Glimpses Of Christ And His People

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not. ²I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not. ³The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth? ⁴It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. ⁵I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please. ⁶Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant? ⁷Behold his bed, which is Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. ⁸They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night. ⁹King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon. ¹⁰He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem. ¹¹Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

—Song Of Solomon 3

This world of ours is full of danger to the soul of the believer. There is no place, no scene, no circum­stance, from which this danger is absent. Our very blessings are full of danger. The choicest gifts from the hand of God form no exception to this rule. The blessings of life have a tendency to make the believer sit at ease in the world, to find a resting place below the skies, to build his nest in the branches of this green tree. The gifts of God may draw away his affections from the Giver, leaving the balance on the side of the fond treasures by which he is surrounded. And then, if the soul is to be brought back to its right state, comes the crushing stroke, the bleeding heart, the tearful eye. These are life’s daily lessons. In one form or another they are the lot of all. The snow-white locks, the deep lines in the furrowed brow, the half suppressed sigh, the secret tear forcing itself to the eyelid in spite of ourselves; these are some of the penalties a treach­erous world inflicts on our too trusting hearts.

And why is there such sorrow in every hour, such danger in every path? The cause is in the heart. The world does not take our hearts by assault, or we should be better able to resist it. No, it steals a march upon us. The citadel is captured while we have not yet awaked from slumber. We have lain in the world’s lap so long that we have become overpowered by its influence. The ease of nature, the repose of the flesh, the absence of outward trial and the comparative prosperity of our path have stolen a march on the soul. Somehow or other the heart is not quite so fresh in its breath­ings after God as it used to be. There is not the inner thirsting, the secret panting of spirit for the light and joy of the Lord’s presence which once character­ized us. We feel a distance between our souls and Jesus. We perceive; perhaps not a dark cloud or a deep gulf between Him and our hearts, but a few films and shadows obscuring the dear countenance once so bright to our view. This has come about, not from indulged sin, not from any plain and persistent course of disobedience, but from the heart’s repose in the blessings and gifts of God by which it is surrounded; by lying too unreservedly in the lap of ease and comfort. In this way our inner heart has become almost a stranger to the “cross daily” taken up for the Lord’s sake. It has had a long repose and now it starts from its slumber to find that all is not quite right with it. It misses the peaceful, joyful, soul-restoring presence of the Lord Jesus.

So it is with the believer in these opening verses. “By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.” She was on the bed and there she missed the Saviour. Ah, the sweet presence of Jesus is not in the repose of the flesh, in the lap of nature. Christ and the cross, Christ and self-denial, Christ and earnest wakeful watchfulness, Christ and an ever pressing towards the mark, these are inseparable companions; not Christ and ease, Christ and repose, Christ and slumber. We may seek Him in the latter, but the heart will be painfully conscious that He is not with it in them. Its deep, unspoken language will be, “I sought him, but I found him not.”

Still there is one thing that keeps it safe; one golden link that binds that heart to the Saviour, even in the very midst of all this and that is love: “I sought him whom my soul loveth.” This, in God’s hand, will sooner or later set the heart right again. This stirs it up, makes it feel that all is not right within and lifts it up from the bed on which it has too long lain. The love of Christ shining within and drawing the heart after Him by its heavenly attraction is the source of all renewing, reviving energy in the soul. This, touched afresh by the finger of God’s Spirit, or under the chas­tening strokes of a Father’s hand, makes it rise up in renewed energy and seek again that which it has lost: “I will rise now,” is the soul’s language. All is wakefulness, earnestness. It has heard a voice from heaven on that bed, “Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.” The heart has looked around, like the prodigal in the far country, and missed this and that; the plenty of the Father’s table, the joy and gladness of the presence of Jesus, and it exclaims with him, “I will arise, and go to my Father.” True, a thorny path lies before it, a tedious path; and perhaps a long one, before it is again seated at that Father’s table. Still there is one precious thought. From the moment it exclaimed, “I will arise,” that moment the loving Father started forth to meet the wanderer. The journey taken, the meet­ing will soon be, then the long lost joy and glad­ness, the plenty of the Father’s house. So with the beloved here: “I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth.”

