The Pillar.
BY THE LATE REV. HENRY LAW, DEAN OF GLOUCESTER.
[The following extract is from “Christ is All,” by Dean Law, and is a short discourse on the words, “The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light, to go by day and by night” (Ex. xiii. 21). Dean Law was one of the noted Evangelical leaders in the Church of England, and his series of volumes on the books of Moses under the general title, “Christ is All,” have been very highly prized by Christians who know them. The simplicity of treatment, the keen spiritual insight and rich experience in these books have made them very helpful to God’s people. Dean Law loved his Redeemer, and he delights to show Him forth under the types and shadows of the law. It was this feature of Dean Law’s preaching that called forth Mr Spurgeon’s witty saying—”Law is full of the Gospel.” To those of our readers who have not read any of these interesting and edifying books, we very heartily commend them.]
THE children of Israel are about to tread an unknown path. A desert is before them, wide, and waste, and trackless. They have no chart to pilot. There are no friendly lips to counsel or to warn. They must proceed, and yet they fear to stir.
This is a common need. Perhaps you, who read, discern your very case. You have left Egypt. The hated bonds are burst. But Canaan’s rest is far away. An intervening wilderness extends. Hence the sigh rises in your breast, Oh that some guide were near! How can the distant end be safely reached?
Israel’s story gives the glad reply. Were they allowed to wander without beckoning succour? Oh, no. Whose hand, then, waved them forward? Did the Lord send some natives of the waste to teach where paths were safe? Did he inspire their ruler’s mind with instinct of the untrodden land? No. He comes Himself. He stoops to take the office of their guide.
But by what method is His directing aid made clear? A visible form, which every eye might see, reveals the wondrous guide. A pillar descends, and rests upon the camp. When the day shines, it is a cloudy column. When darkness comes, its mass is fire. Its presence never is withdrawn. It moves, a signal for advance. It rests, to bid them pause. Such is the safeguard of the desert-march.
Do you now ask, what is the gospel of this sign? The type distinctly shows, that no believer ever moves unled. The prophet proves this, when he selects this emblem to portray Christ’s care—”The Lord will create upon every dwelling-place of mount Zion, and upon her assemblies, a cloud and smoke by day, and the shining of a flaming fire by night” (Isa. iv. 5). The conclusion, then, is sound. The Pillar preaches Christ—the preceding Shepherd of His flock. Faith gazes on it, and drinks in the comfort of an ever-leading, never-leaving God.
Reader, come now, and seek some comfort for your pilgrim-days, from Israel’s Pillar.
Especial circumstances marked it. It was but one. In mid-day brightness, and in night’s deep gloom, the substance was the same. Thus Christ is ever one. He, Who was shadowed out in Eden: He, to Whom Abel looked: He, Who was Abraham’s seed, and David’s offspring, and the sweet theme of every prophet’s harp: He, Who was pierced on Cavalry, and laid in the grave, is the same Jesus, Who shall shortly come again. No sinner escapes death, but through one victim, one righteousness, one faith, one hope, one clinging to one cross, one cleaving to one Lord, one journeying in one blood-stained path. There is one only Saviour of all the saved—one only door of heaven—one only plea before the judgment-seat—one only ransom of a guilty soul. If Israel had turned to other guidance, they would have rushed to sure destruction.
Reader, deluded men, with Cain-like pride, frame other saviours, and find Saviour none. Take heed. Look only to the one Christ of God, and of the Bible, and of the true Church. He is not divided. Be not divided from Him.
The Pillar ever rose in firm solidity. Cloudy masses bend quickly before a driving breath. The storm beats on them, and they vanish. But this Pillar mocked the lash of hurricanes, and watery floods. Amidst the roar of elements, it smiled unmoved, immovable. It was quiet, as a rock among unquiet waves.
Thus no assaults can shake salvation’s column. Satan has done his worst. Each weapon which hell can point, has been hurled at Him. The might and craft of man have marshalled all their forces. But every shaft of shrewdness, ridicule, and wit: the strong man’s strength: the great man’s greatness: the prince’s power, and all plotting wiles, have fallen baffled at his feet. Reader, you may act confidence in your Guide’s strength. The heavens may crumble into dust. But He cannot be shaken.
But the Pillar, in unchanging form, yet changed its aspect. In day its look was dark. In night it shone in brilliant blaze. It put on the fittest garb to gain observance. Here is the tender grace of Jesus. Mark His unwearied efforts to draw minds towards Himself. It is with this design, that every Bible-page proclaims some feature of His saving truth. For this, heaven-born, heaven-taught, heaven-sent heralds in pulpits, and by dying beds, in public teaching and in private converse, call men to behold Him, as the only way of life.
