I sleep, but my heart waketh. Song of Solomon, chapter 5, verse 2. Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one. The spouse was asleep, and yet she was awake. He can only read the believer's riddle who was plowed with the heifer of his experience.

The two points in this evening's text are a mournful sleepiness and a hopeful wakefulness.

I sleep. Through sin that dwelleth in us we may become lax in holy duties, slothful in religious exercises, dull in spiritual joys, and altogether supine and careless. This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening spirit dwells, and it is dangerous to the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bands of sloth. It is to be feared that many believers lose their strength as Samson lost his locks while sleeping on the lap of carnal security. With a perishing world around us, to sleep is cruel. With eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet we are none of us so much awake as we should be. A few thunderclaps would do us all good and it may be unless we soon bestir ourselves we shall have them in the form of war or pestilence or personal bereavements and losses. Oh that we may leave forever the couch of fleshly ease and go forth with flaming torches to meet the coming bridegroom.

My heart waketh. This is a happy sign. Life is not extinct, though sadly smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to Sovereign Grace for keeping a little vitality within the body of this death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts. For the voice of the wakeful heart is really the voice of our beloved, saying, Open to me. Holy zeal will surely unbar the door. O lovely attitude! He stands with melting heart and laden hands. My soul forsakes her every sin and lets the heavenly stranger in.