Sermon 1652. The Singing Pilgrim
C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"Your statutes have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage." Psalm 119:54.
THE 119th Psalm is said, by many, to consist of detached sentences and to be rather a casket of gold rings than a chain ofunited golden links, yet the position of this verse is somewhat remarkable, for the verse before it runs thus- "Horror hastaken hold upon me because of the wicked that forsake Your Law." Most of you know for yourselves what that sentence means,for if you hear a man swear in the streets, your blood runs chill with horror. And when you think of what has been said byblasphemers against the Person of our Divine Lord and against the Divine Truths of Revelation, you are horrified that menshould have had the audacity to think-much less to say-such wicked things against the Most High God.
David rightly said, "Horror has taken hold upon me," and then he added our text, as if he would say, "I am horrified thatthey should break the Law of God and tread it under foot, for to me it is an intense delight-'Your statutes have been my songsin the house of my pilgrimage.' That which is their scorn is my song. What they count dross is gold to me. How can they treatsuch precious Truths of God contemptuously?" He is horrified at the thought that what is, to him, the very soul of his life,and the life of his soul, should be to them a castoff and a hate. Surely some connection is visible here-these rings are evidentlylinked to each other.
It is well to notice the following verse. David writes, "I have remembered Your name, O Lord, in the night, and have keptYour Law"-as much as if he had said-"It is not always daylight with me; but when it is, Your statutes are my song. My sunis not always above the horizon; but when it is dark with me and I am in trouble, I do not forget You. You are still my solace.I remember Your name and I am comforted. If I may not see Your face, it is a joy to remember Your name, for they that knowYour name will put their trust in You. If I can but remember Your name when my spirits sink, I shall have my soul stayed andupheld until the daylight shall again break in upon my spirit." Is there not much sweetness in this hopeful assurance, muchto make our text overflow with meaning?
And now I invite you to consider the text itself. It seems to me to talk about three things, three things which concern us.The first is a pilgrim, who is, secondly, a singing pilgrim. And this brings before us, thirdly, his songbook-"Your statuteshave been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage."-
"Sweet strains to me Your Laws have been, Sweet music in my heart, Where on my lonely pilgrimage I sojourn all-apart."
I. First, here is A PILGRIM. David was a type of all who are true disciples of Jesus. They are all pilgrims. A pilgrim isa person who is traveling through one country to another. If we are true to our profession, we are pilgrims with an emphasis,for, first, we belong to another country. We were not born here as to our highest nature. When we were born in the most emphaticsense, we were born of another country altogether-"not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God." "Except a manis born again"-"from above," says the margin-"he cannot see the kingdom of God." We have been born from above. Our birth makesus citizens of the City which has foundations, whose Builder and Maker is
We are aliens, foreigners, strangers in this world. One said of old, "I am a stranger with you, and a sojourner, as all myfathers were." And another said, "I am a stranger in the earth." Indeed, all the faithful confessed that they were strangersand pilgrims on the earth. Jesus, our Leader, said, "You are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." And the belovedApostle said, "You are of God, little children, and the whole world lies in the Evil One." We are hurry-
ing through this world as through a foreign land. We are in this country, not as residents, but only as visitors who takethis country en route to Glory!
Ungodly men live as if they never meant to die. All their plans and preparations are evidently arranged for tarrying in thiscountry. But if God has instructed you aright, you know assuredly that you shall die and you have become familiar with thethought of departing from these shores. Here you have no continuing city, but are like the tent-dwelling Patriarchs, who,by their very abodes, confessed that they looked for a possession yet to be given them. You look not only upon all other menas mortal, but upon yourselves as such-nor do you at all regret it-you would not stay here forever if you could! You knowthat you are emigrants to the laud of the unsetting sun and these lands are but traversed on the road to your eternal heritage.
This is a rare knowledge, peculiar to the godly. You may bring an unconverted man to be conscious of his mortality, but youcannot get him to realize that he is going to another land. No, he is going, he is going, he is going where he would not.He is hurried to the land of confusion and dismay where the shadow of death forever rests on hopeless spirits. You do notwonder, therefore, that he tries to avoid the remembrance of this troublesome fact, and that he journeys on with his eyesshut, trying to forget that his life's voyage will ever end. To you, dear Friends, your passage through this world is nota transit to somewhere or to anywhere, for you know where you are going! As Jesus said to the disciples, "Where I go you know,and the way you know"-you know which way Jesus went and you know that you will go the same way-for He has promised that whereHe, is there you shall be, also.
