CONSOLATION by James Alexander
THE GOODNESS OF GOD, A REFUGE IN TIME OF TROUBLE In every age,
perhaps we might even say in every Christian experience, there
are junctures in which it is difficult to reconcile the dispensations
of providence with the goodness of God. The controversy began
in the patriarchal days. and is the grand argument of
the Book of Job. Why do the wicked live, become
old, yes, are mighty in power? The seventy-third psalm is occupied
with the clearing of this same paradox. But as for me, my feet
almost slipped, my steps nearly went astray, for I envied the
arrogant, I saw the prosperity of the wicked. They have an easy
time until they die, and their bodies are well fed. They are
not in trouble like others, they are not afflicted like most people. Therefore pride is their necklace,
and violence covers them like a garment. Their eyes bulge out
from fatness, the imaginations of their hearts run wild. They
mock, and they speak maliciously. They arrogantly threaten oppression. They set their mouths against
heaven, and their tongues strut across the earth. Jeremiah, pre-eminently
a sorrowful man, breaks forth thus. Righteous are you, O Lord,
when I plead with you. Yet let me reason the case with
you of your judgments. Why does the way of the wicked
prosper? The worst men are sometimes apparently
happy. and the consequence is that the
believer is envious of the ungodly. Enemies of God appear to him
to succeed in every undertaking. Wealth flows in on them. They
arrogate to themselves an exemption from all reverses, and feel insured
even against providence. They fill the public eye. They
build and decorate. They gather about them the mirthful
and the reveling. They leave wealth to their children.
In the very same view, pious men are thought to be unhappy,
and beyond a doubt are afflicted. Nothing is more true of them
as a class than that they suffer. If we look at all the retinue
of believers following Christ up the steep ascent, we behold
them bearing the cross, while the rugged path is marked by
the blood of their feet, and their eyes are wet with weeping.
They come out of great tribulation. Under the perplexities of this
contemplation, what is left for the believer in his anguish but
to seek the resort which we have been pointing out, and to search
among God's glorious attributes for some one which may be a solace? The name of the Lord is a strong
tower, but no gate of that fortress is unbarred for our entrance,
until we approach under the banner of Christ. We compass the lofty
forbidden wall. but find no crevice open for
sin. Yet the attributes and character
of God are all we have. For look heavenward, and consider. If God were ignorant or unwise,
we might suffer without His knowledge, or sink in waters which He could
not explore. We might be lost in mazes, where
His eye could not follow us, or be carried away in whirlwinds
which He knew not how to quell. If he were limited in power,
we might groan under the very burden which he could not lift
off. If he were afar off in some pavilion beyond our system, he
could not be reached by our cry of anguish when the deep waters
went over our soul. And were he not here this moment,
it would be mockery to pray. If he were not good, our happiness
would be nothing to him, and we might have hellish pain for
ever and ever. If he were not merciful, he could
not care how wretched we are. If he were not gracious, we would
sink in despair, being sinners. But because he is almighty, all-wise,
all-seeing, everywhere present, boundless, everlasting, and unchangeable
in goodness, mercy, and compassion, We have in Him a refuge and stronghold,
to which we may continually resort. The perfections and attributes
of God afford a refuge, and, in time of trouble, faith resorts
to this refuge. The perfections and attributes
of God afford a refuge. Raise your eyes towards the loftiest
of our stronghold, but take off the shoes from your feet, for
the place is holy ground. As sinners you will first be
arrested by the trait of divinity. God is just. The judge of all
the earth will do right. The reverse is inconceivable. When we think of a being who
can do wrong, we no longer think of God. Nothing which he does
can be unjust, arbitrary, or harsh. He smites down the venerable
and beloved shepherd. In the very moment when his dearest
earthly stays Have been purposely removed. Or he overwhelms in
the tide of sudden death A mingled throng of youth and the elderly,
Both loveliness and crime. Shall not the judge of all the
earth do right? Hush, you insane murmurs, O worm! Be silent, O all flesh, before
Jehovah, for he is raised up out of the habitation of his
