Death of Mrs. Sherman 2

II. Let us now consider the instrumentality of "faith and patience" in forming the saints for their heavenly inheritance.

With our knowledge of the word of God, and our own practical experience, we can be at no loss to discern this connection. It is revelation, and not reason, which informs us that there is a future state of glory for the believer. While to the heart yearning for immortality, and to the intellect straining its vision to catch even some faint and distant glimpse of it through the darkness of the tomb—philosophy holds out only her dark lantern of conjectural speculation—the Bible presents, in glorious radiance and assured reality, this 'grand desideratum of our dying race'. To the eye of faith, a hand, infinite and divine, unrolls the page of eternity, on which heavenly and immortal things are pencilled by sunbeams. The humblest believers in the gospel, the pauper of the workhouse, the Lazarus at the gate, the poor but heaven-taught Sunday scholar, refresh their illuminated and regenerated spirits on the bed of death, amidst the commingling sufferings of disease and poverty—with thoughts which Plato never imagined, and Socrates never taught—with descriptions of the paradise of God, drawn by the infallible pen of inspiration in colors of light and life. Oh! ten thousand thousand thanks to you, O God of revelation, for this blessed book, which sheds luster upon the tomb, and raises the visions of immortality over the dark valley of the shadow of death!

It is by faith that the soul of the convinced sinner applies to Jesus Christ for justification, and rests upon the merit of his atonement and righteousness as the sole procuring cause of his salvation. Turning away from every other ground of hope, and every other means of relief, he fixes his eye upon the cross, exclaiming,

"Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart should be
Resolved, for that's my last defense,
If I must perish, there to die."

It is by FAITH, as an operative principle of universal obedience to the gospel of Christ, that the believer "purifies his heart" and adorns his character with "the beauties of holiness," through the power of the Divine Spirit. It is by faith he "overcomes the world"—the dread of its frown, the desire of its smile, its evil maxims, and its corrupt principles. It is by faith he quenches "the fiery darts of the wicked one," is delivered from the wiles of the devil, and bruises the serpent's head. It is by faith, as a pilgrim and stranger upon earth, he nourishes the desire for, and indulges the expectation of, that country which God has promised to those who love him. It is by faith that he rises superior to the love of life, vanquishes the fear of death, and while this monster puts his most horrid form of mischief on—he smiles at his terrors, and, swelling into rapture, exclaims, "O death, where is your sting!"

Read the descriptions of faith in God's Word, and you will be ready to say, "It is all but omnipotent." Peruse the eleventh chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews; and thus enter into the temple, where God has recorded the victories, treasured up the spoils, and canonized the heroes of faith. Read the pages of ecclesiastical history, and in "the noble army of martyrs" behold the power of faith. Ascend up into the celestial world, and in the "multitude which no man can number," redeemed out of every kindred, and tribe, and people upon earth—see the power of faith. For though faith is there changed into vision, and hope, its companion, into fruition—it was faith which raised to their seats of glory, everyone of those beatified inhabitants.

But faith does not stand alone upon earth; it gives rise to PATIENCE. This follows of course. Patience is the rich ripe fruit of faith. It is faith in an unseen world that makes patience both necessary and possible. Necessary, because that world is so glorious; possible, because it is so sure. On account of its glory, without patience the delay could not be endured; on account of its certainty, delay can be made tolerable. By patience, then, we mean a quiet waiting, amidst sufferings and sorrows, for the heavenly kingdom; an uncomplaining willingness to remain any length of time, and amidst any tribulation, for the glory to be revealed. It is through patience, therefore, that the saints "inherit the promises," as well as through faith. By it they hold fast the hope of everlasting life, when everything seems calculated to loosen their grasp, and to induce them to abandon their cherished expectation. "You have need of patience," said the apostle, when alluding to the bitter persecutions of those to whom he wrote, "that after you have done the will of God, you might receive the promise." It is true, this applied to their circumstances with a force which does not appertain to ours; they had earth embittered to them by every kind of painful affliction; they "endured a great fight of affliction," were "made gazing-stocks to others," were treated "as the filth and offscouring of all things," were tortured, afflicted, tormented. Had they not "need of patience," then, to wait for a heaven which was drawing them, with its irresistible attractions, at the time when earth was converted into a minor hell? Had they not "need of patience," to endure the mockings of men—when there awaited them the congratulations of angels? Had they not "need of patience," to endure the gloom of a dungeon—when there were prepared for them the felicities of paradise? Had they not "need of patience," to endure the fetters of a prison-house—when, by dying, they could put on the robes of light? Had they not "need of patience," to endure the terrors of protracted martyrdom—when one mortal struggle would elevate them to a crown of life? This was endured! Behold the patience of the saints!