One of His solemn declarations was, "Because I live, you shall live, also," and one of His last prayers put this promise intothe form of authority and claim-"Father, I will that they, also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am; that theymay behold My Glory." If an Italian now in England passes through France on his way to Rome, he stays at Paris, or Lyons,or Marseilles on his journey. But all the while he is not a Frenchman, he is an Italian. Wherever he stays upon the road,he says to himself, "This is not Rome. This is not the place of my nativity. I have no citizen rights here. I am going onwardto my own dear city and I must hasten as best I may until I reach it." That is the condition of the Chris-tian-his face issteadfastly set to go to the New Jerusalem-and nothing must detain him.
A pilgrim in the old crusading times started out to reach Jerusalem. You know how many were stricken with that insanity inthose times-I commend them not, but I use the illustration in all soberness. The Crusader journeyed on foot across Europe.Whenever he came in sight of a goodly city, whether it was Vienna, or Constantinople, he stood and gazed upon the towers,the spires, the balconies. And when he had done so, he turned to his companion and said, "A fair sight, my Friend, but itis not the Holy City to which you and I are journeying." So, whenever God brings us to any place, however pleasant or delightfulit may be, it is for us to say, "A fair sight and God be thanked for it, but it is not the Golden City."
Our gardens are not Paradise; our homes are not the Father's house on high; our comforts are not our Heaven; our resting placesare not the everlasting rest! We must not rest contented here below. We have not come to that promised land of which God hasspoken to us in His Covenant. If we were mindful of the place from which we came out, truly we have had many opportunitiesto return-but we are not mindful of it-our whole desire lies in the opposite direction! Our citizenship rights and civic privilegesconnect us with a city whose jeweled walls and shining streets are waiting for our coming! Our Captain cries to us, "Forward."Beyond the river our possessions lie. In another land is our everlasting abode. We are, then, pilgrims born in another country,passing through this world to an inheritance beyond.
A pilgrim's main business is to get on and pass through the land as quickly as he can. You will remember how Israel desiredto pass through the land of Sihon, King of Heshbon, and Moses offered these terms-"Let me pass through your land. I will goalong by the highway. I will neither turn unto the right hand nor to the left: only I will pass through on my feet." Sihonwould not allow them to pass on these conditions-neither will the world grant us a similar privilege. The tribes had to fighttheir way and so must we. All we ask is a road. We may also beg the loan of six feet of earth for a sepulcher, but all elsewe will forego if we may the better proceed towards our inheritance! Not how to stay here in comfort, but how to pass throughthe land in holiness is our great question.
Sometimes a home sickness is upon us and then we are weary of this wilderness and pine for the land which flows with milkand honey. We hear the inviting heralds and the songs of those who hold high festival in the palaces above and we groan, beingburdened, and long to end the days of this, our banishment-
"Let me go, oh speed my journey, Saints and seraphs lure away. Oh, I almost feel the raptures That belong to endless day.Often I think I hear the singing That is only heard above. Let me go, oh speed my going, Let me go where all is love!"
As pilgrims, it is true in our case that our relatives are not, the most of them, in this country. We have a few Brothersand Sisters with us who are going on pilgrimage and we are very thankful for them, for good company cheers the way. It ispleasant when Christiana can take her dear friend, Mercy, with her, and when her boys, Matthew and James, can go and Mr. Greatheartwith them. Though, if necessary, Christian must leave Christiana and all the rest behind if they will not go with him-stillit is much more pleasant to see them going on pilgrimage with us. Yet the majority of those dear to us are already over yonder.If I may not say the majority by counting heads, yet certainly in weight the great majority will be found to be in the farcountry.
