A Precious Drop of Honey 2
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Shall we stop to take that next word? Scarcely may I preach from it, but methinks, you meditate upon it constantly. "I have engraved youupon the palms of my hands." My Lord, do you mean me? Yes, even me, if I by faith cling to your cross. "I am not shut out from your heart of love, if by faith I have entered into your happy family. I know that you remember me or you would never have helped me to remember you. Glory be to you, O my gracious Lord." But I want you, my beloved brethren, to notice that the word runs, "I have engraved you." It does not say, "Your name." The name is there, but that is not all; "I have engraved you." See the fullness of this! I have engraved your person, your image, your case, your circumstances, your sins, your temptations, your weaknesses, your needs, your works; I have engraved you, everything about you, all that concerns you; I have put you altogether there.
It is not an outline sketch, you see; it is a full picture, as though the man himself were there. What, dare you dream that God forgets you? Will you ever say again that your God has forsaken you when he has engraved you, not your name, I say, but everything that concerns you upon his own palms? "Oh!" says one, "but I am in such a plight this morning." Well, he has engraved that there? "Ah!" says another, "I am so week and so feeble!" That, too, is engraved there. "I have engraved you." The Omniscient God knows you better than you know yourself, and whereas you are conscious of some sin and some imperfection, he knows that you have an infinitude of sin and a vastness of infirmity, he has put it all there — "I have engravedyou." I say, again, this is a thing too great to be talked of, but more fit to be read, marked, learned, and digested in the silence of your closet.
You have never engraved yourselves so well upon the tablets of your own knowledge as God has engraven you upon those blessed tablets — the palms of his hands. Yes, I dare to say it, our indulgent God as much thinks of one saint as if there were no other saint and no other created thing in all the world. Our covenant God so recollects and cares for his child, that if the whole universe were dissolved and had departed like a shadow, and our Lord had but one man to fix all his grace upon, he would not watch him more, nor more carefully and lovingly see after his best interests, than he now cares for each one of his people. "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands."
We have hitherto taken every word, but we must now take the next two or three. Remember we are engraven where? Upon his hands, not upon the works of his hands. They shall perish; yes they shall all wax old as does a garment, but his hands shall endure for ever and ever. We are not engraved upon a seal, for a seal might be slipped from the finger and laid aside, but the hand itself can never be separated from the living God. It is not engraven on the huge rock, for a convulsion of nature might rend the rock with earthquake, or the Fretting Tooth of Time might eat the inscription out; but our record is on his hand, where it must last, world without end. Not upon the back of his hands where it might be supposed that in days of strife and warfare the inscription might suffer damage, but there upon the palms of his hands where it shall be well protected, so that even "When God’s right arm is bared for war, And thunder clouds his stormy ear," even then, when he smites with his fist, his people shall be well protected within the palms of his hands. The tenderest part shall be made the place of the inscription, that to which he is most likely to look, that which his fingers of wisdom enclose, that by which he works his mighty wonders, shall be the unceasing remembrance, pledging him never to forget his chosen.
Do notice, it does not say, "I have engraved you upon the palm of one hand," but "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands." There are two memorials. His saints shall never be forgotten, for the inscription is put there upon the palm of this hand, the right-hand of blessing. And upon the palm of that hand, the left-hand of justice. I see him with his right hand beckon me — "Come you blessed," and he sees me in his hand; and on that side he says, "Depart you cursed," but not to me, for he sees me in his hand, and cannot curse me. Oh! my soul, how charming this is, to know that his left hand is under your head, while his right hand embraces you. Both hands are marked with the memorial. This left hand, which is the hand of cursing, cannot curse me, for it is under my head; it cannot smite, for it has become my strength and my stay, my pillow and my rest, while his right hand embraces me, to keep me safe from death and hell, and to preserve me, and bring me to his eternal kingdom in glory.
Now I am conscious, that I cannot work out the beauty of this passage. I am equally conscious that you cannot either, unless you have much longer time for meditation than such a short service as this can afford you. Take it home and look at it again and again, especially laying an emphasis on the word "you," and oh! if you can render it — "He has engraved me, me, me upon the palms of his hands," if your soul can know that God has you daily in remembrance, and neither can, nor will forget you, then you will dance before the ark of the Lord, and if Michal mocks, you may answer her as David did — "The God that chose me, made me to dance." Eternal Election and Indissoluble Union, are truths which make believers rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. "Be glad in the Lord and rejoice you righteous, and shout for joy all you that are upright in heart."
II. Now let us proceed to the second part of the subject, which is to CONSIDER THE TEXT AS A WHOLE. "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands." This seems to show us, first of all, that God’s remembrance of his people is constant. The hands, of course, are constantly in union with the body. In Solomon’s Song we read, "Set me as a seal upon your hand." Now this is a very close form of remembrance, for the seal is very seldom laid aside by the Eastern, who not being possessed with skill in the are of writing his name, requires his seal in order to affix his signature to a document; hence the seal is almost always worn, and in some cases is never laid aside. A seal, however, might be laid aside, but the hands never could be. It has been a custom, in the olden days especially, when men wished to remember a thing to tie a cord about the hand, or a thread around the finger by which memory would be assisted.
