Divine Breathings in Modern English

Meditation and Prayer are like the spies who went to search out the land of Canaan. The one views the land, and the other gathers in its fruit, and together they bring home a taste of the fairest and sweetest fruits of heaven. Meditation, like the eye, views our mercies, and Prayer, like the hand, reaches out and takes those mercies in. Or again, Meditation is like an agent stationed abroad to gather in what we lack, and Prayer, like a ship, goes out and brings home what we desire. It is my misery that I cannot be so perfect as to lack nothing; but it is my mercy that I cannot be so miserable as to go unsupplied. Meditation cannot discover a real need without Prayer fetching in a comfort to answer it. Lord! If mercy is so free, I will never be poor without meditating to know my need, and never know it without praying to have it supplied; and even then I will not rest until you do more for me than I am able to ask or think.

Saint Bernard beautifully compares contemplation to the eagle. As the eagle always fastens her eye on the radiant beams of the beautiful sun, so contemplation is always gazing on the glorious beams of the Sun of Righteousness (Mal 4:2); it is always occupied with the high and profitable things of salvation. Or else I may compare it to those birds David speaks of, which build their nests by the altar of God (Ps 84:3). This is that heavenly bird which builds her nest around the throne of glory. This is the bee which flies into the sweetest gardens and sucks honey from every flower of paradise. By meditation I can converse with God, take my comfort in the bosom of my beloved, bathe myself in rivers of pleasure, walk the paths of my rest, and view the mansions of my eternity.

What are you doing here, then, O my soul, in this valley of tears? Up onto the mountain, and view the land of promise! What are you doing in this wilderness of trouble? Up on the wing, and take your flight to heaven! Let your thoughts be where your happiness is, and let your heart be where your thoughts are. Though your home may be on earth, your way of life shall be in heaven.

What are you, O my soul? A spiritual essence, a bodiless substance, the very breath of God, and an epitome of heaven. What satisfies you, O my immortal soul? None but the immortal God, in whom all fullness dwells. Only he who fills heaven and earth can fill the soul. The insufficient creature may fill the soul with vexation; none but the all-sufficient God can fill the soul with contentment. O Lord, as no action of mine will satisfy you without myself, so no creature of yours will satisfy me without yourself. Therefore, O Lord, take my heart, and give me yourself.

What do you lack, O my soul? With what imaginable excellence would you clothe yourself? What desirable object would you set your heart on? Is it beauty? The righteous shall shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of heaven (Matt 13:43), and the wise as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever (Dan 12:3). Is it riches? Wealth and riches are in the house of God (Ps 112:3); every one in his family shall have a rich, a glorious, an incorruptible and an eternal inheritance among the saints. What is it, then? Is it honor? What honor is like this: to be a friend and a favorite of God, and a spouse of Christ; to have a crown of righteousness, of life and of glory? And more still, a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory set upon your head (2 Cor 4:17). Or again, is it pleasure? The just shall enter into their Master’s joy (Matt 25:21), and there are rivers of pleasures at his right hand for evermore (Ps 36:8; Ps 16:11). In a word, what would you have, O my flesh? A meeting together of all glorious things, both in heaven and on earth? Why, godliness has the promise of this life, and of that which is to come (1 Tim 4:8). If heaven and its righteousness are what you seek, both heaven and earth, with all their excellencies, are what you will find (Matt 6:33). Lord, make me holy, and then I am sure I shall be happy!

Wise agents always propose their ends to themselves before they set to work, and then direct their actions toward the end they proposed. If the mariner puts out to sea, it is so that he may reach a certain harbor; therefore he sails by the compass, so that he may compass what he sails for. A Christian should always keep one eye on his end and the other eye on his way. The man who does not know what he lives for lives the life of a beast; and the man who aims at heaven but lives at random plays only a fool’s part. A wise Christian’s end in living is that he may live without end; and therefore his way of living is to spend his life continually in the ways of life. He is always walking in those paths where he sees heaven before him. O my soul! What are you aiming at? Is it the full enjoyment of your God? Why, then, while you are present in this body, be always drawing near to the Lord; and so, when you are absent from this body, you will be always present with the Lord (2 Cor 5:6-8).

How quick many people are, at the sight of a rich worldling, to envy him for what he has! But for my part, I would rather pity him for what he lacks. He has a talent, but it lies unused; he has a lamp, but it lacks oil; he has a soul, but it lacks grace; he has the star, but he lacks the sun; he has created things, but he lacks the Creator. In his life he only floats on a torrent of vanity that empties itself into an ocean of vexation. And after death comes the word: Take this unprofitable servant, bind him hand and foot, and cast him into utter darkness (Matt 25:30; Matt 22:13); go, set his soul adrift forever in a raging lake of fire and brimstone. Where now is the object of your envy? It is not his silver that will anchor him now, nor his gold that will bring him to land, nor his friends who can comfort him. So if he is worth envying, who is worth pitying? If this is happiness, then give me misery. Lord! Make me poor with a good heart rather than rich with a bad conscience.

I am frail, and the world is fading; but my soul is immortal, and God is eternal. If I fix my choice on created things, either they may take wings like an eagle that flies toward heaven, or my soul may take its way with the rich fool and go to hell. But if I choose God for my portion, then mercy and goodness will follow me while I live, and glory and eternity will crown me when I die. I will therefore leave now what I will soon lose, so that I may embrace what I will always enjoy.

I see that the wicked have their heaven here and their hell hereafter; and, on the contrary, good men have their hell here and their heaven hereafter. Dives had his good things in this life, and Lazarus his evil things; now Lazarus is comforted, and Dives is tormented (Luke 16:25). I will not, therefore, envy the prosperity of the wicked, nor be offended at the affliction of the righteous, since the one is drawn in pomp to hell, while the other swims in tears to heaven.

As there is a sad mirth, so there is a joyful mourning. Look at the pleasure-lover: however much laughter may show in his face, sadness always settles at the center of his heart. His carnal delights are not only empty but vexing; like music, they play him into a fit of melancholy. While the banquet lasts, the sensualist sings; but when the bill comes, his spirit sinks. His burning candle goes out at once and leaves a stinking wick; his shining sun sets instantly in a watery cloud. Solomon sums it up this way: “Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness” (Prov 14:13).

But now come to the penitent. As his tears are the joy of angels, so they are the joy of his heart and the comfort of his soul. The saltier his tears, the sweeter his comforts; the deeper his sighs, the fuller his joy. The beams of consolation always shine into this house of mourning, so that his soul is in labor with a Barnabas, a son of consolation, and his labors bring forth the fruits of peace. So I may truly say that to mourn for sin is to weep for joy. These pure and pleasant streams of consolation, which are the worldling’s wonder, flow and run in those crystal rivers of eternal pleasure at God’s right hand; and they come from a weeping spring.

Why then is the mouth of wickedness opened against the way of holiness, as if grace were the Calvary where joy lies buried, and ungodliness the very womb that brings forth happiness? But if experience may be heard, my soul has felt both. I find such a dampening of the spirit in worldly pleasures, and such refreshment of soul in the depth of godly sorrow, that I will count one drop of such spiritual joy better than an ocean of their carnal mirth.

Where your happiness lies, there your portion lies. Suppose you place your happiness in some poor, empty creature. Suppose your spirit runs so low that, like Judas, you can be content only to keep the bag, or, like Reuben, to settle on this side of Jordan for some worldly convenience. Why then, unworthy soul, take what is your own and go your way. If you will be put off with a breath of honor, a blaze of pleasure, a snare of riches, or a parcel of vanity, why then, go and take your fill, and look for nothing more from God. What you see is your all; when you go from here, then farewell all. In the meantime remember this: when the breath has expired, the blaze has gone out, and the soul is ensnared forever, then your eternity will be spent in bewailing your folly.

But now, O precious soul! If you place your happiness in the highest excellence, your portion lies in the chief good. If it is your happiness always to behold the beauty of God’s face, it shall be your portion forever to behold the beauty of God’s presence. Lord, then let the worldling be sent away with some poor worldly trifles. But for my part, since you have made me capable of such heavenly excellencies, I desire never to be put off with passing vanities; my happiness lies only in yourself. Therefore whatever I enjoy besides yourself, I will take as a blessing, but not as a portion.

Insatiable desires for temporal things make a person poor in spiritual things. A true Christian is rich in outward things only when he is content with what he has. But the one who does not thirst for more of heavenly things has none of them. Worldly desires always leave us empty: either we do not get what we covet, or else we are not satisfied with what we get. But whoever thirsts after heavenly things is always filled, and the more he receives, the more he desires. The richest and choicest mercies that God can give, sincere desires will fetch them in.

What a glorious gain we might make of this affection, if we would only divert its streams and turn them heavenward! How many excellent mercies lie aground, needing only this tide to bring them in? Why then do I let my desires run out to waste? I only make myself poor by thirsting after more of the world and more of created things, when I might be rich if I would only set a higher value on grace, and on Christ.

Usually when a worldling is dead, we ask, “How rich did he die?” “Oh,” many say, “he died rich; he has left a great estate.” Alas! The poor man has slept his sleep and lost his dream, and now that he wakes, he finds nothing in his hand. Where is his golden heap? Only the rust of that heap has gone to witness against him (Jas 5:3). His mammon fails him; only its unrighteousness follows him. Others have the use of it; only the abuse of it does he carry with him to judgment. He has made his friends’ fortunes, as we say, but he has undone himself. So I may justly write this motto on every moneybag: “This is the price of blood” (Matt 27:6). Shall I then treasure up the price of blood? No. Christ has entrusted me as a steward. Therefore what I have and do not need, Christ shall have in his members who need and do not have. So when these passing created things slide away, they will not carry me with them; but when I pass away, I shall carry them with me.

Good Lord! What a miserable creature a wicked man is! His very manna turns to worms; his very mercies make him miserable. Look at him in his larger estate, and you will find one of two things. Either he does not have the benefit of enjoying it, only the danger of keeping it (and this adds nothing to his comfort); or else, if he does enjoy it, he abuses it so miserably that, as someone has well said, he makes what is only temporal in its use eternal in its punishment. Alas! Its pleasures are quickly gone, but its pain lies in his bones forever. Lord, therefore help me to make the most of your mercies, or else your mercies will only multiply my miseries!