Where is our Father? Where but in Heaven? And where is our Elder Brother? Is He not there, too, at the right hand of God?And where is the Bridegroom of our soul? The truest and best Bridegroom with whom we are joined in a marriage union whichdeath cannot sever? Where, I say, is the Bridegroom of our souls? We know right well! And may not the bride desire the happyperiod of the home-bringing-the joyous marriage feast, the supper of the Lamb? Where our Father is and where Jesus is, mustnecessarily be our own country-and we are exiles till we reach it! If we have a clear eye for spiritual relationships, seewhat a host of our nearest and dearest ones have gone across the river, already, and are in Glory! Multitudes, multitudesare there! We are come unto "the general assembly and Church of the First-Born, whose names are written in Heaven."
Let us, therefore, go on with great speed! Let us not think to tarry here, for our best friends and kindred have entered intotheir rest, and it becomes us to follow after them. And, you know, a man who is a pilgrim reckons that land to be his countryin which he expects to remain the longest. Through the country which he traverses he makes his way with all speed. But whenhe gets home he abides at his leisure, for it is the end of his toil and travail. What a little part of life shall we spendon earth! When you and I have been in Heaven 10,000 years, we shall look back upon those 60 years we spent here as nothingat all! We will think of their pain as a pin's prick, their gain a speck, their duration the twinkling of an eye!
Even if you have to tarry 80 or 90 years in this exile, when you have been in Heaven a million years, the longest life willseem no greater than a thought and you will wonder that you said the days were so weary and the nights so dreary, and thatthe years of sickness drug such a weary length along! Ah me, eternal bliss, what a drop you make of our sea of sorrow! Heavencovers up this present grief and so much overlaps it that we could fold up myriads of such mourning and still have garmentsofjoy enough to clothe an army of the afflicted! We make too much of this poor life-and this fondness costs us dearly. Ohfor a higher estimate of the Home country, with its delights forevermore! Then would the trials of a day exhale like the dewof the morning and scarcely secure an hour of sorrow.
We are only here for enough time to feel an April shower of pain-and then we are gone among the unfading flowers of the endlessMay! Therefore let us not make the most of the least, and the least of the most! But let us put things in their order andallot to this brief life its brief consideration-and to everlasting Glory its weight of happy meditation! We are to dwellthroughout eternity with God! Is not that our Home? That is not a man's residence into which he enters at the front door andin a moment passes out at the back and is gone, never to return, as though it were a mere passage from one street to another!And yet this is about all that Believers do as to this poor world. That is a man's home where he can sit down at his easeand look on all around him as his own and say-
"Here will I make a settled rest, While others go and come, No more a stranger or a guest, But like a child at home."
Yes, this shows that we are pilgrims, because we are here for so short a space compared with the length of time we shall spendin the dear country beyond!
One thing that always marks us as pilgrims is this-that we are treated by the people of this land as strangers. Differentraces of men reveal their nationality by their speech, their dress, their manners and their habits. That which is perfectlynatural in a Dutchman seems ridiculous to a Frenchman; while the customs of a Chinaman horrify a Briton! As we who are ofthe hill country pass through these lowlands, the people discover our foreign character and take a wondering interest in us,sometimes of a friendly sort, but more often of a hostile kind. They marvel from where we are and, as they cannot make usout, they often come to the conclusion that we are acting a part and are nothing better than hypocrites and pretenders. They,of course, are honest, and all who are not like they must be false and contemptible! This suspicion and ill will does nothappen to all professors, but more or less it falls to the lot of all genuine Christians.
They cannot be hid and yet they cannot be understood, for their life is hid. Gladly would they pass incognito through theland, but the men of the world will not have it so. They soon discover the pilgrim strangers and they think them very odd.I suppose they are so, ifjudged by the customs of the world. We do not drop into the ways and customs of the ungodly, forour Master said to us, "Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them." Therefore, inthis world, the true Christian is as strange as a Red Indian in Cheapside. People do not understand the saints-they cannotmake them out-for they are constructed upon different principles from other men and often do things which men count foolish,unmanly and absurd.
