Meditation LXXXIV.
Meditation LXXXIV.
ON PRISONERS.
Under sail, August 30, 1759.
One consequence of war, is that prisoners are taken. By the laws of civilized nations, they are treated with sympathy and tenderness, as becomes fellow-creatures; yet their best situation has always something in it disagreeable, and (by the cruelty of those who forget the golden rule, to deal with others, in every situation, as they themselves would choose to be dealt with if in the same condition) something almost intolerable. For,
1. Though they are fed, yet their allowance is not the same as the king's servants.
2. They have not the privileges of the ship's crew as to bedding—but are crowded together in an uncomfortable confinement.
3. No confidence can be put in them; hence, though we should chance to engage an enemy, as they could not be trusted to fight, so they would not share in the honor or advantage of the victory.
4. Though in the daytime they sometimes mingle with the ship's company, and partake of their liberty, yet they have always the badge of bondage, being attended by sentries, and at night are separated and put under double guards, and so remain until the ensuing morning.
This is the fate of many in war; but, alas! a worse fate attends the rational world, where all are prisoners, and bound with the fetters of sin—except for those who have been pardoned by Jesus. And though the wicked enjoy liberties and riches in common with others, yes, more than others, yet "the little that a righteous man has, is better than the wealth of many wicked;" for if a little where love is, is better than an house full of sacrifices with strife; surely a very little, with the love of God—is better than great riches with his curse.
Now saints and sinners meet and mingle in the same assemblies, join in the same societies, and share the same privileges; yet the one always drags the heavy chain about with him, is a slave to every lust, the servant of sin, the captive of the mighty enemy, and the prey of the terrible destroyer. But the Christian; being delivered from these, walks in the glorious liberty of the sons of God. While sinners feed on swinish husks, and break their teeth with gravel; the saints are allowed to feast on heavenly manna, and to drink of the water of life. The unconverted lie down among thorny cares, disquiet, terror, and remorse; but the Christian has a sweet recumbency on the love of God, takes his rest in the promise, and finds it a couch which can ease his pain, and remove his complaint.
Again, as these prisoners are separated and classed together at night, so, at the night of death, the wicked mingle no more with the righteous. For while the souls of saints soar aloft to everlasting day, and their bodies rest in the peaceful grave until the joyful resurrection; the spirits of sinners are shut up in the prison of hell, and their bodies in beds of corruption until the general judgment. A little time brings about the freedom of our captives, they are set at liberty in a few months perhaps, and at the longest, when the war comes to an end; but should the war continue as long as they live, yet death shall deliver them from the power of every mortal, and translate them into the eternal world!
But those who are risen up in rebellion against God—he shall shut up in hell, and pour forth his vengeance on them for evermore. Finally, we may see the depravity of the world in the conduct of our friends, who would condole more our being taken prisoner by an enemy, and losing all we had—than they bewail our natural, our unrenewed state—our loss of the image of God, of heaven, and of glory.
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