Still she does not find Him. The mournful cry ascends from the heart, “I sought him, but I found him not.” Why is this? Can the Lord be sought and not be found? If when we wander from Him He could be again found with ease it would seem to be a less grievous thing than it is to forsake Him. The Lord loves not to stand at a distance in our earnest seeking after Him; but we must learn by experience that, “it is an evil thing and bitter,” to “forsake the living God.” Therefore He stands at a distance, in order that the soul may learn thoroughly this needed lesson. This is Infinite wisdom. It makes us dread to leave His side again. It makes us cleave and cling more firmly to Jesus than ever we did. It makes us cry from the depths of our souls, “Hold up my goings in thy paths, that my footsteps slip not.”

Still the love of Christ in the heart only urges her onward. She sits not down in despair. She seeks Him, and she must find Him, or her heart cannot rest. Like Mary at the sepulcher, she stoops down and weeps, passes all earthly glory by, nay, heavenly glory also, for the longing she has after Jesus. No resting place for her troubled heart till Jesus is found. Oh, what are angels, what is heaven itself, to the heart that loves the Saviour and yet sees Him not! Nothing, nothing! Jesus only is its cry; and having Him, it has all.

The watchmen are next tried: “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?” She does not mention names, for her own heart is so full of love that she supposes every one must know Him and love Him too. Like Mary at the tomb again, when asked by the Saviour, whom she supposed to be the gardener, “whom seekest thou,” she mentions no name, but says, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus had so possessed her own heart that she supposed the gardener and all others were possessed with Him in the same degree.

Would to God it were so with us all! Oh, that Christ had this place in our affections; so filling every niche in the heart that we could see nothing else! Reader, does Christ hold an exalted place in your heart? Is Christ all to you? Oh, you are not worthy of Him if He be not!

Now comes the great, the joyous change; “It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth.” Mark, dear reader: “It was but a little,” precious, precious words! The Lord loves not to stand at a distance. The Lord will stand at a distance only “a little.” Only till we have learned thoroughly the lesson, what a bitter thing it is to leave Him. Only until we have “passed from them,” till we have found the emptiness of everything besides. Only till we have come to the end of the city, the streets, the broad ways, the watchmen; only till the end of everything here. Only until the soul has learned thoroughly the lesson that all its hope is Jesus, Jesus only. Then does He present Himself; then does the heart cling to Him as it never did before. Only with its last expiring breath will it cease to clasp the Saviour. “I held him, and would not let him go.” Then does the Savior not only meet us graciously, lovingly, and draw our hearts to Him; He places Himself in our power. He allows us to detain him. Like the disciples on the way to Emmaus we constrain Him. We move the heart of our God. We make Him turn in to our dwelling. It is as if He could not resist our plea. “Abide with us,” is the language of the heart. And He allows the soul to move Him; to bring Him: “Into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.”

What may we learn from these figures? “My mother’s house,” my native home, the place of my heart and all its affections; the dearest place earth knows, as well as the nearest. Oh yes, the soul now desires to bring the Saviour into everything; every place and every duty, every scene and every circumstance. The heart’s native place must be His also; where it loves to dwell He must dwell likewise. It has no home, no resting place, if He be not there. Where that heart is, He must be too, or else the place has no attraction for it.

Oh, blessed renewal! Blessed waking up! How precious the dealing that remained at a distance to produce this glorious result. Surely we shall praise God throughout eternity, most of all for the cross; for our dark clouds and thorny paths, for our heart-rending and “deeps calling unto deep.” Surely these things will wake a new melody from the golden harps, new praises from our tongues! Surely the sweetest songs of heaven will rise from the deepest sorrows of earth!

But, mark again. Not only does she bring her Saviour into the “mother’s house” but “into the cham­ber of her that conceived me.” This is quite a distinct thing. The mother’s house is the home of the heart, where others may enter with the Saviour. But this is a chamber in that house, a secret chamber, a place where all are excluded but the nearest and dearest. Into this she now brings that Saviour. She must have Him in secret; Him alone with herself, Him where all else are shut out—Him and only Him. The soul’s desire is now to hold communion with Jesus. Oh, how near she now draws to His side, how near He draws to her? What sweet fellowship there is now between heart and heart! How God and his child hold fellowship together, as if they never could part! Reader, do you know anything of this? This is being within the veil. Has your soul ever yet tasted such bliss?

Mark then, the two features in this returning Christian bringing Jesus into everything and holding sweet fellowship alone with Him. What does the Saviour Himself say about this? “I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.”

