LECTURE XI. THE CHRISTIAN, IN THE GRAVE. "If I wait the grave is mine house.”—Job xvii. 13. 66 THIS was in answer to the opinion and advice of his friends. They had repeatedly intimated, that if he repented, and reformed, and prayed to God, he might surely reckon upon a speedy restoration to health, and a peaceful abode, and a prosperous condition. "If thou wouldest seek unto God betimes, and make thy supplications to the Almighty; if thou wert pure and upright? surely now he would awake for thee, and make the habitation of thy righteousness prosperous. Though thy beginning was small, yet thy latter end should greatly increase. If thou prepare thine heart, and stretch out thine hands toward him; if iniquity be in thine hand, put it far away, and let not wickedness dwell in thy tabernacles. For then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot; yea, thou shalt be steadfast, and shalt not fear; because thou shalt forget thy misery, and remember it as waters that pass away: and thine age shall be clearer than the noon-day; thou shalt shine forth, thou shalt be as the morning. And thou shalt be secure, because there is hope: yea, thou shalt dig about thee, and thou shalt take thy rest in safety. Also thou shalt lie down, and none shall make thee afraid; yea, many shall make suit unto thee." Now, says Job, if I were to do this, and wait for the accomplishment of your promises, I should be disappointed. Not that it would be in vain for me to serve God; but he would not appear for me in the way of which you speak. He will not deliver me from my present afflictions in this world; or recover me from the disorder under which I am ready to expire-No. The case is mortal and desperate→→ "If I wait, the grave is mine house." This leads us to make two remarks. The first connects itself with a passage which he presently uttered, and which has given rise to much dispute. I refer to his noble confession. There are some who contend, that he means only to express his hope of a temporal redemption, or the revival of his former greatness. But, in answer to this poor and low interpretation, not to observe the solemnity of the introduction, and the grandeur of the sentiment and diction, it is plain, not from a few, but many declarations, that Job entertained no expectation of being restored in this life. "The eye that seeth me, shall see me no more. For now shall I sleep in the dust, and thou shalt seek me in the morning, and I shalt not be. My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me. My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart. And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it?" "If I wait, the grave is mine house." He must therefore have a reference to the most glorious of all events when he says, "O that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book! that they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock for ever! For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reigns be consumed within me." The second remark is, that when Job said, "If I wait, the grave is mine house," he was mistaken. Instead of a speedy dissolution, which he obviously looked for, "the Lord turned his captivity, and gave him twice as much as he had before. And after this, Job lived an hundred and forty years, and saw his sons, and his sons' sons, even four generations." How often, in the risings of his grace and of his providence, does he not only deliver, but surprise his people. The day seemed setting in with clouds and darkness, but at evening time it was light. "We would not, brethren," says Paul, "have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life: but we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead: who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver: in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us.” David, also, was soon able to refute his own unbelieving conclusion-" I said in my haste, I am cut off from before thine eyes: nevertheless, thou heardest the voice of my supplication when I cried unto thee." And is there a Christian here, but can acknowledge, to his praise, that he has been better to him than his fears; and done for him exceeding abundantly, above all he was once able to ask or think? -Yet Job's recovery, with regard to life, was not a cure. He was only reprieved. The sentence was left suspended over him still-"Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." And thus the words were true in his case-" If I wait, the grave is mine house:" and his house it was. And thus, my dear hearers, the words furnish a motto for each of you. Whatever be the object of your hope, here is your destination. You may wish, and you may wait; but here is the end of all your solicitudes. Whatever is your present abode, here is your last. You may now occupy a strait and mean tenement, or a large and splendid mansion: but you will neither be incommoded with the one, or delighted with the other, long-Here is the residence to which you are all hastening-hastening even while I speak -The grave is mine house. Let two things engage our at.tention.-Let us, I. CONSIDER WHAT IS AWFUL AND REPULSIVE IN THE GRAVE. And, II. WHAT THE CHRISTIAN CAN FIND TO RELIEVE IT. I. CONSIDER WHAT IS AWFUL AND REPULSIVE IN THE GRAVE. "The grave, dread thing; Men shiver when thou'rt named. Nature appalled Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark night.” whence -This is fine, but Job excels it. "Before I go I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death. A land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness." What a solemn grandeur pervades this representation! What an evidence does it furnish of Burke's observation, that obscurity is a source of the true sublime; and that, even in poetry, a powerful impres IV. The DYING OF THE CHRISTIAN IS ALWAYS safe and GLORIOUS IN THE ISSUE. We must take this into the account in doing justice to his end. For there are instances in which the Christian may not be able to express, or enjoy pleasure or hope in death. There are two cases of this kind. The first is, the case of Divine Rebuke for Moral Delinquency. For God, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, has said, "If his children forsake my law, and walk not in my judgments; if they break my statutes, and keep not my commandments; then will I visit their transgression with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes. Nevertheless, my loving kindness will I not utterly take from him, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail." This however is not wrath, but anger. Anger is consistent with love, and springs from it. "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." And he sometimes rebukes and chastens, at the last. He hides his face, and they are troubled; and perhaps even their sun goes down under a cloud. But he retains not his anger for ever. Though they are chastened of the Lord, they are not condemned with the world; and though here he humbles them under his mighty hand, he exalts them, in due time, for ever. The other is the case of Constitutional Malady. In this condition our heavenly Bard died; and we have known others who have died under a physical depression, with which religious encouragements have contended in vain. But though their end was not peace in the exit, it was peace in the issue. Their despondency did not affect their right to the tree of life. They condemned themselves; but God delighted in them. And what an exchange, what a surprise did such sufferers experience! They departed, expecting to awake in torment, and found themselves in Abraham's bosom! They left the world in a momentary gloom, and entered into everlasting sunshine! For observe, I beseech you, the difference between the delusion of the Infidel, and the mistake of the Christian. "I give," says Hobbs, "I give my body to the dust, and my soul to the Great Perhaps." "I am going to take," says he, "a leap in the dark." And such a man not only takes a leap in the dark, but into the dark. And from the darkness of ignorance, and doubt, and uncertainty, he plunges into the blackness of darkness for ever. But it is infinitely different with the Christian. He may take this last step in the dark, but he steps into day: perfect and endless day where it will be said to him, "Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw herself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended." It Thus, however he may expire, the result is blessed; and the day of his death is better than the day of his birth. is the day, when, as a weary traveller, he arrives at home: when, as a sea-tossed mariner, he enters his desired haven : when, as a long-enduring patient, he throws off the last feelings of his lingering complaint; when, as an heir of immortality, he comes of age, and obtains the inheritance of the saints in light. Thus, whatever may be the manner of his death, for him to die is gain." And what gain? Can the tongue of men or of angels express what the Christian by dying gains-In exemption? In residence? In fellowship? In knowledge? In holiness? In pleasure? For when he closes his eye on the sorrows of life, he shall not see evil any more." When he leaves this polluted earth, he has a better, even a heavenly country. When the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, he has a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. When he leaves the wicked world, and the defective church, he joins the spirits of just men made perfect, and the innumerable company of angels. Now he sees through a glass darkly, then face to face. Now, when he would do good, evil is present with him. Now, the consolations of God are often small with him. Then he will be presented faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy. For when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. But it doth not yet appear what we shall be. "In vain my feeble fancy paints One gentle sigh their fetters breaks; Before the willing spirit takes Her mansion near the throne, |