Swathe him then in the garments of the grave; make ready for the funeral; let him be buried for ever out of sight; follow him to the ancestral tomb, and let the other household dead be remembered, and the other sad processions from the home of the living to the home of the lost and gone be recalled, and think that as they never returned, so never can he. Lay the body gently down beside those who have been long sleeping there; look at it; remember the past since childhood; weep and say farewell; return, Martha and Mary, with wrung hearts to your home, and see the empty room and listen for a voice that is no more, and experience a second death in the emptiness, the silence of this changed abode, and let the heaviest burden of all be borne, the deepest sorrow of all be endured--_the doubt of a Saviour's love!_

Yes, that terrible agony of doubt was there. Other friends came to sympathise with them, and to be present with them at the funeral; but this Friend was absent, and did not send even one comforting message!

Of what avail is His coming now? for Lazarus has been dead four days, and corruption is already doing its foul work on his body. Here is "darkness that might be felt!"

Would that we could feel how real all this mysterious sorrow must have been to those sisters--_our_ sisters, with our hearts, affections, and sympathies--that so we may be the more prepared to receive the blessed teaching which this narrative is designed to afford, and have our faith strengthened by seeing how the darkness and perplexity which belong so often to G.o.d's providential dealings towards us, may be caused by the deepest workings of that very love which we do not for a time see, and therefore may in our blindness and weakness for a time doubt.

But we must now look at the other portion of this history, which interprets the one we have been considering, and reveals the mind and ways of Jesus, now, as then, to His sorrowing friends.

We read that "_when_ Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick," "he abode two days still in the same place where he then was." But His thoughts and His heart were all the while in Bethany. He saw all that was taking place there. He was cognisant of every groan and tear; yet He did nothing to prevent the progress of the disease, or to lessen the intensity of the sorrow. At the very moment when the sisters watch their brother's last breath, Jesus "said unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead,"

Let us inquire, then, whether we can discover any reasons which could have induced our Lord thus to prolong His stay at Bethabara, and to absent Himself from Bethany. What means this deep calm and quiet at such a time beside the troubled waters of the Jordan?

Now, we must ever remember that the grand end of all our Lord did, was that "G.o.d might be glorified thereby,"--that the character of the Father might be revealed in the fullest possible manner in and by Jesus the Son. But in order that this, in the circ.u.mstances in which He was then placed, might be accomplished, He had many things to consider; many complex interests pertaining to the kingdom of G.o.d to weigh and to reconcile, so as to bring out of them all glory to G.o.d in the highest, with good-will to man.

(_a._) Jesus had in the first place to consider the _good_ of His beloved _friends in Bethany_. _They_ were thinking probably of their own _comfort only_, and of that too as coming but in one way, by the deliverance of Lazarus from sickness or death. But there is something of more importance to immortal beings than mere comfort. Love to souls is a very different sentiment, and manifested in a very different manner, than love to mere animals. To get quit of grief; to have tears dried up and smiles restored; to be delivered from all anxiety, and relieved from the heavy burden of sorrow, never mind _how_,--this is surely not the highest end which one who, wisely and truly loved, would seek for his brother in adversity? The highest, the best, the enduring and eternal interests of the sufferer must _first_ be considered. His comfort, doubtless, cannot be overlooked, but then it must be such comfort as G.o.d can sympathise with and rejoice in; a comfort, therefore, which is in harmony with true spiritual life, and which will strengthen that life unto life eternal. Every other comfort is a delusion, a cheating of the soul, a laughter that must end at last in the experience of a deeper sorrow than before. He who bids us seek _first_ the kingdom of G.o.d and His righteousness, cannot discipline us or aid us to seek any lower good first, because He loves our true and highest good most. Jesus had therefore to consider how He could bring true _good_, and therefore true comfort in the end, out of this sickness and death, to Martha, Mary, and also to Lazarus. To restore the brother to his sisters--was this best for _them_, taking into account every circ.u.mstance of their history within and without?

To restore Lazarus to life--to a world of sin and temptation, again to die--was this the best for _him_? These were solemn questions, which Divine love and wisdom alone could answer.

