CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER

THE Psalmist gives this mild and gentle invitation, “Come, ye children, hearken unto me: I will teach you the fear of the Lord.” But wherefore? That they might see good, and partake of the blessings which the word of the Lord most amply sets before them.

Our Lord’s benevolence to children is above all comment. He gave an example of good-will and tenderness, in this respect, which not the greatest and wisest of his disciples can think himself too wise or too great to follow.

The sincerest faithfulness to their souls is consistent with the greatest good nature to their persons; nay, we cannot be truly goodnatured to them, unless we are faithful. Instruction, even in the best things, may be set before them in an inviting form, without the least deviation from the soundness of truth; and, by a little gracious skill, they may perhaps be led to perceive how deep an interest and concern they have in them. If God is pleased to second the instruction, by giving them a true sight of themselves; it is a known case, that they will love and honour those who gave the instruction as long as they live. And if God doth not bless it to the desired end, yet the piety and well-meant kindness of the instructor will not fail of their approbation and respect; for none can choose but love those, who show any real or disinterested regard for themselves. Besides, who can tell that the seed now sown in early age, though it seem buried and forgotten for many years, may not, in the secret working of God, be brought forward into life at some future time? There have been instances of persons, who were favoured with good instructions in younger days, and who appear to have forgotten God, their instructors, themselves, and every thing else that was good, for a very long portion of their life; but who afterwards were blessed and made happy, through grace, in the very recollections of those things, which, like bread upon the waters, seemed to have been lost, but which were found, and found with great advantage, after many days.

Sin may be checked, nay punished, and yet the sinner be loved. The sinner shall love in return, when he perceives that love occasioned the correction, or rather, that there would have been no correction but from love. It is the same in a higher case; “Whom the Lord loveth he chas-teneth:” and. he will not do this, but for those who are truly his sons.

It is very much their own fault, if there be not great weight in the conduct of parents and friends with young persons and children. These, it should be remembered, hear their words; but they watch their example. If the doctrine and life be the same thing, they will regard the former for the sake of the latter, with reverence. If the preceptor divide them, it is usual for them to despise both, and to treat him with censure, or derision, into the bargain.

CHAPTER XVIII

“On the Disposal of Property”

Some people delay the testamentary disposal of their effects, till the time of sickness or prospect of death; when the mind, if capable of reflection, which is not always the case, should surely be engaged altogether in eternal affairs; and, therefore, for this and other reasons, they are either able to make none at all, or none with suitable judgment and deliberation. The folly and cruelty of this conduct, as it respects either a man’s friends or himself, cannot escape the censure of heaven and earth. “Set thine house in order,” is a divine command in the preparation for eternity: and the laws of all countries solemnly respect this last instance of attention to social duties.

There are those who make arbitrary, or capricious bestowments, slighting the rules of God’s word, the proportional claims of nature, and those reasonable human prescriptions which are founded upon them, and which none but very strong causes, such as the wickedness, idiocy, or certain misapplications of the parties expectant, can properly set aside. Such seem to forget, that, being only stewards, and not absolute proprietors, they are as accountable for the disposal of their temporal goods, as for the acquisition of them.

Others are exceedingly liberal in bequests to public or private charities, who would spare little or nothing during their own life, or, in other words, from themselves. These pompous bestowments are but too often “the painted sepulchres of alms,” raised up by covetousness for a worthless glory: and if there be living and lawful heirs, or unexceptionable kindred, the whole is done at their expense, not the testator’s, who has presumed to misapply what he could no longer grasp, and what therefore could be no longer his own, and to rob his friends for the sound of a name, which, in such a case, had been less disgraced if entirely forgotten.

If a Christian should set the Lord always before him, he is especially called to recollect his presence in a business, where he may be said to be acting after his death, and to be affecting very materially the future actions and interests of others. When his will is in force, he himself is at the bar of God, accounting for its principle and effects. He should therefore renounce all humours, and, in the most solemn frame of a religious mind, ask himself: “Suppose I were standing before the Divine Majesty, would I devise what he committed to my charge, exactly as I have now devised it?” The answer of a good conscience, and of a sound mind, will generally exclude all foolish or perverse partialities, and determine what is honourable for the Christian, and right for those he leaves behind him.

