret of his love, and I disclose myself to him in prayer and meditation, opening my soul to him on every occasion. God’s children have a spirit of prayer, which is a spirit of fellowship, and which talks, as it were, to God in Christ. It is the language of a newborn Christian. He cries to his Father. There is a kind of familiarity between him and his God in Christ, who gives the entrance and access to God. So where there is not a kind of familiarity in prayer, and an opening of the soul to Christ on every occasion, there is not this holy communion. Those who are not given to prayer cannot truly speak these words as the church does here, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” for they imply sweet familiarity.

4. Then again, they imply mutual likeness to one another. He is mine, and I am his. Each is a mirror to the other. Christ sees himself in me; I see myself in him. For this is the outcome of spiritual love especially: it breeds a likeness and resemblance of the one loved in the soul that loves, for love shapes the soul to the likeness of the one loved. I am his; I resemble him. I am his; I have given myself to him. I carry his picture and resemblance in my soul, for these are words of mutual conformity. Christ, out of love, became like me in all things in which I am unlike the devil; that is, sin excepted. If he became like me, taking my nature so that I might be near him in the fellowship of grace (“my beloved is mine”), then I will be as like him as I possibly can (“I am his”).

Every Christian carries a character of Christ’s disposition, as far as weakness will allow. You may recognize Christ in every Christian. For as the king’s coin carries the stamp of the king (Caesar’s coin bears Caesar’s inscription), so every Christian soul is God’s coin, and he sets his own stamp on it. If we are Christ’s, there is a mutual conformity between him and us.

Now where you see a malicious, unclean, worldly spirit, know that this is a stamp of the devil, not of Christ. He who does not have the Spirit of God is none of his. But where the Spirit of Christ is, it stamps Christ’s likeness upon the soul. Therefore we are exhorted to be like-minded with Christ (Phil 2:5).

5. Again, these words, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” imply a mutual care that Christ and the soul have for each other’s good, for each other’s honor and reputation. As Christ cares for our good, so a Christian soul, if it can say with truth and sincerity, “I am Christ’s,” must necessarily care for Christ’s good: for his children, his religion and his truth. Such a soul will say, “What! Shall Christ care for my body, my soul and my salvation, and stoop to come from heaven to save me, and shall I have no care for him and his glory? He has left his truth and his church behind him; shall I not defend his truth, and stand up for the poor church to the utmost of my power against every opposing power? Shall I not stand up for religion? Shall it make no difference to me what opinions are held? Shall I claim that he cares for me, and shall I not care for what I ought to care for? Is it not an honor to me that he has trusted me to care for anything, that he will be honored by my care?”

Beloved, it is an honor for us that we may speak a good word for religion, for Christ’s cause and for his church against those who malign and oppose it. And we will know one day that Christ will be a rewarder of every good word. Where this is said in sincerity, “Christ is mine, and I am Christ’s,” there will be this mutual care.

6. Likewise there is implied in these words a mutual delight. By delight I mean a love that rests and is content. Christ delights and rests in the church, and the church has a sweet, restful contentment in Christ: Christ in us, and we in him. A true Christian soul that has yielded its consent to Christ, when it is beaten down in the world, vexed and harassed, can rely on this: “I still have a loving husband; I still have Christ.”

Let this send us searching into ourselves, to see what we retreat to when we meet with afflictions. Those who have brutish and beastly souls retreat to fleshly pleasures and carousing company. They forget themselves, dull their senses, and run away from themselves, from their own consciences and from the thought of their own trouble. But a soul that has any acquaintance with God in Christ, or any share in Christ, so that it can say, “Christ is mine, and I am Christ’s,” will have contentment and rest, whatever it meets with in the world.

7. The last thing implied is courage, a branch of the former. “Let them all say what they can against it,” says the resolved soul, “I will be Christ’s.” Here is courage with resolution. In agreement with this is the passage: “One shall say I am the Lord’s, and another shall call himself by the name of Jacob; another shall subscribe and surname himself by the name of Israel” (Isa 44:5). Where there is not this resolution in good causes, there is not the Spirit of Christ; there is no share in Christ. It is only delusion and self-flattery to say, “I am Christ’s,” when there is no resolution to stand by Christ. These words are the expression of a resolved heart: “I am, and I will be, Christ’s. I am not ashamed of my bargain, of the consent I have given him. I am, and I will be, his.” You have the same in Micah 4:5: “All people will walk every one in the name of his god” (they will resolve on that), “and we will walk in the name of the Lord our God for ever and for ever.” So where these words, “I am Christ’s,” are spoken in truth, there is necessarily implied, “I will own him and his cause for ever and ever.”

“He has married me for ever and ever. Therefore, if I hope to have a share in him for comfort for ever and ever, I must be sure to yield myself to him for ever and ever, and to stand for his cause in all opposition, against all enemies whatsoever.” These and similar passages of Scripture run parallel with this one in the text, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” which holds not only to the person of Christ but also to his cause. Every man hopes his god will stand for him against the devil, who accuses us daily. If we want Christ to stand for us, and to be an advocate pleading our cause as he does in heaven, we must resolve to stand for him against all enemies, heretics, schismatics and persecutors whatsoever, and resolve that we will walk in the name of our God for ever and ever.

Question. But when the case is not like this with us, and we can neither feel comfort from Christ nor have this assurance of his love for us, what should we think of such a state?

Answer. We should not be surprised to see poor souls distressed when they are in spiritual desertions, considering how the spouse cannot endure the absence of Christ. It is out of love, therefore, that even in the deepest plunge she has this in her mouth: “my beloved.” Therefore let us not judge wrongly of ourselves or of others when we are impatient in this way.

But for a fuller answer: when we lack the feeling of Christ’s love in the measure we would like (for there is never a complete lack of feeling; there is always as much as keeps us from despair), yet if we carry a constant love toward him, mourn to him and seek after him, as the church does here; if the desire of our souls is after him, so that we make after him in the use of means and are willing to speak of him, as the church does here, then, whether we feel it or not, we are his, and he will at length reveal himself to us.

Let such drooping spirits consider that, as he will not be long away from us, nor wholly away, so it shall not be to our disadvantage that he withdraws at all. His absence will at length end in a sweet revealing of himself, more abundantly than before. He absents himself for our good: to make us more humble and watchful for the time to come; more compassionate to others; more ready to prize our former condition; to justify the ways of God more strictly; to walk with him; to regain that sweet communion which we lost through our negligence and carelessness. When we are prepared in this way by his absence, there follows a more satisfying revealing of himself than ever before.