(_b._) But Jesus had to consider the good of _His disciples._ For years these simple-minded men had followed Him, and had been educating by Him to become the teachers of the world. HOW then shall this event be best turned to account for the strengthening of their faith, for the enlarging of their spiritual vision of G.o.d's glory, as revealed by His Son? But Jesus remembered them also: "I am glad," He said, "for _your_ sakes that I was not there, to the intent that ye may believe."

(_c._) Beyond the inner circle of His friends in Bethany and His more immediate followers, there was the mult.i.tude of poor, ignorant, fanatical, and _unbelieving Jews_--the wandering sheep, many of whom, had to be gathered into the fold of this the Good Shepherd. Jesus had their interests also at heart, as is evident from His prayer subsequently at the tomb of Lazarus: "_Because of the people_ which stand by I said it, that _they_ may believe that thou hast sent me."

(_d._) Nor must we, in contemplating the many objects of love which occupied the thoughts of the Saviour, forget how _intimately connected the raising of Lazarus was with His own death_. That last great miracle of Divine power and love--almost, if not His last on earth--was to mark the beginning of His own deepest humiliation and sorrow. The hatred of the Jews was at this time so intense, that Thomas was amazed that He should hazard a journey to a place so near Jerusalem as was Bethany. "The Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again?" And so dangerous did this journey seem, that while bravely resolving to accompany Him, Thomas said, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." But this hatred was to be intensified by the display of Christ's glory at the tomb of Lazarus; for we read that "from _that_ day forth they took counsel to put Him to death." The opening of the tomb to bring Lazarus forth was thus the opening of His own to descend thither as "crucified, dead, and buried." The grat.i.tude of Mary for having her brother restored was soon to be unconsciously expressed by her anointing his mighty Restorer for His own burial. No wonder that Jesus paused ere He took this last step which intervened between Himself and the death which should end His work and mission upon earth.

(_e._) And, as including all these considerations and many more, _His own glory_ as the Divine Son of G.o.d was involved in what was to take place at Bethany. And this, again, involved the destinies of the human race, and the good and comfort of the Church throughout coming ages.

Whatever became of Martha or Mary or Lazarus,--though the sisters should weep out their little day of life, and though their brother's sleep should be unbroken till the resurrection morning,--what was all this to the revealing of Jesus as the Saviour of men, and as the "resurrection and the life" of human bodies and of human souls?

Inconceivably less in proportion than are the interests of one person to those of the whole universe! And thus you see that while those humble mourners, in the weakness of the flesh, and in their earthly short-sightedness, were thinking only of themselves, Jesus the Saviour of mankind had to think of many persons and of many things, so that every interest might be attended to, and the good of the whole kingdom of G.o.d be remembered, while not a hair on the head of Martha, Mary, or Lazarus was forgotten. Oh, blessed Saviour and glorious King! who can thus govern worlds and mould the ages of human history, while His ear is open to the prayers, and His thoughts occupied with the concerns, of the humblest mourners, as if they alone existed in the mighty universe of G.o.d!

Before shewing the blessed teaching which sufferers may gather from this twofold picture of mysterious sorrow and of thoughtful love, let us study for a moment the circ.u.mstances attending the meeting of Jesus with Martha and Mary. Many of these are deeply interesting and full of instruction; but I confine myself to one point only, the evidence which I cannot but think they afford of the shaken faith of the sisters for a time in the love of Jesus.

Martha was the first to meet Him outside of the town, where in quiet, and undisturbed by the noisy mourners from Jerusalem, and by their sympathising friends, Jesus desired, with His considerate kindness, to probe and heal those sorely wounded hearts. And what was her salutation? "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!"

What means this? Is it an expression of confidence only in His power?

Is it a confession of faith? Or does it not rather evidence unbelief?

Does it not imply a sorrowing complaint, uttered, indeed, with reverence, and in such gentle language as was compatible with sincere faith, but still a complaint from a wondering and disappointed because wrung spirit, expressed in language which suggested the additional question asked only in the heart, "_And why wert Thou not here_?"