Where there are no other proper relations, or just claimants, people, at least pious people, may equitably dispose of their worldly matters with no other restraints but those of reason and religion. It would not be unseemly for persons, in such circumstances, to bequeath their property either to pious friends, who may receive or do good with it, or to pious institutions, where it will be done; guarding, however, against idle ostentation, or the vanity of earthly fame. It would be poor, in a good man’s view, to have this for his motive or reward. The distinguished Christian, whose honourable name is remembered near the front of these papers, and shall be remembered for ever in a way very superior to the words or memory of man, was a signal example of the widest benevolence, united, wherever the case would admit of it, with the closest and most humble concealment. Large sums of money were distributed, through various channels, to thousands of distressed persons, who never knew, and, perhaps, never heard of, the principal instrument of their relief. He seemed to have a just fear, if not abhorrence, of that dangerous applause, which all sorts of people are ready enough to bestow on persons of this happy character, whether or not they are solicitous to follow their example. It was God who gave him the affluent ability; and he conferred a greater gift, when he gave him the heart to employ that ability, so entirely to the divine glory, and so diffusively to the good of men. It is possible, indeed, for but very few to extend themselves according to his measure; but this is encouraging to every one, who hath first a willing mind, that the performance “is accepted according to what a man hath, and not according to what he hath not;” and, therefore, it may not be improper, according to this rule, and their own measure, to remind professors of the true religion, that their Lord himself hath said, “Go, and do likewise.”

CHAPTER XIX

“On the Death of elatives and Friends”

It was the saying of a man, who had lost all his children, and all his substance, and who found not one true friend to offer him the least real comfort: “Naked came I into the world, and naked shall I go out: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

This is the resignation of a believer. He refers every thing to the will and work of God; and, having nothing of his own but sin, and nothing to lose by death but sin; all he hath, being by bounty and favour, should be freely offered up to the disposal of the Giver. This consideration, indeed, if by itself and alone, would not satisfy him; but there is another which ought, and, being set home upon his heart by grace, most certainly will: “All providences, whether pleasant or trying, shall work together for good to them that love and fear God.” When God loves, and loves for the best end; and when God contrives, and contrives only the best means; why is the mind of any Christian overcharged with disquietude and lamentation, with murmuring and sorrow? Doth he not as much as say by it, ‘Father, not thy will, but my own, be done?’

‘I have lost a friend,’ says some anxious mind. But who took that friend? Was it not the God who gave him? And hath he taken more than his own? And, if a pious friend, hath he not removed him to the best advantage? And is it not thy great privilege, after the enjoyment of such a one in this deplorable world, to live and be with him again, not here, but in a better? Besides, Christian, thou hast neither lost thy God, nor thy friend: no, nor yet will they ever lose thee. Thy friend, at the utmost, is but surrendered, not sunk; lent, not lost, and shall be found again with advantage. Pray then against the over-strong impressions of carnal sense; for all this is the striving of animal life, of mere flesh and blood, against the Lord; and desire thou to find thy will in the divine will alone. Be silent when it strikes, contented when it denies, thankful when it gives, resigned when it takes away. It is not the gold in the furnace which bubbles and froths upwards, but the dross and the scum.

‘I have lost a child,’ says another. But ask thou, Who hath found him? Is it not that gracious Redeemer, who called little children unto himself when upon earth, and who gave them the highest of benedictions? Hath not this child escaped a thousand evils, and miseries, and sins, which it must have undergone or committed, had it lived longer among the miserable sinners of this world? and doth it not enjoy unutterable happiness with thine own best Friend, with whom also thou thyself hopest to live for ever? And is it worthy of thy love to thy child, thus excessively to bemoan its deliverance from grief, and its possession of peace? Or rather, is it not the selfish working of thine own too much impassioned heart, which lamenteth its own loss in the flesh, or seeketh its own pleasure more than thy child’s happiness, or its own will more than God’s? I believe, if thou examinest closely, thou wilt find something of this within thee: but, however, be what it may, it ought not to be there. It is no fruit of faith; and it can render no profit or comfort to thy soul.