holiness. Yet surely God will not do wickedly,
neither will the Almighty pervert justice. And after these things
I heard a great sound of a numerous crowd in heaven, saying, Hallelujah,
salvation, and glory, and honor, and the power to the Lord our
God, for true and righteous are his judgments. We cannot imagine
a motive which an infinite being could have to do an act of injustice. All the earth and all heaven
unite in praising Jehovah as righteous. But can we climb up
to our refuge by this frowning battlement? No, it is impregnable. If indeed we were so far freed
from personal regards as to be governed in our thoughts and
judgments by a sense of general equity and respect to the honor
of God, it is conceivable that we might acquiesce fully in those
decisions of the Most High, which would contravene our own happiness. We would then submit to naked
justice. Some urge this as the first step
in a sinner's return. But the Bible knows no such refinement
of abstract submission. It would, if possible, be the
last and not the first step of sanctification. It would be the
mighty effort of the giant, not the infant motion of the new-born
soul. Let me not for a moment be misunderstood. Submission to God's will, and
that in the most absolute sense, is the duty of every believer.
and is a state of mind to which the influences of the regenerating
and sanctifying spirit infallibly lead. But there is an order in
the dispensation of gracious affections, and, agreeably to
that order, it is not the first demand on an unreconciled heart
that it should yield a legal submission to infinite justice,
so as to be willing to endure everlasting condemnation, however
righteous. Such a submission to naked justice
is not to be looked for in our present state, and this for two
reasons. First, because God made man a
being desirous of happiness. It is a radical principle. It
is God's own work. It is not one of those desires
which came from the poison of the forbidden tree, but a propensity
wrought into the first Adam, throbbing in the heart of the
first Eve. actuating the holy pair among
the trees of the garden, and appealed to, by Jehovah, in the
first threat and the first promise. Let the thinker confront his
God in Paradise, and say whether the propensity for personal happiness,
which is there recognized, is necessarily sinful. We are unable
to think of any one as a reasonable human being who does not, in
all possible circumstances, desire his own welfare. One may choose
a present evil, or relinquish a present good, but it is in
every case with the hope of avoiding some greater evil, or obtaining
some greater good. Human speculation has added to
the words that are written in this book by enjoining a false
duty, that of being willing to be eternally miserable, as impossible,
as it is uncommanded by God. Suppose it prove that my individual
misery for ever shall be for the greatest good of the universe,
does this make me content to suffer misery, except under a
hope of amends or relief? No, the gospel takes away all
that is earthly, but pours back all heaven into the bosom. Indeed,
when we closely examine this false theory, it is a contradiction
in terms to say that a man desires unhappiness. inasmuch as the
accomplishment of our desires is happiness itself. Therefore,
a total disregard of private interest or individual enjoyment
is not commanded in all the Word of God. We are to love our neighbors
as ourselves. We may, then, love ourselves. Nay, we must love ourselves. And self-love becomes sin only
when it becomes selfishness. The other reason why so stoical
a submission to abstract justice is not demanded in our present
state is that it presupposes an extent of knowledge more than
human. Our views are so limited that
we cannot take in all worlds and systems and ages, yet we
must take these in to determine what is best, wisest, and most
just in the government of God. Our ignorance, therefore, joins
with our self-love, with that self-love which God's finger
engraved on the Decalogue and infused into the heart to prevent
our finding a refuge in the mere justice of God. We submit to
it as righteous. We do not enjoy it as happiness
until we join other views of God and catch a glimpse of full-orbed
deity in the sun of righteousness. Let us descend into our experience. A sudden or a lingering anguish
comes, and kills my peace. I break the seal of heart-wasting
tidings, or I stand by the coffin of my firstborn. The Judge of
all the earth will do right. This comes home to the understanding,
as a glorious and undeniable truth. But then it may be right
that I should be wretched. God will act as a righteous King,