Jesus reasoned with her. She believes, yet still doubts and questions why He had not come; she trusts Him, yet sees no light with reference to His dealings towards themselves. One thing she will do, however, amidst the darkness--she will cling to Christ as her only hope and refuge! Mary remains in the house. Why? Was it that she had not heard of the arrival of Jesus, or of Martha having gone to meet Him? Or is her heart so torn by distracting thoughts, that for a moment she knows not what to do? She dare not say to Him all she feels. Her keen and sensitive heart is agonised by entertaining for a moment even the bare suspicion of unkindness on His part. She fights against the horrid thought, which, like a demon, torments her, yet she cannot yet quite banish it, and meet Him with the full, unreserved, gushing love which something tells her is His due. But however this may have been, a message from Himself rouses her: "The Master is come, and calleth for thee; and as soon as she heard that, she arose quickly and came unto him." But how did she meet Him! Ah! Martha and she have surely been together pondering over the mystery of His absence, and they have inwardly come to the same conclusion; and so she too fell at the Master's feet, with the same wailing cry from her full heart, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!" As she uttered these words, "Jesus wept!" There are expressions and single words in Scripture which reveal a whole heaven of glory--like the opening in the telescope, which, though but as a pin-point of light, reveals the glory of sun, moon, and stars. What a revelation of love is this--"Jesus wept!" But what mean these tears? They are visibly significant of much sorrow. The cup of the "Man of sorrows" was always full; what caused it thus to run over? Only twice in His life do we read of the Saviour's weeping,--now, when at Bethany, and in a few days afterwards, when entering Jerusalem during the week of His crucifixion. Did Jesus now weep from mere human sympathy with sisters mourning for a dead brother? or did He weep because He mourned their own lost faith in His love to them? We are well aware of the tenacity with which most people cling to the former method of accounting for the Saviour's tears, and what pain it seems to give when the latter view is pressed upon them, as if they were thereby robbed of some special source of comfort in affliction, and left without any other declaration in the Word of G.o.d--at all events, without any other incident in the life of Jesus--fitted to inspire confidence in His sympathy. It is not difficult to account for this feeling on our part. For it is much easier to understand tears shed for mere human suffering, than tears shed for human sin. The one kind of sorrow is common, the other is rare. The one is almost instinctive, and necessarily springs from that benevolence which belongs to us as men, but the other can only spring from that love of souls which belongs to us as "partakers of the sufferings of Christ," and from possessing, therefore, a realising sense of the infinite importance of a right or wrong state of being towards G.o.d, and from beholding the darkness of evil casting its dread shadows over a dear one's spirit. Hence an atheist can mourn over our loss of friends by death, while the man of G.o.d alone can mourn over our loss of G.o.d himself by unbelief. Then, again, every person welcomes the sympathy of another in his sorrows; while he might at the same time have no sympathy with the grief experienced by another for his sins. The one might be gladly welcomed as most loving, but the other be proudly rejected as most offensive.