When night’s mantle wrapt the earth, the Pillar clad itself in robes of fire. It shone that all might see. It shone, that all in seeing might rejoice. Such is the love of Jesus. When is His presence most clear, most cheering? Surely in the dark hour of need. When gloom oppresses, when mists of horror rise, when prospects blacken, when the beclouded eye discerns no safety and no peace on earth, then Jesus’ smile gives light. Unwonted glories then illumine the road.
The Pillar had an upraised arm. Its ascending spire directed to the skies. So Jesus calls us to an upward flight. How solemnly He warns to rise above the mire and filth of a soul-murdering world! How faithfully He tells that all its baits are poison, its touch pollution, and its wages death! How tenderly He cries, Come unto Me, and leave such vanities below:—lean on My arm, and climb the hill of peace—mount by My side, and I will bring you to a reconciled Father’s throne, and the high mansions of your God! Thus Jesus points. To look to Jesus is to soar to heaven.
Such were its peculiar properties. But its main purpose was to lead. When it preceded, the willing host advanced. When it stood still, their camps were fixed. They were not called to reason, or to ask, or doubt. All wish to go or tarry submitted to the ruling column. Their guide was God. His will was love. His way was knowledge. His end was safety. Nothing was left for them, but to observe and follow.
Shall twilight types outshine the Gospel sun? It cannot be. The heirs of grace are cared for as truly now as then. Their leader is the same. Be it so, that Christ directs not now by visible display of manifested presence. Be it so, that the eye of nature sees not a moving or a halting mass. Still faith can trace an unseen hand, and the enlightened mind can read the warnings of a heavenly Lord.
Christ guides now by His word. The Book of books is always by our side. It is a present and a perfect chart. The upward path, the downward slopes, the hidden snares, the plains of safety, the meadows of repose, are all here pencilled with inspired skill. This is the blessed handbook of the blessed route. The humble pilgrim meekly prays, “Speak Lord, for Thy servant heareth (I. Sam. iii. 9). The answer tarries not, “This is the way, walk ye in it” (Isa. xxx. 21). Is it not pledged, “When thou goest it shall lead thee; when thou sleepest, it shall keep thee; and when thou awakest, it shall talk with thee; for the commandment is a lamp and the law is a light” (Prov. vi. 22, 23). The believer’s daily walk attests the truth. When perils have been near, and pitfalls have gaped, and by-ways have enticed the steps, a beacon from the word has warned and saved.
Reader, would you reach Canaan? Then cling to this ever-living guide. Search it day and night. Make it your chosen friend of every hour. Engraft it by prayer into the soul of every thought. Let it direct the helm of each desire. Think, as it thinks—speak, as it speaks—move, as it beckons—rest, as it counsels. Your steps will then be safe and pure. For the light of Scripture is the light of life. It is Christ’s hand, Christ’s heart. What was Israel’s Pillar to our open Bible’s page?
But Jesus multiplies His guiding help. He extends the superadded hand of Providence. He moves the ever-moving wheels of circumstances. No sparrow falls, no leaf decays, but in accordance with His ordering mind. He wills, and things occur. Chance is a figment of a dreaming pillow. It never was. It never can be. Thus to the child of God there is no trifle or unimportant event. Momentous issues often hang on rapid words—on sudden looks—on unintended steps. It is so; because the Lord’s direction plans and overrules life’s every concern. Hear Eliezer’s grateful witness, “I being in the way, the Lord led me to the house of my master’s brethren” (Gen. xxiv. 27). When Joseph’s brethren thirsted for his blood, who caused the pit to hold no water? Who brought the Ishmaelites to bear him into Egypt? Who gave the sleepless night to Persia’s King? (Esther vi. 4). Who brought the aged Simeon, the pious Anna, at the fit moment, to the temple? (Luke ii. 25, 36). Who led Onesimus to hear Paul’s saving words at Rome? (Philem. 10).
But perhaps some mind may sometimes doubt, Is this event the leading of my Lord? There are sure rules. No opening is safe, which contradicts the word. Christ’s voice abroad, at home, without, within, is always one. It calls to seek God’s glory: to promote redemption’s kingdom: to conquer self: to tread down sloth: to flee the world’s applause and lusts: to lift the standard of the cross: and to march boldly in the path of righteousness. If the path leave these lines, avoid it. Christ leads not here. Some foe misleads.
But Christ is a Pillar with more than skill to guide. There is a virtue in Him to open eyes, that they may see—to quicken feet, that they may follow—to tear reluctance from reluctant hearts. All this He mightily effects by His almighty Spirit. Without such light, the Bible-page is a dark chaos—and wheels of Providence an intricate confusion. Sin has benumbed right sense in souls. Sin has brought blindness on the inner man. But Jesus speaks. The Spirit heals. Sight is restored. A new creation lives: and new-born powers perceive, and love, and tread the heavenly road.