‘I have lost a wife or a husband, the very desire of mine eyes, the outward comfort of my life, and my greatest outward support.’ I would not say, Do not feel any grief, but do not grieve beyond measure. When Lazarus died, even Jesus wept. Nature may suffer for its own losses; it may suffer for the losses of others; and in many cases it is decent to feel, and charitable to sympathize; but nature, if alone, is impatient and blind, especially in spiritual things, and makes all its reckonings from the outward senses. To say to nature, that grace gains where she loses, will never comfort her; and to say to persons who are at any time greatly under the affections of nature, or more under her impressions than under those of grace, that their souls may profit where their bodies have lost, will be dull news, which then, at least, can scarce find a hearing. The appeal must be made to grace itself; and nature, if not quite shut out, must at least stand nearer the door. As grace becomes strengthened and quickened, nature will be subdued and quieted, from her tumult and sorrow. And, therefore, under these trials it is, that it may chiefly be seen in believers, how strong or weak their faith is in the Lord. I knew a pious and excellent woman, now with God, who, with as much natural tenderness of heart as ever mortal creature had, and with as much affection for her husband as perhaps it is possible for human nature to feel for one every way worthy of her, received the account of his sickness and death without a murmur or a groan, and with only some silent tears, which showed the greatness of her natural loss, the sense of her partner’s gain, and the strong and lively hope which filled her soul, of living with him again in a blissful eternity. I saw this amiable and beautiful example of the power of grace, and was convinced by it, how much above all sickness and feebleness of nature it can rise, and triumph and glorify God. Christian, could thou have seen this gracious instance as I saw it, it would have taught thee upon fact, how to mourn and bewail the same kind of loss, and how to live upon God; not without a feeling, for that is brutal insensibility, but without being stunned or stupified in the use of grace by the mere feelings of nature.

But excellent as this example is, thou and I have a more sure word of testimony to trust in, that we may get the better of our natural losses and sorrows. God, who gathereth all the fathers, will gather us ere long to the fathers in his glory. If our relatives, our dearest relatives, be dead as to this world, they now thank God that they are so; and we may be reminded of the promise of our gracious Saviour, which assures us, that, respecting our souls and the souls of all the faithful, they never shall, they never can, so much as see or “taste of death.”

Why then should we sorrow as those who have no hope? We ought to be ashamed of our selfish grief, and to beseech of God that he would at least turn it into tranquil resignation, if not into praises and joy. God hath wonderfully supported his people, in all their extremities; and, if thou art one of them, why not thee? The youngest child may claim his father’s bounty and blessing, though he may not enjoy so large a portion as the first born. Trust then in the Lord: and entreat him to still in thy heart all the passionate and perplexing tempests of disordered nature.

The intended effect of these solemn dispensations to thyself is, to wean thee from time, and to set thy face towards heaven. There thou hast many friends indeed, and one great Friend above all, who can never be lost; nor can the others, when met, be separated from thee again. They are thy friends, in that holy and unchanging region, not for such a shadow of a moment as thy time is here, but for a blissful and boundless eternity. With what transport shalt thou, one day, ascend to them! With what ecstacy will they all unite to receive thee! The very foresight of this joy throws into contempt all the poor affairs of this world. But O what shall the possession do! Could the possibility of descending again to earth, as earth now is, enter the views of the saints in glory, it would throw a damp into heaven itself, and beggar their unspeakable joys. And yet this is almost, if not quite, the wish and desire of every one who murmurs at the departure of Christian friends: or who would, if they could, bring their souls back again, contrary to their heavenly interest, into mouldering lumps of clay.

It was a noble saying of one, over a dear departed friend: “There he lies, (says he,) and with him all my worldy comfort; but yet if the moving a straw would bring him to life again, without the will of my God, I would not be the mover of that straw for a thousand worlds.”