But when is the time that he comes? Compare this with the former chapter. He comes after long waiting for him. The church waited for him, and waited in the use of all means. She runs to the watchmen, and then inquires after him of the daughters of Jerusalem. After this she finds him. After we have waited for and expected Christ in the use of means, Christ will at length reveal himself to us. And, more immediately, it was after the church had so deservedly exalted him with such lofty praises: “This is my beloved, the chief of ten thousand; he is altogether lovely.” When we set our hearts to the high exaltation of Christ above all things in the world, proclaiming him “the chief of ten thousand,” this at last brings about a gracious revealing: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” For when Christ sees us faithful, and so loving that we will not endure his absence, and so constant in our love that we love him in spite of some discouragements, it melts him at last, as Joseph was melted by his brothers.

“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”

In these words you see a mutual interest and owning between Christ and the church. Although in the order of the words the church says “I am my beloved’s” first, yet in the order of nature Christ is ours first, though not in the order of discovery. There is one order of knowing and another order of causing. Many things are known by the effect, but they issue from a cause. I know he is mine because I am his: I have given myself to him. I know it is day because the sun is up; there is a proof from the effect. So I know a man is alive because he walks; there is a proof of the cause by the effect. “I am his”: I have grace to give myself up to him; therefore I know he loves me. He is mine. This is how I speak in the order of discovery; but in the order of nature he is first mine, and then I am his: “My beloved is mine, and I am my beloved’s.”

The union and communion between us and Christ has already been spoken of.

Now to speak of the branches, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”: that Christ is ours first, and then that we are his because he is ours; and the wondrous comfort that issues from this, that Christ himself is ours.

How does Christ come to be ours? (1) Christ is ours by his Father’s gift. God has given him for us. (2) Christ is ours by his own gift. He has given himself for us. (3) And Christ is ours by his Spirit, who witnesses as much to our spirits. For the Spirit is given for this very purpose, to show us all the things that are given us by God, of which Christ is the chief. Therefore the Spirit of Christ tells us that Christ is ours; and Christ being ours, all that he has is ours.

If he is ours, then, if we have the field, we have all the treasures in the field. If we have him, we have all that is his. He was born for us; his birth was for us; he became man for us; he was given to death for us. And so likewise he is ours in his other estate, his exaltation. His rising is for our good. He will cause us to rise also, and to ascend with him, and to sit in heavenly places, judging the world and the angels. In this second Adam we recover what we lost in the first.

Application 1. This is a point of wondrous comfort, to show the riches of a Christian, his high estate: that Christ is his.

And Christ being ours, God the Father and the Holy Spirit and all things else in the world, the rich promises, are ours. For in Christ they are all made, and for his sake they shall be performed. Indeed, he himself is the chief promise of all, and all the promises are “yea and amen in him” (2 Cor 1:20). Can we lack righteousness while we have Christ’s righteousness? Is his garment not large enough for himself and for us too? Is his obedience not enough for us? Do we need to patch it up with our own righteousness? He is ours; therefore his obedience is ours.

Application 2. And this should likewise be a ground of contentment in whatever condition and state we are in: Christ himself is ours. In the dividing of all things, some men have wealth, honors, friends and greatness, but not Christ, nor the love of God in Christ; and therefore nothing they have comes to them in mercy. But a Christian has Christ himself. Christ is his by faith and by the Spirit’s witness. So what if he lacks those additions, the lesser things? He has the main thing. What if he lacks a rivulet, a stream? He has the spring, the ocean: him in whom all things are. And shall he not be content? Suppose a man is very covetous; even so, God might satisfy him. What! Should anxious thoughts disquiet us, when we have such promissory notes, such bonds, from him who is faithfulness itself? When a Christian cannot say that honor, favor or great persons are his, he can still say that he has what is worth all, and more than all: Christ is his.

Objection. Oh, someone may say, this is only a speculation, this “Christ is yours.” A man may be in want and misery for all that.

Answer. No; it is a reality. Christ is ours, and all things else are ours. He who can command all things is mine. Why, then, do I lack other things? Because he sees they are not for my good. If they were, he would not withhold them from me. If there were none to be had without a miracle, no comfort, no friends, he could and would make new ones out of nothing, yes, even out of their contraries, if it were not better for me to be without them.

Application 3. That you may feed more fully on this comfort, study the excellencies of Christ in the Scripture: the riches and honor that he has, the favor he is in with his Father, the intercession that he makes in heaven (John 17). Study his mercy, goodness, offices, power and so on, and then come home to yourselves: “All this is mine, for he is mine; the love of God is mine.” God loves him, and therefore he loves me, because we are both one. He loves me with the same love with which he loves his Son. This is how we should make use of this truth, that Christ is ours.

I come to the second: “I am my beloved’s.”

This is a speech of reflection, second in nature, though first in place and in discovery to us. Sometimes we can know our own love when we do not feel so much of the love of Christ; but Christ’s love must be there first (1 John 4:19). “I am my beloved’s.”

How are we Christ’s beloved?

1. We are his, first of all, by his Father’s gift. For God in his eternal purpose gave him for us, and gives us to him, as it is in that excellent prayer: “Father, thine they were, and thou gavest them me” (John 17:6). I did not have them of myself first; they were yours before all worlds were. You gave them to me to redeem them, and my commission does not extend beyond your gift. I die for all those whom you gave me. I sanctify myself for them, that they may be sanctified. So we are Christ’s by his Father’s gift. But that is not all, though it is the chief, fundamental, principal ground of all.

2. For we are his likewise by redemption. Christ took our nature so that he might die for us, to purchase us. We cost him dearly. We are a bloody spouse to Christ. As that perverse woman wrongfully said to Moses, “Thou art a bloody husband unto me” (Exod 4:25), so Christ may say to the church without any wrong, “You are a spouse of blood to me.” We were indeed to be his spouse, but first he had to win us by conquest as regards Satan, and then satisfy justice. We were so deep in debt by sin, lying under God’s wrath, that until all debts were paid we could not, in the way of justice, be given as a spouse to Christ.

3. Nor is this all; we are Christ’s by marriage also. For when he purchased us and paid so dearly for us, when he died and satisfied divine justice, he did it with the purpose of marrying us to himself. We have nothing to bring him but debt and misery; yet he took our nature upon himself to discharge it all, so that he might marry us and take us to himself. So we are his by marriage.

4. Then again, we are his by consent. We have handed ourselves over to him. He has given himself to us, and we have given ourselves back to him again. Now let us come to some use of it, if we are Christ’s as Christ is ours.

Application 1. It is a point of wondrous comfort. God will not allow his own to be in want. He who will let his family perish is worse than an unbeliever. When we once belong to Christ’s family, and not only to his family but to his body, his spouse, can we think he will let us lack what is needful?

2. Then again, as it comforts us against want, so it likewise guards us against all the accusations of Satan. I am Christ’s; I am Christ’s. If Satan has anything to say, look, we may tell him to go to Christ. If the creditor comes to the wife, she is not liable to pay her own debts, but says, “Go to my husband.” So in all temptations, learn from this to send Satan where he should be sent. When we cannot answer him, send him to Christ.