The Pillar, too, had power to screen. It is written, “He spread a cloud for a covering” (Psa. cv. 39). The scorching rays of the sandy desert were thus warded from the journeying host.
Reader, I trust that you well know the cool retreat, and sheltering covert, of a Saviour’s wings. The pilgrim’s day is often long and hot; and darts of Satan burn with fiery sting. How soon the heart would faint—how soon the worn-out strength would fail, unless our Pillar cast a grateful shade. But it is true, “The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night” (Psa. cxxi. 6).
The Pillar never failed. Provoking sins abounded. Ungrateful murmurs sent forth hateful sound. But still no wrath withdrew the guidance. It only vanished, when Jordan’s stream was reached.
Here is the boundless grace of Jesus. If hard iniquity could quench His love, who would not long ago have mourned His absence, and found life to be a starless night? But no. He loves, and lovingly He guides, unto the end. The Pillar leaves not, until the full blaze of heaven breaks forth. Like Bethlehem’s star, it brings to the very place where Jesus is. The beacon shines, until the haven be attained. Christ leads to where Christ reigns.
Reader, whom do you follow? Think, Oh think, whom do you follow? There are hell-ward leaders—not a few. There are downward ways, alas!—too many.
Transubstantiation Exposed.
A pretty maid, a Protestant, in ignorance was led
To think she might with comfort live, though to a Papist wed:
But Rome decrees no peace they’ll have who marry heretics,
Until their households have been made submissive to her tricks.
It sorely grieved this husband that his wife would not comply
To join “the mother Church” of Rome, and heresy deny,
Day after day he flattered her, but still she held it good
That man should never bow his knee to idols made of wood.
The mass, the priest, and miracles, were made but to deceive,
And Transubstantiation, too, she never could believe.
He went unto his clergyman, and told him his sad tale—
“My wife’s an unbeliever, sir, try if you can prevail;
You say you can work miracles—she says it is absurd—
Convince her and convert her, and great is your reward.”
The priest went with the gentleman—he thought to gain a prize.
He says, “I will convert your wife, and open quite her eyes.”
So when they came unto the house, “My dear,” the husband cried,
“The priest is come to dine with us,” “He’s welcome,” she replied.
The dinner being ended, the priest to teach began,
Explaining to the lady the sinful state of man;
The kindness of our Saviour—this modern priests deny—
Who gave Himself a sacrifice, and for our sins did die,
“He by His priest still offers up Himself a sacrifice.”
The lady only answered this by expressing great surprise.
“I will return to-morrow—prepare some bread and wine—
And then dispense the sacrament to satisfy your mind.”
“I’ll bake the cake,” the lady said. “You may,” replied he;
“And when you see this miracle, convinced I’m sure you’ll be.”
The priest returned accordingly, the bread and wine did bless,
The lady said, “Sir, is it changed?” His reverence answered
“Yes!”
It’s changed now from bread and wine to real flesh and blood;
You may depend upon my word, that it is very God.”
Thus having bless’d the bread and wine, to eat he did prepare;
The lady said unto the priest—”I would have you take care;
For one half-ounce of arsenic I have mixed in that cake,
But as you have its nature changed it may no difference make.”
The priest stood all confused, and looked as pale as death,
The bread and wine fell from his hands, and he did gasp for
breath.
“Bring me my horse,” his reverence cried, “this is a cursed
place!”
“Begone! begone!” the dame replied, “you’re of a cursed
race!”
Her husband stood confounded, and not one word could say—
At last he spoke, “My dear,” said he, “the priest has run
away.”
Such mummery and nonsense no Christian can approve:
Thank God, I’ve seen this shameful trick unmasked by you, my
love!”
It is a good sign when the Lord blows off the blossoms of our forward hopes in this life, and lops the branches of our worldly joys to the very root, on purpose that they shall not thrive. Lord, spill my fool’s heaven in this life, that I may be saved for ever.—Rutherford.
One heaven cannot bear two suns, nor one soul two kings; when Christ takes the throne, sin quits it.—Flavel.
Short Gleanings from Bunyan.
I.—Of the Lord’s Day Sermons and Week-days.
(Continued from p. 129.)
HAVE a special care to sanctify the Lord’s Day, for as thou keepest it, so will it be with thee all the week long. Make the Lord’s Day the market of thy soul, let the whole day be spent in prayer, repetitions, or meditations, lay aside the other affairs of the other parts of the week. Let the sermons thou hast heard be converted into prayer; shall God allow thee six days, and wilt thou not afford Him one? In the church be careful to serve God, for thou art in His eyes and not in man’s. Thou mayest hear sermons often, and do well in practising what thou hearest; but thou must not expect to be told in a pulpit all that thou oughtest to do, but be studious in reading the Scriptures and other good books, what thou hearest may be forgotten, but what thou readest may better be retained. Forsake not the public worship of God, lest God forsake thee, not only in public but in private.