Would you know whether your name is written in the Book of Life? Then read what you have written in the Book of Conscience. You need not ask, “Who shall ascend up into heaven?” (Rom 10:6), in order to search the records of eternity. You need only descend into your own heart, and there read what you are and what you will be. Though God’s Book of Election and Reprobation is closed and kept above with God, your Book of Conscience is open, and kept below in your very bosom; and what you write here, you will be sure to read there. If I write nothing in this book but the black lines of sin, I will find nothing in God’s book but the red lines of damnation. But if I write God’s Word in the Book of Conscience, I may be sure that God has written my name in the Book of Life. At the great Day of Judgment, when all the books are opened, I will read there either the sweetest or the sharpest lines. I will therefore write in such a way here that I need not be ashamed to read hereafter.

Do not be curious to search into the secrets of God; do not pick the lock where he has allowed no key. Whoever insists on sifting every cloud may be struck by a thunderbolt, and whoever will be too familiar with God’s secrets may be overwhelmed in his judgments. Adam curiously sought to increase his knowledge, and so Adam shamefully lost his goodness (Gen 3:6). The men of Beth-shemesh insisted on prying into the ark of God, and so the hand of God killed more than fifty thousand of them (1 Sam 6:19). Therefore let us not hover about this flame, lest we scorch our wings. For my part, since God has made me his steward and not his secretary, I will carefully improve myself by what he has revealed, and not curiously inquire into or after what he has reserved.

Nothing is so sure as death, and nothing so uncertain as its time. I may be too old to live, but I can never be too young to die. I will therefore live every hour as if I were to die the next.

As the tree falls, so it lies; and where death strikes us down, there God lays us out either for mercy or for misery. So I may compare death to the Red Sea. If I go in as an Israelite, my landing will be in glory, and my rejoicing will be in triumph, to see all my enemies dead upon the seashore. But if I go in as an Egyptian (if I am on this side of the cloud, on this side of the covenant, and yet go in hardened among the troops of Pharaoh), justice will return in its full strength, and a flood of judgment will overflow my soul forever.

Or else I may compare it to the sleep of the ten virgins, of whom it is said, “they slumbered and slept” (Matt 25:5). We will all fall into this sleep. Now if I lie down with the wise, I will go in with the Bridegroom; but if I sleep with the foolish, without oil in my lamp, without grace in my soul, I have shut the gates of mercy upon my soul forever.

I see, then, that this life is the time in which I must go out to meet the Lord; this is the hour in which I must do my work, and that is the day on which I must be judged according to my works. I do not know how soon I may fall into this sleep. Therefore, Lord, grant that I may live every day in your sight as I desire to appear on the last day in your presence.

What is said of the sailor with respect to his ship, that he always sails within four inches of death, may be said of the soul in relation to the body: it is always within four inches of eternity. If the ship splits, the sailor sinks; if our earthen vessels break, the soul is gone, plunged forever into the bottomless sea and shoreless ocean of eternity. This, therefore, is the soul I long to weep over: the one that launches into the deep the wrong way around, before it knows whether it will sink or swim.

It was a sad speech of a dying king: “I must now die before I begin to live.” It is the sad condition of many dying men that their work is still to do when their hour has come. When the enemy is in the gate, their weapons are still to be looked for; when death is at the door, their graces are still to be looked for; when the Bridegroom has come, their oil is still to be bought. The pursuer of blood is upon them, and they have not so much as thought of the city of refuge. In a word, the seven years of plenty are wasted, and no provision is made for the years of famine; time is spent, and nothing is laid up for eternity. I will therefore finish now every work I have to do, so that dying may be the last work I have to finish.

This shameless age of ours has grown so conspicuously uncivil that nowadays it is counted one of the greatest shames to be ashamed of sin. But for my part, I would rather be counted the world’s fool than God’s enemy.

Worldling, you mock when you see a Christian melting at the Word and trembling at a sin. I tell you, he is a man of noble bearing. He can triumph in death and in judgment. The King of fears cannot appall him, nor can hell itself frighten him; but as a conqueror over both, he can leave the world with a smile. “O Death, where is thy sting? O Hell, where is thy victory?” (1 Cor 15:55). That is his triumphant parting word and farewell.

But you who glory so much because you can silence conscience and outface sin, I tell you, yours is a base and cowardly spirit. Let only a little sickness impair your health, or the thought of death charge upon your spirit, and what quick retreats you make from your bold resolutions! What heaviness clouds your face? What terrors shake your joints? What sadness sinks your heart? So a fancy frightens you, a shadow startles you, and like Nabal your spirits die and sink within you like a stone (1 Sam 25:37). So jeer on. For my part, I hold it better to fear while God threatens than to fall when God judges.

The nearer the moon draws into conjunction with the sun, the brighter it shines toward the heavens and the dimmer it shows toward the earth. So the nearer the soul draws into communion with Jesus Christ, the lovelier it is in the eye of the Spouse, and the blacker it appears in the sight of the world. The one who is a precious Christian to the Lord is a straitlaced Puritan to the world. The one who is glorious to a heavenly saint is odious to an earthly spirit. But it is a sign that you are an Egyptian when that cloud which is a light to an Israelite is darkness to you. It is a sign that you move in an earthly sphere when you see no luster in such heavenly lights. For my part, if I shine to God, I do not care how I look to the world.

It does not appear to the world what we are, and it hardly appears even to ourselves what we shall be. For if the world knew that we are the jewels of God, the favorites of heaven, the excellence of the creation, the beloved of Christ, they would not mock and persecute us as they do. Or if we only knew that we will be glorified together with Christ, that his happiness will be our happiness, his joy our joys, and his glories our glories, we truly would not be as downcast as we are. When I consider that my life is hidden with Christ in God (Col 3:3), I do not wonder to see the world hate me. But when I consider that when Christ appears, I shall be like him (1 John 3:2), I wonder that its hatred troubles me at all.

Why should I fret myself at the prosperity of the wicked? It is true that when I look at the spreading bay tree and forget the withering herb, when I see their quails and forget their curse, my feet had almost slipped (Ps 73:2). But since I went into the sanctuary of God (Ps 73:17), I find that all the blossoms of their glory must fade and fall under the blight of God’s wrath. All their outward happiness only completes the judgments of the Lord and fills up the measure of their misery. For what is their pleasure but the deceitful greeting Joab gave Amasa? What is their honor but Absalom’s mule, which only lifts them up and carries them to their gallows? What are their riches but Jael’s present in a lordly dish, which only makes way for the fatal nail, their sad reckoning at the Day of Judgment? This prosperity of theirs slays them. Now who thinks that ox happy which has a rich pasture to fatten itself for the slaughter? Who envies the criminal who has a fine day to ride to his execution? And why is it that the workers of iniquity flourish? Is it not that they may be destroyed forever (Ps 92:7)? And the larger their pasture, the sooner they are made ready for the slaughter. Therefore, for my part, when I see a sinner prosper in his wickedness, I will turn the flame of envy into a tear of pity.

This is heaven: to be forever with the Lord. And this is hell: to be forever without the Lord. You who can see no beauty in Christ and no glory in heaven, do you likewise see no flames in hell, no hell in the loss of God? You, then, who cannot be drawn by his presence, oh, tremble at his absence! And you who do not care to be with him, oh, fear to be without him! For this is hell on earth: “Depart from us” (Job 21:14); and this is hell when we leave the earth: “Depart from me” (Matt 25:41). Lord, you are my heaven and my happiness. Unite me to you, that I may be forever with you.

The good that is in riches lies entirely in their use. They are like the woman’s box of ointment: if they are not broken open and poured out for the sweet refreshment of Jesus Christ in his distressed members, they lose their worth. So the covetous man may truly write upon his rusting heaps, “These are good for nothing.” Chrysostom tells us that the rich man is not the one who lays up much, but the one who lays out much; for not to have and not to use come to the same thing. I will therefore be the richer by charitable laying out, while the worldling shall be the poorer by his covetous hoarding up.

Who will part with his God? I would part with my life sooner than with my God. No wonder, then, that the covetous man hugs his gold so tightly: it is his god. If you take it from him, he may cry with Micah when he lost his gods, “What have I more?” (Judg 18:24). His heaven is gone, his happiness is gone, his all is gone, if his god is gone. So I will not wonder so much at how tightly his hand is closed as at how empty his heart is. We count it rare wisdom to keep the god we choose, but it is absolute folly to choose a god we cannot keep.

O my soul! You are spiritual in your essence, boundless in your desires, and immortal in your nature. So whatever you enjoy must have both proportion and perfection, and both must last forever; otherwise there is no full contentment and no real satisfaction. Now suppose the whole world were turned into a pleasant Eden, and that Eden refreshed with the living springs of immortality. Suppose you were seated on the throne of its choicest excellencies, crowned with the diadem of its highest joys, and wielding the scepter of your glory over every creature beneath the moon. Even more, suppose you could hold the reins of the sun or guide the moving flames of the sky; suppose your territories bordered on the highest heavens, and the revenues of your crown flowed in from the farthest parts of the earth. Even then, what proportion does a material world bear to an immortal soul? Will a lion feed on grass? Or can the soul be satisfied with dust? You may as soon feed your body with grass as feed your soul with the creature.

And if the creature did bear proportion, it still lacks perfection. Could the devil turn alchemist and extract the very vital spirits and quintessence of the purest and most desirable excellencies under heaven, still it is so imperfect by nature that there is more dregs than wine, more thorns than flowers, more smoke than fire, more sting than honey. So the soul that thinks to be satisfied with an imperfect object will be filled with a whirlwind of vexation. For it is impossible that so scanty an excellence should in any way fill so enlarged a capacity.

Yet again, were there perfection, there is still no permanence. It will fly away like a bird from its perch, or melt away like ice before the sun, and so leave the immortal soul to sink forever. So the creature will not only make you restless; it will leave you miserable.

I see, then, that I shall never rest until I rest in God. He who is the Father of spirits, the Fountain of bliss, the Ancient of Days, he alone is the fitting object for your immortal soul. Every creature finds its rest in its end, and the end of the soul is its God. Therefore, Lord, since you have made me for yourself, fill me fully with yourself, or take me wholly to yourself.

Does Satan tempt you with pleasures, high positions, or profits? O my soul, stand on your guard! Gird on your strength with thoughts like these: What can the world profit me, if its cares choke me? How can pleasures comfort me, if their sting poisons me? Or what advancement is it to be triumphing in honor before the face of men here, and to be trembling with shame before the throne of God hereafter? What are the delights of the world compared with the peace of my conscience, or the joy that is in the Holy Spirit? What is the applause of men compared with the crown that God has prepared? Or what is the gain of the world compared with the loss of my soul? The vanity of the creature is far beneath the excellence of my soul. Therefore, Satan, you and I must keep an everlasting distance, for all you offer me is loss.

