which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” PAUL. "Wherein we greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: that the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold which perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, at the revelation of Jesus Christ." PETER. ALTHOUGH this is the fourth meditation on the School of Adversity, the subject appears to my own mind to widen, extend, and increase in interest. It is a mine in which, the deeper you dig, the more precious and sparkling are the treasures which you discover. It is a vale in which, the further you proceed, and the longer you remain, the more lovely appear the flowers, the more refreshing the breezes, and the more musical and salutary "the streams that murmur there." As it is not often specifically dilated upon, I am willing to hope, that there are some readers who will accompany me with interest, through this closing paper. There are sufferers who, I hope, have been consoled and instructed by the views of truth that have been presented, and who have thus become more reconciled to their painful lot, and resolved, calmly and firmly, by the aid of Divine grace, "to glorify God in the fires.” Let each of us, however, remember that, the afflictive dealings of God towards us are only useful, as they induce us piously to acknowledge his Providence; bow meekly to his will; and seek assimilation and conformity to his image and revealed purpose. This will be the case if we are wise in the use and improvement of the dispensations of Providence, and the opportunities with which we are blest. But if Adversity be not sanctified and improved,-if it produce not "the peaceable fruits of righteousness,”-its influence on our souls will be injurious; and Jehovah may say, "Why should ye be stricken any more ye will revolt more and more: the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint." The power of the human spirit is an awful power; -that of rendering every thing, whether painful or pleasant, subservient, either to its elevation or depression,-its weal or woe,-its final and eternal happiness, or misery. How many, alas! by their own perverseness, render trial a means of making them "wax worse and worse," until they become at last "vessels of wrath fitted to destruction." Were it not for the perverseness of their minds, the insubordination and rebelliousness of their wills, and the crookedness of their ways, they might be made "perfect through suffering"-"Meet through consecrated pain, to see the face Divine." But they live and die without "kissing the rod, and Him that appointed it.” So. Thoughtful reader, let us fear lest this be our fate. It need not be God is love. With a Father's eye He looks upon us; with a Father's hand he chastens us; and with more than a Father's patience he "waits that he may be gracious." If we bow uncomplainingly to his will; "if we take hold of his strength;" if we meekly suffer, and unfalteringly trust, if we "love God," "all things" shall work together for our good. Our characters are forming for eternity: our natures are developing, either under wrong or right principles-the principles of selfishness or love, rebellion or subordination—we are becoming what we shall continue to be for ever. Ere long the Great Arbiter of our final destiny will say, with an authority that cannot be disannulled, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still." I must solemnly conjure thee, serious reader, that thou frustrate not the designs of Infinite Love; that thou reject not the counsel of God against thyself; and judge not thyself "unworthy of everlasting life." But, O, as thou wouldst be eternally happy, be resolved that henceforth thy unfailing aim shall be that of bringing thy whole soul into complete harmony with the will of Him, who says, "My son, give me thine heart." In endeavouring to point out some of the ends, uses, and results of sanctified suffering, I have stated that it leads to a better understanding and appreciation of the Bible; that it ministers to the development and manifestation of the sublimity and transcendent power of mind; and to the maturity and perfection of the Christian's character and in the present meditation I proceed to remark that IV. SANCTIFIED TRIAL IS A MEANS OF PREPARATION FOR FUTURE SERVICE. 66 It is one of the many admirable and deeply suggestive sayings of Paul, that, "No man liveth to himself." A man's affections and personal aims may centre in himself; he may have no regard or concern for the welfare of others; he may be dead to all public or philanthropic sensibilities; he may be a living personification and embodiment of selfism; his reply to every inquiry made, as to what he is doing for the good of others, may be that of the first murderer, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Nevertheless, the saying remains true, "No man liveth to himself." He may have as little fear of God as regard for man : he may be without God; or he may adopt the daring language of the haughty Egyptian tyrant, "Who is the Lord that I should obey him?" But he is unable to shake off his dependence on, and his responsibility to, God. He is a creature; God had important designs in bringing him into being; he is ever an object of divine care; and, either as an obedient and happy, or as a disobedient and unhappy, intelligence, he shall still be constrained to "give glory to God." It is a remark as common as it is true, that none can feel for the sufferings of others, but those who have themselves suffered. Even of Jesus we are told, that, "In all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful High Priest in things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted. "Touch'd with sympathy within, He knows our feeble frame, He knows what sore temptations mean, For He hath felt the same." If suffering was necessary to prepare Jesus Christ for exercising sympathy with sufferers; surely we need not expect to be prepared for "binding up the broken-hearted," except by a baptism of personal N suffering. Few persons are more unlovely and unloved than the coldhearted and unsympathizing. But sympathy with the sorrowful-a heart ready to melt, and eyes prepared to weep, at "the various forms of human woe-" gives an amiability to human character, and renders the subjects thereof both lovely and loved. As we are prepared to "weep with them that weep," we become like Him whose tears flowed so fast over the grave of his friend Lazarus, who wept over Jerusalem, and who left us an example that we should follow his steps. "How sweet is the tear of regret, That drops from humanity's eye! The cheek that with sorrow is wet, The bosom that heaves with a sigh!" A most enviable act is that of "knowing how to speak a word in season to him that is weary;" and this act is best learned in the School of Adversity. It seems at times painfully mysterious to see the young, the useful, the devout, the hopeful, and the untiringly laborious, laid aside from active toil, shut up in a sick-room, languish in feebleness, and have wearisome days and nights appointed to them. Why not be allowed to remain at their useful and delightful toil? Why that physical prostration and suffering for so long a time? Because in future days one part of the sufferer's duty will be that of visiting the sick. With them, and for them he will have to pray, and tell them of Him who in all our afflictions is