3. And for the time to come, what a ground of comfort it is that we are Christ’s, as well as he is ours! What a plea this puts into our mouths for all things that are beneficial to us! “Lord, I am thine; save me,” says the psalmist (Ps 119:94). Why? “Save me, because I am thine, I am thine; Lord, teach me and direct me” (Ps 27:11). The husband is to direct the spouse. The head should direct all the senses. All the treasures of wisdom are in Christ, as all the senses are in the head for the good of the body. All fullness dwells in him. Therefore plead with him: “I lack wisdom; teach me and instruct me how to conduct myself in troubles, in dangers, in fears.” If it is a strong enough argument among men, weak men, to say, “I am yours, I am your child, I am your spouse,” and so on, shall we attribute more pity and mercy to ourselves than to the God of mercy and comfort, who planted these affections in the creature? Shall he make men tender and careful over others, and shall he himself not be careful of his own flock? Do we think he will neglect his jewels, his spouse, his diadem and crown (Isa 62:3)? He will not.

Objection. But you will point to experience. We see how the church is treated, like a forlorn widow, as if she had no husband in the world, like an orphan who had no father. How, then, does this hold good?

Answer 1. The answer is that all the church, or any particular Christian, suffers in this world is only so that there may be a conformity between the spouse and the husband. The Head wore a crown of thorns, and went to heaven and happiness through a great deal of misery and abasement in the world, the lowest that ever was. And it is not fitting that the church should go to heaven some other way.

Answer 2. Then again, all this is only to fashion the spouse to be like Christ, only to bring the church and Christ nearer together. That is all the harm these things do: they drive the church nearer to Christ than before. By his Spirit, Christ is as near to his church in the greatest afflictions as ever. Christ cries out on the cross, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46). It is a strange cry, that God should be his God and yet, for all that, seem to forsake him. But God was never more his God than at that moment. Indeed, he was not his God as regards some feelings that he had enjoyed in former times. He seemed to be forsaken as regards some sense, just as Christ seems to forsake the church as regards some sense and feeling; yet God was his God still. So the church may say, “I am yours still.” Though she seems to be forsaken as regards some feelings, she is not deserted as regards God’s care in supporting the inner man and fashioning her to Christ. The church never has sweeter communion with Christ than under the greatest crosses, and therefore they have many times proved the ground of the greatest comforts. For Christ leads the church into the wilderness and then speaks to her heart (Hos 2:14). Christ speaks to the heart of his spouse in the wilderness, that is, in a place of no comfort. There are no orchards or pleasures there, but only discomforts. If a man has any good in the wilderness, he must have it from heaven. In that wilderness, that is, in a desolate, disconsolate condition, Christ speaks to the heart of his children. In the wilderness there is often a sweet exchange of love, beyond comparison with the time of prosperity.

Answer 3. Again, to steady your hearts, know that this will not last long. As we see here, the church seemed to be forsaken and neglected, fell into the hands of cruel watchmen, and was forced to go through this means and that; but it was not long before she met with him whom she was seeking. It may be midnight now, but the night does not continue long; it will be morning before long. Therefore the church may well say, “Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; for though I be fallen, I shall rise again; though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me” (Mic 7:8). It shall not always go badly with the church. Those who survive us shall see a different kind of days than we have yet seen, whatever we shall see ourselves.

Application 4. From this we also have a use of trial. Whoever are Christ’s have hearts to give themselves to him. As he gives himself for his church, not his goods or his honors but himself, so the church gives herself to Christ. My delight is in him; he has myself, my heart, my love and affection, my joy and delight, and everything along with myself. If I have any honor, he shall have it; I will use it for his glory. My riches I will give to him and to his church and ministry and children, as occasion shall serve. I am his; therefore all that I have is his, if he asks it at my hands. It is said of the Macedonians that they gave themselves to Christ, and then their riches and goods (2 Cor 8:5). It is an easy matter to give our riches to Christ when we have first given ourselves. A Christian, as soon as ever he becomes a Christian, and ever after until death, and in death too, gives himself up to Christ. Those who stand bargaining with Christ, who will give this or that particular and will part only with idle things that they can spare: are they Christ’s? No. A Christian gives himself and all that is his to Christ. So we see here what we should do if Christ is ours. Let us give ourselves up to him, as it is in Romans 12:1. The outcome of all that learned, profound discourse in the former part of the epistle (that Christ justifies us by his righteousness and merit, and sanctifies us by his Spirit, and has predestinated and elected us, and refused others) is this: I beseech you, give up your bodies and souls, and all as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God.

In brief, these words imply renunciation and resignation. “I am his”: that is, I have given myself up to him; therefore I renounce all others that do not agree with his love and liking. I am his not only by way of service, which I owe him above all others who call for it, but I am his by way of resignation. If he will have me die, I will die. If he will have me live here, I will. I no longer have myself to dispose of. I have wholly alienated myself from myself. I am his, to serve him and to be disposed of by him. I have renounced all others.

Therefore here we have another answer to Satan, if he comes to us and solicits us to sin. Let the Christian’s heart make this answer: I am not my own. What have Satan and his instruments to do with me? Is my body his to defile? Is my tongue his, to swear at his pleasure? Shall I make the temple of God the member of a harlot (1 Cor 6:15)? As the apostle reasons, Shall I defile my vessel with sin? What does Ephraim say once he is converted? “What have I any more to do with idols? for I have seen and observed him” (Hos 14:8). We ought to have such resolutions ready in our hearts. Indeed, when a Christian is resolute, the world counts such a person lost. “He is gone; we have lost him,” say your dissolute, profane people. It is true that they have indeed lost him, for he is no longer his own, much less theirs. But he is found to God, and to himself, and to the church.

So we see what springs from this, that Christ is ours and that we are Christ’s in return. Let us carry this with us even to death. And if times should come when God would honor us by making use of us in our lives, if Christ will have us spend our blood, consider this: I am not my own, in life or in death, and it is my happiness that I am not my own. For if I were my own, what would I do with myself? I would lose myself, as Adam did. It is therefore my happiness that I am not my own, that I am not the world’s, that I am not the devil’s, that no one else has anything to do with me or can claim any interest in me, but that I am Christ’s. If I do anything for others, it is for Christ’s sake. Remember this for the time to come. If there is anything that we will not part with for Christ’s sake, it will be our ruin. We shall lose Christ and it too. If we will not say with a perfect spirit, “I am his; my life, my reputation, my person is his, anything is his,” then whatever we will not give for him, at length we shall lose and part with, both it and him too.

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; he feedeth among the lilies (Song 6:3).

