The bride had not learned this: she would fain enjoy both, with no thought of their incompatibility. She observes with joy the approach of the Bridegroom.

The voice of my Beloved: Behold He cometh Leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills.

My Beloved is like a gazelle or a young hart; Behold He standeth behind our wall, He looketh in at the windows, He glanceth through the lattice.

The heart of the bride leaps on hearing the voice of her Beloved, as He comes in search of her. He has crossed the hills; He draws near to her; He stands behind the wall; He even looks in at the windows; with tender and touching words He woos her to come forth to Him. He utters no reproach, and His loving entreaties sink deep in her memory.

My Beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, My love, My fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom, They give forth their fragrance.

Arise, My love, My fair one, and come away.

All nature is responsive to the return of the summer, wilt thou, My bride, be irresponsive to My love?

Arise, My love, My fair one, and come away.

Can such pleading be in vain? Alas, it can, it was!

In yet more touching words the Bridegroom continues:--

O My dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the steep place, Let Me see thy countenance, let Me hear thy voice: For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Wonderful thought! that G.o.d should desire fellowship with us; and that He whose love once made Him the Man of Sorrows may now be made the Man of Joys by the loving devotion of human hearts.

But strong as is His love, and His desire for His bride, He can come no further. Where she now is He can never come. But surely she will go forth to Him. Has He not a claim upon her? She feels and enjoys His love, will she let His desire count for nothing? For, let us notice, it is not here the bride longing in vain for her LORD, but the Bridegroom who is seeking for her. Alas that He should seek in vain!

Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom,

He continues. The enemies may be small, but the mischief done great. A little spray of blossom, so tiny as to be scarcely perceived, is easily spoiled, but thereby the fruitfulness of a whole branch may be for ever destroyed. And how numerous the little foxes are! Little compromises with the world; disobedience to the still small voice in little things; little indulgences of the flesh to the neglect of duty; little strokes of policy; doing evil in little things that good may come; and the beauty and the fruitfulness of the vine are sacrificed!

We have a sad ill.u.s.tration of the deceitfulness of sin in the response of the bride. Instead of bounding forth to meet Him, she first comforts her own heart by the remembrance of His faithfulness, and of her union with Him:--

My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth _His flock_ among the lilies.

My position is one of security, I have no need to be concerned about it. He is mine, and I am His; and nought can alter that relationship. I can find Him now at any time, He feedeth His flock among the lilies.

While the sun of prosperity shines upon me I may safely enjoy myself here without Him. Should trial and darkness come He will be sure not to fail me.

Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a gazelle or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.

Careless of His desire, she thus lightly dismisses Him, with the thought: A little later I may enjoy His love; and the grieved Bridegroom departs!

Poor foolish bride! she will soon find that the things that once satisfied her can satisfy no longer; and that it is easier to turn a deaf ear to His tender call than to recall or find her absent LORD.

The day became cool, and the shadows did flee away; but He returned not.

Then in the solemn night she discovered her mistake: It was dark, and she was alone. Retiring to rest she still hoped for His return--the lesson that worldliness is an absolute bar to full communion still unlearned.

By night on my bed I sought Him whom my soul loveth: I sought Him, but I found Him not!

She waits and wearies: His absence becomes insupportable:--

_I said_, I will rise now, and go about the city, In the streets and in the broad ways, I will seek Him whom my soul loveth: I sought Him, but I found Him not!

How different her position from what it might have been! Instead of seeking Him alone, desolate and in the dark, she might have gone forth with Him in the sunshine, leaning upon His arm. She might have exchanged the partial view of her Beloved through the lattice, when she could no longer say "Nothing between," for the joy of His embrace, and His public confession of her as His chosen bride!

The watchmen that go about the city found me: _To whom I said_, Saw ye Him whom my soul loveth?

It was but a little that I pa.s.sed from them, When I found Him whom my soul loveth.

She had already obeyed His command, "Arise, and come away." Fearless of reproach, she was seeking Him in the dark; and when she began to confess her LORD, she soon found Him and was restored to His favour:--

I held Him, and would not let Him go, Until I had brought Him into my mother's house, And into the chamber of her that conceived me.

Jerusalem above is the mother of us all. There it is that communion is enjoyed, not in worldly ways or self-willed indulgence.

Communion fully restored, the section closes, as did the first, with the loving charge of the Bridegroom that none should disturb His bride:--

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, and by the hinds of the field, (By all that is loving and beautiful and constant), That ye stir not up, nor awake My love, Until she[3] please.

May we all, while living down here, in the world, but not of it, find our home in the heavenly places to which we have been raised, and in which we are seated together with CHRIST. Sent into the world to witness for our MASTER, may we ever be strangers there, ready to confess Him the true object of our soul's devotion.

How amiable are Thy tabernacles, O LORD of hosts!

My soul longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the LORD; My heart and my flesh cry out unto the living G.o.d.

Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house: They will be still praising Thee. . . .

A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.

I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my G.o.d Than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.

For the LORD G.o.d is a Sun and Shield: The LORD will give grace and glory: No good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.

O LORD of hosts, Blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee!

FOOTNOTE:

[3] See note on p. 26.

SECTION III

THE JOY OF UNBROKEN COMMUNION

Cant. iii. 6-v. 1

O JESU, KING most wonderful, Thou CONQUEROR renown'd, Thou sweetness most ineffable, In whom all joys are found!

Thee, JESU, may our voices bless; Thee may we love alone; And ever in our lives express The image of Thine own.

WE have been mainly occupied in Sections I. and II. with the words and the experiences of the bride; in marked contrast to this, in this section our attention is first called to the Bridegroom, and then it is from Himself that we hear of the bride, as the object of His love, and the delight of His heart. The daughters of Jerusalem are the first speakers.

Who is this that cometh up out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant?

They themselves give the reply:--