but it may be righteous for Him to make me miserable. Justice,
so far from comforting, is my terror. I look up to the precipitous
side of the fortress, and see the bristling weapons of vindictive
law barring my assent. It was right for the flaming
sword to keep the gate of Eden. It was right for the salt sea
to surge over Sodom, Gomorrah, and Ziboam. It was right that
Judas should go to his own place. It was right that the sword should
smite the shepherd. when he stood as the substitute
for the sheep. It is right that in yonder lake
the smoke of their torment goes up for ever and ever. It may
be right that this great pang should enter my heart from the
right hand of infinite justice. No, more, not only it may be
right, but, O conscience, conscience, relentless conscience, you cease
not, day nor night, to tell me it is right It cannot but be
right. I feel it to be right. All within
me arises to confirm the verdict with horrid acclamation. I am
a sinner. The soul which sins, it shall
surely die. In the mere justice of God, then,
I find no solace in affliction. My unconverted friend, you deny
yourself all other resource. That justice I plainly see to
be against me. I cannot scale that eternal wall. Justice exacts the punishment
of sin. But I am a sinner. Justice exacts
obedience, full, unbroken, and implicit. But I have long since
broken the covenant. The afflictive stripes which
I now endure are but the pledge of my penalty. Yet they are just
stripes. They are such as it befits infinite
justice to inflict. It is a wonder. that I have not
long since been given over to the executioner. Where can I
look? In what cleft of burning cyanide
can I find a refuge? Thus it is that the attribute
of God's justice, viewed alone, gives no comfort, and opens no
stronghold to man, considered as a sinner. And it is for this
very reason that the eye of the sufferer is directed to another
quarter of the heavens. I hasten to the point indicated
in the outset, when we first began to learn from the Scriptures,
that God is a God of love and tender compassion, that His very
stripes are awakening us to fly to Him, that He does not willingly
afflict and grieve, that whom the Lord loves He chastens. When behind the lifted rod we
discern a Father's tears, and when, as being in covenant We
consider that the same afflictions are accomplished in our brethren
that are in the world, that they are not by chance, but appointed
with the full consent of him who rules on the throne, and
who loved us so that he died for us, and is now our guardian,
friend, surety, advocate, and husband. When we find that he
has brought us into this wilderness with an intention, and hedges
up our way with preventive tenderness, Then the desert begins to smile,
and the thirsty wilderness seems moist with springs of water.
The sandy desert appears newly clad with trees of pleasure.
The land is as the garden of Eden. The voice of the Lord is
heard among the trees of the garden. After sultry heats, the
cool of the evening reveals the form of the shepherd. He leads
us beside the still waters. Yes, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you
are with me. Your rod and your staff, they
comfort me. And oh, how suddenly can this
change be wrought in the soul! Think not even a sudden death
is denied these revelations. It is not sudden to him who sends
it. Whether he gently unwinds the
silver cord or dashes the golden bowl to pieces at a blow? Whether
the aged servant in his bed ebbs away into eternity by long decay,
or welcomes his master in some spasm of the heart, or loses
his earthly consciousness amidst the shrieks and strangulation
of shipwrecked, what difference does it make? God was there. Christ was there. On this side
we see corpses and desolation. On that side they see a delivered
spirit, embosomed in love, entered into the eternal stronghold and
refuge. Inexorable justice no longer
upholds us when it is satisfied in Christ. It is the love, the
mercy, the grace, the long-suffering, the fatherly compassion of our
God, which is our citadel. The name of the Lord is a strong
tower. the righteous runs into it and
are safe. What name is this? The Lord,
the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant
in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving
iniquity, transgression, and sin, and that will by no means
spare the guilty. This name is our strong tower. This God is our stronghold. We may take refuge in every name
and attribute as in a separate chamber of our fortress. And
the consolation is not confined to any specific case, but has