Why therefore should true Christians cling with such fondness to the idea of Christ weeping with Martha and Mary, because they lost their brother, and not rather see a far deeper love and a source of far deeper comfort in his tears, because they had, for a moment even, lost their faith? Surely those who know Christ do not depend solely on such a proof as this of the reality of His humanity, and of His sympathy with the affliction of His brethren; nor can that kind of sympathy be the highest which can be afforded by all men whose hearts are not utterly steeled by selfish indifference. Besides, however real Christ's sympathy was with sorrow of every kind, why did He express it on this occasion more than on any other? Nay, why did He weep at the very moment when He purposed, by a miracle of power, to restore the dead brother to his sisters, and in a few minutes to turn their sorrow into joy? Why weep with those whose tears were shed in ignorance only of the coming event which was so soon to dry them? But the Saviour's tears came from a different and a profounder source! They welled out of a heart whose deep and tender love was not trusted in, but doubted even by those whom He loved most deeply and tenderly, and at the very moment too when He was about to pour forth upon them the richest treasure of His love, and to do exceeding abundantly above all they could ask or think. Remember only how He of all men loved; how as a man He longed for His brother's sympathy, and how as a holy Saviour He longed for His brother's good. Remember how earnestly He sought for the one grand result, that of hearty confidence in His goodwill, as the only restorative of humanity fallen and in ruins through the curse of unbelief. Remember, too, how lonely He was in the world; how few understood Him in any degree, or responded even feebly to the constant, boundless outpouring of His affection; and how many returned His good with evil, His love with bitterest hate;--remember all this, and conceive if you can what His feelings must have been when returning to this home of His heart, to this green spot amidst the wilderness of hateful distrust, with His whole soul full of such glorious purposes of love and self-sacrifice, and then at such a time to find his best and dearest friends smitten with the universal blight, fallen to the earth and prostrate in the dust under the crushing burden of unbelief! He does not weep, at first, when Martha addresses him; but when Mary, the loving and confiding--she of all on earth--complains; when faith has failed in even her!--oh, it is too much for His heart! "And thou too!"--"Jesus wept!" Ah! that shadow of death in such a soul as this was infinitely sadder to Him than the dead body of her brother, nay, than the contents of all the festering graveyards of the world! For what is death to sin? and what is the power which can restore by a word the dead body to life, in comparison with that which is required to restore an unbelieving soul to G.o.d? It was this unbelief, the most terrible spectacle which earth presents to the eye of a holy and loving Saviour, that made Him weep as He beheld it for a moment, like a demon-power taking possession of His own best beloved. And it was this same essential evil, and this alone, which made Him weep once again as He entered Jerusalem, when He cried, "How often would I have gathered you, but ye would not!"

In perfect accordance with this view, we read that when some of the Jews said, as He walked towards the tomb of Lazarus, "Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man had not died?" "Jesus _therefore again_ groaning in himself, cometh to the grave." For again the words expressed lost faith in His power, or in His love to "this man." In like manner, when Martha, as if to persuade Him not to attempt impossibilities, reminded Him of the long time in which Lazarus had lain in the grave, saying, "Lord, by this time he stinketh," Jesus sternly rebukes her, "Said I not unto thee, _that if thou wouldest believe_, thou shouldest see the glory of G.o.d?" And tell me, is there not inexpressible comfort in this love which mourns over sin as the greatest loss and the greatest sorrow? I can get many, as I have said, in the world to understand and to feel with me in all my sufferings from loss of wealth, of health, of friends, or of any earthly blessing. Relations, acquaintances, strangers, even enemies, could be found who would do so. But who will so love me as to carry my crushing burden of sin? Who can fully understand its exceeding sinfulness I Who can fathom the depths into which I have fallen, or enter the body of death which imprisons my spirit. One only, the truest, the best, the most loving of all, my Saviour! And His hatred of my sin, and His sorrow for it, is just the measure of His love to me, and of His desire to deliver me, and to make me a partaker of His own blessed rest and peace, through faith and love in His Father and my Father, in His G.o.d and my G.o.d!

I shall pa.s.s by the remaining facts in this narrative, the raising of Lazarus, and the memorable scene when Jesus sat as a guest with the family of Bethany, again restored to one another, and to Himself in love; and when Mary with unutterable thoughts anointed His feet with ointment, and wiped them with the hair of her head. I would rather occupy the s.p.a.ce which remains, in gathering from what has been said a few general lessons of importance chiefly to mourners.

My suffering brother or sister! permit me to address you as if personally present with you, seeing your distress, and sharing it as those cannot choose but do who have themselves experienced the darkness of sorrow. Such darkness and perplexity I have known, and I so remember with deepest grat.i.tude the strength and comfort which were then afforded by the revelation of the ways of Christ, as ill.u.s.trated by this narrative, that I desire to help others as I have been myself helped.

The one grand lesson which it teaches us is, _never, in our darkest hour, to lose confidence in the love of Christ towards us_, as if He had forgotten to be gracious, and either could not or would not help us. Banish the sinful thought! "Beware lest there should be in any of you _the evil heart_ of unbelief." For such unbelief is the greatest calamity which can befall us. It is, verily, "sorrow's crown of sorrow," Let us rather "hold fast our confidence, which hath a great reward."