A black cloud makes the traveler quicken his pace and think of home, whereas a fair day and a pleasant road waste his time, and steal his affections away with the view of the countryside. However others may think of it, I take it as a mercy that now and then some clouds come between me and my sun, and that troubles often eclipse my comforts. For I can see that if I found too much friendship at my inn, on my pilgrimage, I would soon forget my Father’s house and my inheritance.

There is a generation of people who will praise and adore the saint in heaven, and yet mock and afflict the saint on earth. If all those saints whom they so much honor in their day were alive again, I dare say they would persecute them in person. They are like the Jews: they can adorn the tomb of the righteous (Matt 23:29), and yet treat the righteous in person just as the Jews did.

Dissembling world! Your tongue embalms a dead saint while your hand strikes a wound into the living saint. You can praise God for those who have departed in the faith, and yet persecute God in those who will not depart from the faith. O foolish world! You must condemn yourself, for your praise has left your practice without excuse.

When Alexander was asked where he would lay his treasure, he answered very well: among his friends. He was confident that there it would be kept safe and returned with interest. Why do you need to enlarge your barns? Do you not know where to lay up your plenty? Make the friends of Christ your treasury; let the hands of the widow and the bellies of the poor be your storehouse. There it is secure: no thief can steal it, no time can rust it, no change can lose it; and there it grows. Here a temporal gift is turned into an eternal reward. No ground is as fruitful as the bosom of the poor, which brings forth a hundredfold.

O my soul! What are you doing, groveling on the earth? Everything here below is too base for your excellence and too short for your eternity. You have capacity for a God, and you must still have a being when these poor things are reduced to nothing. The creature is too base a metal to make you a crown of glory, and too rotten a hull to carry you through eternity. Oh, fill yourself with God, and so you will raise your dignity to perpetuity.

Whenever anything presents itself, think: If Christ were alive now, would he do it? Or if I were to die now, would I do it? I must walk as he walked, and I must live as I intend to die. If it is not Christ’s will, it is my sin; and if I die in that sin, it will be my ruin. So in every action I will carry myself as if Christ were on one hand and Death on the other.

Our life is only a moment of time, and yet in this moment of time we sow the seeds of eternity. In this passing hour I am shaping for myself either a good or a bad eternity. These words that I now speak, these works that I now do, though they seem to rot here, will yet spring up to eternity. A poet was once taunted by a man for spending three days on three lines of verse, when that man could write a hundred in one day. “Oh,” the poet answered, “yours will last only three days, as it were, but mine must continue forever. According to how I conduct myself now, my name must either rise or fall forever.” So we may answer this foolish world when it taunts us with being too strict and too precise. Oh, do we not need to be exact indeed, when the works we are about are to be written not in sand but in the records of eternity? The lines we now draw must run parallel with eternity, and according to how we carry ourselves in this moment of time, our souls must live or die forever. O Lord! Help me so to make the most of the brevity of my life by the integrity of my actions that I may turn this moment of misery into an eternity of bliss.

The soul of man, says the Philosopher, is the horizon of time and eternity. Now if the Sun of Righteousness has not risen in our horizon, we must expect nothing but a clouded time and a stormy eternity: gross darkness here, and utter darkness hereafter forever. But as for those blessed saints into whose souls the eastern splendor of the Sun of Righteousness is shed abroad, how they live in his sight! What heavenly excellencies, what reviving comforts, what advancing principles are darted from that face of beauty into their spirits! And as for the triumphant saints, in whose horizon Jesus Christ stands in the eternal noonday of his glory, oh, what full beams of bliss and consolation, without the least shadow of bitterness and discontent, warm and delight their blessed souls to all eternity! Lord, lift up the light of your countenance in my horizon; then time will be the morning, and eternity the noon of glory, in my soul.

The world has many servants, because it pays present wages; Christ has only a few disciples, because their reward is in another life. Most people live by sight, and so they must have something to satisfy their senses. Like Ishmael, they would rather be sent away with a small gift than wait for the inheritance with Isaac. They would rather take their portion in this life than wait for an inheritance reserved in the heavens. Their unworthy spirits cry out with Esau, “What profit will this birthright do us?” (Gen 25:32). “We must have pleasure,” they say, “and we must have riches.” And so, like Lysimachus, they will sell their kingdoms, and themselves, for a drink of water. There are only a few with such elevated spirits as the disciples had, who can leave a possession to live upon a promise. There are only a few with such heroic spirits as Moses had, who can despise the treasures of this present world out of respect for the recompense of a future reward (Heb 11:26). But there are many with such sordid spirits as Dives had, who would enjoy their good things here (Luke 16:25). But as for me, Lord! Do not give me my portion in this life; I would rather live by faith.

What rebel, under a proclamation of mercy, holds out when he knows he will be fetched in by the hand of justice? Yet how many stubborn sinners (like those invited guests in the Gospel) mock the messengers of peace until they are slain by the men of war! Indeed, if you had counsel, wisdom and strength for the battle, if your heart could endure or your hands be strong in the day that God deals with you, that would be much. Or if the gods you serve could deliver you out of the hands of Christ, that would be more. But alas! One day you must be brought under his royal power, either in favor or in fury, either to the praise of his glory or to the magnifying of his justice. If you hate his throne, you will be made his footstool. If you will not have him as your head, you will be trodden under his feet. If he is not your Jesus, he will be your Judge. In a word, if you will not touch the golden scepter of his mercy, you will be crushed with the rod of his justice.

And remember this: this life is the only time when the flag of mercy is displayed and the taper of peace is burning. Once the white flag is folded up and the burning taper has burned out, look for nothing but the grim flourishes of the black flag: “As for those mine enemies, that would not that I should reign over them, bring them hither and slay them before me” (Luke 19:27). Therefore sit down now and see your weakness. While the King is still a great way off, send out the ambassadors of your prayers and tears; acquaint yourself now with God, and be at peace. For my part, I would rather come in as a favorite than be brought in as a traitor.

Sin and sorrow are two inseparable companions: you cannot let in the one and shut out the other. If your moment is spent in mirth, your eternity will be spent in mourning. If you will not weep while you may have mercy to pardon you, you will lament hereafter and yet have no eye to pity you. A bottle of tears may now quench the fire of sin, but a cloud of tears will never quench the flames of hell. Therefore, while the wicked go on laughing, I desire to go on mourning. The Valley of Bochim will at length set me upon the Hill of Zion, but the paths of rejoicing will at length lead into a hell of weeping. For this is a truth: whoever swims in sin will sink in sorrow. Their laughter will be turned into heaviness, while my tears will be wiped away. I will therefore always weep, that I may not weep forever.

The way a tree leans while it grows is the way it pitches when it falls, and there it lies, whether toward the north or the south. As we are in life, so for the most part we are in death; and so we lie down into eternity, whether toward heaven or hell. Once fallen, there is no moving. For as in war an error is death, so in death an error is damnation. Therefore live as you intend to die, and die as you intend to live. O Lord! Let the bent of my soul always be toward you, so that I may fall to you, and rest with you forever.

The Jordan, that famous river, no doubt runs through many a pleasant meadow, past many a shady grove and flowery bank, and yet at last it is forced to empty itself into a dead sea. And not only that: those fresh, crystal streams, which made those famous brooks lose both their name and their worth, are turned into the Dead Sea themselves.

Just so it is with a wicked man. Here he walks through the meadows of worldly pleasures, rests under the shade of earthly comforts, and sports and wallows among the flowers of worldly delights; but at last he runs himself out into a dead lake and is cast into hell among the number of those that forget God (Ps 9:17). And not only that: his very heaven itself, which made up all his happiness, is turned into hell. His beauty is turned into horror, his honor into shame, his lusts into devils, his pleasure into bitterness, his scarlet into flames of fire and brimstone, so that what was his fresh stream here is his salt sea there.

Lord! Let me be a pure stream that may end in heaven! I do not care what stony veins I run through here on earth, if only I may lose there the name of weakness and corruption for glory and perfection.

What is a day compared with an age? And what is an age compared with eternity? Yet we know that the shortest day is part of the longest time, but the longest time is no part of eternity; for where time ends, there eternity begins. Why, then, are we so foolish as to heap up goods for mortality, and to lay up riches that last at the longest only for many years, perhaps not for many hours, and yet provide nothing for eternity? And why are we so careful to indulge and prop up a crumbling piece of clay, a frail and mortal body that cannot stand longer than an age, perhaps not longer than a day, and yet neglect our precious souls, which must endure forever? Do we all aim at a prosperous life? Well, then, let us labor for a glorious eternity.

All people would have happiness for their end, but few would have holiness for their way. All would have the kingdom of heaven and its glory, but few seek the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness (Matt 6:33). A certain nobleman was once asked what he thought of the course of the precise Puritans (as the world calls them), or of the life of the licentious Libertines. He answered, “I would rather live with these, and die with those.” In the same way, most people would rather live with Balaam, but die with Israel. They would gladly have the Libertine’s ease, but the godly man’s end. But this is certain: no soul shall go to God in death except the one that draws near to God in life. If the kingdom of God is not first in us, we shall never enter into the kingdom of God. No soul shall rest in heaven hereafter except the one that walks in heaven here. No soul shall enter the gates of felicity except the one that treads the narrow paths of piety. Lord, make me holy as well as happy, that I may love to glorify you as much as to be glorified by you!

There are many tomorrow Christians who set their own day with God. On such a day they will repent, and not before, as if they held the lordship of time and the monopoly of grace, whereas time and grace are at God’s disposal alone. As Saint Ambrose says, “God has promised pardon to the penitent, but he has not promised tomorrow to the negligent.” As Saint Augustine says, “He who gives pardon to the penitent does not always give repentance to the sinner.” If I put God off today, he may put me off tomorrow. If I put off this hour of grace, I may never have another gracious hour. If today I push aside his hand of mercy, tomorrow he may stretch out his hand of justice. It is true that while I have time, I may come in; but it is also true that when I would come in, I may not have time. This is certain: when I repent, I shall have mercy. But this is just as certain: when I would have mercy, I may not find repentance. O Lord, you have given me this hour of grace to repent in! Give me grace in this hour to repent with.

Good Lord! What a shadow is the life of man! What a nothing it is! The time past is nothing, just like a bird flown from its owner’s hand, out of sight. The time present is vanishing: a running hour, no, even less, a flying minute, as good as nothing. The time to come is uncertain; the evening sun may see us dead. Lord! Therefore in this hour make me sure of you, for in the next I am not sure of myself.