But then the cord might be snapped or taken away, and so the matter forgotten, but the hand and that which is printed into it must be constant and perpetual. O Christian, remember that by night and by day God Is Always Thinking of You. From the beginning of the year even to the end of the year, the Lord’s eye is upon you, according to his precious word — "I, the Lord do keep it, I will water it every moment, lest any hurt it I will keep it night and day." Your remembrance of God is intermittent; you thought of him this morning when you rose from your beds; you are trying to think of him now, and this evening again your thoughts will go up to him; these are only times and seasons of remembrance, but God never ceases to recollect you. The finite mind of man cannot constantly be occupied, if it is to engage in other pursuits, with any one thought; but the gigantic mind of God can allow of a million trains of thought at once. He is not confined to thinking of one thing, or working out one problem at a time. He is the great many-handed, many-eyed God; he does all things, and meditates upon all things, and works all things at the same time; therefore he never is called away by any urgent business so that he can forget you. No second person ever comes in to become a rival in his affection towards you. You are fast united to your great Husband, Christ, and no other lover can steal his heart. And Jesus, having chosen you, does never allow a rival to come. You are his beloved, his spouse, the darling of his heart, and he has himself said, "My eye and my heart are toward you continually." Every moment of every day, every day of every month, and every month of every year, is the Lord continually thinking upon you, if you be one of his.
Still further, the text as a whole, seems to show us that this recollection on God’s part is practical. We are engraven upon his heart — this is to show his love; we are put upon his shoulders — this is to show that his strength is engaged for us; and also upon his hands, to show that the activity of our Lord will not be spared from us; he will work and show himself strong for his people; he brings his omnipotent hands to effect our redemption. What would be the use of having a friend who would think of us, and then let his love end in thought? The faithfulness we need is that of one who will act in our defense. We need one who so cares for us, that against every arrow of the adversary he will lift up the shield; and for every need will find a supply. We need an active sympathy from God. Surely this is the intention of the text. "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands;" as if everything that God touched left a memorial of his people on it. Every work he did, he did it with the same hands that carved the remembrance of his people.
Do you see the drift of it? If he moulds a world between his palms, and then sends it wheeling in its orbit, it is between those palms which are stamped with the likeness of his sons and daughters, and so that new work shall minister to their good. If he divides a nation, it is always with the hand that bears the remembrance of Zion. Scripture itself tells us this, "When he divided the nations, he set the bounds of the people according to the number of the children of Israel." the Great Wheel of Providence, when God makes it revolve, works for the good of the people whom he has called according to his purpose. There are many strings, but they are all in one hand, and they all pull one way, to draw a weight of glory to the chosen. There are many wheels, and innumerable cogs, and as you and I look about us, we cannot understand the machinery. We cry, "O wheels, what do you work?" but the end, the end, if you stood there and saw the end of everything, you would see that God has stamped all the wheels with the memory of his children, so that the result is always good, and only good to those whom he has engraven on the palms of his hands. It is, then, a practical as well as a constant sympathy.
Next, dear friends, and to the children of God this will be a delightful thought, this is an eternal remembrance. You cannot suppose it possible that any person can erase what is written on God’s hand. The Scriptures tell us that we are in the hand of Christ, and that none shall pluck us out. Some Arminians say we can slip out; but how can we slip out if we are engraved there? We may well defy all the devils in hell, with all their craft, even to forge a plan by which they can get at the palms of God’s hands. I cannot think of a thing that should seem more impossible, more tremendously impossible, than that any creature, whether it be life or death, things present or things to come, should ever be able to reach the palms of God’s hands, so as to erase our names. Our hymn is not wrong when it says —
"Once in Christ, in Christ for ever,
Nothing from his love can sever."
And Toplady made no mistake when he said — "My name from the palms of his hands Eternity will not erase; Impressed on his heart it remains In marks of indelible grace: Yes, I to the end shall endure, As sure as the earnest is given; More happy, but not more secure, The glorified spirits in heaven." "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands."
Still I have not drained my text dry. Let the treader of the winepress tread the grapes once more, and more holy wine shall flow there from. This memorial — how tender! How tender, I say, because it is engraved on the hand. We have heard of one, an eastern queen, who so loved her husband that she thought even to build a mausoleum to his memory was not enough. She had a strange way of proving her affection, for when her husband’s bones were burned she took the ashes and drank them day by day, that, as she said, her body might be her husband’s living sepulcher. It was a strange way of showing love, and there was a marvelous degree of strange, fanatical fondness in it. But what shall I say of this divine, celestial, unobjectionable, sympathetic mode of showing remembrance, by cutting it into the palms. Words fail to express our intense content with this most admirable sign of tenderness and fond affection. It appears to me as though the King had said, "Shall I carve my people upon precious stones? Shall I choose the ruby, the emerald, the topaz? No; for these all must melt in the last general conflagration. What then? Shall I write on tablets of gold or silver? No, for all these may canker and corrupt, and thieves may break through and steal. Shall I cut the memorial deep on brass? No, for time would fret it, and the letters would not long be legible. I will write on myself, on my own hand, and then my people will know how tender I am, that I would sooner cut into my own flesh than forget them; I will have my Son branded in the hand with the names of his people, that they may be sure he cannot forsake them; hard by the memorial of his wounds shall be the memorial of his love to them, for indeed his wounds are an everlasting remembrance." How loving, then, how full of superlative, super-excellent affection is God toward you and toward me in so recording our names.