The laws which govern them are not such as the world esteems. Hence it happens that the ungodly forge a strange name for aChristian-they cannot make heads or tails of him and so they set him up in their chamber of horrors, and fix a nickname uponhim. They declare right positively, "He is mad." Blessed madness! Another time they say, "He is a hypocrite." One cries, "Itis cant!" Another, "It is fanaticism!" Those are all expressions by which the world shows that it cannot make us out. Areyou surprised when they use such titles? You ought to be very much surprised if they do not use them! If the utterly worldlyman says, "I perfectly understand you," then say to yourself, "Then I am like you, for if I had been different from you-ifGod's Grace had given me a different way of thinking-you would have been sure to find fault with me."
Oh, never be afraid of the world's censure, Brothers and Sisters! Its praise is much more to be dreaded! When Socrates wastold, "Such a man speaks well of you today," the philosopher was by no means gratified, but concluded that he must have donesomething amiss that such a fellow should speak well of him. Take censures out of a foul month to be your highest praise,but praises out of such mouths are worse than abuse. We are strangers, speckled birds, curious creatures-beings that are twiceborn-who have a new life which is an enigma to ungodly men. "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound thereof,but can not tell from where it comes, or where it goes. So is everyone that is born of the Spirit." He is an unaccountableperson. "You cannot tell from where he comes or where he goes."
He who finds redemption and eternal life in Jesus is judged to be a strange, out-of-the-way being! He who looks for his happinessin the world to come is made, thereby, a pilgrim, and that is to men of this world a sort of gypsy life- fictitious, romantic,absurd and unpractical! We who are, indeed, such, accept our appointed condition and the scorn which often comes with it!And from now on we break loose from bonds of time and sense to seek another country-that is, a heavenly-
"Cheerful, O Lord, at Your command
I bind my sandals on.
I take my pilgrim's staff in hand,
And go to seek the better land,
The way Your feet have gone." II. But now, secondly, according to our text, the Believer is A SINGING PILGRIM-"Your statuteshave been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage." He does not say "my song," only, but "my songs," in the plural, as if hehad been a great singer, given to singing, which proves that pilgrims to Heaven are a merry sort of people, after all! Theyhave their trials-some trials more than those which other men know-but then they have their joys and among these joys aresweet delights such as worldlings can never taste! On the whole, Moses is right in his judgment of the Lord's people: "Happyare you, O Israel." "Blessed are the people," says the Psalmist, "that know the joyful sound. They shall walk, O Lord, inthe light of Your Countenance."
Holy pilgrims are happy! Theirs is not the caravan of despair, but the march of those who go from strength to strength. Ihear a voice objecting, "You give a rose color to facts, for some religious people are very gloomy." I dispute not the fact.For sure, some days are dark, and yet day is not the time of darkness-even at noontide he may dim-and yet noon is not thehour of gloom. On earth all men must eat some bitter herbs, whether they eat the paschal lamb or not. Moreover, all are nottruly godly who profess to be so. They fancied they were religious and, therefore, felt themselves bound to keep up the profession-surlinessand gloom are part of the buttressing by which they keep up the flimsy structure of their piety. Their religion is not realand so they make it terrible.
If your cheek is painted, you know that its ruddy line may yield to a handkerchief or to a drop of perfume and, therefore,you keep your distance and appear reserved. The countryman's rubies are not so soon dissolved. The roses of good health arenot so speedily uprooted. I have known people who painted themselves up as Christians and they felt it incumbent upon themto look very demure, or else their paint would have come off. They thought that they must add melancholy to their professionto imitate holiness. False notion! The gloom betrays the child of darkness. "But we measure people's piety by the length oftheir faces," says one. Do you? So do I and I like them short-the shorter the better! Those who draw very long faces do itas a matter of pretense and this is to be utterly condemned, for Jesus says that the Pharisees had such countenances thatthey might appear unto men to fast, but they were hypocrites to the core!
Let me tell you for a certainty-for I have the experience of many to back me up in it-that there is a quiet, rippling rillof intense comfort in a Christian's heart, even when he is cast down and tried. And, at other times, when trials are lightened,there are cascades of delight, leaping cataracts of joy whose silver spray is as pure as the flash of the fountains of Paradise!I know that there are many here who, like myself, understand what deep depression of spirit means, but yet we would not changeour lot for all the mirth of fools or pomp of kings! Our joy no man takes from us-we are singing pilgrims-though the way isrough. Amid the ashes of our pains live the sparks of our joys, ready to flame up when the breath of the Spirit sweetly blowson them.