When Alexander had divided his wealth among his friends, someone asked him what he had kept for himself. He answered, “Hope.” He is a rare Christian indeed who can part with all for Christ and live by faith. But when it comes to this, that we must lose what we have here in the hope of finding it again in heaven, the professing Christian who came running stops and goes back sorrowful.

On his way to philosophy, Crates threw his goods into the sea to save himself, saying, “I would rather drown you than have you drown me”; for he thought riches and virtue were incompatible. But how many Christians are there who, on their way to Jesus Christ, throw away themselves and their souls to save their gold? Before they will cast their bread upon the waters, they will throw themselves into the ocean. Many make such fair shows of following Christ, yet at this very turning you may know who their master is. But this is a truth: he has no part at all in Christ who will not part with all for Christ; and he lives only the life of the senses who cannot make a living out of a promise.

Therefore, Lord, of what I have, freely take whatever you call for. Christ is my portion and reward; I have enough to live on.

When I look into the treasures of men, perhaps I see chests of silver plate, bags of gold, cabinets of jewels. But this is the misery of it: when a man goes away from home, he cannot carry them without a burden or leave them without a fear. But here now is the excellence of a child of God: his treasure is always in him, and it is his happiness to carry it always with him. As it is transcendent in riches, being the fullness of God, so it is also permanent in its continuance, because he is filled with that fullness. So much so that you could sooner tear his soul from his body than take his treasure from his soul.

This was what sweetened the loss of his country house and friends for Ovid in his exile: the thought of his own genius. The riches of his gifted spirit lay beyond the reach of Caesar’s malice. And this is what refreshes the spirit of a Christian in all the troubles and afflictions he meets with in the land of banishment: he has possession of Jesus Christ, whom he can never lose.

Oh, the excellence of a child of God! Though you cast him out of all, you cannot cast any part of this all out of him. When Bias, that princely philosopher, lost his city and was put to flight, those who fled with him, with their bags and baggage, asked him why he had not also taken something with him. He answered, “I carry all my riches with me,” meaning his wisdom and his virtues. So it is with a Christian. Though you impoverish him, banish him, and cast him out of all, he is still able to say, “I carry all my treasure with me; I have my Christ, my fullness.” And truly, Lord, so long as you will give me possession of this all, I do not care though I am dispossessed of all.

The days of the Law were only like winter days, dark and cloudy, sharp and stormy; and yet how many of our fathers traveled to heaven in those days! But Gospel times are like summer days, sweet and clear, full of light and beauty. So we may truly say that God has not been a cloud of darkness to us, for these are the days of grace, full of the beams of mercy. Yet how slowly and heavily many of us go to heaven! And what is worse, how grievously and carelessly we waste these precious days and neglect these golden opportunities!

Oh, what time will that soul find to repent in, that is hardened in these melting times! Oh, what days will that soul find to go to heaven in, that idles away these Gospel days! Oh, what grace will that man find for his sin, that sins away the days of grace! Oh, to whom will that soul appeal, that renounces Jesus Christ! Oh, woe to that soul forever, over which the shadows of death and of the evening are stretched out, and which has still never set out for heaven! But more woeful still is the man for whom the clearer and sweeter day only makes the blacker and sadder hell. Oh, what blackness of darkness is reserved for that soul that walks in darkness in the midst of such clear light, and under it!

We are those who are not only lifted up to heaven; heaven is let down to us. Oh, how long will that man lie in hell whom heaven itself presses down! Oh, you Gospel Christian! You now live under the clear demonstrations of Christ, the sweet invitations of mercy, the large manifestations of love. Look to it: you will go either to heaven or to hell, on the easiest terms or on the hardest.

I seem to hear six voices crying aloud. The first is the voice of a dying man. The second is the voice of the damned. The third is the voice of my precious soul. The fourth is the voice of Jesus Christ. The fifth is the voice of evil times. The sixth is the voice of the Day of Judgment.

First, I seem to hear a dying man breathing out these groans: “Oh, do not lose a moment of time, for your time is only a moment! Oh, make sure of heaven now, for you do not know how soon you must leave the earth!”

And then I seem to hear the damned man roaring out these lamentations: “Oh, come and see the end of sin in those who know no end of sorrow! Oh, come and learn the price of time from those who must suffer forever for the loss of time!”

And then I seem to hear my precious soul pleading in this way: “O my body! What a fool I am to satisfy your lusts! You last only a moment of time, but I must endure forever. When you are wrapped up in rottenness, where shall I spend my eternity? I might now gain heaven for my mansion, angels for my companions, and God for my possession; and do you think I will lose my happiness to satisfy your taste for delicacies? Is it not better that I should carry you to heaven than that you should carry me with you to hell?”

And then I seem to hear Jesus Christ giving these invitations: “Behold! I stand at the door and knock (Rev 3:20), till my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the dew of the night (Song 5:2). Here I stand weeping, knocking, begging and waiting. Oh, open to me! My tears beg, my tears knock, my blood knocks, my groans knock. Oh, open to me! My patience knocks and waits. Oh, open to me! Do not let sin lodge in your heart while Christ waits at the door; do not let damnation rule within while salvation waits outside.”

And then I seem to hear evil times giving their invitations: “Oh, be living Christians now, for these are dying days! Oh, be growing Christians now, for these are backsliding times! Oh, make Jesus Christ your own now, for here you do not know what is your own!”

And then, last of all, I seem to hear the voice of the archangel summoning the dead to come out to judgment: “Arise, you holy and blessed saints, and take your places with God and his holy angels to judge the world! Arise, you cursed, naked souls, and take your stand in the sight of God and of his blessed saints, to be judged as you lived in the world!”

O Lord, let me hear the first voices with fear, so that I may not fear to hear the last voice!

In every choice, we cannot take unless we also leave. The soul that chooses life and grace refuses everything else. This is the heavenly breathing of such a gracious spirit: Lord! Let vain people follow vain fashions, but clothe me with salvation and cover me with the robes of righteousness. Let them be all glorious without, but let me be all glorious within. Let them crown themselves with rosebuds, but crown me as you crown your church, with the stars of heaven; these will shine when those fade. Let the wicked go away with the world; let them have all the sweetness, beauties, glories and excellencies of the earth, but let Jesus Christ be my portion. Everything else is nothing at all where Christ is all in all. Therefore be serious, O my soul, for you have none of Christ until you can truly say, “None but Christ.”

Three things, it seems to me, should make the heart of a Christian tremble. First, to consider the brevity of their life. Second, the difficulty of their work. Third, the eternity of their end. Our life is only a withering flower, a flying cloud, a vanishing shadow, a perishing breath. The body returns to the dust, the soul goes suddenly to its long home, and the night comes at once “when no man can work” (John 9:4).

But now, what work must be done in this short inch of time? Great enemies to be conquered, sons of Anak to be killed, principalities and powers to be overpowered, dear lusts to be subdued, right eyes to be plucked out, right hands to be cut off, strict rules to be followed, a narrow way and a strait gate to go through. To sum it up: a long race to be run with a short breath, a great way to be traveled by a setting sun. And then, what are we to expect when this candle is out and this breath has expired? Even as we have sown, so to reap: either to be eternally crowned or eternally damned.

Now therefore, before the sun has set or the shadow of the evening is stretched out, “whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might: for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest” (Eccl 9:10). O Lord, help me so to work for you in this moment of time that I may rest with you forever, when time shall be no more.

You have heard of the bloody siege of Troy, and yet it was said of Helen that she was so beautiful she deserved ten more years of war. And what was Helen but a glorious heap of clay? You have heard of the hard labors of Jacob, yet Rachel was so lovely in his eyes that he thought her worth fourteen years of service. If these deserved so much, oh, what does Jesus Christ deserve! He is altogether lovely, and before his shining glory the beauty of the whole creation is only a formless chaos. Therefore do not be discouraged, O my soul, though your enemies are fierce, the assaults on you cruel, and your resistance even unto blood: you are fighting for a beautiful Christ, who deserves it. Do not lose heart either, O my soul, though the rules are strict, the duties hard and your labors great: you are serving for a lovely Christ, who will amply reward it. Only look on the lovely beauties of your Christ, only think of the glorious day of your wedding to him, and these fourteen years will be nothing to you. Lord, let me always have your beauty in my eye, and so I shall quickly find no difficulty in my hand.

I once thought, along with the world, that the spirit of a Christian was a melancholy spirit, and that the ways of holiness were nothing but unpleasant paths leading to the deserts of sad seclusion. But now I see that Christians have hidden manna the world knows nothing of, glorious joys that strangers do not meddle with; and the more closely and exactly they walk, the fuller and sweeter their joys are. Once, the very thought of parting with my pleasures and delights to embrace soul-humbling, self-denying duties was grievous to me. But now, I bless my God, I can say with Augustine, “Oh, how sweet it is to be without my former sweetness!” It is now my rejoicing to be without my former joys. For now I see that there is a heaven on the way to heaven, and that one look of faith, one smile of Christ, one glance of heaven, one grape of Canaan, one glimpse of my crown of glory, yields more sweetness, comfort and contentment than all the pleasures and delights the world affords. The very gleaning of spiritual joy is better than the vintage of carnal delights. Let no one, then, hold back for lack of pleasures, for here they will not lose them, only exchange them.

Solomon tested many conclusions, but not one held except the last: the fear of God (Eccl 12:13). O my soul, you may tire yourself out with a variety of objects, but nothing satisfies except this: the enjoyment of your God. He alone is the full and first goodness; he alone is the fullness that is both the source of every good and enough to satisfy. As it was said of manna that it was the delight of every palate, so it may be said of Jesus Christ that he is satisfaction to every soul. So taste and see how sweet the Lord is (Ps 34:8).

Why do we wander after such a variety of creatures? Because we cannot find sufficiency in any one. If one herb had as much virtue, or one flower as much delight, as the whole collection, we would never trouble ourselves to gather many. Then take up your rest, O my soul, in the chief and choicest good, which contains all other goods. The golden rays of goodness that lie scattered in the creature are to be found joined together only in God. The pure ingredients that go into making the highest excellence, the largest goodness and the fullest perfection are to be found gathered together only in him. Do you know of anything profitable, delightful or desirable in the creature? You may see it in your God and find it in your Christ.