The church, you see here, stood out for a while against all Christ’s invitation and knocking. Yet at length she is brought to yield herself up wholly to Christ and to renounce herself. This is the course God takes with most of his people, yes, in a manner with all of them, before they go out of this world. He lays all high things low and beats down every high thought and imagination that exalts itself against him (2 Cor 10:5), so that they may give themselves and all they have to Christ, if he calls for it (Luke 14:26). For whoever does not do so is not worthy of Christ. If we do not do this, at least in readiness of mind, let us not claim the name of Christians. Otherwise we claim something that will only increase and aggravate our condemnation, professing religion one way while our minds are drawn away to our lusts and the pleasures of the world another way. To have private fits of love of our own, apart from Christ: how does this stand with “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine”? How does it stand with the self-surrender that was spoken of before?

Now this surrender follows upon our grasping that Christ is ours. I am my beloved’s, because my beloved is mine first. There are four reasons why Christ must be given to us before we can give ourselves to him in this self-surrender.

1. Because he is the chief spring of all good affections, and he must place them in us. He loves us before we can love him (1 John 4:10, 19).

2. Because love descends. Though love is of a fiery nature, in this it is the opposite of fire, for love descends, whereas fire ascends. The superior first loves the inferior. Christ must descend to us in his love before we can ascend to him in our affections.

3. Because our nature is such that we cannot love except where we know ourselves to be loved first. Therefore God is indulgent to us in this, and so that we may love him, he shows his love to us first.

4. Because by nature we are conscious of guilt, and so we are full of fears. So if the soul is not first persuaded of Christ’s love, it runs away from him, as Adam did from God, and as Peter did from Christ: “Depart from me, for I am but a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). So the soul of every man would say, if it were not first persuaded of God’s love in Christ, “Who amongst us shall dwell with the everlasting burnings?” (Isa 33:14). Therefore, to prevent the disposition of soul that would rise out of the sense of guilt and unworthiness, God speaks to us first in Christ. At length he says to our souls, “I am thy salvation” (Ps 35:3). Then the soul, first finding his love, loves him back again, by whom it finds itself so greatly loved. So our love is only a reflection of his: I am my beloved’s, because my beloved is mine.

It is with the Spirit of God as with the spirits in the soul and body of a man. There is a marriage between the body and the soul, and the spirits join the two together, being of a middle nature. They have something spiritual, close to the soul, and something bodily, close to the body. Therefore they come between the body and the soul and are the soul’s instruments, by which it works. So it is with the Spirit of God. The same Spirit that tells the soul that Christ is ours also completes the match on our part and gives us up to Christ in return.

Let this, then, be the test that we are Christ’s: the spiritual echo our souls make to the report Christ makes to our souls, whether in promises or in instructions.

Application 1. See from this also the nature of faith, for these are the words of faith as well as of love. Faith has two branches: it gives as well as takes. Faith receives Christ and says, “Christ is mine,” and the same faith says, “I am Christ’s in return.” Indeed, our souls are empty, so the main work of faith is to be an empty hand, a beggar’s hand, as Luther calls it, to receive. But when it has received, it gives back again, both ourselves and all that we can do. The churches of Macedonia gave themselves, and then they gave their goods (2 Cor 8:5). Where there is faith, there will be a giving of ourselves and our goods, and, in proportion, our strength, our wits, and everything back again. This exposes a great deal of empty, false faith in the world. For undoubtedly, if it were true faith, there would be a yielding back again.

Application 2. And again, these words reveal how justification and sanctification hold together, and how each depends on the other. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Christ is mine; his righteousness is mine for my justification. I am clothed with Christ, as the spouse there in Revelation “is clothed with the sun” (Rev 12:1), that is, with the beams of Christ. But is that all? No. “I am my beloved’s”: I am Christ’s. There is a return of faith in sanctification. The same Spirit that witnesses that Christ is ours also sanctifies and changes our disposition, so that we can say, “I am Christ’s.” It serves, therefore, to teach us the necessary connection of these two, justification and sanctification. This answers the idle slander of the papists, who sinfully misrepresent that doctrine, as if we were Solifidians, as if we severed justification from sanctification. No. We hold here that whenever Christ is ours, there is a spirit of sanctification in us to yield everything to Christ, even though this surrender is not perfect all at once.

Application 3. This also helps us, by way of direction, to understand the covenant of grace and the seals of the covenant, and what they require and include. They include not only what God will do for us, but the duty we are to do for him in return, though we do it in his strength. A covenant does not hold on one side only, but on both. Christ is mine, and I am Christ’s in return. “I will be their God,” but they must have grace “to be my people” (Lev 26:12), and then the covenant is complete. The covenant of grace is called by that name because God is so gracious as to enable us to perform our own part.

And so it is in the seals of the covenant. In baptism, God not only binds himself to do this and that for us, but also binds us to do our part back toward him. So in the communion we promise to lead a new life, renewing our covenant. Therefore we must not think that all is well (when we have received our Maker) while we continue in a scandalous, fruitless course of life. No. There is a promise in the sacrament (the seal of the covenant of grace) to yield ourselves up to God and to return to Christ again with our duty. Then we come as we should when we come so disposed. So much for direction: “My beloved is mine, and I am my beloved’s.”

Application 4. To go on, let us make a use of comfort for poor, doubting Christians. “I am my beloved’s” is the voice of the whole church, which all ranks of Christians, if they are genuine, may take up without presumption. “I do not have as much faith, as much love, as much grace, as much patience as another,” says a poor Christian, “so I am none of Christ’s.” But we must know that Christ has all ranks in his church, and they are all his spouse, one as well as another; there is no exception. There is a little spirit of rivalry, and a touch of envy, in weaker Christians. If they do not have all that great measure of grace they see in others, they fear they have none at all, as if there were no babes in Christ’s school as well as men and grown persons.

Then again, we see here the nature of faith in the whole church. It is the same as it is in every particular believer, and it is the same in every particular believer as it is in the whole church. The whole church says, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” I claim him as my own. There is a spirit that makes Christ its own in the whole church, and the same is true in each particular believer. Every Christian may say with Paul, “I live by faith in the Son of God, that hath loved me, and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20), and with Thomas, “My God, and my Lord” (John 20:28).

The ground of this is that they are all one in Christ, and there is one and the same Spirit in the whole church and in every particular Christian. It is as with pipes: though they give different sounds, the same breath is in them all. So Christians may give different sounds, because of the greater or lesser strength of grace in one and in another, but all comes from the same breath, the same Spirit. The Spirit in the bride says, “Come” (Rev 22:17). The whole church says it, and every particular Christian must say it. For just as the body is animated by one spirit and makes only one natural body, though it consists of many parts, some weaker and some stronger, so there should be a harmony in this mystical body animated by the one Spirit of Christ. He regards all as if there were only one, and he regards every one in such a way that he does not forget the whole. Christ so attends to all that he is not kept from any particular one, and he so attends to every particular one that he is not restrained from all. There is the same love to all as to one, and to every one as if there were no other. He so loves each one that every Christian, as well as the whole church, may say, “Christ is mine, and I am Christ’s.”