On the week day, when thou risest in the morning, consider—(1) Thou must die; (2) Thou mayest die that minute; (3) What will become of thy soul? Pray often. At night consider—(1) What sin thou hast committed; (2) How often thou hast prayed; (3) What hath thy mind been bent upon; (4) What hath been thy dealings; (5) What thy conversation; (6) If thou callest to mind the errors of the day, sleep not without a confession to God and a hope for pardon. Thus every morning and evening make up thy accounts with Almighty God, and thy reckoning will be less at last.
II.—Of the Love of the World.
Nothing more hinders a soul from coming to Christ than a vain love of the world; and till a soul is freed from it, it can never have a true love of God. What are the honours and riches of this world, when compared to the glories of a crown of life? Love not the world, for it is a moth in a Christian’s life. To despise the world is the way to enjoy heaven, and blessed are they who delight to converse with God by prayer. What folly can be greater than to labour for the meat that perisheth, and neglect the food of eternal life. God or the world must be neglected at parting time, for then is the time of trial. To seek yourself in this life is to be lost, and to be humble is to be exalted. The epicure that delighteth in the dainties of this world, little thinketh that those very creatures will one day witness against him.
III.—On Suffering.
It is not every suffering that makes a man a martyr, but suffering for the Word of God after a manner; that is not only for righteousness but for righteousness sake; not only for God’s Word, but according to it; to wit, in that holy, humble, meek manner as the word of God requireth. It is a rare thing to suffer aright, and to have my spirit in suffering bent against God’s enemy, sin; sin in doctrine, sin in worship, sin in life, and sin in conversation. Neither the devil nor men of the world can kill thy righteousness or love to it, but by thine own hand, or separate that and thee asunder, without thine own act. Nor will he that doth indeed suffer for the sake of it, or out of love he bears thereto be tempted to exchange it for the good-will of the whole world. I have often thought that the best of Christians are found in the worst trials; and I have thought again that one reason why we are not better is because God purges us no more. Noah and Lot, who so holy as they in the time of their afflictions! and yet who so idle as they in the time of their prosperity.
IV.—Of Death and Judgment.
As the devil labours by all means to keep out things that are good, so to keep out of the heart as much as in him lies, the thoughts of passing out of this life into another world, for he knows if he can but keep them from the serious thoughts of death, he shall the more easily keep them in their sins. Nothing will make us more earnest in working out the work of our salvation than a frequent meditation of mortality. Nothing hath a greater influence for the taking off our hearts from vanities, and for the begetting in us desires for holiness. O, sinner! what a condition wilt thou fall into when thou departest this world; if thou depart unconverted thou hadst better have been plucked one limb from the other. Thou hadst better have been made a dog, a toad, a serpent, than to die unconverted, and this thou wilt find true if thou repent not. A man would be counted a fool to slight a judge before whom he is to have a trial of his whole estate. The trial we are to have before God is of uttermost importance, it concerns our eternal happiness or misery, and yet dare we affront Him. The only way for us to escape that terrible judgment is to be often passing a sentence of condemnation upon ourselves here. When the sound of the trumpet shall be heard, which shall summon the dead to appear before the tribunal of God, the righteous shall hasten out of their graves with joy to meet their Redeemer in the clouds. Others shall call to the mountains and hills to fall upon them, to cover them from the sight of their Judge. Let us, therefore, in time be posing ourselves which of the two we shall be.
V.—Of the Joys of Heaven.
There is no good in this life, but what is mingled with some evil; honours perplex, riches disquiet, and pleasures ruin health. But in heaven we shall find blessings in their purity, without any ingredients to embitter; with everything to sweeten it. O! who is able to conceive the inexpressible, inconceivable joys that are there. None but they who have tasted of them Lord help us to put such a value upon them here, that in order to prepare ourselves for them, we may be willing to forego the loss of all those deluding pleasures here. How will the heavens echo for joy, when the bride, the Lamb’s wife, shall come to dwell with her husband for ever. Christ is the desire of all nations, the joy of angels, the delight of the Father. What solace then must the soul be filled with that hath the possession of Him to all eternity. O! what acclamations of joy will there be when all the children of God shall meet together, without fear of being disturbed by the anti-Christian and Cainish brood. Is there not a time coming when the godly may ask the wicked, what profit they have in their pleasure, what comfort in their greatness, and what fruit in all their labours? If you would be better satisfied what the beatific vision means, my request is that you would live holily and go and see.
I think the sense of our wants, when withal we have a restlessness and a sort of spiritual impatience under them, and can make a din, because we want Him whom our soul loveth, is that which maketh an open door to Christ; and when we think we are going backward, because we feel deadness, we are going forward; for the more sense the more life, and no sense argueth no life.—Rutherford.
The whole life of a Christian should be nothing but praises to God.—Sibbes.