Are you a captive? He is your Redeemer. Are you wounded? He is your good Samaritan. Are you brokenhearted? Go to Christ, and he will bind up your heart. Are you sick? He is your Physician. Are you persecuted? He is your refuge. Are you hungry or thirsty? He is the living bread and the flowing stream. Are you weary? He is your rest. Are you in want or poverty? He is an inexhaustible treasury. Are you in disgrace or contempt? Why, he is your honor. Are you dull and heavy? He is a life-giving Spirit. Would you have grace? He is the fountain. Would you have heaven? He is the way; he will guide you by his counsel and afterward receive you into glory (Ps 73:24).

So let that man’s name be written in the dust who leaves the flowing fountain to quench his thirst at a broken cistern (Jer 17:13; Jer 2:13). Why should I tire myself gathering drops of honey from so many dying flowers, when I can satisfy myself with streams of sweetness in the living Christ? Therefore, creatures, in this you and I must part, for Christ outbids you all.

A Christian may raise another paradise here below and make a lower heaven on earth. For “this is life eternal, to know thee, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent” (John 17:3). To know Christ in the evidence of his love revealed to us, and Christ revealed in us, is the very entrance of heaven. For what is the perfection of grace but the fullness of this knowledge? And what is the consummation of glory but the blessedness of this fullness? Therefore, Lord, go on adding to my knowledge every day, so that at my last day I may be perfect.

Godly sorrow, like weeping Mary, seeks Christ. Saving faith, like wrestling Jacob, finds Christ and holds him. Heavenly love, like the affectionate Spouse, dwells with Christ. Here it brings him into the chambers of the Queen, and hereafter Christ brings the loving soul into the chamber of the King. So love is an eternal grace, always lodging in the bosom of Christ. Lord, you are the desire of my soul. Oh, that I could seek you, find you, and love you, so that I may enjoy you forever!

The stream of sorrow, like water, rises no higher than the spring it came from. We know that sin gives two bloody stabs: the first at the soul of man, the second at the heart of Christ. If only the first stab grieves me, if I mourn for sin only as it has wounded my soul, it is a sign that this stream flows from no more than a natural heart, because it rises only to a natural height. But if I weep for sin as it has wounded Christ, as it has shed that blood that would save me, as it has pierced that heart that would love me, then there is no question that the spring is in heaven, because it climbs to a supernatural height. Lord, so that my sorrow may be sound, pierce my heart for sin as it strikes through my soul and pierces Christ!

My life is sweet, but my Christ must be sweeter to me than my life. My soul is precious, but Christ must be dearer to me than my soul. My salvation is much, but Christ must be more to me than my salvation. Christ must be loved above all. Indeed, even if there were no arms of mercy to receive me, no heaven of bliss to welcome me, no weight of glory to crown me, Christ must still be loved above all these, and without them. As it is a sign of a carnal love to follow Christ for the loaves, so it is a sign of a base, mercenary love to seek Christ for a reward. That is only a counterfeit affection that cares more for the gift than for the person, and loves the ring more than her beloved. That choice cannot come from the heart that aims only at a dowry; that love cannot be real that aims only at a benefit. Lord, you are lovely in yourself; oh, that I could love you for yourself!

I must not venture on a duty unless I bring God to it, nor rest satisfied unless I carry God away from it. Hear David’s precept: “Oh, seek the Lord, and his strength, seek his face for evermore” (Ps 105:4). Be sure you do not rise from a duty before the countenance of God rises in mercy on your soul. It must be Christ who fits you for it, and it must be Christ who meets you in it, or else it will be no ordinance of comfort to you. What is the chariot, if your Beloved is not in it! Then hear Saint Bernard’s practice: “Lord! I never come to you without you; I never go from you but with you.” Oh, blessed is that soul that never prays, hears, or receives, but carries Christ to all, enjoys Christ in all, and brings Christ from all. Lord! In all my approaches to you, let me go out in your strength and return in your presence.

O my soul! You are always striving, and yet sin is always stirring. You fear that your grace is not genuine, because you find sin still working in you. But it will always be this way. You cannot come out of Egypt without Amalek lying in wait along the road. The flesh is sure to trouble you, even though it will never be able to conquer you. So when someone sits down and is at rest in sin, it is a sign that Satan is the strong man there, because his kingdom is at peace. But wherever there is any work of Christ, there will always be war with sin.

I know that as long as I live, sin will have its being in my mortal body. The ivy will keep twisting itself around the house; there is no destroying it until the wall falls. Sin was the womb of death, and only death must be the tomb of sin. God would have my soul humbled; therefore, though he has broken open my prison, he has left the chain on my feet. God would have my graces exercised; therefore, though he has brought me over into the kingdom of life, he has left the Canaanite in the land. God would have my faith exercised; therefore Goliath still shows himself in the field, so that I might run to the name of the Lord.

I will therefore take off Saul’s armor, humble my own abilities, and turn to the strength of Christ. Then, though I cannot prevent the rebelling power of sin, I shall always hinder the ruling power of sin. As it will be my grief that sin will have its being, so it will be my care that it may never have its thriving. Though sin may live in me, I will never live in sin.

I must not pray simply against temptations, though I may pray against the evil of temptation. For a Christian may be tempted and yet not overcome, just as a castle may be assaulted and yet not taken. If Satan injects an evil impulse and I reject it, the sin is not mine but the devil’s. It will be a shining jewel in my crown of victory, and an aggravating item in the charge against him on his day of judgment.

Why are you so terrified at the roaring of a lion, as if he could not rage without devouring (1 Pet 5:8), or as if grace and temptation could not stand together? As if the same afflictions were not accomplished upon your brethren (1 Pet 5:9)! This is an undoubted truth, that spiritual wickedness is to be found in the most heavenly places (Eph 6:12). And this is an excellent sign that Satan takes you for one who will tread on his head, when he is so violent in bruising your heel (Gen 3:15). And this is a comforting assurance: if Jesus Christ is your Captain to lead you in, he will be your Champion to bring you out. So temptation will be like a file to beautify your soul, and like a sword to wound your adversary.

For my part, I know Satan will always be tempting, so I will always be watching; and what I cannot hinder, I will be sure to hate. So it will be my joy to fall into temptation, and the devil’s misery to fall into his own pit.

Caesar was once crossing the sea unrecognized, in a little boat, in a raging storm. When they were about to be swallowed up by the waves, and he saw the pilot’s courage failing, he proudly said, “Fear not, for you carry Caesar.” How truly may a gracious spirit say, in the midst of all desertions, afflictions and tribulations, “Fear nothing, O my soul; you carry Jesus Christ.” What if the windows of heaven are opened for a storm, or the fountains of the deep are broken up for a flood, with desertions from above and afflictions from below? Yet God who sits in heaven will not cast away his Son, and Christ who lives in me will not let me sink. The swelling waves, I know, serve only to set me nearer heaven, and the swelling deeps serve only to make me wake my Master. Prize your Christ, my soul! They cannot drown you, and therefore they shall not daunt me. For while I sail with Christ, I am sure to land with Christ.

If Satan cannot prevent the birth of graces, then he labors to be their death. It is all too common to see a Christian lose his first love and fall from his first works. His love, which was once a rising flame always sparkling up to heaven, is now like a little spark almost smothered with earth. His godly sorrow, which was once a swelling torrent, like Jordan overflowing its banks, is now like Job’s summer brook, which leaves the traveler ashamed. His proceedings against sin were once furious, like the march of Jehu against Ahab; but now, like Samson, he can sleep in Delilah’s lap while she steals away his strength. Before, he could not give rest to his eyes until God had given rest to his soul; but now he can lie down with sin in his bosom and wounds in his conscience. At first his zeal ate him up; but now his decay has eaten up his zeal.

O Christian, how has your excellence departed from you? How has your crown fallen from your head? What a dangerous breach you have made for sin and sorrow to enter! Temptations find you wrecked and leave you wounded. Your graces were once like David’s mighty men, who could break through any host of enemies and draw water at the wells of salvation; now they are like the soldiers who followed Saul: they are with you trembling. You have powerful enemies but powerless graces; you are often assaulted and easily conquered. And as your glorious sun is setting, so dismal clouds are rising.

You, O Christian, are decreasing in your graces, and God is declining in his favors. You draw back from communion with the saints, and God draws back his communion from your soul. You offer up your sacrifices without the fire of zeal, and he answers your coldness with the fire of wrath. In a word, your spirit has no delight in God, and God’s soul has no delight in you.

And as there is bad news from heaven, so there is sad news from conscience. What tremblings of heart! What astonishment of soul! What disputes against mercy! What questionings of salvation your wounded conscience and bleeding spirit will raise! What flashes of lightning! What claps of thunder will break out upon your soul, when the hot pangs of death are wrapped up in the cold and chilling doubts of salvation!

Therefore, as I will draw out my soul to praise God for grace implanted, so I will also put out my strength to serve God by grace improved, so that as every hour sets me nearer my grave, every action may set me nearer my haven.

A hypocrite is the devil’s servant in God’s livery, and so he is out of favor in both heaven and earth. Men see his livery, and so they hate him; God sees his heart, and so he will not acknowledge him. Men see his outward holiness, and so they mock him; God sees his inward hypocrisy, and so he abhors him. He travels through the wilderness, and yet he will never rest in Canaan.

When he comes to add up the sum of all his labors, this is what he will find their sum to be: instead of that blessed sentence of approval, “Well done good and faithful servant” (Matt 25:21; Matt 25:23), he will hear that dreadful sentence of detestation, “Who hath required this at your hands?” (Isa 1:12). He who so cunningly deceived others at last just as foolishly deceives himself. In a word, he is a man who steals his damnation and sweats to get to hell. So the openly profane and the cunningly hypocritical both meet there at last, with only this difference in the way: the one goes in through the gate, and the other steals in through the back door.

Lord! Therefore, while the hypocrite clothes himself with formality, clothe me with sincerity. It may be that men will hate me, but I do not care, so long as God loves me. My duties may be full of imperfection, yet they will never lack a gracious acceptance. My way may lie through trouble, yet my rest will be in glory.

As great calm in the weather is a warning of an earthquake and a whirlwind, so great complacency of life is a great and grievous sign of the soul’s earthquake, of trembling and astonishment of spirit. As for the one who takes up formality and sits down in complacency, who lays his foundation in the sand and raises his building there: the fall of that house will be great (Matt 7:26-27). And you may observe this. Take the Christian who has only been brought out of open profaneness into outward profession, who has taken down the frame of his gross iniquity to set up a superficial form of piety, who has covered his face with a surface of religion. No soul is so liable to fall into the sleep of death as such a soul. For while he thinks himself well, he does not seek to be better. So he slumbers away his time until the cry at midnight (Matt 25:6), and then he starts up, wakes, and sees nothing but the bridge of mercy drawn up and the gates of heaven shut.