The correct rendering of the closing words of this verse is, “till she please.” or, till the hour of his full pleasure is come. The “roes and the hinds of the field” are, of all other animals, the most quick to hear. The least sound or approach of danger can be heard by them at a great distance. This is the reason the figure is used. The soul desiring to have nothing without Jesus, and living near to His side, is in a safe place. There it is most quick1y alive to danger. There it discerns evil most quickly, sees the foe at a great distance, hears the sound of alarm when others living at a greater distance are deaf. Three times only in this precious book are these words used, and on each occa­sion because of the nearness of the soul to Christ. The Lord is just saying in this verse, she is now near to me, and with her heart full of me. Stir her not from that spot. Wake her not up from that blessed repose. Leave her there till the hour of her full pleasure is come. And when will be the Church’s hour of full pleasure? The morning of resurrection. Her cup of joy will then be full. But not till then. Thus she anticipates it—“I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.” Lord, hasten that day! “Come, Lord Jesus! come quickly.”

And now, how is the believer seen? No longer on the “bed,” but as she ought to be seen at all times; coming out of the wilderness. “Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?” Now she makes an impression, she arrests attention, she witnesses for Jesus to those around, so that they look on, and ask, “Who is this?” We have a similar view in the eighth chapter and fifth verse. “Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved” It is the leaning on Jesus, the humility, the conscious helplessness, the entire dependence on Him, that strikes the world’s eye and leaves an impression behind, so that they ask, “Who is this?” So here—she is now alive, awake. She is now no longer reposing on the bed, but “coming up out of the wilderness.” So it is that she speaks for God. It is “out of the wilderness” the back turned on the world and all its vanities, and the face towards heaven that speaks for God. It is the unworldliness, the heavenly-mindedness, the self-sacrifice, the pressing onward toward the mark—these are the things that speak for God; these are the things that make the world look on and “take knowledge of them,” that have “been with Jesus.”

But how is she seen coming “out of the wilderness” In a special manner. She is seen as “pillars of smoke” This strikes the eye. This arrests the attention. And what is this figure?

We have in these words a picture of Israel in the wilderness; a type of the true Israel of God. A cloud spread itself over the people as they journeyed, protect­ing them from the scorching rays of the sun. In their front was a cloudy pillar which led them onward. In the night-time a pillar of fire gave them light light to the people of God—but darkness to all others. A cloud is, in Scripture, the symbol of God’s presence. It is of constant occurrence. This cloud, or “pillar of smoke,” breathed a sweet perfume of myrrh and frankincense. It is this cloud, in the passage before us that strikes the eye. It is because of this cloud upon the people, fragrant with its delicious perfumes, that the question is asked, “Who is this?” It is Christ seen in us, and over us, and with us, that makes men take knowledge of us, and ask, “Who is this?” It is Christ that makes us fragrant, Christ that fills us with sweet perfumes. This—only this—speaks for God in a dying world. And the more we are covered with this cloud, this precious One, Christ Jesus, the brighter will our light shine, the clearer will be our testimony before men. Lord Jesus, cover us with this cloud! Cover us in every step we take, at all times, in all places, with Thyself! Let nothing of us be seen! Hide us, Lord, in the clefts of the Rock! Let Thyself be seen, only Thyself, Lord, in all Thy precious fragrance, and so may we come up “out of the wilderness”

But what are the perfumes of the “pillars of smoke?” They are “myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?” Myrrh is bitter, emblematical of the cross. Frankincense is sweet, emblematical of the joys, the gladness, the delights of that cross. Of old, it was said to Israel, when they were feasting on the lamb, “With bitter herbs they shall eat it.” They had the frankincense in the fast—in the joy of their security in the blood of the lamb. They had the, “myrrh” in the “bitter herbs,” which they had to eat along with that lamb. The sufferings of Christ and the consolations of Christ are inseparable. They ever run side by side. The believer is baptized into Christ’s sufferings; he feels that the myrrh is his portion. But oh, how sweet the frankincense! The mercy-seat, the intercession of Christ, the joy of the Lord, the love ever-abiding, unchangeable, the comfort of the Spirit; these form the fragrant perfumes springing from the cross, from the frankincense combined with the myrrh. Oh, precious cloud by which we are covered! Jesus, Jesus, it is Thou! Thou art all our sweetness, all our beauty, all our joy!

