Meditation CXV.
Meditation CXV.
GREAT LOVE IN GOD, THAT WE MAY LOVE GOD.
July 19, 1761.
O how ardently would I love God, who is loveliness itself! Gladly would I have my heart filled with divine breathings after him—who is all beauty and wholly desirable! But, alas! I know not what it is to love God, which is the highest attainment of men, and the best exercise of the brightest seraphs. I have heard a soul-warming fame of his likeness in his people; and where it is most perfect, it gives them such a celestial tincture, such an heavenly hue, that they are like angels dwelling among men, or saints, whose lives are already in heaven.
But woe is me! my ignorance, my ignorance! I know so little of you—so how can I know your likeness! Alas! my chains are heavy, and my wings are weak; my affections sensual, and my spiritual desires languid. Yet I have some sunshine and serenity in my winter—and though I cannot love you as I would, yet I am filled with longing after some of this divine flame of love, that shall turn all the out-goings of my soul Godward; and turn the world, in all its beguiling and bewitching vanities, eternally out of doors. O that I knew where, how, and in what I might love you! May I love you anywhere, and everywhere! at home, or abroad, on sea or land, among friends or foes, among men or devils, among saints or sinners, in life or death, in time or in eternity!
But again, how or after what manner may I love you? May I delight myself in you, meditate on you, walk before you, imitate your divine perfections, talk of your glory, mention your righteousness, recount your mercies, and sing aloud of your love! May I praise you, pray to you, plead with you, depend upon you, and roll myself wholly over on you!
But again, in what may I love you? May I love you in your Son and in yourself, in the unity of Godhead, and in the trinity of persons, in your perfections and attributes in the largeness of your love, and in the brightness of your glory! May I love you in your angels, in your people, and in all your other creatures!
May I love you in your power and in your providence, in your counsel and in your conduct, in your chastisements and in your comforts, in your favors and in your frowns, when you wound or make whole, when you give and when you take away; in all your secret decrees and in all your open dispensations! May I love you in your gospel, and in your ordinances, in your law and in your testimonies, in your scriptures and in your sacraments, in your promises and in their performance, and even in my own soul! O to see you, O to know you—in your grace, and in your glory!
Again, may I love you at all times and all seasons, in youth or in old age, in my family or in the field, in company or alone, lying down or rising up, going out or coming in, in health or sickness, in wealth or in poverty, in a prison or in a palace, in reproach or applause, in the body or among the spirits of just men made perfect!
O astonishing condescension! that one under so many deformities and deficiencies, may love continually so great a Being in all his glorious excellencies! Will a king accept of the love of a subject, especially if loaded with infamy and reproach, reduced to poverty, and languishing with disease? And yet, though I am poor, reproached, and infirm—God does not despise my love—but welcomes even its few ascending sparks.
O! then, what a field of love is this, God looking out at so many windows, shining in so many excellencies, and still calling—"son, give me your heart! Soul, give me your love!" O what must that love be, which reigns in the heart of God! Oh! were my soul dipped in the celestial Jordan, I would be cleansed from the leprosy of earthly-mindedness, and carnal affections, which always renders the persons infected, unclean, and incapable of holding communion with the Most High God.
O dearest Lord! you have blown up a spark of love in my bosom, which lives in spite of all the waters of corruption; nourish and increase this fire, until in the day or eternity it breaks forth into a spotless flame! And then (O blessed day!) I shall even be refreshed with the perfection of my love, when I find it so spotless, vigorous, and divine, that not only I—but God, its glorious fountain, and eternal object, shall be pleased with my love; when its quality shall be suitable to that state of consummate perfection, its quantity such as replenishes the most enlarged powers of glorified souls, and its duration through all evermore!
Now, since you are seen in all things, and cannot but be loved wherever you are seen—how is it that I am not wholly taken up with your love, and lost in transport and delight—in the divine survey of your excellencies? Can a poor soul like mine not find sufficient matter for meditation, where a whole heaven of perfected adorers find enough for their most enlarged capacities through eternity, and to spare?
Now, here is the wonder, that God is not only lovely in himself, and in all things whereby he reveals himself—but also permits, yes, commands me to love him, making my indispensable duty my daily privilege, and my highest privilege my daily duty.
O the condescension of the high and lofty One, the chief among ten thousand—that I may love him, and not be reproved; that I may kiss him, and not be despised!
As he is the greatest, so is he the most generous of lovers, not only ever returning love for love—but for my spark of love, returning his flame of love; and for my faint desires, returning his captivating love. And as he is a noble, a superlative lover, so he does all things answerable to this divine character. His decrees are love: "I have loved you with an everlasting love." His counsels are love, "I counsel you to buy from me gold." His cords are love, with which he savingly draws us to himself. His rod is love, with which he corrects, for "whom he loves he chastens." His providences are pregnant with love. His promises are pure love.
His name is love. His offices are love, for to teach and instruct, to plead and intercede, to lead, rule, and defend, to help and heal, to counsel and comfort—are certainly offices of love. His relationships are love—a kinsman Redeemer, a friend, a brother, a father, a husband—are kindly names, and full of affection, especially in him. His banquet is a feast of love. His banner is a banner of love. His chariot is paved with love. And he himself is altogether lovely.
May I, then, love such a lovely and loving one—and not be deemed audacious! May I claim the darling of heaven as mine, and maintain, with all the warmth of immortal love, "This is my Beloved, and this is my friend," and not be accounted an offender among all the enamored adorers of the heavenly house!
But, O where shall I find, or where shall I fetch—a love worthy to be bestowed on this lover—who has not his equal on earth, or in heaven? O, that I could glow like angels in their celestial ardors, and burn like seraphs in their deathless flames!
O how strange! That the mighty One of eternity accepts the love of a perishing worm! That a vile sinner is allowed to be a lover of him whose name is holy!
May dust and ashes not only talk—but carry on an interchange of love, with the eternal Father? Yes! For you not only allow me to love you—but to know that I am loved by you, in an infinitely higher manner than I can love you. Yours is an ocean of love—mine a drop from your fullness. Yours is the sun—mine a spark kindled in your beams. Yours is the eternal emanation of sovereign love—mine the reflection of heaven-born gratitude—for I love you, because you first loved me; and as you were first, so are you highest in your love.
It was much for your people to be loved like your angels, archangels, your seraphs, and all your bright armies of light. Yet you have loved your people with a love above that; for in that matchless prayer, the divine Redeemer says, "That the world may know that you have loved them—as you have loved me!" What a wonderful love is this! But what a worthless lover am I!
O happy, thrice happy heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ! whom he invites to a seat with him on his throne! Surely, under a sense of so much love, and yet power to love so little, I would die, did I not wait for my removal to the region of pure love, where my powers of mind, enlarged and strengthened for the transports of eternity, shall be wholly exercised in love. O that divine freedom I wait for, that glorious liberty of immortal lovers that I pant after—where my eye shall view all of his glories, and my ear shall be all attentive to the account of his excellencies! Surely, my song and soul shall be full of love to him! Yes, nothing but love—centering on him, and singing of him, with the highest degree of ardor—shall employ my every power forever!
And here, dear Lord, while I walk on the dark mountains, let it be regarded as a kind of love to think—since I cannot love you as I should and would—how perfectly I shall love you in those blissful regions, in those days of future glory, and in your heavenly presence! With what fresh ardor, and unimaginable delight, I shall adore the God of love, who is not only altogether lovely—but pours out full floods of love on the 'emmets of creation'—and welcomes the trifling returns of love from the 'dust' of his footstool.
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