See with what confidence these formalists in the Gospel come to Christ. They come in the relation of servants, and therefore they call on him as their Master: “Lord, Lord, have not we prophesied in thy name, and in thy name cast out devils? …” (Matt 7:22). They make no question of salvation, but show their works as if they would demand it as their wages. But hear Christ’s answer: “Then will I profess unto them, I never knew you” (Matt 7:23).

What, Lord! You never knew us? That is strange. Have we not heard your Word, received your sacraments, relieved your members, spoken for you, prayed to you, and done many things in your name? And yet you never knew us? No, says Christ, I never knew you, except with an utter and absolute rejection. I never knew you: I never approved of you in all your fair-seeming ways and glorious shows, in which you took such pride, because all was formality and nothing was sincerity. Therefore depart from me. They little thought of such a sad expulsion, such a dreadful separation.

And so the outside Christian, because he has reformed in many things and conforms to many duties, concludes with Agag that “the bitterness of death is past” (1 Sam 15:32). So he clothes himself with smooth imaginations and deceitful notions, until he is hewn asunder before the Lord (1 Sam 15:33). Therefore I will not be formal in the least duty, or complacent in the least duty, but with the blessed man I will be always fearing (Prov 28:14); for I would rather tremble here than be startled in hell.

When sin presents itself, look upon it as something that must be answered for with tears, or else shall be answered for in torments. If you commit the least sin and die impenitent, your soul is lost, and your redemption ends forever. Or if you commit this sin and do repent, still, what cloudings of the face of God? What breaking of the bones, as with David? What bitter pangs? What painful throes? What shadows of death? What terrors of hell may seize upon you before you can make your peace or settle your assurance?

Will you give way to sin because it is delightful? Or because it is pardonable? Who loves poison because it is sweet? Or who drinks poison because he may have an antidote, seeing that it will work to his trouble, if it does not work out his life? I have a precious soul; shall I lose it for a lust? I have a gracious God; shall I risk him for a sin? No, I will always reject whatever is sure to cost me my peace, and likely to cost me my soul.

What heir, traveling to take possession of a rich inheritance, lets a green meadow or a pleasant garden detain him, or a black cloud or a foul road dishearten him? O my soul! You are traveling to take possession of a glorious inheritance among the saints. Will you turn aside to pick every flower? Will you stand still to hear every melodious sound? Will you leave your way to drink from every gliding stream of carnal pleasure? What is this but to view a meadow and lose a manor? To part with an eternal crown for a dying flower? To lose an immortal happiness for a fleeting vanity? To forsake the way of Zion to gather one of the apples of Sodom?

Or else, O my soul, what if your way lies through tears, and your days are spent in sorrow, all clouded over, on a swelling sea, so that not only the ship’s cargo but your very life is in danger? Even so, here is enough to comfort you: a good Father and a large portion, a sweet rest and an everlasting refreshment, will make amends for all.

Therefore, vain world, make no promises: I will not turn aside, because my way leads to purer comforts and surer glory. Vexing world, make no threats: I will not slow my pace, because I am traveling to my Father’s house, to my country, to my happiness.

As the heart is, so is the estate. Riches are only zeros; it is the mind that makes the sum. What am I the better for a great estate if I am not content with it? The desire of having will quickly eat up all the comfort and delight of possessing. Therefore an Alexander who lacks contentment is worse off than a Diogenes who is contented with what he lacks. It showed a rich mind in the Philosopher that, walking through a market and seeing a variety of good wares, he could still say, “How many things I do not need!” But it showed a richer mind in the disciples that, with a sweet contentment of spirit, they could acknowledge themselves “as having nothing, yet possessing all things” (2 Cor 6:10). I see that all would be well if my heart were well. I will therefore shape my heart to my estate, and so I will have an estate according to my heart.

When I remember (says one) Job sitting on the dunghill, John hungering in the wilderness, Saint Peter hanging on the gibbet, then I think how severely God will punish hereafter those reprobates whom he loathes, if he deals so sharply with his children whom he loves. If he does so much to his intimate friends in the time of grace, what will he do to his professed enemies in the Day of Judgment? You, therefore, who mock the miseries of the saints, oh, turn your jeers into fears, for hell sends out its sparks even on earth.

On the contrary, Lord! When I consider Herod in his pomp, Haman in his honor, Ahasuerus at his feast, and the like, then I think: if God drops so much into a vessel of wrath, what will he pour into a vessel of mercy? If God does so much for a slave on earth, what will he do in heaven for a son? Therefore, you holy ones who are so offended at the flourishing of the wicked, oh, leave your envy and see your glory! For heaven lies above ground. As the adversity of the saints, therefore, shall give me a glimpse of hell, so the prosperity of the wicked shall give me a glance of heaven.

God has made all things for his elect, and his elect for himself: “All is yours, and you are Christ’s” (1 Cor 3:22-23). I will therefore serve my God in all things, myself in nothing.

A created thing has goodness in it only so far as it stands in relation to the chief good. If you cut the stream off from the fountain, it will quickly lose its sweetness and purity, and at length lose itself. The comforts and enjoyments of the wicked do not flow from the spring of love, and so they are only like dainty channels muddied and embittered with the wrath of God, fading brooks that will at length make the soul ashamed. So whoever enjoys a created thing only in itself will lose both the thing and himself. The purest and sweetest mercies run only in the rivulets that are fed by the upper, heavenly springs of mercy. Therefore, O Lord! Whatever I enjoy, let it stream from the fountain of your love, and flow to me in the blood of your Son.

As the rivers that flow from the sea run back again into the sea, so the blessings that come from God must always be employed for God. What I have received from God in his mercy, he must have back again in his glory. Therefore, Lord! Whatever I enjoy, let me find you in it, and serve you with it.

Love should always be the life of motion: “My love is my weight; by it I am carried wherever I am carried.” That soul goes true which has true love for its weight, and that soul loves truly which has a true object for its center. A gracious spirit loves the Lord, not because he does good, but because he is good. I will set no weight on the affection of a friend who loves a sweetness that flows out to him more than a goodness that dwells within. When a soul loves Christ for himself, though you take away every other weight, there is still strength enough in love to move and constrain that soul. O Lord! Blessed be the saint so taken with your love that they can truly say, “Were there neither heaven nor hell, yet sin would be my hell, and holiness my heaven.”

To tell the truth, what is our life but a living death? When the poet was asked what he was doing, he answered very well: “I die little by little.” We only begin to live in earnest when we begin to live to God. Our life before that is only a race to the grave; but when we live to God, we are on our way to eternity. When Alexander reckoned up his age, he did not count his years but his victories. So when I take an account of my life, I will not reckon up my time, but my duties.

O precious saint, gracious soul! Three questions call for your answer, and your answer calls for your praise. First, what were you? Second, what are you? Third, what shall you be?

1. What were you? A rebel against your God, a prodigal to your Father, a slave to your lust, an alien from the commonwealth of Israel.

2. What are you? The son of God, the spouse of Christ, the temple of the Holy Spirit; begotten of the immortal seed, born of the royal blood of heaven, made free among the citizens of Zion, written among the living of Jerusalem.

3. What shall you be? A glorious saint, a companion of cherubim, a triumphant victor, a crowned king, and an attendant on the Lamb wherever he goes; a spectator of those soul-ravishing and inexpressible excellencies that are in God, a beholder of the King of Glory face to face, and one enjoying direct communion with Jesus Christ. More than that: you shall be made one with Jesus Christ, clothed with his excellencies, enthroned with his glories, crowned with his eternity, filled with his happiness. As Christ says to his Father, “The glory which thou hast given me, I have given them” (John 17:22).

Oh! Stand amazed at free grace. And since God has made your soul a vessel filled with his mercy, make yourself, your life, a spring flowing with his praise.

The soul takes its rise from every creature to heaven. When I see the stars, Lord, I think: if one star is of such magnitude, what must be the dimensions of those heavens in which so many are fixed? Indeed, how immeasurable is that God whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain?

When I see the sun, I think: if one sun makes such a glorious and lustrous day, what a glorious heaven will that be, where every saint shall be a sun, and every sun as much brighter than this one as this one is brighter than our bodies? And yet all these suns are only a shadow to the Sun of Righteousness.

Again, I consider the rising sun: how by the perfection of its beams it puts beauty, life and joy on the face of the whole creation. It paints the flowers, gilds the grain, sets the plants in bloom, cheers and gladdens the birds, and makes the valleys shout for joy. Then I think: what shall be the shining beauty and soul-ravishing delights of that soul on which the brightness of your glory shall fully rise and rest, and into which the glorious splendor of your beauty shall clearly shine to all eternity?

And when I consider the air, this is my thought: as here I cannot think at all unless I draw in this air, so I cannot think well at all unless you put goodness into my thoughts.

Lord! When I view the variety of your creatures, and see one excel in beauty, another in strength, another in wisdom, another in love, and others in swiftness, I think, Lord, that these are only beams of your brightness and streams of your fullness. As they had their being only from your hand, so they have their perfection only in your essence. Here they are mixed, but there they are pure. How happy, then, shall that soul be that enjoys all perfection in God, and God infinitely above all?

Lord! I see stately buildings, shady groves, crystal brooks and pleasant meadows, and yet perhaps a wicked man is the owner. Then I think: if Simeon goes away with such a serving, what will Benjamin’s portion be? If the children of the concubines receive so large a gift, what shall be the inheritance of a son of promise?

Again, when I look at myself in temporal things, Lord, I bless you that I have a fitting sufficiency, a goodly heritage. My tents are by the wells of Elim; my portion comes from the hands of your wisdom. And though corruption may think it the least, wisdom itself knows it to be the best. Now, Lord, if you give me so much in the days of my vanity, what will you do for me in the day of my glory?

But above all, that sweet communion I enjoy with God, those glorious rays that shine from the face of Christ, those ravishing joys that flow from the wells of salvation, set me on the top of Nebo and give me the widest view of my happiness. For if the Lord gives me so choice a mercy for my down payment, how rich a blessing shall I have for my inheritance? If this is the firstfruits, what shall the full harvest be? If the Lord lets me have such a glorious beam in my prison, what a glorious sun shall shine in my palace? If there is such joy in the expectation of what I shall be, what happiness shall there be in the consummation of what I shall be?

