What a different case am I now in, from what I was a little while ago! Then I was in a pleasant habitation, surrounded with wife, children, conveniences – in a habitation well illuminated with pleasant light, whereby I saw my enjoyments, discerned the pleasantness of them, and their suitability. I had necessaries, quiet of mind, and opportunity to retire to my closet to converse with God, wherewith I was refreshed.
But what a change do I now find! I am engaged in a journey; my way is dark; I find it cold. Now, when I turn thoughtful, I fear everywhere – fear where no fear is. Now, use and custom turn me secure, and I fear not where there is fear; I see no danger and begin to conclude there is none. Have I not here a view of man’s state in innocence, and his state when fallen?
But what a change do I find! Light begins to appear. Had I never seen it, I should have had no notion of it. What a surprise is this! When did it begin? How did it grow? Where were my senses? Did I not look on? And yet I cannot see, and cannot tell how it began, nor whence. “So is everyone that is born of the Spirit.”
But sure it is, one thing I know, whereas I saw nothing, “now I see”. I see where I am, what is near about me; I see where there is hazard and where there is safety in the way I am in; but what is at a distance I yet perceive not. The first dawning of saving light is not perceivable in its rise, in its progress, but is unquestionable in its effects and gives a view of the state I am at present in.
But a new scene appears. Light grows; I see at a distance, but men appear “as trees”; pleasant trees, delightful fields, men suitable to me and friends appear as monsters, seen with an imperfect light – my fears are quickened. And is it not so with young converts?
Light still increases; it grows; every new degree is inconceivable, and we have no notion of the discovery it makes. What before was dark, was frightful, is now pleasant and agreeable. Imperfect views of the best things give but mis-shapen notions; light increasing satisfies as to them: “Eye hath not seen” (1 Cor 2:9).
“Truly light is sweet”, even before the sun is seen. Light is great, and is pleasant, makes the way pleasant and gives pleasant discoveries; but it cannot be . . . told or conceived what satisfactory discoveries, what quickening warmth the noonday’s sun affords.
Reprinted from The Works of Thomas Halyburton, vol 4, pp 173-4; see the review on page 26 of this issue. Halyburton wrote this on a day when he had left home before sunrise.