“There shall be no night there.” (Rev. xxii. 5.)
THE darkness of the night has gone never to return; the brightness of Eternal Day has come, a day on which the shades of evening shall never fall. How unspeakably glorious the City! How cheering the prospect: A prospect sure to all the Redeemed, for the nations of them that are saved shall walk in the light of it—canst thou claim part in this, my soul?
The city hath no need of the sun to shine in it. In the spiritual firmament of the Kingdom of God on earth the Bible reigns as the Sun. Long hath it shed its triumphant rays around, dispelling the darkness of this world’s error, ignorance and unbelief. Many a weary pilgrim, passing on through the wilderness, has blessed God for that sure Word of Prophecy, which became a “Lamp to his feet and a light to his path,” guiding him with unerring certainty to the gates of the New Jerusalem. But now, the city hath no need of the sun, for there shall be no night there. What need is there of the Word of Truth where He who is the living embodiment of all Truth hath His dwelling-place? His presence fills the city with light, and there shall be no night there; for the glory of God and the Lamb shall be in it.
Neither hath the city need of the moon to shine in it. Is not the Church clear as the moon? Is not her light the reflected glory of the Sun of Righteousness? The world has never been without the witness of the faithful remnant. At one time they wax great, as the moon does, but, alas; at another they wane and are hardly seen; at one time Pentecost with its overflowing blessings, at another Jeremiah weeping alone; but always, even in the darkest days, a remnant according to the election of grace.
But now, their work is done, they have finished their course; they have kept the faith; they have received their crowns. The dark night of persecution, tribulation and trial has gone; the need for witness no longer arises, for there is no night there, and the city hath no need of the moon. Her light is the glory of God—unreflected, immediate and direct—and the glory of the Lamb.
There shall be no night there. Day has triumphed over night, light over darkness. Light pervades the city, and oh, such light! bright but not dazzling, radiant yet soft, clearly illuminating yet never blinding—light filling up every vessel, every corner, every hollow, and nowhere casting a shadow; the inner depths of every soul fully illuminated as the highest mountain-top. Such light as this indicates Knowledge, Joy and Beauty—perfect knowledge, fulness of joy and beauty without a shadow. Think, O my soul, how glorious the prospect! Dost thou not already possess an earnest of it, a gracious earnest through Him who is the “brightness of the Father’s glory and the express image of His person.” He it is through whom “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God” has shone upon thee. Such light reveals to thine adoring heart the beauty of Him who is chiefest among ten thousand and altogether lovely, infinitely fairer than the children of men. Pure holy joy-imparting light is this. Oh, how sweet the gracious consciousness of righteousness imputed, pardon bestowed, peace which passeth understanding and love divine, all summed up in Him in whom dwelleth the fulness of the Godhead bodily—Jesus Christ our Lord.
Oh, my soul, canst thou recall the days of thy first love? Canst thou remember the days of thy youth, when the light first shone upon thee? How precious was the Gospel, how amiable were the tabernacles of the Most High, how sweet the river, the streams whereof make glad the City of God; veritable days of heaven on earth! Yet, what was it but as the faint shining through a glass darkly. Faith darkened by unbelief, doubt and fear; by the infirmities, limitations and sins of the flesh. But there shall be no night there. The light itself will be immediate and the capacity to receive it unrestricted. The glorified soul, in all its powers of understanding, conscience, affection and will, shall be rendered capable of receiving and enjoying to the full the light of the glory of God and of the Lamb. Unspeakable blessedness on which no shadow shall ever fall!
If the occasional drops of the wilderness showers were so sweet, what must the fulness of the ocean be? If a few faint rays, piercing the darkness of a sinful state, were charged with blessing so rich, what must the blessedness be of dwelling in the full-orbed glory of Eternal Day!
Even in this vale of tears what capacity for joy the gracious soul has. At the very time that the Apostle Paul gloried exclusively in the Cross, he was hampered and restricted by a body of sin and death, inducing a wretchedness well nigh intolerable. But there shall be no night there. Who can measure the capacity for joy given to that same soul when the night of its wretchedness is gone, when it has buried its body of sin in an eternal grave, when corruption has put on incorruption, mortal immortality, and death itself is swallowed up in victory? Then shall the whole soul, down to its inmost depths and to the utmost limit of all its sanctified powers be perfectly blessed in the full enjoying of God to all eternity.
There shall be no night there. The dark night of sin has gone; its fearsome shadows shall no more cast their gloom on the hearts of the Redeemed. The thick clouds of its guilt, the powerful working of its corruption, the terror inspired by its just desert; the doubts, fears and temptations always attending its baneful presence are gone, all gone never to return. Oh, my soul, what hath God wrought: exceeding abundantly above what was asked or thought.
Who can describe the dark oppression of sin’s slavery, the wages of which are death?
Of death the cords and sorrows did
About me compass round;
The pains of hell took hold on me,
I grief and trouble found
What language can express the yearning of a sin-burdened soul for a sense of the light and liberty of the Gospel? Who can follow the subtle windings of the old serpent in the darkness? Who can tell the stumbling, groping, falling of the tempted as each pursues his solitary way, and such questions perplex and harrow the spirit as—Was I ever born again? Was it really the work of God or only my own fancy? If the work was God’s then how am I thus oppressed? Oh, to be assured, to be holy, to be satisfied. Well, at last, at long, long last the day has dawned and the shadows of the night perish for ever—there is no night there. Oh, the unutterable sighs and groans, the tears and wrestlings eternally and sweetly laid to rest in that thrice blessed prospect, and doubt itself withers and dies in the full assurance of a Saviour’s love.
There shall be no night there. Note, O my soul, the delightful contrast implied. Here the night of sorrow, There the day of everlasting joy.
The Pilgrim’s path to the Celestial City is by way of the Valley of the Shadow. That dark shadow is never very far removed and there are those who all their lifetime are subject to bondage through fear of death. And how often in the fulfilment of His gracious purpose their God moves in a way dark and mysterious to them. Is not His way in the sea, and His path in the mighty waters, and His footsteps hid so that none knoweth them? Jacob groping in the darkness sorrowfully concludes, “All these things are against me”; and Jacob is but one of many who have concluded thus. Nor is Job without companions innumerable in the darkness of his sorrowful way. The pathos of his cry finds a sympathetic echo in the heart of many a tried saint. “Oh that I knew where I might find Him; that I might come even to His seat. Behold, I go forward, but He is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him.”
But come, my soul, lift up thine eyes, for the time of thy redemption draweth nigh; there is no night there. Come, ye Jobs, and look upon the face of Him whom ye sought in sorrow and found not, come now with everlasting Joy upon your heads and “Behold your God.” Feast your eyes upon the glorious sight, and let your beings satiate themselves in light. Come, ye Jacobs, and will ye now say, “All these things are against me?” Come near and behold Him who turns the shadow of death into the brightness of the morning; by whose infinite wisdom and almighty power “All things have worked together for good to them that love Him.” Let God be for ever praised. The sorrows of the night have gone, fear has fled and death itself has died, and “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”—J. A. T.