Weary not when I yet further remark, that this memorial is most surprising. Scripture, which is full of wonders, yet allows a "Behold" to be put before this verse — "Behold!" If the things I have been saying are enough to make you wonder, the deep sea of the text, without bottom and without shore, would much more cause you to hold up your hands in astonishment. Child of God, let your cheerful eyes and your joyful heart testify How Great a Wonder it Is That You, Once So Vile, So Hard of Heart, So Far Estranged from God, Are this Day Written on the Palms of His Hands!
And then I close this point by saying it is also most consolatory. When God would meet Zion’s great doubt — "God has forgotten me," he cheers her with this — "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands." Where are you this morning, mourner — where are you? Ah, you may well hide your head for shame. You said yesterday, when trial came after trial,
"My God has forgotten me quite;
My Lord will be gracious no more."
Here is God’s answer to you this morning — "It cannot be; I cannot forget you, for I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands!"
"Forget you, I will not, I cannot, your name
Engraved on my heart does for ever remain;
The palms of my hands while I look on,
I see The wounds I received when suffering for thee."
There is no sorrow to which our text is not an antidote. If you are a child of God, though your troubles have been as innumerable as the waves of the sea, this text, like the channels of the ocean, can contain them all. I care not this morning though you have lost everything, though you came here a penniless bankrupt beggar; so long as you have this text You Are Rich Beyond a Miser’s Dream! You may have forgotten your own mercy; your own experience may seem a dream to you; the devil may tell you that you never knew the Lord; your own sins may bear evidence in the same way; but if you have believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, the covenant made with David’s Lord must not and cannot be broken. "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands." Come, drooping saint, lift up your head! You dreary, downcast brother, be of good cheer! If Christ remembers you, what more can you want? The dying thief’s extremity could not suggest a prayer larger than "Lord, remember me!" and your greatest sorrow cannot ask for a more complete assuagement than this — "Lord, show me that you have engraved me upon the palms of your hands."
III. And now we come to the last point, upon which only a hint. I said the last point would be to EXCITE YOU TO THE DUTY WHICH SUCH A TEXT SUGGESTS. Beloved in our Lord Jesus Christ, if you be partakers of this inestimably precious text, let me say, first of all, is it not your duty to leave your cares behind you today? We do not want any valuables left behind in the chapel, but these cares can be swept out tomorrow morning when the women clear away the rubbish, and I am sure the dustbin never contained viler draff. Leave them here today. What are you fretting about? Is not a Christian inconsistent when he is full of carking care? Should not the fact that God always graciously and tenderly recollects you, compel you once for all to leave your burden with him who cares for you?
"The Lord our leader goes before, Sufficient he, and none besides; And were the dangers many more, We need not fear with such a guide. Through snares through dangers, and through foes He leads, whose arm almighty is; What, then, if earth and hell oppose! We need not fear if we are his."Then, if you must not have cares, I think you should not have those deep sorrows and despairs. Lift up your head. Jehovah remembers you, man. The billows cannot drown him whom the Lord of Hosts ordains to bring to shore. Be glad in your God, and his perfect love. Do you not think that joy becomes a man to whom such a text as this belongs? Wipe your brow. It is true, the sweat stands on it, but your greatest labor is done; Christ has finished it for you. There need, at least, be no sweat of trepidation and alarm upon your face. He cannot forget you; you have what angels envy you; you have what poor mourning souls would give their eyes to win — what troubled consciences would give their blood to buy. Be glad. Why should the children of such a King go mourning any one of their days?
Now lift up your heads, and bathe them in the sunlight of God; take the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. I am certain that the man who wears such a gold chain about his neck, need not bear the rags of penury. The man who wears such a diamond coronet as this upon his brow, ought not to behave like a poor beggar in the streets. Go not clothed in rags of mourning, but put on the scarlet and fine linen of thanksgiving, since God gives you this consolation, "I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands."
One thing more, and that is, if this text is not yours, how your mouths ought to water after it. It is wrong to covet, but not to covet such a thing as this. "Covet earnestly the best gifts." Is there a soul here who says, "O that I had a part and lot in this matter! Would God that I were saved, that I were written in the palms of Jesus’s hands?" Poor soul, if you desire Christ, he desires you. If you have a spark of love to him, his soul is like a fiery furnace of love toward you, and you may have his pardoning love shed abroad this morning. "How?" say you. "Whosoever believes on him shall never perish." To believe is to trust, and if you trust confidently, simply, just as a child trusts to its mother’s arms, you shall find that he will never fail your trust nor prove untrue to your confidence. May God bring you to know yourself, and to know the sweetness of this blessed, blessed text, which overwhelms and destroys all power of speech in me, and makes me feel the poverty of my thoughts and language. God bless you, for Jesus’ sake.
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