Like the family in Bethany, you too, I shall suppose, are visited with a sudden and "mysterious" bereavement. Like them you may pray to Christ, and ask a specific blessing; and like them you may think He has not heard your prayer, nor ever will answer it, because He does not do this at the time or in the manner you wished or antic.i.p.ated.

His thoughts and ways with reference to you may thus be utterly dark--darker than blackest night. Yet the servant of the Lord, "though he walks in darkness, and has no light," must "trust in the Lord, and stay himself upon his G.o.d." For the ways of Christ to His suffering friends in Bethany, when absent from them beyond the Jordan, are a revelation of His ways to us now, when He is in glory beyond the tomb. Now, as then, He never forgets us, never overlooks the least circ.u.mstance in our history, and never ceases for one moment to have that interest in us which is possible only for such a Brother or Saviour to possess. But now, as then, He has _manifold interests to consider_; ten thousand times ten thousand complex and crossing consequences to weigh. While we, perhaps, have our thoughts wholly occupied with but one desire, our own individual comfort, our own deliverance from this or that trial, the wise and all-loving Jesus has to provide for much more than this. Our own good and growth in grace--the good of those in sickness--the good of children, relations, friends, yea, it may be of generations yet unborn, who may be affected at this crisis in our family history by what Jesus does or does not,--all this must be considered by Him who loves all, and seeks the good of all, and who alone can trace out the marvellous and endless network of influence by which man is bound to man from place to place and from age to age. No one, therefore, but the Lord of all can decide what is best to be done in the circ.u.mstances of each case, in order that most good may be done, and that G.o.d may be glorified thereby. He alone knows how this link of "sickness unto death" is connected with other links in the mysterious chain of human history. And if so, then surely it becomes us, poor, ignorant, blind, selfish creatures, to bow before His throne with holy reverence; to yield ourselves and all our concerns meekly and lovingly into His hands, in the full a.s.surance of faith that our interests are there in best and safest keeping; to feel that it is our first duty and n.o.blest privilege to trust Him when we cannot trace Him, being persuaded that He does all things well, and _that what we know not now we shall know hereafter_.

Amidst all darkness, perplexity, and apparent confusion, remember the certainties which abide unmoved, and "shine aloft as stars." It is _certain_ that "all things work together for the _good_ of those who love G.o.d;" that "thou wilt keep him in perfect _peace_, whose soul is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee;" and that "nothing can separate us from the love of Christ," (His love to us.) It is _certain_ that our Christian dead are in His presence; and that no one knows them or loves them as that Saviour does, who made them with His own hands, and redeemed them with His own blood. It is _certain_ that if we are believers in Christ, we are still united to those departed ones, in labour, in worship, in love, in hope, and in joy; for, "whether we wake or sleep, we live _together_ with Him." It is _certain_, that if "we are Christ's," "all things are ours, whether life or death, things present or things to come!"

Hold fast, then, O mourner, thy confidence in thy Lord! Have patience, fret not, despair not, and a day shall come to thee like that which came at last to the mourners in Bethany--it may be here, it may not be until we meet Him beyond the bounds of time, yet come it must--when all this earthly history, and all His doings towards us, shall be read in the clear and full light of perfect knowledge; when out of this seeming chaos and confusion the most perfect order will be evolved before our wondering eyes; and when we shall joyfully acknowledge with what majestic grandeur the world has ever been governed by its glorious King! Then, when we hear how He has governed ourselves, and trace the path along which He has led us since childhood, and understand the reasons which induced Him at such a time and in such a way to afflict us;--then, when the ways and thoughts of that mind and heart are laid bare;--and then, too, when we recall our fears, our doubts, our rebellions, our want of confidence in Him, what shall our thoughts and feelings be? When His love and ours, His wisdom and ours, His plans and ours, are thus contrasted, as we sit down at the great supper with our own Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, and every one worthy of our love restored to us for ever, beholding the unveiled face of our Lord in glory; oh, then, it might seem almost essential to our peace to be able to weep bitterly, and repent heartily, for our unworthy suspicions and ungenerous treatment of such a Friend and Saviour! But, blessed be His name! we shall then be able to give Him all He asks, _our whole hearts_, and, like Mary, kneel at His feet, and there pour forth the sweet fragrance of our grat.i.tude, love, and joy, as we too hear from His lips such words as these uttered amidst the light and glory of the upper sanctuary: "Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of G.o.d!"