a generality wide enough to embrace all who find the true entrance. The promise is exceeding wide,
and opens its doors to all the throng of the wearied and heavy-laden. The teaching of the Scripture
is, therefore, plain. We have a refuge. The love of
God, under the various names of goodness, bounty, long-suffering,
compassion, mercy, and grace, is that which opens to us in
our flight. Only convince a man, on Gospel
grounds, that God loves him, and in proportion to his faith
you make him a happy man. Let him only know the things
that are freely given him of God, and he is comforted. When, by the Spirit of God, says
Luther, speaking of his conversion, I learned how the justification
of the sinner proceeds from God's mere mercy by the way of faith,
then I felt myself born again, as a new man, and I entered by
an open door into the Paradise of God. From that hour I saw
the precious and holy Scriptures with new eyes. He had entered
the stronghold. Let a man comprehend the import
of the declaration that God is good. Let him think who and how
great God is, what and how copious His all-sufficiency. how boundless
his ability to bless, how exquisite the pleasures at his right hand
forevermore! And then let him stand and wonder
at the greatness of affection affirmed of such a being, who
sits at the fount of all conceivable good, creates all susceptibilities
of enjoyment, and floods them with holy fullness. Let him muse
on this until he has begun to conceive what God is, what God's
love is, and how it must gush from this spring-head, and stream
into swelling rivers of deep and spreading beneficence, of
vast and solemn bliss, from its sources in the heart of infinite
favor. And then let him turn inwards
and shudder to behold that the object of all this is himself. I say, Let a man thus be told,
and thus understand, and thus believe that God loves him, and
he is a happy man. He now knows that God is a refuge. You do not bless the afflicted
sinner, I repeat it, by saying to him that God is just. Sinners
also believe and tremble. The never-failing replication
of his conscience is, and because he is just, I am wretched. But when you would revive the
spirit of the contrite, say to him, God is love. Yet God's love itself will be
a dead letter to him, unless he looks at the cross. But let
him so look, and he beholds a door." Thus the solitary young monk
was led in by Stabitz. "'Look at the wounds of Christ,'
he said to Luther, "'and you will there see, shining clearly,
the purpose of God towards men. We cannot understand God, outside
of Christ. Hence the maxim of the Reformers
after years, I cannot come near the absolute God. Love is the
attribute which shows us most of God. Here we gaze on most
of the divine effulgence. Power might be malevolent. Knowledge
might be distant. Immensity might overwhelm. But
love, in itself is blissful, and to all around it, it communicates
bliss. It is only at the cross that
we can reconcile the seeming opposites. God is a consuming
fire, and God is love. The different ways in which Jehovah
shows his love may have different names, but it is only the same
adorable undivided perfection shining in love. The rainbow
that is about the throne may have its distinguishable colors,
but the ray is one, and its name is Love. For you, Lord, are good
and ready to forgive, and plenteous in mercy unto all who call upon
you, a God full of compassion and gracious, long-suffering
and plenteous in mercy and truth. This is not tautology. It is
human mind and language sinking under repeated efforts to express
the inexpressible, to go around the tower of glory, and survey
first one side and then another of that structure which is the
center and glory of the Church. Let men of the world consider
this. Their rock is not as our rock, even themselves being judges. Here is our city of strength.
O worldlings! Go around Zion, encircle it,
count its towers, note its ramparts, tour its citadels, so that you
can tell a future generation. This God, our God, forever and
ever, He will lead us eternally. Or, in the words of another scripture,
Jehovah is good. In time of trouble, faith actually
resorts to this refuge. The lofty gates have been open
for ages, and the fugitives of all nations have been pressing
in. But still there is room. Times
of troubles have not ceased from our world. In such times we need
some refuge, stronghold, and solace. Every man seeks some
refuge of this kind. Let a sudden storm ruffle our
bay. and the squadron of small boats
are instantly dispersed, each making for its little haven.
The hiding-places of men are discovered by affliction. As
one has aptly said, our refuges are like the nests of birds.
