From an Address.
I WOULD first call your attention to this―that “faith is the substance of things hoped for.” If we realized what we profess to believe, then if the earth opened beneath us, or the heavens above us, we should be able to look up steadfastly, as Stephen did. Why is there so much trifling? why so much vanity? Because these solemn realities are so little known by us. The circumstances of our eternal day ought to surround us now. Faith should bring the future into the present, and separate the heart from seen things. If we walk by faith, we shall be uninfluenced by the things of sight. If all these realities were to become true to sight, what would be the consequence? We should not be able to look at anything else. If the Holy Ghost were here to sight, as He is to faith, what riveted attention―what waiting upon Him! If the Lord Jesus were to come in our very midst in His body of humiliation, would there be such gazing about? would there be attention to other things? Nay: but if even overwhelmed by the cares of the week, if tortured by the sorrows of life, there would be at least a momentary forgetfulness of all. Supposing that poor widow alone, and sobbing in her chamber, and the future―the glory ― revealed to her sight, and her heart aware that she is a partaker in it―oh, how it would dry her tears! how absorb her heart! to the displacing of all that makes her so miserable. Suppose we were in a deadly conflict with Satan, and in the midst were to see the Lord holding out a bright crown, and saying, “Him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne,” how would the eye fasten upon that object There is but a step to that day when there will be no more parting, but all uniting―when all things that have been uttered will find their answer. But faith makes the things that will be true to sight then, true to the heart now. Suppose that, like the apostle, we were caught up to the third heaven and saw the Paradise of God, what would be the effect? We can easily suppose that man to be contented anywhere; and calmly to say, “A night and day have I been in the deep,” and make very light of everything here, whether sorrow or joy. We know so very little of this, and therefore little things vex us or seduce us. But remember that we are not men, but children of God; and if so, then if we walk as men, the Spirit of God is grieved. What think you of possessing in measure now all that we shall possess in the day of the Lord? Then pain of body, and pain of heart, would all appear very light, and we could say with the apostle, after enumerating things that would make some people mad, “These light afflictions, which are but for a moment.” Is this language that could only be used by an apostle? Why do not we thus speak? It is the right of all who have the Spirit.
Faith. Hope. Love. ―Faith has wings, and both hope and love can make use of them. But hope whispers a cheering, comforting story as she looks ahead. She says, Neither faith’s wings nor hope’s comfort will be needed shortly. When Home is reached love will be able to do without either.
GEO. C.