THE BEGINNING OF A YEAR.

What will happen during this year to ourselves and to those whom we love? Life or death--health or sickness--joy or sorrow--good or evil?

What will the coming twelve months bring to me and mine? What _may_ be--what _must_ be--what _ought_ to be? Such questions, multiplied a hundredfold, or broken up into every variety of anxious inquiry, often fill the heart and mind on the first day of a new year.

Now, is it possible for us to find rest and peace for our spirits as we steadily contemplate the future, with its darkness and light, with all the duties and trials which it contains, and with all that it may and must bring forth? Is there any secret of strength and comfort by which we can with courage and hope encounter all the possibilities of the future? There is. Let us only _trust G.o.d_, and we need not fear anything, but welcome everything!

Let us consider this; and, first of all, understand what is meant by trusting G.o.d.

To trust G.o.d, remember, is to trust _Himself_--a living, personal G.o.d.

It is not to trust to any means whatever whereby He makes Himself known; but to look through them, all, or to go by them all, to the living G.o.d himself. This is more than trusting to any truth even revealed in the Bible, for it is trusting the Person who spoke the truth, or of whom the truth is spoken.

To trust G.o.d is to trust Him as He is revealed in all the fulness of His glorious character. It is to trust Him as true, and therefore as faithful in keeping every promise, and in fulfilling every threat; as wise, and therefore as never erring in any arrangement made for the well-being of His creatures; as righteous, and therefore as doing right to each and all; as holy, and therefore as hating evil, and loving good; as merciful and therefore as pardoning the guilty through a Redeemer;--it is, in one word, to trust Him "whose name is Love!"--love which shines in every attribute, and is the security for every blessing! Trust and obedience are therefore, from their nature, inseparable.

This trust in G.o.d is not common. Nothing, indeed, so common in men's mouths as the phrases, "I trust in G.o.d," "I have all my dependence on G.o.d," "We have none else to look to but Him," and the like. But, alas!

how meaningless often to men's hearts are those sayings in men's mouths! They frequently express confidence only in G.o.d's doing what He has never promised to do;--as when a slothful, idle, dissipated man continues in his wickedness, yet "trusts G.o.d" will ward off poverty from him, or provide for his family whom he is all the while robbing.

Or the words express confidence in what G.o.d has positively declared He never will nor can do;--as when an impenitent man, who has no faith in Christ or love to Him, "trusts G.o.d will forgive him," or make him happy, or not punish him, should he die as he is. All this, and such like trust, is "vain confidence," trusting a lie, and believing a delusion. Others, again, professing to trust G.o.d's word, manifest a total want of trust in His ways, and do not walk in His commandments, nor submit to His corrections, believing neither to be the will of a holy and loving Father. And thus, men who in theory _say_ they trust G.o.d, practically have no trust in Him, whatever they may have in themselves, in the world, or in things seen and temporal. But oh the blessedness and the peace of him whose trust is in the Lord!

Read a few declarations from G.o.d's Word upon the crime of want of trust, and the peace enjoyed when possessing it:--

"Thus saith the Lord, Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord: for he shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land and not inhabited." "The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee." "Many sorrows shall be to the wicked: but he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compa.s.s him about. Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart." "What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In G.o.d I will praise his word, in G.o.d I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me....In G.o.d have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me." "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength."