In summer they are hidden among the green leaves, but in winter
they are seen among the naked branches. Ungodly men, being
afraid of God, and feeling that they are at enmity with him,
go anywhere else for solace in affliction. Some turn to worldly
business, and buy and sell with redoubled activity. Some count
up the idols that remain, and plan new enterprises. Some go
into light company, read light books, or flutter through the
dance of light amusements. Some have been known to enter
the sty of drunkenness. Troubles drive each one to his
refuge, and each has his little retreat, his shrine, and his
idol, which he seeks at such times. And the child of God has
his refuge, and runs into it in times of trouble. Above the
raging of the water-floods, when all around is alarm, he hears
the voice, as a trumpet, saying from the refuge, Come, my people,
enter your chambers and shut your doors behind you. Hide yourselves
for a little while, until the fury has passed by. And emerging
from the waves, he responds, Be merciful to me, O God, be
merciful, because I come to you for safety. In the shadow of
your wings I find protection until the raging storms are over. When my heart is overwhelmed
within me, lead me to the rock that is higher than I. God is
our refuge and strength, and ever-present help in times of
trouble. That is why we are not afraid
even when the earthquakes or the mountains topple into the
depths of the sea. The Lord Almighty is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge. Such cries of exultation have
often risen from the ocean waste, when God's children have been
swallowed in the deep. Can I doubt that when the long-remembered
steamer President was mysteriously crushed by the Atlantic surge,
the lofty voice of Cookman, which I have so often heard with a
thrill of delight, calling sinners to Christ, as with the clear
penetrating notes of a clarion, Can I doubt that the voice was
lifted above the noise of the waves in some such strain as
this? The Lord on high is mightier
than the voice of many waters, yes, than the mighty waves of
the sea. And need we doubt that in a recent
catastrophe, more than one sanctified spirit, even in that little moment
on the deck, or struggling in the current, or locked up in
some lower chambers of death, was enabled to gather itself
and say, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. The moment of death
requires simple exercises. Thanks be to God, the way into
that refuge is direct, especially to one who has been coming to
it, day by day, for years. The word stronghold in the text
means in Hebrew a dwelling place, abode, or mansion. It is the
same used in the 90th Psalm. You have been our dwelling place
in all generations. To the believer, God is not merely
a retreat, but an abode, not a refuge just found out when
trouble surprises, but a habitation to which he has learned continually
to resort, not a temporary shelter, but a stronghold where he dwells
and where he loves to dwell. For this, says the psalmist,
shall every one pray unto you in a time when you may be found.
Surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come near
unto him. You are my hiding place." Here
is a refuge to which faith actually resorts in every trouble. The
heart knows its own bitterness, and sometimes the sharpest arrow
is rankling just where others cannot perceive it. Many are
the afflictions of the righteous. Some of the sorest are not cataloged
in books, or rehearsed in sermons. Sometimes single darts wound
here and there, and then again whole communities suffer. One
disaster in war, or on the ocean, directs the river of sorrow into
a thousand homes. The falling of a hoary head,
that crown of glory, if it is the head of a believer, a friend,
an example, a father, a pastor, carries down with it the sorrowing
hearts of a church, or, indeed, as we have felt this week, of
a whole Christian population. When it was whispered from one
to another in our city that a beloved father in the gospel had died
during the night, who was there that did not feel that it was
a bereavement? and that the loss was the loss
of the Christian society. This was penned just after the
death of an eminent pastor. Such will be the case with all
of us in our several afflictions if our faith resorts to God as
a refuge. It is this, far more than exemption
from trials, which makes life blessed. Perhaps you have been
tempted to say, Blessed are the prosperous, the rich, the proud,
No, Asaph had such thoughts, but when he went into the sanctuary
and took a heavenly view, he saw and understood the end of
the wicked. It was one who knew, that said,
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Happy are they only, who have sorrow sweetened by the divine