In things that we call homogeneous, there is the same nature in each portion as in the whole. There is the same nature in one drop of water as in the whole ocean; it is all water. And the same holds for a spark and the whole element of fire. So Christ bears the same regard to the church as to every particular believer, and to every particular believer as to the church.

Application 5. Let us now make a use of direction: how we may come to be able to say this, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” In answer to this, notice in the first place the order of dependence: Christ must first be ours before we can give ourselves to him.

(1) Therefore we must dwell on the consideration of Christ’s love. This must direct and lead our method in this matter. Would we have our hearts love Christ, trust in him, and embrace him? Then think about what he is to us. Begin there, and indeed with what we are: weak, and in our own sense of things, lost. Then go on to consider his love, his constant love to his church and children. Whom he loves, he loves to the end (John 13:1). We must warm our souls with the consideration of the love of God to us in him, and this will stir up our faith toward him in return. For our safety lies more in this, that he is ours, than in our giving ourselves to him. We are safer in his grasping of us (Gal 4:9; Phil 3:12) than in our clasping and holding of him. As we say of the mother and the child, both hold on, but the child’s safety is that the mother holds him. If Christ once gives himself to us, he will always make good his own part. Our safety lies more on his side than on ours. If we have ever felt the love of Christ, we may comfort ourselves with its constancy and permanence. Perhaps we do not find our affections warmed toward him at all times, nor equally so. Yet the strength of a Christian’s comfort lies in this: first, “Christ is mine,” and then, in the second place, “I am his.” Now, I say, so that we may be able to keep up this blessed giving over of ourselves to Christ:

(2) Let us dwell on the consideration of his love to us, and of the need we have of him: how miserable we are without him, poor, beggarly, in bondage to the devil. Therefore we must have him to rescue us out of debt and to enrich us. For Christ’s love carries him out not only to pay all our debts for us, but to enrich us. And it is a protecting, preserving love, until he brings us to heaven, his own place, where we shall be with him forever. The consideration of these things will warm our hearts, and the ministry serves this very purpose.

(3) In the next place, therefore, we should attend upon the word for this very end. What does the ministry serve for? Among many other ends, this is one of the main ones: to lay open “the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Eph 3:8). In it you have something of Christ unfolded: his natures, his offices, and the benefits we have by him, namely redemption, freedom, a right to all things in him, and the excellencies of another world. Therefore attend upon the means of salvation, so that we may know what riches we have in him. This will keep our affections close to Christ, so that we can say, “I am his.”

(4) And let us also labor every day more and more to bring all our love to him. We see in burning-glasses how forcible the beams of the sun are where they meet in one, because the beams are united in a little point. Let it be our labor that all the beams of our love may meet in Christ, so that he may be, as the church says, our beloved. “My beloved is mine, and I am my beloved’s,” she says, as if the church had no love outside of Christ. And is this love lost? No. As Christ is the church’s beloved, so the church is Christ’s love in return, as we often see in this book: “My love, my dove.” As all streams meet in the great ocean, so let all our loves meet in Christ. We may love other things, and we should, but no otherwise than as they convey love to us from Christ and may be means of drawing up our affections to Christ. We may love our friends, and we ought to, and the other blessings of God too. But how? No otherwise than as tokens of his love to us. We love a thing that our friends send us. Oh, but it is because it conveys their affection to us. So we must love all things as they come from God’s love to us in Christ.

And indeed, whatever we have is a love-token, even our very afflictions themselves. “Whom I love, I rebuke and chastise” (Rev 3:19).

(5) Again, so that we may inflame our hearts with the love of Christ, as Jude exhorts us (Jude 21), let us consider the vanity of all the things that entice us away from Christ. Let us labor every day more and more to draw our affections away from them, as we are exhorted: “Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house: so shall the king greatly desire thy beauty” (Ps 45:10-11). So if we would have Christ delight in us, so that we may say we are his, let us labor to withdraw our affections more and more from all earthly things. Then we will not have the kind of hearts James speaks of, adulterous hearts: “O ye adulterers and adulteresses! know ye not that the love of the world is enmity with God?” (Jas 4:4).

Indeed, there is reason for this exhortation, for all earthly things are vain and empty. There is an emptiness in everything in the world except Christ. Therefore we should not set our affections too much on them. A man cannot be wise in loving anything but Christ, and what he loves for Christ’s sake. Therefore let us follow that counsel and draw ourselves away from our former company, acquaintances, pleasures, delights, and vanities. We cannot bestow our love and our affections better than on Christ. It is a happiness that God has planted in us such affections as joy, delight, and love. And what a happiness it is that we should have so excellent an object to fill those affections, yes, to go beyond them and more than satisfy them! Therefore the apostle wishes that they might know all the dimensions of God’s love in Christ. There is a height, breadth, length, and depth of the love of God (Eph 3:18).

And let us think of the dimensions, the height, breadth, and depth, of our misery outside of Christ. The more excellent our natures are, the more miserable they are if they are not changed. For whatever degree of excellence we have, if it is not advanced in Christ, we have just so much misery while we are outside of him. Therefore let us labor to see this, so as to value our being in him, and so as to be able, on good grounds, to say, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”

(6) Again, let us labor to walk in the light of a sanctified knowledge, to be gained by the gospel. For, as it is said, the end of all our preaching is to assure Christ to the soul (1 John 5:13), so that we may be able to say without deceiving our own souls, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” All preaching, I say, is for this end. The terror of the law and the uncovering of our corruption are meant to drive us out of ourselves to him, and then to stir us to grow up into him more and more. Therefore John says, all our preaching is that we may have fellowship with the Father and the Son, and they with us (1 John 1:3). And what does he make the evidence of that fellowship? “Walking in the light, as he is light” (1 John 1:7); otherwise we are liars. He is bold to tell us plainly that we lie if we say we are Christ’s and have communion with the Father and the Son while we walk in darkness. In sins against conscience, in willful ignorance, in the darkness of an evil life, we have no communion with Christ. Therefore, if we would have communion with him, let us walk in the light. Let us labor to be full of light in our understandings, to have a great deal of knowledge, and then to walk in keeping with the light and revelation we have. As for those who live in sins against conscience and are friends to the darkness of ignorance and of an evil life, oh, they never think of fellowship with Christ and with God! These things are mere riddles to them. They have no hope of them, or if they have any, their hope is in vain. They shut themselves out from ever having comforting communion with Christ here, and much less will they enjoy him hereafter in heaven.