Our latent happiness is a choicer heritage than the sinner's riotous glee. When suffering greatly and scarcely able to stand,I was met by one who has long enjoyed good health and unbroken prosperity. His mind is coarse and his tongue rasps like afile. He is always fond of expressing his rational ideas as proof that he is a superior person. With sarcastic politenesshe stood before me and said, "Dear, dear, what a sufferer you are! But it is what may be expected, for whom the Lord loves,He chastens." I had barely time to admit that the chastening had been severe before he added, "You are very welcome to lovewhich shows itself in that fashion. For my part, I had rather be without it and enjoy the use of my limbs. I can do betterwithout your God than with Him."
Then the hot tears scalded my eyelids and forced themselves a passage. I could bear the pain, but I could not endure to hearmy God spoken evil of. I flamed up in indignation and I cried, "If instead of having pain in my legs I had a thousand agoniesin every limb of my body I would not change places with you! I am content to take all that comes of God's love. God and Hischastening are better than the world and its delights." Truly I know it to be so! My soul has a greater inner gladness inher deep despondency than the godless have in their high foaming merriments. Yes, and even pain is tutor to praise and teacheshow to play upon all the keys of our humanity till a more complete harmony comes from us than perpetual health could haveproduced!
Was not Herbert right when he wrote of man's double powers of grief and then found in them double fountains of praise?-
"But as his joys are double, So is his trouble.
He has two winters, other things but one: Both frosts and thought do nip And bite his lips
And he of all things fears two deaths alone. Yet even the greatest griefs May be reliefs,
Could he but take them right and in their ways. Happy is he whose heart Has found the art
To turn his double pains to double praise." You that are lowest down in the scale of visible joy. You that are broken in pieceslike wrecks grinding upon rocks. You that are a mass of pain and poverty-you will give your Lord a good word, will you not?You will say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." At our worst, we are better off than the world at its best! Godlypoverty is better than unhallowed riches! Our sickness is better than the worldling's health. Our abasement is better thanthe sinner's honors. We count it better that we suffer pain like to the torture of death than that we bathe in pleasure-whenthat pleasure is the effect of sin. We will take God at all the discount you can put upon Him! And you shall have the worldand all the compound interest which you are able to get out of such a sham. God's people sing! They are the children of thesun, birds of the morning, flowers of the day!
Wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace. We hear a music which never ceases, full-toned and ascendinghigh-and its soft cadences are with us in the night when darkness thickens upon darkness-and the heart is heavily oppressed."Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." Know you that paradox? Some of us have learned it, now, these many years. It seems thatthe Psalmist had times of very special delight-high days and holidays, or, as the old records write-"gaudy days," days ofoverflowing joys. "Your statutes have been my songs." He was not always singing-at least not at his highest pitch. But therewere many brave times when he poured forth a song! If you and I cannot always sing, we do, sometimes, turn to that sweet amusementand while away the time.
Remember how John Bunyan represents Mr. Ready-to-Halt, Mr. Feeble-Mind and all the rest of them? When they had cut off GiantDespair's head, they danced, and Ready-to-Halt played his part upon his crutches! Yes, we have our merrymaking, Brothers andSisters, at which angels find themselves at home! Pilgrims can sing and touch the lively string. When the Lord kills GiantDespair for us, we have our Psalms and Te Deums, and we praise the Lord upon the high-sounding cymbals! When we are broughtfrom deep distress, our God deserves a song, and He shall have it, too. The heathens tune their hymns to great Diana or toJove, and surely the living God shall not lack for praise!
Our hearts are poured out with as great delight and merriment as when the wine vats overflow. We know nothing, now, of thespirit of wine, for it is evil-but the wine of the Spirit-ah, that is another thing! It fills the heart with a Divine exhilarationwhich all the dainties of the world can never bestow! The singing pilgrim is a man who has a world of joy within Him and isjourneying to another world, where, for Him, all will be joy to a still higher degree. He sings high praises unto God andblesses His name beyond measure, for He has reason to do so, reason which never slackens or lessens! Oh that we were alwaysas we are, sometimes, then would our breath be praise! David remembered his best times. He says, "Your statutes have beenmy songs." He remembered that he sang and sang often.