Now, this trust in G.o.d has been the character of all G.o.d's people in every age, and under every dispensation. We who live in these latter days may say of all our spiritual ancestry, "Our fathers trusted thee." They all had faith in the living G.o.d, and believed His word to be true, and His ways to be excellent. Abraham did so, when he went forth into the wide world, not knowing whither he went, having but G.o.d's word as a staff to lean on; and when he offered up his only son, believing that G.o.d was able even to raise him from the dead. Moses did so, when "by faith he forsook Egypt," and preferred "the reproach of Christ," and "endured, as seeing Him who is invisible," Job did so, when deprived of everything but G.o.d himself; when he sat in sackcloth and ashes, and bore the glorious testimony in the presence of men and devils, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him," David did so during his whole life, and his sacred songs are anthems of joyful trust, which the Church of G.o.d can never cease to sing till faith is lost in sight. And Jehoshaphat did so, when in the presence of the great invading army he addressed his small band with the n.o.ble words, "Trust in the Lord your G.o.d, so shall ye be established." And Daniel did so, when he entered the den of lions, and came out unscathed, "because he believed in the Lord his G.o.d." And Paul did so, when he ended his triumphant life, which he "lived by faith in the Son of G.o.d," with the shout of victory, saying, "I know whom I have trusted, and I am persuaded He can keep what I have committed to Him until that day." All the children of G.o.d have known, loved, and trusted their Father, and have reflected that holy light which shone with unclouded and faultless l.u.s.tre in the Firstborn of all the brethren; for Jesus ever held fast His confidence in G.o.d until His last cry of faith, "_Father_, into Thy hands I commit my spirit!"

Begin the year and spend it in this frame of mind. Know G.o.d, trust Him, and go on thy way rejoicing, whatever that way may be. Heaven and earth may pa.s.s away, but thou art safe, because right.

Do you, for example, fear the future because it is unknown? Trust G.o.d, and fear not! This ignorance of coming events which are to affect our own happiness for time or for eternity is very remarkable, especially when contrasted with our minute and accurate knowledge of other things; such as the future movements of the moon and stars,--events which, though revealing the history of immense worlds, are yet to us of far less importance than the malady which may enter our home to-morrow, and close for ever the eyelids of a babe! In proportion, indeed, as the things of each day are to affect us, G.o.d has so concealed them, that we know not what one day is to bring forth. And this ignorance is surely intended to accomplish at least one blessed end--that of making us fly to G.o.d himself, and look up to Himself for guidance, for protection, and for peace. The feeblest child thereby becomes filled with such a.s.surance of faith, that, whatever is before him, he can say, "Nevertheless I am _continually_ with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me into glory," How grand, then, is this thought, that whatever may come to the believer out of the mysterious womb of time, or out of the vast recesses of an unknown and immense eternity, nothing can possibly destroy his soul's peace; for nothing can separate him from the love of the ever-present, unchangeable, omnipotent G.o.d. The stars of heaven may fall, and the heavens depart as a scroll, and every mountain and island be moved out of its place; but the meekest child of G.o.d will be kept in perfect peace on the bosom of his Father, and there rest, untouched by the revolutions of coming ages, as the rainbow reposes on the bosom of the sky, unmoved by "the strong wind which rends the mountains, and breaks in pieces the rocks before the Lord."

Whether, therefore, the year is to bring life or death, poverty or riches, health or sickness to us or to our friends,--all is beyond our knowledge or our will. But, thank G.o.d, it is nevertheless within the province of our will to secure to ourselves perfect peace and rest.

This sure hope is based on the glorious fact that there is a G.o.d--a living G.o.d who verily governs the universe; whose kingdom is one of righteousness; whose omnipotence is directed by love; and who, consequently, so administers the affairs of His blessed kingdom, as that all its complex machinery of events move in harmony with the safety and peace of every true child.

Again, Do you fear because of coming duties or trials which you cannot but antic.i.p.ate? Trust G.o.d, and fear not! "Cast thy burden"--however great--"the Lord, and _He_ will sustain thee." Experience tells us that the evils which we once most feared never came, but were purely imaginary, while the things really appointed to us were never antic.i.p.ated. Let this help us to appreciate G.o.d's goodness and wisdom more in commanding us to "take no anxious thought about the morrow,"

because "sufficient for _the day_ is the evil thereof."

