MEDITATION XLII.
MEDITATION XLII.
ON HEARING FROM FRIENDS.
St. Helen's, July 5, 1758.
He who has not left his affections and concern in his native country, as well as his friends, is refreshed by frequent letters from them—that they are alive, and in prosperity. But all this will not satisfy him who greatly longs to see his loved ones, and his native country, after being long absent from it. A thousand letters, written with all the tenderness of a father, embellished with all the rhetoric of paternal endearments, must give place to an hour's conversation, mouth to mouth, with that father whose kind and affectionate letters increased the filial regard, with that mother whose continual prayers and good wishes, have strengthened the affection of her son. Nothing less than seeing them face to face, talking with them friendly and freely, hearing all their state, and learning of all their welfare—can satisfy his longing, and quiet his struggling bosom.
Even so, nothing can fully satisfy the desires of the soul that is born from above, and is a native of the better country—but the immediate vision of God. All he receives below, only begets a disquietude in his soul, (but such a disquietude as delights) that cannot be at rest until wafted to the fruition of God. The brighter his views of heavenly things, the more ardent his wishes for the possession of them. Hence, says the aged, the experienced, and great apostle Paul—who had been caught up into the third heaven, carried into paradise, and heard the unutterable language of bliss—"I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ."
All the bright displays of the glory and goodness of God, which saints enjoy below, compared with what is reserved for eternity, is only a sight of his back parts. ("Then I will take My hand away, and you will see My back, but My face will not be seen." Exodus 33:23) Now, let us see the import of the metaphor. The face is like the fair epitome of the whole man, so that artists commonly draw no more than the countenance; the face turned away denotes indignation—but bright and smiling is a sign of favor. Again, the countenance is like the index of the mind, where we can see clouds gather, and tempests break, or peace and tranquility within.
Accordingly, we have these expressions in scripture, "Blessed are those who walk in the light of your countenance. Cause your face to shine on us. You did hide your face, and I was troubled. Neither will I hide my face any more from them. As for me I shall behold your face in righteousness." What, then, must the consummate happiness of that state be—where we shall see God face to face!
Then, Lord, the most that I can find below—is but a 'crumb' compared to the 'banquet' above. When your appointed time comes, with what joy will I leave all these merciful communications of your grace and good will, conveyed through your word and ordinances (which, like letters of favor, assure me of the affection of my exalted Head, and cheer me in the house of my pilgrimage) and go home to eternal, uninterrupted communion with you!
When, dear Lord, may my love and longing ask—When shall I see the face of my Beloved, that face that is fairer than the sun? When shall all the vast expectations of my faith be realized in glory? When shall my well-beloved, who is unto me as a bundle of myrrh, lie, not for a short night—but through an endless day, on my bosom? When shall distance be done away, that I may approach you, and never more be debarred from your throne? When shall my soul, all eye, fix for eternity on your excellent glory? As yet, I have only seen some passing glimpses of your back parts. But there is an abiding, permanent, assimilating gaze on your glorious countenance, which shall crown my felicity through endless ages.
May not the soul that is espoused to that glorious Husband, who is the chief among ten thousand, long to see her husband, long for the marriage-supper of the Lamb, and weary for the day of being brought home, to be forever in his house, forever in his presence? Surely, were my love to him more, I should long more for him. But I am ready to take up with other lovers in his absence. The world, and the things of time, are busy to cool my affection to the sacred suitor, the divine and unchangeable lover. Get away from me—all things that would divert my flame from him who is altogether lovely. When shall these eyes see him for myself? I am like one born abroad, that has never seen his father, nor his friends. But I am traveling home, and shall never be happy until I am with my best Friend. I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear, and the account has comforted my soul.
But now I long to see you with my eye—and be forever ravished with the heavenly vision. Surely at my arrival at your throne, O gracious Redeemer!—when I shall see your wonderful ascent to it, even by sufferings, the gathering of your saints about it, the apparel and entertainment of your chosen ones, and all your other glories—I shall know then that all the account which I ever heard falls infinitely short of your majesty and glory. Let it, then, comfort me, that in a little while you shall fulfill my request, satisfy my longing, and bring me home to be forever with you, my Lord.
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