Therefore labor every day more and more to grow rich in knowledge, to get light, and to walk in that light. To that end, pray with the holy apostle, that you may have the Spirit of revelation (Eph 1:17), that excellent Spirit of God who reveals the things of God, so that the light may be opened to us.

What a world of comfort a Christian who has light in him and walks in that light has above other people! Whether he lives or dies, the light brings him into fellowship with the Father of lights. Whoever has this light knows his condition, his way, and where he is going. When he dies, he knows in what condition he dies and on what grounds. The very light of nature is comforting; how much more the light of grace! Therefore labor to grow daily more and more in the knowledge and obedience of the light.

All who profess the gospel are either not Christ’s or his. As for those who are not yet his, so that you may be stirred to draw near to fellowship with Christ, only consider this: you are like branches cut off, which will wither and die and be cast into the fire, unless you are grafted into the living stock, Christ. You are like naked people in a storm, not clothed with anything to stand against the storm of God’s wrath. Let this drive you to get into Christ.

Application 6. And next, for encouragement, consider this: Christ offers himself to all in the gospel. That is the end of the ministry: to bring Christ and our souls together, to make a spiritual marriage, to lay open his riches, and to draw you to him. If you confess your sins, he will forgive them (1 John 1:9), and you will have mercy. He relieves those that are wearied and heavy laden (Matt 11:28), and he bids those who are thirsty to come to him (Isa 55:1). Christ came to seek and to save that which was lost (Luke 19:10). Christ offers himself in mercy to the worst soul.

Therefore, if any of you have lived in evil courses in former times, consider that upon repentance all will be forgotten, scattered like a mist and cast into the bottom of the sea. Christ offers himself to you. These are the times; this is the hour of grace. Now the water is stirring for you to enter. Only welcome Christ, and desire that he may be yours to rule you and guide you, and all will be well for the time to come.

Objection. Do not object, “I am a loathsome creature, full of rebellions.”

Answer. Christ does not join himself to you because you are good, but to make you good. Christ does not take you for any dowry. All he requires is that you confess your beggary and come with emptiness. He does not take us because we are clean, but because he will purge us (Eph 5:27). He takes us in our blood when he first takes us (Ezek 16:9). Let no one despair, either for lack of worth or for lack of strength. Christ sees that for strength we are dead, and for worth we are enemies. But he gives us both spiritual strength and worth, takes us near to himself, and enriches us. Let no one, therefore, be discouraged. It is our office to lay open and offer the riches of Christ in this way. If you will not come in, but love your sinful courses more than Christ, then you perish in your blood. We clear our hands, and may free our souls from the guilt of it. Therefore, as you love your own souls, come in at last and stand out no longer.

And as for those who have in some measure given themselves up to Christ, and can say, “He is mine and I am his,” let them go on with comfort and never be discouraged by the infirmities that cling to them. For one part of Christ’s office is to purge his church by his Spirit more and more, not to cast her away for her infirmities, but to wash and cleanse it more and more till it be a glorious spouse like himself (Eph 5:27). For if a husband, by the bond of nature, will bear with the infirmities of his wife as the weaker vessel, will not Christ bind himself by the same bond by which he counts us bound? Is there more love and mercy and pity in us toward those we take close to ourselves than there is in Christ toward us? What a most blasphemous thought it would be to imagine so! Only let us take heed of being in league with sin, for we cannot give our souls to Christ and to sinful courses too. Christ will allow no bigamy or double marriage. Where he has anything to do with us, we must have single hearts, resolving, “Though I fall, yet I purpose to please Christ and to go on in a good course of life.” And if our hearts tell us that this is so, daily infirmities ought not to discourage us.

We have help enough for these. First, Christ bids us ask forgiveness. Then we have the mercy of Christ to bear with weaker vessels. Then there is his advocacy: he is now in heaven to plead for us. If we were perfect, we would not need that office (1 John 2:1). So let no one be discouraged. Instead, let us labor more and more to be able to grasp in some measure the love of Christ. Then all our duties will come off sweetly and easily, and we will be enabled to suffer all things, not only willingly but cheerfully, and to rejoice in them. Love is of the nature of fire. Fire separates and consumes everything opposed to it, all the dross and dregs, and it dissolves coldness; and so love quickens us and makes us active and lively. It has a kind of constraining force, a sweet violence. As the apostle says, “the love of Christ constraineth” (2 Cor 5:14).

Let a man who loves the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity be called to part with his life, and he will yield it up as a sacrifice with comfort. Come what may, everything is welcome when we are inflamed with the love of Christ; and the more we suffer, the more we find his love. For he reserves the manifestation of his love most of all for times of suffering. And the more we find his love manifested, the more we love him back, and rejoice in suffering for the one we love so much. Whether they are duties of obedience active or passive, of doing or of suffering, everything comes off with abundant cheerfulness and ease where the love of Christ is, so that the soul can say, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Nothing in the world is able to make such a soul miserable. Then follows:

“He feedeth among the lilies.” Here the church shows where Christ feeds.

Question. But the question is whether what is meant is the feeding of the church and people, or whether he feeds himself.

Answer. The answer is that he both feeds his church among the lilies and delights to be there himself. The one follows from the other. But it is meant especially of the church. Those who are his, he feeds among the lilies. How?

Lilies are the kind of flowers that need a great deal of nourishment, and they grow best in valleys and rich ground. So when she says, “He feeds among the lilies,” the meaning is that he feeds his church and people in rich pastures, as sheep are fed in sweet and fruitful ground. Such pastures are his holy word and the communion of saints. These especially are the pastures where he feeds his church. The holy truths of God are the food of the soul, by which it is cherished and nourished up to everlasting life.

To understand the word a little better: this whole book is a kind of pastoral, a “song of a beloved” concerning a beloved. That is why in many places in this book Christ takes on himself the name and bearing, as it were, of a loving shepherd, who labors to find for his sheep the richest, most fruitful, best and sweetest pastures, so that they may grow up as calves of the stall, as it says in Malachi 4:2, and may grow and thrive.

To shed light on this place, you have a somewhat similar phrase in Song of Songs 1:7, where the point is followed out more at large. There the church prays to Christ, “Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flocks to rest at noon.” Those who are coming up in the church want to know whom they may join with and what truths they may embrace. “Tell me where thou feedest, and where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon”: that is, in the greatest heat and storm of persecution, as the sun is hottest at noonday. “For why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of thy companions?” That is, by those who are not true friends but false shepherds: why should I be drawn away by them? I desire to feed where you feed, among your sheep. Why should I be as one who turns aside by the flocks of those who are rivals to you, as antichrist is to Christ?