promise. They glory in tribulation. They
have storms, but they have both an anchor and a haven. God's goodness cannot be manifested
more clearly than in a sanctifying process, however severe. Let me thus reason with such
as are in trials. We have asked to be made holy. Again and again we have besought
the Lord to withdraw us from evil ways, to divorce us from
the idols which seduce us, and now we hear Him saying, This
is what I will do. I will block her way with thorns. I will enclose her with a wall,
so that she cannot find her paths. She will pursue her lovers, but
not catch them. She will seek them, but not find
them. Then she will think, I will go
back to my former husband, for then it was better for me than
now. And so sane, the soul recognizes
the goodness of God. and faith enters the stronghold. There are thoughts in a darkened
chamber of sorrow which visit us nowhere else. They are important,
beneficial thoughts to instruct, confirm, purify, arm and comfort,
thoughts of our sin, our selfishness, our idolatry, our worldliness,
our unbelief, thoughts of the abiding joy laid up in heaven,
where sickness, alarm, despair, and sin never come. And I speak
the mind of all sanctified affliction, when I add, that among them all
no thought is more constant than that of God's goodness as an
eternal refuge. You will keep him in perfect
peace, whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord for ever, for
in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. First, how admirable
and lovely is that Christianity which makes such provision for
times of trial! And the provision is God. We
are told, not that a refuge or fortress is found in this or
that consideration, but that the name of the Lord is a strong
tower. True Christianity derives all
its graces and all its glories from its principal object. If
the believer is to rejoice, it is in God. The course of our
experience shows us that every reliance sinks away from under
us, and nothing under the sun can be our support. Youth and
vigor and strength soon decay. Health is one of the most precarious
and perishable of our brief possessions. I will not condescend to name
it as a solace in heart trouble. Friends, they are blessed gifts.
Let us ever thank God for them, discharge our duty to them, and
dwell in love among them. But their arm reaches but a little
way. Often the most that they can
do is to weep with us. And, ah, how soon, how rapidly
do they depart! until at length the aged disciple
looks around to wonder at his own solitude, and if he sees
near him, so much as one of the companions of his youth, is ready
to tremble at the prospect of speedy separation. Christian
experience, I say, shows us sooner or later that there is no resting
short of God. Tread on any ground but this,
and it proves a quicksand. But oh, how rich is the possession
of God's saints! The mighty God of Jacob is their
refuge, and underneath them are the everlasting arms. I will
never, I will never, I will never, never, never leave you, nor forsake
you. Such is the meaning of the text
in Hebrews. Here is a heavenly tower of vast
dimensions, every chamber filled with bounty, and every gate standing
wide open. As the officials of Israel were
commanded to see that the highways to the cities of refuge were
kept in good repair, so that the fleeing culprits might meet
with no obstruction, so it is a chief duty of the Gospel ministry
to facilitate the flight of all afflicted people to the tower
of strength and consolation. Oh, that I were able to recount
and to describe the numerous instances in which I have seen
the heart-broken child of God taking courage amidst redoubled
calamities, in the attributes of a reconciled God! This were
enough, if there was nothing else to recommend the Christian
life to all who suffer pain, fear, or bereavement. And hence,
indeed, we observe that the followers of the Lord Jesus consist in
a great degree of those who have been drawn to Him by the necessities
of deep affliction. Secondly, how serious is the
question, am I acquainted with God as a strong tower in the
time of danger? It is not every one who possesses
this resort, or who knows the way to it. As has been intimated,
the flying of the soul to God in times of trouble presupposes
some knowledge of Him, reconciliation with Him, and trust in Him. The calamities of life are such
indeed, and come with poignant sting to those who have no God. the afflictive bolt, falls with
almost crushing violence on the man who is at ease in his possessions,
and who cries in vain to his God of silver and gold. Beloved,
be persuaded to remember your Creator before the evil days