But is this sacred virtue confined to times of persecution, and exhibited only by martyrs and confessors? Must the storms of bygone days rise and burst again upon the church, to give us the exhibition of the grace of patience? Oh, no! How bright a manifestation of patience has given rise to this discourse! Think of that dear saint whose loss we all this day so deeply mourn. Arrested by disease in the midst of as much marital delight and domestic happiness as fall to the lot of the most favored of mortals; with so many and such endeared objects to detail her heart upon earth; alternating for months, and even years, between the flattering illusions of hope, and the dark forebodings of apprehension, and witnessing the gradual extinction of the one amidst the deepening hue of the other; enduring the languors of disease through the "wearisome nights and months of vanity" which were appointed to her; and when the dread certainty was realized that the hour of separation was come, and when the pledge of heavenly bliss was in the soul, and the vast possession itself in all its glory and attraction stood present to the eye of faith, and when the heaven-drawn, heaven bound soul, had herself untied "the cords of love, and the bands of a man," and had yielded herself up to a divine and heavenly love, and felt herself no more belonging to earth but to heaven—was not here something of a martyr's patience, to endure the sufferings of a poor, frail, wasting body, through lingering months of disease, without a murmur—and to wait thus long without one fretful wish for the moment of her entrance into eternal glory? "Here also is the patience of the saints."

What must be the influence of such a state of mind, in fitting the possessor to be "a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light!" No circumstances of life, (and let the sufferer hear and drink in the soul-comforting thought,) no circumstances of life seem to ripen the Christian so fast or so perfectly for heaven, as the experience of sorrow and affliction. Oh! then let our comforts go, then let our eyes weep, then let our hearts bleed—if our Father is thus ripening us for everlasting fruition and inconceivable bliss! It is on this account the apostle says, "Let patience have her perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, lacking nothing"—as if he intended to intimate, that when we are enabled to exercise the grace of patience, we have reached the highest class in the school of Christ, have nothing more to learn upon earth, and are ready and fit to depart, and to be with Jesus; and have then obtained as much grace as can be possessed, short of glory itself!

Hence the apostle's wonderful prayer for the Colossians "that they might be strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness." Patience is the suffering Christian's power, his passive fortitude, in which the apostle prays they might be "strengthened with all might;" that there might be a kind of almightiness in them; that they might exhibit a capacity for endurance which should look like the impress of God's own patience—and of which the Divine power should be the principle and the pattern. Of such a patience, who can measure the result? What mind is vast enough, what heart is big enough, to comprehend the full sense of those words, "Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory?" How might I dwell upon every syllable, and every point of contrast! "Affliction" and "glory;" "light affliction," and "far more exceeding weight of glory;" "momentary affliction," and "eternal glory." Well might the apostle say, "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." Heaven were a poor heaven, if it did not make us gainers, whatever we lose or suffer upon earth. It were high time, brethren, for us to give over the Christian profession, if we do not credit the account that its rewards and honors will surmount its reproach and trouble; or if we think its cross more weighty than its crown. Are the price and worth of eternal glory diminished? It has been counted worth living for, worth suffering for, worth dying for, worth waiting for; and shall it not be so accounted by us?

Patience, then, sufferer, patience! The first moment, and the first glance of heaven will be an infinite recompense for all you suffer, all you lose on earth. If every step on earth is a step of suffering—then let each be a step of patience. Weep you may—murmur you must not. Nature may pay the tribute of a groan—but grace must pay it with a smile. The shower of your tears may fall—but in the rays of the Sun of Righteousness must reflect the beauteous rainbow of the promise. It is neither over rocks of stoicism, nor through floods of unrestrained grief, you make your way to glory, Christian; but along the path of patient resignation, which, if it is like the Valley of Weeping, and has its briars and its thorns--has also its refreshing rain-pools of heavenly consolation!

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