So the church puts her question to Christ, and Christ replies in verse 8: “If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flocks, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds’ tents” (Song 1:8). That is, if you do not know, go your way forth. Get out of yourself, out of the world, out of your former course. Put yourself forward; do not stay complaining; go on; set yourself to work; go your way forth. Where to? “In the footsteps of the flocks.” Look at the steps of Christians in the best times of the church in former days. Tread in the steps of those who lived in the best ages of the church. “Feed thy kids,” your Christians, “beside the shepherds’ tents,” beside the best shepherds. Mark where the apostles and prophets fed their sheep, and feed there. And mark the footsteps of the flock that lived in the best times; for of all the times since the apostles and prophets, we must follow those pure, virgin times, the best of all. All churches are true churches only so far as they are kin to the primitive apostolic and prophetic churches.

Therefore we are now to go out by the footsteps of the flock. Mark the footsteps of former believers: Abraham, Moses and David, and in Christ’s time, John, Peter and the rest. Blessed saints! Walk as they walked, go their way, and feed yourselves by the shepherds’ tents. Mark where the shepherds have their tents! So these words refer to the prophetic times, and especially to the gospel times, and to these we must conform ourselves; for the latter times are times of apostasy.

After a certain season the church did not keep her purity. The Scriptures foretold this plainly, so that we would not stumble at it. The church fell into a kind of admiration of antichrist and embraced doctrines of devils (1 Tim 4:1). So now we must not follow those companies that lead into byways contrary to the apostolic ways. Instead we must see where our church agrees with the apostolic churches and with the truth, and we must take no truth as food for our souls except what we find in the gospel. For antichrist feeds his flocks with wind, with poison and with empty things. What has the food been under popery? Sweet and goodly titles, as if the poor souls had the best pastors in the world, when in fact those pastors give them nothing but what will be the ruin of their souls, full of poison and fraud. All this is said to unfold that place which sheds light on this one, which speaks of Christ’s pastoral care: He feeds his flock among the lilies, plentifully and sweetly.

From this we may briefly observe, first, that Christ feeds as well as breeds. And we need feeding as well as breeding. Where do you feed? That is, where do you build up your children and carry on the work begun in them? We need to be fed after we are bred. And Christ, answering to our need and necessity, feeds as well as breeds. The same word that is the seed to beget us is what feeds us too (1 Pet 1:23). What is the seed of the new birth? The word of God. The holy promises are the seed, with the Spirit mingling with them, by which a Christian is born, and, once born, is cherished and brought up. Therefore, the apostle says, “as new-born babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that you may grow thereby” (1 Pet 2:2). So the same thing, the blessed truth and promises of God, is both the seed of a Christian and what brings him up.

Question. If you ask why we must keep growing and being fed:

Answer 1. Just ask your own souls whether there is not a constant renewing of corruption, which keeps breaking out into new guilt every day. So we need to feed every day afresh upon the promises, upon old promises with new affections. Something or other keeps breaking out that humbles a Christian’s soul and sends him with a sharp appetite to the blessed truths that feed his soul.

Answer 2. Then again, we need a great deal of strength, and strength is maintained by feeding. Besides the guilt of the soul, there is need of strength for duty. That strength must be fetched from the blessed word of God and the comforts it gives, by which we are able to withstand and resist, to stand and to do all that we do.

Answer 3. Then too, we are set upon by a variety of temptations within and without, which call for a variety of wisdom and strength, and all this must be gained by feeding. So you see that a Christian, for his very subsistence and being, needs continual feeding, cherishing and maintaining by the sweet and blessed directions and promises of the word of God.

From this you may see what kind of atheistic creatures they are, and how much regard they deserve, who brush everything aside with a compendium of religion: “Tush, if we know that we must love God above all and our neighbors as ourselves, and that Christ died for all, we know enough, more than we can practice.” They think these compendiums will serve the turn, as if there were no need to grow further and further in distinct knowledge. Alas, the soul needs to be fed continually! Otherwise it will stagger, and will not be able to stand against temptation or to perform its duties.

A second general point from the text is this: that as Christ is always feeding his flock and people, so he feeds them fully, plentifully and sweetly among the lilies. There are saving truths enough. There is an all-sufficiency in the book of God. What need do we have to go out to human inventions, when there is a fullness and all-sufficiency of truth there? Whatever is not in it is wind or poison. In the word there is a full kind of feeding.

In former times, when people did not have the Scriptures and their comforts to feed on, what did the poor souls do then? And what do those who remain in popery feed on? On stones, as it were. Several hundred years ago, in those times, a holy man had a dream: he saw someone who had plenty of fine white bread to feed on, and yet all the while the poor wretch was feeding on stones. What folly and misery this is, to gnaw on stones when there are delicate things to feed on! And what is almost all the learning of the Schoolmen (except for one or two who had better spirits than the rest) but a gnawing on stones, barren distinctions, empty things with no substance in them? They had the Scriptures, though these were locked up in Latin, an unknown tongue. They had the sweet pastures of Christ to feed in, and yet all this while they fed, as it were, on stones.

This should show us, too, our own blessedness who live in these times, when the streams of the gospel run abundantly, sweetly and pleasantly. There is a fullness among us, even in the spirits of the worst sort. There is a fullness almost to the point of loathing that heavenly manna. But those souls who have ever been acquainted with their need of it find a want rather than a fullness. They still desire to grow up to a further desire, so that as they have plentiful means, they may also have plentiful affections toward those means and strength from them. Let us know our own happiness in these times. Is it not a comfort to know where to feed, and to have pastures to go to without suspecting poison? To be able to feed ourselves fully with comforts, without fear of harm, without some harmful mingling of bitter wild gourd in the pot that would spoil the taste of all the rest? To know that there are truths we may safely feed on? The church in the earlier place counted this a great privilege: “Oh, show me where thou feedest at noon” (Song 1:7), that is, in the greatest heat of persecution, so that I may feed among them. So then, it is a great privilege to know where to feed, and it should be esteemed as such, so that we may be stirred up by it to be thankful for our own good and to improve these privileges for our souls’ comfort.

But the second branch, which must be touched on a little, is that there is fullness nowhere but in God’s house, and that there, and there only, is what satisfies the soul with fatness and sweetness.

Indeed, not only the promises of Scripture but even its rebukes are sweet. The rebukes of a friend feed the soul. For we have many corruptions that hinder our communion with God, and so a Christian delights to have his corruptions rebuked. He knows that if he leaves them, he will grow into further communion with Christ, in which his happiness in this world consists, and the fullness of his happiness in the world to come.