Still you are certain of some duties or trials before you. This sickness, you say, must end in death; or this journey must, if you are in life, be taken to a foreign sh.o.r.e, and last farewells be spoken; or this year you must enter upon this new profession so arduous and so full of risks. And thus each one, with more or less degree of certainty, chalks an imaginary outline of his future course. But supposing all your antic.i.p.ations to be well-founded, yet, oh! believe that when your day of trial or of duty comes, a Father, if you know Him and trust Him, will come with it. You will have on that dark day a Father's unerring wisdom to guide you, a Father's omnipotent arm to uphold you, a Father's infinite love to soothe you, comfort you, and fully satisfy you. Hear these precious commands and promises:--"fast your confidence, which hath a great reward!" "Be careful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to G.o.d; and the peace of G.o.d, which pa.s.seth understanding, will keep your mind and heart through Christ Jesus!"

Once more, Do you fear the future, lest you should sin and depart from G.o.d as you have done in the past? Trust G.o.d, and fear not! For how did you depart from G.o.d before? From _want of trust_. You lost confidence in your Father's teaching, and leant on your own understanding, or listened to the voice of strangers; you first lost confidence in your Father's love and goodwill to you, and in His power to satisfy all your wants, and to give whatever was best for you out of His rich and inexhaustible treasures, and then you demanded the portion of your goods, and departed from Him, and ceased to pray to Him or to think of Him at all, but gave your heart, soul, and strength to the creature.

But you had no _peace_. You left the cistern of living waters; but the cisterns hewn out by yourselves held no water to a.s.suage your soul's thirst. You found it to be "an evil and a bitter thing" to forsake G.o.d. Hear, then, His invitation on the first day of a new year: "Return to the Lord thy G.o.d!" Arise, and go to thy Father; "abide"

with Him; and never more lose thy confidence in Him as thy strength, thy peace, thy life! Trust His mercy to pardon the past; His grace to help in the present; and His love to fill up thy being at all times.

"Fear not: I am with thee: I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness!" Your only strength and safety are in G.o.d. Daily seek Him, daily trust Him, and you will daily serve Him.

But perhaps you fear the future lest you should not "redeem the time"

as you ought to do to the glory of G.o.d? Trust G.o.d, and fear not! Lost time is a sad and oppressive thought to the child of G.o.d. What might he have done! What might he have been! How might he have improved his talents, and cultivated his spirit, and done good to relations, friends, neighbours, and to the world, had he only redeemed days, hours, minutes, which have been spent in sloth or folly! And not one second can be restored. Shall the future be a similar record to the past? You fear to think of it! But be a.s.sured that till the last hour of the best spent life, you will need the atoning blood of Jesus for your innumerable shortcomings as a miserable sinner. The very "light of life" which enables you to know and rejoice in Jesus, will enable you also, in proportion as it burns brightly, to know and to mourn over yourselves. But while there is cause for earnest thoughtfulness about coming time, as a talent to be improved for your own good and G.o.d's glory, there is no cause for unbelieving fear, for such "fear hath torment." G.o.d does not give you a _year_ to spend; He gives you but a day; nay, not even that, but only the present moment. He divides the talent of time into minutes, fractions, and says to you, "Employ this one for me." Therefore do not concern yourself with what is not yours; but as each day or hour comes, trust G.o.d! He is not a hard master, reaping where He does not sow; but is a Father sowing in you, and by you, in order that you, as well as Himself, might reap so that "both sower and reaper might rejoice together." Trust Him for always pointing out to you the path of duty, so that, as a wayfarer, you will never err. Be a.s.sured, that when the moment comes in which you must take any step, He will, by some voice in His Word or providence, say to you, "This is the way, walk ye in it!" Be a.s.sured, also, that amidst many things undone, or ill done by you, He will still _so_ help you, if sincere, to labour in His cause here, and to improve your time and talents, as to be able hereafter to say, even to you, "Well done, good and faithful servant! enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." "In the name of the Lord, then, let us lift up our banners!" Enter upon the labours and duties of the year with joy I Art thou not a fellow labourer with thy brother saints and angels, yea, even with thy G.o.d?