H. F. Witherby.
1880 110 Beloved, let us sit down, and consider how long it will be before we shall see His face! His face, His own, even His, who is the chiefest amongst ten thousand, the altogether lovely — Jesus, our Lord. Some of us are but young, others are hoar-headed. Even should He not come in our lifetime, it cannot belong, a very few more years at the very longest, and we shall see Jesus.
It will do you good, beloved, to sit still in your chambers, and to meditate upon the greeting, the meeting, so close at hand. Perhaps it shall he that, lying upon your bed, the flesh failing, the body perishing, your last hour shall come, the last moments of which shall be the soul's straining to catch a sight of Him. Then He shall smile upon you, and your friends shall see His beauty beaming upon your dying countenance, and shall watch your responding smiles of greeting, as your spirit hastes away to be "for ever with the Lord."
What is this life? A vapour that appeareth for a short time, and then vanisheth away. Yes; but it is our time for learning the Lord, and longing to see Him. Come back, brethren, to the love of Jesus. True, of many of us our spring-time is past — true, the early sweetness of our affectionate devotedness to Him is gone by. What have we penned? Is it true? Is it so that we love Him not as once we did? Is the measure, as well as the manner, less? He knows all things, let Him answer; we will be silent. But the early freshness has gone, like the bloom of childhood from our cheeks; we are getting into years, and the years, each one of them, declare to us, "Nearer home, nearer to the Lord Jesus." Those who have lived to middle age have lived long enough to have their hearts broken. This, it would seem, is one great object for which we are allowed to live a handful of years in life's school. We have seen our parents die, we have seen our children's spirits wing their way home; and we have seen and felt His presence by the dying couches of the aged and the young. Yet we have lived long enough to have our hearts bound up by His hand, beloved, as we are broken by the sorrow's of life. And each succeeding year heaven becomes not only nearer, but dearer to our hearts; more treasures are stored there yearly, as the years roll by, and each period of time teaches us what we could never have conceived of Jesus, had it not been for sorrow.
He is so real, as a person who is the beloved of our hearts; so near as a Friend who sticketh closer than a brother. Hence, we say again, let us sit down, and count up the longest time that it possibly can be before we shall see His face. We know the shortest time it may be — "a moment, the twinkling of an eye;" yes, we may be winging our way home before the next tick of the clock, for come He will, and will not tarry. But the longest, how long shall it be? Sit down in your solitude, alone with the Lord, and consider His greeting, and your meeting of His eye!
What is life? It is the privileged moment for glorifying the Lord on earth. Here we are set to walk as He walked — to shine as lights in the world for to be His epistle, known and read of all men. And as we think of seeing Him, we can but think of pleasing Him. Is it too much to say that many of the Lord's people have a tissue between their affections and the Lord's heart? A something exists. They are not bright. Peace, this through His blood, they have, but His peace does not fill their hearts. It is of no use disguising the truth — many of God's people are not at this hour in personal intercourse with Christ. The spiritual countenance lacks expression. The features of Christianity are there, but the spiritual eye lacks lustre; Jesus is not close to the soul, Christ is not dwelling in the heart by faith.
This is not heaven upon earth, nor is it longing after Himself. Spiritual intelligence is not spiritual affection, and without its love the lamp is dim. And with such thoughts, again, we say, Come, sit in your chamber alone; meditate upon the hour beyond this life and this world, when we shall behold His face. What a remedy this is for present spiritual ailments! Some have one nostrum for the soul's state, then another, but all fail, save "Jesus only." We thank God for the doctrines, and thank Him more that each doctrine is a door opening into the presence of the Lord. Are we outside these doors? Many are! They know well what they are like. There is that of shittim wood, and that of silver and that of gold; there is knowledge of His spotless humanity, of His redeeming blood, of His God and Father's glory through Him. But open the door of His humanity, and behold Himself, beloved. Before you is the perfect Man; open the silver door of redemption, and behold His once streaming wounds; open the golden door, and see Him where He is in the glory on high. It is Jesus only with these hearts of ours; let us seek more of His blest company. His presence will shed its holy glow over our very selves. It is but a little while, and we shall walk with Him in white; and now, in this day of christian talk, our words shall speak the one language of heaven, if only we are in His presence.
Ah! fellow-Christians, our souls sigh out, "What a change there would be in us if Christ formed our hearts." The strife of tongues would cease, pride would vanish, sin would be confessed, and men would take knowledge of us that we had been with Jesus.