I want some of you who are troubled, tonight, to rest with us awhile and remember when you were the Lord's choristers andsang as heartily as any of the company. You have hung your harps on the willows. That is a bad thing to do, but it is betterto hang your harp on the willows than to break it, for it may be taken down and used again for the Lord's Glory. Jesus, whohas a tender heart for mourners, will see you, again, and your heart shall rejoice! Think not that the past has devoured allyour happiness-hope lives, peace abides and joy is on the wing! Recall those sweet songs you loved to sing. Recall them, Isay, and find in them arguments for renewed praise! If you cannot graze in the pastures of delight and feed upon new joys,ruminate upon the old ones and get from them rich nutriment for praise. Think of happier days, and be happier. Listen to theechoes of yours former Psalms and begin to sing again!
The thing that has been is the thing that shall be. "The Lord has been mindful of us, He will bless us." The Psalmist bearshis testimony that though, now, he may be mourning, yet he did once sing. I wish that Christians, whenever they feel discouragedand doubting, would not begin telling everybody, "Oh, I am bowed down," without also saying, "I was not always so. For yearsI was free as a bird and did not envy an angel! Nor shall I always be sorrowful. I shall wear my plumes again and fill theair with my songs. I am not going to be always bowed down. I have sackcloth on my loins today, but I remember when I was dressedin silken apparel and rejoiced before the Lord. My sackcloth will not last long. 'Weeping may endure for a night,' it is thetime for dews. 'But joy comes in the morning.' That is the time for sunlight and for bird singing-and so it will be with me."
Recollect what you used to do, dear Friend, in the heyday of your faith-and tell others what you used to do that they maynot think you have always been a knight of the rueful countenance! Do not let the Hill Mizar and the Her-monites be quiteforgotten. When "deep calls unto deep," say-"I will remember Your former loving kindnesses and
joys long past, and so will I put my trust in You." Well may every pilgrim to Heaven be a singing pilgrim because he is getting,every day, nearer to the land where it is all singing! There are many delights in Heaven, but the main thing about Heavenis the adoration of God. Oh, if I might once adore with my whole being, I would never ask to do anything else, forever, butto melt away in reverent worship of the blessed God!
Oh, what singing that will be, when you will sing your best, your heart made perfect to sing worthily in accord with the placeand theme! Oh for the music which is all harmony and no discord! What music that will be when all the dear voices which havebeen hushed, which we can hardly think of, now, without a tear, will all ring out clearly the praises of God-when all themyriad voices that have gone before will join in full chorus-when all shall be perfect and all shall be there and shall praiseGod forever! Come, Pilgrim, sing, for you are going to sing forever!
Now, rehearse your blessed anthem! Sing unto the Lord now, since you are to sing unto the Lord world without end-
"Such songs ha ve power to quiet The restless pulse of care And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. And thenight shall be filled with music And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silentlysteal away."
III. Now, I must come to a close, for time admonishes me, and the last head was to be THE SONGBOOK-"Your statutes have beenmy songs in the house of my pilgrimage." The Bible is a wonderful book. It serves a thousand purposes in the household ofGod. I recollect a book my father used to have, entitled, "Family Medicine," which was consulted when any of us fell sickwith juvenile diseases. The Bible is our book of family medicine. In some houses, the book they most consult, is a "HouseholdGuide." The Bible is the best guide for all families. This Book may be consulted in every case and its oracle will never mislead.You can use it at funerals. There are no such words as those which Paul has written concerning the resurrection of the dead!You can use it for marriages-where else can you find such holy advice to a wedded pair?
You can use it for birthdays. You can use it for a lamp at night. You can use it for a screen by day. It is a universal Book!It is the Book of books and has furnished material for mountains of books! It is made of what I call, "bibline," or the essenceof books. I am preaching to you tonight as a man without books. I cannot get at any of my books, for they are all packed away!But I have a library here in having this one volume, which is, in fact, a number of books bound together! This one Book isenough to last a man throughout the whole of his life, however diligently he may study it. It seems that David, when he wasa pilgrim, used the part which he had of this blessed Book as a songbook. It was nearly all history. What could he find tosing of there? He sang the wars and victories of the God of Israel!