himself afflicted; to point them to him who "bore our sicknesses, and carried our sorrows." He who intends to use that invalid as a son of consolation," a comforter of mourners, is preparing him in that sick-room, for one important part of the work of his future life. It is one of the dark and trying dispensations of Divine Providence, when he, whose spirits are overflowingly buoyant-who can throw, and who delights to throw a soul full of fire and earnestness into the cause of Godis all at once arrested in his joyous career, by the influence of an unseen hand. By that hand those nerves that seemed so healthful and elastic are at once unstrung. Those spirits, that once enabled him to do or to dare anything, completely fail him; and that highsouled and heroic youth becomes more timid and feeble than a little child. All his enthusiasm dies within him. He once could lead on the sacramental host of God's elect, in the war with error and sin, to glorious victory. He comforted and inspirited others, His voice was heard the loudest in the Christian battle-field. "The high praises of God were in his mouth; he preached with success and power. But now, poor man, he needs comfort himself; his powers are feeble; he fears his own shadow; he goes down into the waterfloods; "his feet sink in the mire ; "he does business in the great deep; " and he fears that infinite love itself cannot reach his case. He is afraid that he has become "6 a castaway." "Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of the waterspouts; all God's waves and his billows go over him." Sounds the most dolorous fill his ears, and issue from his once cheerful voice; and he says with deep fear and solemn trembling, "Is the mercy of the Lord clean gone for ever?" "doth his promise fail for evermore ?" He becomes a wonder unto many; all observe, but few can understand his case. He "writes bitter things against himself," and, sad and painful to think! there are those who should seek to bind up that "bruised reed," and heal that trembling and "stricken deer," who rudely repulse him, add anguish to grief, and cruelly trample on the fallen. He is not, it is true, without sympathy, some few understand his case, and encourage him with the hope that these clouds will be dispersed, that this mist will all clear away, that the gloom will be removed, and who would, if they could, inspire him with courage to say, "Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the day time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life." They would assure him, that he shall yet, with a voice more deep and cheerful than before, "sing again of mercy and judgment.' To himself, however, his case is most painful and mysterious; to his relations and dear friends, his sad and melancholy looks, his suppressed sighs, his silent and lonely wanderings, and his dimmed eye, are more painful than death itself. A dark, dark cloud, that for a time no ray of light can penetrate, hangs over his sorrowful and gloomy soul. The past is dark, the present darker still; but the future seems, to his perturbed mind, to be "the blackness of darkness for ever. He can scarcely pray, he does not dare to hope; but he says, "The Lord hath forsaken me." He dares not complain of the injustice of the stroke; he acknowledges himself to be the cause thereof; and with thoughtful sadness he declares, that his sins have found him out. This, dear reader, is no fancy picture; it is from real life. And why is it that such discipline is appointed to a human soul? What is the ultimate design of these painful experiences? Will these flames not consume him? Will these floods not drown him? These fires cannot consume him; these floods cannot drown him. Why? Because God is training him in His own way for doing his appointed work. He is now in the School of Adversity indeed, but he shall not always remain there; those dark clouds shall roll up the mountains; these mists shall be exhaled by the rising sun, and the horizon of his soul shall become clear and sunny once more. His mind shall regain its former composure; he shall become buoyant and joyous again. Again shall those dim eyes sparkle with gladness, and he who thought himself forsaken of God, shall emerge from his gloom and depression, saying, with calm and holy fervour, "Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." This painful experience shall not be in vain, these keen trials shall not be lost upon him; they are of a kind that he may never forget, they will make an impression on his being that cannot be erased, and will deposit seeds in his soul that shall surely grow, and produce in after times the "peaceful fruits of righteousness." When he meets with the suffering-as meet with them he will, on his voyage across "life's solemn main-" he will understand their complaints, and sympathize with their woes. His hand can reach down to where his "brethren and companions in tribulation" are lying prostrate and sorrowful. Their strange and melancholy sentences he can understand, and he knows how, in some degree, "to succour them that are tempted." His experience in the School of Adversity has thrown important light on the question, "What is man?" It has been of incalculable service as a commentator on the Sacred Book. With its deepest and most heart-moving utterances he can now sympathise with the afflicted, and comfort with the comfort wherewith he has himself been comforted of God. If these pages shall be looked over by any whose experience has been here portrayed, allow me, my brother, tenderly and soothingly to grasp thy hand, and with affectionate earnestness, say, My companion in tribulation, try to hope! "for though darkness may endure for a night, yet joy cometh in the morning." The night may be long and starless, but assuredly the sun will visit thee again. Try to hope: "For it is good for a man that he doth hope, and quietly wait for the salvation of God." Try to hope, my brother, thou art in good hands after all. Thou mayest be saying, "The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me," but listen to His reply, "Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee; behold, I have graven thee on the palms of my hands." Try to hope, my brother, for others have been where thou now art; and if the writer of these remarks had not suffered, these papers would never have been written by him. Even the giant mind of Sir Isaac Newton was once, for a whole year, as prostrate and feeble as your mind now is, but he regained his former mental vigour. Hope thou in God, my brother, and thou also shall yet say, "He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto our God; many shall see it, and fear and trust in the Lord." Have faith in God, for although "In the furnace God may prove thee, Thou art precious in his sight; God is with thee; God, thine everlasting light." And should these papers be read by any who cannot understand or sympathise with sufferers, such as those spoken of, I charge thee, friend, don't be rude to the suffering; don't insult the fallen; those whom God hath smitten are sacred; break not the bruised reed"Considering thyself lest thou also be tempted." How many cases does the history of the church of God present of persons whose training illustrates what I am seeking to establish! How many of her most honoured and distinguished sons received a very important part of their education in the School of Adversity! |