come. Hearken to the voice of all experience,
and believe that you will bitterly regret your impenitence and procrastination. when sudden affliction comes
upon you. You cannot possibly make a better
use of these halcyon days of youth, of health and of ease,
than by providing for the dark and cloudy season. God is graciously
ready to welcome him who turns to him, even in the hour of his
desolation, and, like the prodigal, cries, I will arise and go to
my father. But more pleasing is it to God
and more profitable to the soul when one, amidst the sunshine
of hope and prosperity, looks up and says, Father, you are
the guide of my youth. Nothing is more certain than
that the days are hastening on in which you will find these
to be true sayings. Therefore be exhorted, without
delay, to flee into this everlasting tower, that you may be safe safe
not merely from the clouds of worldly sorrow, but from the
insufferable tempest of God's eternal wrath and curse. Thirdly, it only remains that
I should beseech those who are sufferers at this time, actually
and immediately, to betake themselves to this refuge. Behold the rock
of your defense. Behold in every attribute a chamber
of protection. Call to mind the lessons of your
whole Christian life with regard to the truth, the justice, and
the goodness of God. Even under the Old Testament,
amidst many imperfections of knowledge, God's people learned
to confide in Him under the heaviest strokes. Abraham, Jacob, Eli,
Job, David, Ezekiel, Habakkuk have all left us their testimonial. So clear was this, that even
the modern Jew, in his wanderings, has lessons of resignation which
are unknown to the pagan philosopher. During the absence of the Rabbi
Mir, his two sons died, both of them of uncommon beauty, and
enlightened in the divine law. His wife bore them to her chamber,
and laid them upon her bed. When Rabbi Mir returned, his
first inquiry was for his sons. His wife reached to him a goblet. He praised the Lord at the going
out of the Sabbath, drank, and again asked, Where are my sons? They are not far off, she said,
placing food before him that he might eat. He was in a genial
mood, and when he had said grace after supper, she thus addressed
him. Rabbi, with your permission,
I would gladly propose to you one question. Ask it then, my
love," replied he. A few days ago a person entrusted
some jewels to my custody, and now he demands them. Should I
give them back to him?" "'This is a question,' said the rabbi,
"'which my wife should not have thought it necessary to ask.
What, would you hesitate or be reluctant to restore to every
one his own?' "'No,' she replied. But yet I thought it best not
to restore them without acquainting you therewith." She then led
him to the chamber, and, stepping to the bed, took the white covering
from the dead bodies. "'Ah, my sons! my sons!' loudly
lamented their father. "'My sons! the light of my eyes
and the light of my heart!' The mother turned away and wept bitterly. At length she took her husband
by the hand and said, Rabbi, did you not teach me that we
must not be reluctant to restore that which was entrusted to our
keeping? See, the Lord gave, and the Lord
has taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed
be the name of the Lord, echoed the Rabbi, and blessed be his
holy name forever. But all Old Testament resignations
and hopes are but a morning twilight. compared with the meridian faith
of the Gospel. Now we behold in Jesus not only
a Master and a Comforter, but a fellow-sufferer, a forerunner,
a sympathizing High Priest. By Him, as a medium, we approach
our fortress, for He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Not even
sin can keep us away, for He has borne our sins in His own
body on the tree. Come, then, and drown your griefs
in the sea of everlasting love. A little longer, and you shall
be admitted to a nearer view of those divine excellencies,
which, even in distant prospect, have sustained your head amidst
the billows. And then, when fully entered
into your eternal fortress, how speedily shall you forget all
the trials of your pilgrimage! My beloved friends, What we need,
in order to support our fainting souls, is only a larger measure
of that faith which is the substance of things hoped for, and the
evidence of things not seen, which shall make the coming eternity
as real to us as the events of the passing life, which shall
turn our doctrines and tenets respecting God and Heaven into
heart experience and actuating motive. Then shall we abide in
God as in our tower. Then shall we be encircled in
his pavilion of love. Then shall we dwell in the house
of the Lord forever. This concludes Consolation by
James Alexander.