You and I have a bigger book than David had-can we say that, as pilgrims, we use this blessed Book for songs? Truly we oughtto do so, for this is the Book that started us on pilgrimage. The blessed teachings of this Book, sent home by the Holy Spirit,made us flee from the City of Destruction and made us seek the road that leads to eternal life. We sing about this Book, forit is "perfect, converting the soul." It turned our feet from dangerous ways of folly, sin and shame. By the lessons of thisBook-
"Grace taught our soul to pray,
And made our eyes o verflow," and, therefore, we sing of the gracious statutes of the Lord!
We use this Book for a songbook, as pilgrims, because it tells us the way to Heaven. We often sing as we come to a fresh spoton the route and bless God that we find the road to be just as we have read in the way-book, just as our Divine Master saidit would be! Well may we sing a song of gratitude for an Infallible Word. We love this Book because it speaks of other pilgrimswho have gone this way. It is a Book full of stories of the worthies of old, of whom it tells us-
"Once they were mourning here below,
Who wet their couch with tears,
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins, and doubts, and fears." It is very delightful to us to read and know how they conquered-and to learn that all truepilgrims who keep to the high road will conquer! So we sing of Gideon, of Barak, of Jephthah, of David, and, above all, ofthe great Prince of Pilgrims who went that way!
We love this Book because it describes the life and death of the Prince of Pilgrims, even our Lord Jesus! Many a sweet songwe get concerning Him, as we rehearse the story of what He did and suffered for us here below and what He is doing for usnow! This Book tells us the privileges of pilgrims, both here and hereafter, and of the care which the Lord of Pilgrims showstowards all who seek the better country. Best of all, if better can be than what we have said, already, we love this Bookbecause it tells us of the place to which we are going. Oh, how it paints that city, not in many words, but in suggestivesimiles!
How wonderfully it talks to us of our abode! Why, if it said no more than, "they shall be with Me where I am, that they maybehold My Glory," we would know enough of Heaven to make our hearts dance for joy! To be with Jesus where He is! To beholdHis Glory! This is bliss pressed down and running over, more than our hearts can hold! Have you ever seen the heavenly country?Have your eyes ever been permitted to rest upon it? "No," says one, "certainly not. 'Eye has not seen, nor ear heard.'" Avery nice text, Brother. Go on with it; go on with it! You may make God say what He does not mean if you quote only half atext! He says, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, the things which God has prepared for them that love Him; but God has revealedthem unto us by His Spirit."
Hence we know these joys by Revelation and that is the best of knowledge! The eye has not seen, but we have done with seeingwith eyes when we deal with spiritual things! Our ears have not heard-these are poor deaf things. At best they only hear mortalsounds! But we have an inward function, faculty, power of hearing without ears! God does not speak in audible tones to hischildren and yet He speaks to them and they hear Him! We have a spirit which dispenses with fleshly faculties when it comesto dealing with God. He has revealed to us somewhat of the joy of communion with Christ; somewhat of the joy of conqueredsin; somewhat of the joy of beholding His face and praising and blessing His name. We know, already, somewhat of the joy ofbeing made like He and one with Him-and all this sets our feet on the top of Mount Clear-and puts the telescope to our eyes.And if our hand is steady, as, thank God, sometimes it is, we see the City and we long to enter it! "Your statutes have beenmy song in the house of my pilgrimage," because there I read of what is to be my Home when pilgrim days are over and I shallsee the Master face to face!
Now, dear Hearers, do you sing out of this holy Book? A country may be judged by its songs and so may an individual. Do yousing the Song of Songs? Are God's statutes royal music for you? A wise man once said that he would permit anybody to makethe laws of a country if he had the making of the ballads, for these kindle the spirit and fashion the character. What doyou sing, Brothers and Sisters? What do you sing? I leave that question as a heart-searching one- what do you sing? Or areyou one that never sings at all? Poor Soul, how do you live here and where will you live hereafter? Where must non-singersgo? God give you a singing heart and may you sing unto the Well-Beloved a song touching the Well-Beloved and keep on singingit "till the day break and the shadows flee away." God bless you. Amen.