When Anaxagoras was asked what he thought he was born for, he answered, “That I may meditate upon heaven.” O my soul! What do you think you were born again for? Is it not so that you may live in heaven? God has made you to enjoy communion with himself. You need not stay one hour on earth, but may spend your days with God as Enoch did, walk and talk with Jesus Christ in the galleries of his love, and, like Moses, live on the mount of glory. Why then, my dear soul, are you one hour out of heaven? Oh, live so strictly and walk so closely with God that you may say with David, “Whether I awake in the morning, or whether I walk abroad in the day, I am ever with thee.”

Lord! How near will you bring me to yourself? Must I abide in you, and you in me? Must we be of one soul and of one spirit? Is it not enough that I should always rest in the bosom of your sweetest affections, that I should always be enclosed in the embrace of your choicest love, that I should forever be wrapped in the very heart of your tenderest mercies? But must I so dwell with you, and will you so dwell in me, that I am made an equal sharer in your bliss, a partner in your glory? What is man, that you should so regard him? What am I, that you should so remember me? Lord, let your mercies so compel me that all my affections may run out to you, and all my strength may run out for you.

Every real Christian is the spiritual temple of the living God. Worldly cares and earthly desires are the buyers and the sellers who pollute this temple. Now what an unworthy part this is, to make the house of God a den of thieves! What an idolatrous sin this is, to set up Dagon beside the ark, a lust beside Christ!

Again, each of our members is a vessel of that temple. Now what a debasing thing this is, to take these golden vessels, as that drunken king did, and put them to a sordid use! To take the heart, which should be filled with God, and fill it with lust! To take the ears, which should always be ready to hear what God will speak, and lay them open to a slanderous tale or a foolish jest! To take the tongue, which should now be setting forth God’s praises, and must hereafter be singing that sweet, triumphant Hallelujah, and defile it now with idle speeches and lying words! What a sacrilegious thing this is, to rent out God’s vessels to sin and God’s rooms to lust! Therefore, O Lord, whatever you take to be your own, own it, rule it, and use it as your own.

My duties are upright with God when they turn me into their very nature. It was Saint Jerome’s praise of Nepotian that by his continual reading and daily meditation he made his breast the very library of Christ. This is the praise of a Christian: when he sees here that the Word abides in him and is, as it were, incorporated into him; when he so reads that he makes himself a living epistle, so that the world may read again in his life what he has first read in the Word; when he so blesses God that he makes himself God’s praise; when he so prays that every petition runs through his practice like so many living veins; when his duties are the fire and his life the incense. This alone is the sweet, acceptable sacrifice. Until worship is distilled into practice, it is only an empty cloud; until duties are the very vitals of our walk, they are only dead performances. Therefore, Lord, let my duties receive life from your Spirit, and let my walk receive life from those duties.

I read of Basil that he persuaded himself that if he were in the wilderness, free from the company of men, he would be happy and would serve God more devoutly. But when he came there, he said, “I have forsaken all things, but yet I retain my old heart.” I have often sought out the most private place for duty. I have often pressed to hear the best men and to enjoy the best means, thinking I would gain much ground from the advantages of the place and of the ordinance. And yet, Lord, I have gained very little good, because I still carry a bad heart with me. This is the remora that holds back my ship in its course to heaven.

So I find that it is not the one who treads the paths of retirement (as Saint Basil did) who grows in grace, but the one who (with that same Father) first walks into the cloisters of his own heart, into the secret places and crooked turnings of his own spirit. It is not the one who comes to pure ordinances who advances his communion with God, but the one who brings a pure heart. Lord! I have often searched my heart, and still my heart deceives me in the search. Oh, come and fit my heart for every duty, so that every duty may be fit for you.

Princes fight against flesh and blood; Christians wrestle against principalities and powers (Eph 6:12). Their wars allow days of truce; ours allow not a minute’s pause. There, terms of peace may bring about a retreat; here, nothing but death can raise the siege. Kings, if they are overcome, may save themselves by flight; but Christians could as soon flee from themselves as from their enemies. Whatever can make a battle dangerous is found here, whether cunning, power, cruelty, or endless duration. Not only the powers of earth but all the forces and stratagems of hell are always charged against your soul. So a Christian is not in a garrison at rest but on a field of conflict, and he cannot let his hands fall without Amalek prevailing (Exod 17:11). Not to be a conqueror is to be a prisoner; not to win the field is to lose the soul. Complacency wounds you, yielding kills you, and nothing but victory crowns you. Therefore watch as for your life, and fight as for your soul. The time will come when these enemies you see today, you shall see no more forever (Exod 14:13); when you will lay down your sword, take up your palm, and celebrate your victory in glory for all eternity.

A certain man was reciting a solemn oration to Aristotle in praise of those who had been slain in the wars by the Spartans, and received this answer from him: “If those were such brave and valiant men, what do you think we are, who overcame those?” What if we now read a sad account of the power and cunning of our enemies, and feel the heavy experience of it? Yet how glorious and victorious do you think we shall one day be, when in the strength of Christ we have overcome those enemies? What if my assaults are many and my enemies mighty? If God strengthens me, I have enough to comfort me. For the greater my enemy, the more glorious my victory; and the more glorious my victory, the more triumphant my glory.

I have seen some Christians whose mourning over ordinary losses has been inordinate, as if not only the stream but the fountain had run dry. Yet if the understanding part of the soul truly did its work, it would reason like this: What, must the stream of my sorrow run entirely in this one channel? Is there no mourning to be made for sin? What, shall I let my heart float away in tears? Are there no duties to be performed for God? And do I not know that a sad heart cannot serve a good God? I have lost the creature, but I must keep my God. I have parted with an outward comfort, but I shall meet it again, and to my advantage, in Jesus Christ. I have lost something; yet were it more, were it all, so that I owned nothing at all, still, enjoying Christ, I would possess all things. The failing stream shall serve only to send me to the flowing fountain.

If the soul would put itself forth like this, it would quickly sweeten those bitter waters and at once turn those tears into duties. For my part, I will mourn for the loss of the creature, but my mourning shall be aimed at the cause, which is sin; so my sorrow will be godly, and not worldly. And I will never be satisfied until I make up for the absence of the creature, but I shall make it up in the fountain, which is Christ; so it will be a gain, and not a loss.

It is observed as a point of wisdom in husbandry to set together plants that have an antipathy in their natures and draw different juices out of the earth. That is why it is thought that a rose set beside garlic is sweeter: the ranker juice of the earth goes into the garlic, and the more fragrant into the rose. I am sure this is true in spiritual things. So I do not wonder why afflictions are the portion of the righteous. For I see that prosperity is too strong a sucker; it drains and steals away the spiritual sap and heavenly vigor of the soul, and so weakens the very principles of growth and life. Adversity, on the other hand, draws in the opposite way. It draws out only what may be harmful and leaves behind what may nourish. It takes the dregs and leaves the spirits, and by this the soul is lifted up and made more fruitful in the works of holiness. Therefore, Lord, so long as I may only grow, if the flowers of the world are too succulent, transplant me among the briars.

When I look up to heaven, how often do I see the sun both shine and set? When I look down into my soul, how often do I see my comfort rise and fall? Watch that ship which now seems to touch the clouds, and soon you will see it down in the depths, as if the waves would swallow it. At one time a Christian is on Mount Tabor and has a glimpse of heaven; at another he lies in the Valley of Bochim, weeping because he has lost sight of his homeland. Joshua’s long day is many times turned into Paul’s sad night. God wants to quicken our affections. Therefore now and then he gives us a glimpse of heaven, so that we might fall in love with what we see; and now and then he draws a black veil over that bright vision, so that we might not come to loathe what we loved. He allows our happiness here to be imperfect, so that we may keep pressing on to that place where we shall be perfectly happy. Lord! When you show yourself, let me love you; when you withdraw yourself, let me follow you; and under all these changes here, let my soul always be breathing, panting, longing and reaching after you, until I enjoy you so perfectly that I may never lose you.

Where the King is, there is the court; and where the presence of God is, there is heaven. Are you in prison with Saint Paul and Silas? If God is with you, you will sing your hallelujahs. Are you at the stake with the blessed martyrs? As the beams of the sun put out a fire, so the beams of God’s countenance put out the flames and turn their troubles into comforts, so that you have only to close your eyes, and you are in heaven. Therefore, though the soul that enjoys the Lord may lack the sun or moon of creature comforts to shine on it, and worldly delights to cheer it, yet it does not need them, for the glory of God gives it light, and “the Lamb is the light thereof” (Rev 21:23). God himself makes it shine with the brightness of his beauty, and Christ himself fills it with “joy unspeakable and full of glory” (1 Pet 1:8). This God brings his heaven with him, and the man who enjoys God carries heaven about with him. Here, then, is his happiness: cast him into a dungeon or into a furnace whenever you please, and he is still in heaven. Therefore, for my part, Lord, give me yourself, and then deal with me as you please.

Mark the wicked man: though his entrance may be comic, his exit is always tragic. In his first scene Belshazzar is reveling away his time in sin and pleasure, feasting and carousing with his concubines out of the vessels of the Lord. But look at him in the final scene, and you will find the handwriting, and him trembling; Darius tearing away his kingdom, and death snatching away his life.

If you look at the entrance of a wicked man, his gates are riches, his seats are honors, his paths are pleasures. He goes delicately and fares deliciously every day; he has more than heart could wish. But wait for his going out, and see a sad conclusion: in a moment he goes down to hell. The man is cast out from God as an everlasting curse. Destruction closes her mouth upon him, and his place beholds him no more. His body is wrapped in the dust, his soul is buried in the flames, and his name is covered with darkness.

But now behold the perfect man. Perhaps you may see a few tragic scenes, the world hating, mocking and persecuting him; but “the end of that man is peace” (Ps 37:37). Though he may come forth weeping, yet he goes off rejoicing; though he comes forth fighting, yet he goes out triumphing, so that the saints and angels clap their hands for joy. So when I judge who is a happy man, I will wait for his end; I care nothing for his entrance.

Earthly riches, even if they were true riches, are still not ours; or if they were ours, they would still not be true, because they are of no use to the soul. Indeed, for the most part our golden heaps are nothing but the miserable spoils of precious souls: “A rich man is either a wicked man or the heir of a wicked man.” And then, they are not ours, because we cannot carry them with us when we leave the world. “Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be taken from thee…” (Luke 12:20). And then you will quickly know whose your soul will be, the soul you have so sinfully abused by these things; but you will never know whose these things will be, which you have so miserably provided. When we awake at the last day, we will find nothing of all those things in our hands. “The things that are of the world,” says Saint Ambrose, “we shall leave behind us in the world; virtue alone is the companion of the dead.” These things will fail us, but our good works will follow us and abide with us forever. Would you be truly rich? Then be busy not only in getting goods, but in doing good. Raise virtue out of vanity, and so you will lay up goods indeed for eternity.