“With all powders of the merchant,” with every perfume that can be conceived or known. In Him is concentrated all fragrance, all beauty. Heaven is holy and beautiful only because He is there. Its golden harps have no melody apart from His dear name. Its new song would be all discord apart from Him. Its very light and atmosphere, its golden pavement and jasper walls; all, without Him, would be dreariness, desolation, and death. Yes, in our dear, precious Jesus, is concentrated the fragrance of “all powders of the merchant” The sufferings of the cross, the fragrance of the mercy-seat, the sum of all peace, all joy; these are in the cloud, in the “pillars of smoke” which cover the people of God as they “cometh out of the wilderness.”

“Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness.” Once they were enemies; now are they the redeemed of the Lord. Once hateful and hating one another; now are they knit together in the bonds of a Saviour’s love. Once without hope, without God, “afar off;” but now the pardoned, accepted, beloved, and chosen. As such they are coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved.

“Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness” Weak, wandering, helpless ones, full of failings, infirmities, and sins; often in the depths of sorrow and in paths of perplexity and distress; often with a tearful eye and a bleeding heart; often “stooping down, and looking…into the sepulcher,” and anon on Tabor’s summit. Yet the cloud is round them; the arms of love beneath them; the eye of Omnipotence and Mercy never of them; and Canaan, with its songs of victory, before them. Thus are they seen coming up out of the wilderness.

“Behold his bed, which is Solomon’s” Here the Saviour, the true “Solomon,” the Prince of peace, reposes. Among His people, thus “cometh out of the wilderness” He delights to dwell. There He rests with joy. It is His “bed,” “Behold” it! See the cloud in which He dwells! Mark ye the fragrance which issues from it! It is “myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant”—“Behold” it! There Jesus rests. There is the fullness of His joy!

“Threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.” This is the night dispensation through which the Lord’s people are now passing. “The night is far spent, the day is at hand” Dangers throng them in the darkness of this night. Foes of every kind are in their path—foes without and fears within. They are passing through a “wilderness.” There is no green spot near. Fierce howling wolves are abroad, seeking their prey. The darkness of the night favors their designs. All is danger.

And whom do they surround? There are “lambs” in that flock—weak, trembling, helpless ones. They are full of “fear in the night.” They need to be cared for, watched over, taken to the bosom of the Lord, to be guarded from error, and shielded by truth. Therefore there are “ministers” over the Lord’s weak ones; men wakeful, watchful, sober, vigilant; men who have the love of Christ shed abroad in their hearts, and the care of His people their first concern. They are men who know the truth, and love it, and are prepared to stand by it in the face of every foe. They have no name, no party, no badge, beyond being “the valiant of Israel.” They fight the Lord’s battles. They guard, strengthen, and build up the weak. One feature distinguishes them— every man hath his sword on his thigh” the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, is bound closely to their hearts. It is the only weapon seen on them. They never travel without it. It is always at hand. It is a keen, two-edged blade, and in the Spirit’s hand pierces deeply. Their Master told them to carry it always with them. He used it Himself to meet every foe. “It is written” made that foe fly back at every quarter. That sword is now girded on their thigh. But not always girded. It is ever and anon in their hands. “They all hold swords” They know they are on a field of battle, and that after the sword has been in their hands, it must not be put away, but girded to the thigh. They are told not only to “withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.” The armor is never off them. The battle is never over. They “stand” as true soldiers on the field, with the sword ever at their side. And they know how to use that sword. They are no novices in the faith. They are “expert in war.” The midnight vigil, the trench work, the assault, the roar of artillery, and the clash of arms, these have made them what they are. They have had to meet Satan in his wiles, as well as in open warfare. They have had to meet him as an “angel of light,” as well as a beast of prey, “seeking whom be may devour.” These are the Lord’s valiant ones, the guardians of His people, the soldiers of the cross, standing sleeplessly and earnestly round the “bed” of the Prince of peace, as with His chosen ones He is seen coming up “out of the wilder­ness”

Let us now turn and look at Solomon’s chariot. “King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.”