If this is so, then let us know that when we come to religion we do not lose the sweetness of our lives; we only translate it into a far more excellent and better condition. Perhaps before we fed on vain authors, on gravel, as it were, and on vain company. But now we have our delight (and perhaps find more pleasure) in better things. Instead of what fed our idle fancy (vain treatises and the like), we now have holy truths to delight our souls. Believe it, a Christian never truly knows what comfort is until he is thoroughgoing and sincere in religion. That is why Augustine says of himself, “Lord, I have lacked your sweetness too long. I see that all my former life (which I thought had such sweetness in it) was nothing at all but husks, empty things. Now I know where sweetness is: it is in the word and truth.”

So let us not misconceive of religion as a gloomy, dull thing in which we must lose all comfort. If we give ourselves over to the study of it, must it be so? Must we lose our comfort? No, we have no comfort until we are religious indeed. Christ does not feed his own among thorns and briers and stinking weeds, but among lilies. Do you think he feeds you among unsavory, harsh, fretting, galling things? No: “he feeds among lilies.” So when you come to religion, think that you are coming to comfort, to refresh your soul. Let us make use of this for our souls’ comfort, to make us love the ways of Christ more.

Now, to seal this further, see what Scripture says in some parallel places. “The Lord is my shepherd”; and what use does David immediately make of this? Why, “I shall want nothing” (Ps 23:1). He will feed me plentifully and abundantly. The whole psalm is nothing but a commentary on that word, “the Lord is my shepherd.” How does he perform the duty of a shepherd? “He makes me to lie down in green pastures, and leads me by the still waters.” This is meant not only of the body but chiefly of the soul: “he restoreth my soul.” That is, when my soul languishes and is ready to faint, he restores it and gives me, as it were, a new soul; he refreshes it. As people say, re-creation is the creating of a thing anew. So he restores my soul; he gives me my soul anew, with fresh comforts. This is what the blessed Shepherd does. And how? Because “he feeds among the lilies,” the promises of the gospel.

Then he not only does good to body and soul, but he also guides all our ways, all our goings out: “he leads us in the paths of righteousness.” And why? Because I deserve so much at his hands? No: “for his own name’s sake.” Because he has a love for me; because he has purchased me with his blood and given his life for his sheep; because he has bought me so dearly, though there is no worth in me. He goes on: Though I walk through all temptations and troubles, which are like “the valley of the shadow of death,” that is, a place where there is nothing but comfortlessness and misery, “yet I will fear none ill; thou, with thy rod and staff, dost comfort me.” If I, as a wandering sheep, venture to go out of the way, you, out of your care, being a sweet and loving shepherd, will pull me back in with your hook and staff. He takes care not only to feed us but also to govern us. What a sweet Shepherd and Savior we have in covenant, who deals with us like this!

And so he proceeds: “Thou wilt prepare my table in the presence of mine enemies.” And for the time to come he promises himself just as much: that as God has been a Shepherd for the present, providing everything necessary for body and soul and for guidance, so surely the goodness of the Lord will follow me all the days of my life. For he is a perpetual Shepherd. He will not leave us until he has brought us to heaven. So we see in this place the sweet care of Christ.

You have a similar place: “He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; he shall gather the lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young” (Isa 40:11). So he leads them into the pastures and feeds them plentifully and sweetly, not only with sweet things but with a tender care, which is sweeter still. Like a shepherd, he takes into his bosom the poor lambs that cannot walk by themselves, and the sheep that are heavy with young. He cares for them. “He gently leads them,” that is, poor, weak Christians who struggle and fight against many temptations and corruptions. Christ has a tender care for them. He carries them, as it were, in his bosom and in his arms, and leads them gently; for in truth all Christ’s sheep are weak. Every one of them has something to complain of. So he has a tender care for them; he feeds them tenderly and sweetly, or else they might perish.

Another place notable for this purpose is Ezekiel 34:14 and the verses following, where you have the same metaphor of a loving shepherd; it is nothing but a commentary on the text. Being parallel places, they may help our memories: “I will feed them in good pastures upon the high mountains of Israel; there shall their fold be; there shall they lie in a good fold, and in a fat pasture. I will feed my flock, and cause them to lie down, saith the Lord God. I will seek that which is lost, and bring back that which was driven away; I will bind up that which was broken, and strengthen that which is sick, and destroy the fat and the strong, and feed them with judgment.” Those who are Christ’s true sheep have something to complain of. Either they are sick, or broken, or driven away. Something or other is amiss. But Christ’s care goes before every need of his sheep. He has a fitting salve for all their sores.

And to apply this to the business at hand: does Christ not feed us “among the lilies”? Does he not now feed us with his own body and blood in the sacrament? Would you have better food? “My body is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed” (John 6:55). That is, it is the only meat, with emphasis: the only meat and drink our souls could feed on. God gave his Son to death, to shed his blood for my sins. What would become of the hunger-bitten, thirsty soul, stung by Satan and his temptations, if it were not for the blood of Christ to quench our thirst, and the body of Christ given by the Father to death for sin? If the soul could not think on this, where would the soul’s comfort be?

All this is represented to us here in the sacrament. We feed on the body and blood of Christ spiritually, and are refreshed by them, as truly as our bodies are refreshed by the bread and wine. For God does not feed us with empty symbols and representations, but with the things themselves. So the soul that comes prepared by faith is a partaker of Christ crucified, and is knit to him, though he is now in heaven. There is as sure a union and communion between Christ and the Christian soul as there is between food and the body once it is digested.

So let us come to this blessed, this sweet food of our souls with hungry appetites and thankful hearts, that God has given us the best comforts of his word and has fed us with the sweet comforts of the sacraments as a seal of the word. We should spend our lives in great thankfulness for this, that he will feed us so sweetly, he who thinks nothing good enough for our food but his own self, together with his own gracious word and truth. So we should be very thankful to God, and now at this time labor to get hungry appetites, fit to receive this blessed food.

How shall we do that?

1. Think seriously about the former part of your life, and about this past week. For Christ, the food of the soul, tastes well with the sour herbs of repentance. Let us stir up in our hearts repentance for our sins, and sorrow in considering our own corrupt nature and life. When we have felt our corruptions and have a sense of our need, then Christ will be sweet to us. The Passover lamb was to be eaten with sour herbs; so Christ our Passover must be eaten with repentance.

2. Then, along with this, there must be purging. There are many things that clog the stomach. Do not come with worldly, wicked, malicious affections, which puff up the soul; but lay aside, as the apostle urges, all guile, malice, and superfluity (1 Pet 2:1; Jas 1:21). Empty the soul of all sin and of preoccupying thoughts or affections.

3. Then consider our need of spiritual strength: we need to grow up more and more in Christianity, to keep on feeding. We need strong faith and strong assurance that Christ is ours and that we are his. Let us frequent this ordinance often, and come prepared as we should, and we will find Christ making good his own ordinance in his own best time, so that we will be able to say in truth of heart, from experience and with feeling, together with the church, “My beloved is mine, and I am his. He feedeth among the lilies.”