I do not have far to go to my home, so I need not make much provision for the way. Food and clothing will be enough for my journey; anything more will only prove a burden. While Jacob had only his staff, he went on freely in his way; but when he had his flocks and herds, he could drive on only slowly. We see it every day: rich men either lose their path or gain very little ground, while poor men run the ways of God’s commandments. I am well enough if I have just enough to carry me well to heaven. I will therefore desire no more than what will quicken my pace and serve me on my journey.

We must not presume on the means without God, nor on God without the means. Not on the means without God, because the pipe can carry nothing unless the spring supplies it. Not on God without the means, because the goings forth of providence always run in the paths of diligence.

So when Amalek attacked, while Moses went up to pray, Joshua had to go out and fight. In the same way, in the life of a Christian, faith should always be on the mountain and industry in the valley. While the heart is lifted up, the hand should be stretched out. Only the one who has been restless in using the means may rest in God. Whoever can lay himself out fully in God’s way may confidently lay up his faith in God’s providence. I must sow my seed and wait on the clouds; I must do my work and leave the outcome to God. I must neither be idle in the means nor make an idol of the means. From now on, then, I will set my hands to the means as if they were all in all, and yet raise my eye above the means as if they were nothing at all.

Cicero spoke loosely when he said, “We are born to liberty and honor.” It is you, O regenerate soul, who are born a child of love and an heir of glory. You are the one, O excellent saint, who are clothed with the sun, crowned with the stars, and counted among the angels of God. Oh, think about your dignity, and consider: will an emperor live like a beggar? Is it a fitting thing for those who are clothed in scarlet to embrace a dunghill? Am I born of God, and shall I live like a mere man? Has God lifted my spirit to the highest excellencies, and shall I stain my nobility with poor, empty vanities? May I feed on Christ, and shall I feed on dust? Shall I sit to judge the world, and shall I be a drudge to the world? Has Christ prepared a mansion for me in the heavens, and shall I go groveling in the earth? Am I a child of light, and shall I commit the works of darkness? No! As Seneca says, I am born to great and higher things than to be a slave to lust or a drudge to the world.

Pure love runs clearly out of itself into the bosom of the one it loves. Heavenly love centers on nothing lower than heaven itself. It is God alone that it loves, and it is in God alone that it lives. If it loves a beam, it is only as the beam stands in relation to the sun; if it loves the creature, it is only as the creature is a step to advance it nearer to God. Lord! I would not care for heaven, were it not for you; nor would I love myself, were I not in you.

Heaven is the very element, and Christ is the center, of every gracious soul. Heaven alone is its breathing place, and Christ alone is its resting place; there it draws its breath, and here it finds its repose. It cannot live out of that element, and it cannot rest out of this center. It is always struggling until it gets to heaven, always rolling until it comes to Christ. “Return unto thy rest, O my soul!” says David (Ps 116:7). Lord! Let me draw no breath but what I fetch from heaven, and never let me rest until I rest in you.

I see that man is not content merely to exist, but is always aspiring to excellence in that existence. Plants keep growing upward until they reach the maturity that makes them perfect; so man is always pressing forward until he reaches the end he has proposed to himself, which he thinks will make him happy. O my soul! God is the end and the excellence, and your happiness lies in moving forward until you come to your perfection. Be always rising, until you come to rest in the bosom of the Lord.

The closer our fellowship with Christ here, the nearer our likeness to Christ will be. Moses did no more than talk with God, and how his face shone with a beam of God! You can quickly recognize a soul that converses with Jesus Christ and is on familiar terms with him: you will see it shining with the glories of Christ. As wisdom makes the face shine, so Jesus Christ makes the soul shine, so that anyone who looks at such a person with discernment can tell that this soul has met with the Lord and seen him. I can see by the strong reflection of the beams of righteousness that he has spent a long time gazing on the Sun of Righteousness. He carries the very image of Christ on him and the very beauties of Christ about him. He looks like Christ, speaks like Christ, walks like Christ; he lives like Christ, he is just like Christ, and knows that he comes from Christ.

The soul that is always beholding the glory of the Lord shall be changed into the same image from glory to glory (2 Cor 3:18). If the soul that beholds God darkly, by reflection as in a glass, and enjoys God at a distance, is so glorious, how glorious will that soul be that sees him clearly and directly, face to face, and enjoys immediate communion with Jesus Christ? Then we shall indeed be like him, when we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2). Our bodies will be like his, our souls will be like his, our glory will be like his, our eternity will be like his, who is the God of beauty, excellence and sweetness, harmony, happiness and eternity. O Lord! Let me have such clear visions and such sweet enjoyment of you that I may not only be happy hereafter as you are happy, but may also be holy now as you are holy.

The life of faith is the noblest, richest, most contented, easiest, truest life of all. It is the noblest life, for it takes the soul out of the house of Adam and carries it into the household of God; it makes the soul forget her father’s house and betroths her to the King of Glory. Then it is the pleasantest life. It lives on the choicest excellence and the highest happiness, and is often caught up into the third heaven to take its meal in glory beyond words. It walks in the paths of pleasantness, and under all the heat of troubles and afflictions it shades itself beneath the arbor of Paradise. Then it is the richest life: if our desires are measured by our needs, we cannot possibly lack more than we desire. “Every man has according to his faith,” says one of the Fathers; and Christ says, “And be it unto thee according to thy faith” (Matt 9:29). Then it is the most contented life. It takes the fading creature and lays him upon Christ, and under all change it still holds fast to all-sufficiency, and so sits down content. Then it is the easiest life. Faith does not look at the strictness or difficulty of a duty but at the power and strength of Christ. So if it meets with a hard command, it dissolves it into a sweet promise. It carries it to a loving Christ and pleads it out until it has drawn out strength equal to the duty, to lighten it and make it easy. In short, it is the truest life and the only life, for whoever does not live by faith is dead in sin. As one said, “Not to live, but to be well, is life”; so I may say, not only to live well, but to believe, is to live, and to live well indeed.

If God is the highest perfection in himself and the highest good to the creature, then it is the creature’s highest wisdom to choose him, and the highest part of its duty to live in obedience to him. If all creatures must certainly appear before this great Majesty and bow to him, I marvel at the wisdom of the godly and wonder at the folly of the wicked. And since this must certainly and necessarily come to pass, Lord! Let me be one of those who choose you here, so that I may enjoy you forever hereafter; and not one of those who refuse you here and must be separated from you forever hereafter.

Graces are the very courtiers of heaven; they wait on Christ in his private chamber. Honor, riches, reputation and the like may do much here below, and here you may keep out your betters; but in the palace of the King of Glory you must stand aside forever. Only faith, love, humility and the like shall be admitted into the presence chamber. You moral virtues must likewise walk outside. Not all who go finely dressed are fit for such a Presence. You are only “splendid sins,” beautiful abominations, base hearts wrapped up in fine clothes, talents and gifts. You may stay and wait at the gates, but I can tell you that a special command has gone out that none but grace and holiness shall enter the kingdom of heaven. So you may take your answer, if you please: only these are welcome to the King of Glory; only these are on familiar terms and keep company with Jesus Christ.

Therefore, as the queen of Sheba said of the servants of Solomon (1 Kgs 10:8), so I may say of the graces of God’s Spirit, which alone are the retainers of Jesus Christ: “Oh! happy are these thy men, and happy are these thy servants, O God, which stand continually before thee, and hear thy wisdom, and see thy glory.”

True love not only preserves every heavenly motion of the soul but raises the soul itself to the highest perfection. The more I love, the more I shall be loved, and the fuller share I shall have in him who is altogether lovely (Song 5:16). Saint Bernard speaks fully to this: “To love the chiefest good is the greatest happiness.” The purest and fullest love shall always wear the weightiest crown of glory. Lord! Perfect this grace in me, so that I may be perfect in loving you.

The Israelites had to cross the Jordan before they could land in Canaan. But no sooner did the feet of the priests who bore the ark of the covenant rest in the water than the proud waves saw it and fled; the swelling streams were driven back and piled up in heaps, so that the people could cross over safe and sound. In the same way, every child of God is like an Israelite in the wilderness of this world, traveling to the Land of Promise. Death is that Jordan which runs between this wilderness and our Canaan. It is that swelling stream which overflows the banks of every mortal creature; it is that last river which must be crossed. But this is the happiness of a child of God: Jesus Christ our High Priest, who bears the everlasting covenant on his shoulders, has already dipped his feet in the brim of this water. As a result, the streams of bitterness are turned aside, the sting of death is plucked out, the water of the Salt Sea is dried up, and the power of the curse is cut off, so that death is only a sure step into glory. Why then am I afraid to die? The channel is dry, and I see the footprints of my Savior on its bed, and heaven and happiness on the other side. So the waters will not go over my soul. They may go over my sins, they may go over my miseries, they may go over my troubles, but my soul will go over to its rest. Lord! Therefore fit and sanctify me for my departure, and then take down my tent; I cannot be with you too soon.

Here the vessel is too large to be filled with all the pleasures and delights the world can gather together; but hereafter our pleasures and delights will be too full for the largest vessel to contain. Our glory will be so great that power as well as goodness will come forth from God himself to renew and enlarge these vessels, so that they may be able to receive and hold that glory. Strength and love will go out together to prepare and raise our dispositions, so that they may be suited to so transcendent and high a condition. We are too weak for such a weight of glory; therefore God will bear us up, so that we may bear it up. And because our joys cannot fully enter into us, we will fully enter into them. Who, then, would set so large a vessel as the soul under a few drops of carnal pleasure, and neglect the spring and spouts of everlasting joy?

O my soul! What a glorious day is coming! When the vessels of mercy will be cast into the ocean of mercy and filled to the brim with mercy! When the sons of pleasure will drink their fill at the torrents of pleasures, and be set at rest forever in the rivers of pleasure! When the soul that is sick of love will lie in the bosom of love, and take its fill of love forever! When the children of God will have the full enjoyment of God, and be satisfied forever with the presence of God! The joy of that glorious presence, the fullness of that joy, the sweetness of that fullness, the eternity of that sweetness, the heart of man in its largest thoughts cannot conceive.

Lord! Let the thoughts of the joy and glory you have prepared for me in the heavens turn my soul away from the pleasures and delights set before me on earth, so that, neglecting them, I may be pressing toward you, and breathing out with your own, “Oh! When shall I come and appear before God!” (Ps 42:2).