We are here presented with a view of the Lord’s chariot of salvation. It is that which is to convey the bride to her royal inheritance. The believer steps into it the moment he is brought to know Jesus. The Lord Jesus, the Prince of peace, is there, and His bride by His side. It is made “of the wood of Lebanon.”—the fragrant and incorruptible cedar. It is made by no human hands; “King Solomon made himself a chariot.” The plan of salvation was wrought out in heaven, it is the Lord’s own devising. Salvation is His from beginning to end. Man has no part in it whatever. It is of fragrant and incorruptible material, it is fragrant with the blood of Jesus. It is incorruptible, for it is founded on Him who is the first and the last, the beginning and the ending, the Almighty. Its pillars are of silver. Apostles, martyrs, prophets, are those pillars. They are refined and purified as silver. The, Lord causes them to “pass under the rod.” He refines them as silver in a furnace of earth, purified seven times. They are cast into the furnace. The Lord Himself sits by. The fire purges away their dross. Then when the silver reflects the refiner’s image they are taken out. Not one moment sooner, lest the dross should not be purged; not one moment longer, lest the silver should be injured. Then they become pillars in the temple of God. They are the ornament and support of the chariot of salvation.

“The bottom thereof of gold” The foundation of this chariot is gold. This gold is Jesus. “I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir.” “I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich.” This golden foundation, then, is Jesus. It forms the bottom of the chariot and its back. On this those who are inside recline. So it is with Jesus. The Church reclines on Him. He is her sure and precious foundation. He is her resting-place. Without Him she has nothing solid beneath her. Without Him she has no hope of salvation.

“The covering of it of purple” The covering over her, that which spreads itself over her head, is the royal color. Her Saviour is “King of kings,” and she is also a king—a “king and a priest unto God.” She has a kingdom which cannot be moved. She has a crown before her which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall soon place upon her brow. She is soon to—“live and reign with Christ.”

“The midst thereof being paved with love” The inner part of this heavenly chariot is love. The love of Jesus is that on which she rests. He “loved me, and gave himself for me.” The banner which floats over the banqueting house is “love”—the unutterable love of Jesus. The internal part of this chariot of salvation is the same—the love of Jesus. “Having loved His own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end.” “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God”

Ah, this no tongue can utter;
this no mortal page can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is,
None but His loved ones know.

“Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.”The mother brings forth the son, and heaven brought forth Jesus. There the counsels of redeeming love were planned. There everything was arranged. Heaven sent forth the beloved Son. He “loved the church, and gave himself for it;” In that day when, on the cross, He gave Himself for the Church, He espoused her to Himself. She became His betrothed bride. We behold the Saviour’s dying love, and we cast our crown, even now, at His feet. The Church on high, the Church below—the Church militant, and the Church trium­phant—cast their crowns at His feet, and cry, “Worthy is the Lamb” It was joy to Him to leave His bright home on high, and give Himself for her. It was the “gladness of his heart.” to redeem her from “this pres­ent evil world” That hour was to Him the hour of espousal, the hour of the “gladness of his heart.” Yet a little while and He shall come forth. On His head shall be many crowns—conspicuous above all, the crown of redemption. Now the cry is, “Go forth and behold king Solomon” Go forth, sinners, and look upon this Jesus. Go forth, Christians, and behold this precious Saviour. Behold Him! Is he not worthy of all praise! Behold Him! Should He not attract every eye. Behold Him! The “chief of ten thousand,” “he is altogether lovely” Behold Him, O ye heavens! Behold Him, all ye nations of the earth! The crown is on the head of Jesus, hasten and bow at His feet. The crown is on the head of Jesus. “Go forth” and own him as your Saviour, your King, and your God. He is now about to come forth from the inner shrine with that crown on His head. Then “every eye shall see him”—“every tongue should confess” Him. Oh, now, before that hour of judgment and wrath breaks upon thine head, sinner, go forth and fall at His feet. Accept Him while the hand of mercy is outstretched to welcome thee. Yet a few more suns shall rise and set, and then shall no longer be extended the hand of mercy, but the outstretched arm of judgment. O sinner, O nominal professor, with a name to live but dead! Hasten to His feet! “now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”

Oh for the robes of whiteness;
Oh for the tearless eye;
Oh for the glorious brightness
Of the unclouded sky!

“Oh for the no more weeping
Within the land of love;
The endless joy of keeping
The bridal feast above.

“Oh for the bliss of rising
My risen Lord to meet!
Oh for the rest of lying
Forever at His feet!

“Oh for the hour of seeing
My Saviour face to face;
The hope of ever being
In that sweet meeting-place.

“Jesus, Thou King of glory,
I soon shall dwell with Thee!
I soon shall sing the story
Of thy great love to me.

“Meanwhile my thoughts shall enter
E’en now before Thy throne;
That all my love may center
On Thee and Thee alone.

Views: 0