My dear fellow Christian, mayest thou be like-minded; and, instead of too much bewailing the departure of friends to heaven, let it be one great object of thy life and faith to follow them thither, that thou mayest enjoy, together with them, the common portion of the Redeemed, even the everlasting inheritance of the saints in light!

CHAPTER XX

“The Recollection of this Third Part in Prayer To God”

O my heavenly Father, when I calmly look back upon my conduct to others in this world, and consider how greatly I have failed in all my known duties to men, against thy holy word and against the peace of my soul, I am humbled to the dust before thee. I have nothing to say for myself, but, with thy contrite prophet, “Unclean! Unclean!”

I have not loved my country as I ought, because I have not prayed for its best welfare as I ought. Intent enough I have been upon its vain-glory, its outward pomp, its carnal dignity, and its national prosperity; but O how little have I been earnest with thee for the greatest of all blessings, that religion and piety might flourish in the land, without which no true happiness or welfare can be found!

I humbly impore thy blessing upon my sovereign, his family, and his government; beseeching thee to grant, with all outward good, the inward mercies of thy grace, and, in thy due time, the life for evermore. Pardon me also for any failures of my duty on this account.

In obeying those whom thy providence has set over me, O teach me to see how I may best obey thee, and glorify thy goodness for a just government, good laws, and the valuable liberties I enjoy. If those in authority seem to fall into errors, (for what man is he that sinneth not?) keep my tongue from reviling, and direct my heart unto praying for them, that thy wisdom may rectify what human ability could not apprehend or foresee. Deliver me from sedition and selfishness, from all the evils of political passion and resentment; and give peace, I beseech thee, in my time, O Lord!

Enable me to conduct myself towards thy church, thy ministers, and all who profess to know thee, so as to give no just cause of offence in any thing to any man. I pray thee to heal all divisions among thy children, which may bring sad and deep reproach on thy gospel, or lay dismal snares and stumbling-blocks in the ways of men. O that they might love and pity each other, considering what infinitely tender pity and love thou hast manifested for them.

Help, O help me to fill up all my relations in life to thy honour and glory, and forgive me in the numberless instances wherein I have failed. Let the blood of Jesus cleanse me from all my sins to others; and do thou forgive, as thou hast enabled me to forgive, all their transgressions against myself. Grant me larger measures of grace in the days to come, that I may praise thee more and more throughout my whole life and conversation, and thus live and die to the edification of others, and above all to thy glory.

Keep me from unreasonable and faithless grief, when thou art pleased, with equal wisdom and goodness, to remove the friends of my heart, or the outward comforts of my life. Enable me to give them up without reserve to thee, knowing that no good thing shall be lost either for them or myself, but that all things shall work together for our mutual, our real, our everlasting good.

Having these hopes, help me to be more and more purified from all uncleanness both of flesh and of spirit, and to endeavor even to perfect holiness in thy faith and fear. Lord, I am a blind and a feeble worm, and of mine own self can think or do nothing that is good: O do thou therefore work in me to will and to do of thy good pleasure, that I may neither be barren nor unfruitful in thy word or work among the children of men. Help me to bear wrongs patiently, to speak every truth meekly, to carry as much as possible my whole conduct unblamably, with respect to others, that thy holy name and truth may be exalted, and they themselves be encouraged to seek the ways of salvation.

O Lord, I give up myself, all I have and all I am, into thy blessed protection; beseeching thee to do for me and for mine, in every respect, and at every time, exceeding abundantly above all that I can ask or think, for the sake of Christ Jesus, my Lord and my God: to whom with Thee, O Father, and Thee, O blessed Spirit, Three Persons in One and the Same Jehovah, be all honour, grace, and glory ascribed, both now and for evermore.

Amen.

Deze tekst is geautomatiseerd gemaakt en kan nog fouten bevatten. Digibron werkt voortdurend aan correctie. Klik voor het origineel door naar de pdf. Voor opmerkingen, vragen, informatie: contact.

Op Digibron -en alle daarin opgenomen content- is het databankrecht van toepassing. Gebruiksvoorwaarden. Data protection law applies to Digibron and the content of this database. Terms of use.

Printen