Verse-by-Verse Bible Commentary
Song of Solomon 2:16

Clarke's Commentary

Verse 16. My beloved is mine — The words of the bride on his entering: "I am thy own; thou art wholly mine."

He feedeth among the lilies. — The odour with which he is surrounded is as fine as if he passed the night among the sweetest scented flowers.

Bridgeway Bible Commentary

2:8-6:3 MEMORIES AND DREAMS

Springtime and night-time (2:8-3:5)

A fresh poem begins with the girl’s recalling the coming of her shepherd-lover across the hills to visit her at her house (8-9). She remembers his words as he invited her to go with him to visit the fields and vineyards, where the dreariness of winter had passed and the new life of spring was bursting out (10-15). But now she is alone again and he is in the fields looking after his sheep. She longs for the day when he will return to her (16-17).
Because she thought constantly about her lover by day, the girl often dreamt about him at night. On one occasion she dreamt that she was walking around the streets of her home town looking for him. When, to her delight, she found him, she immediately took him back to her family home (3:1-4). She adds her reminder that, when two people have such love for each other, it does no good to stir up their feelings further (5).

Coffman's Commentaries on the Bible

THE TRUE LOVERS LIVE HAPPILY IN THEIR OWN ESTATE

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes, That spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom. My beloved is mine, and I am his: He feedeth his flock among the lilies. Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether."

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vineyard" This is called, "The most enigmatic verse in Song of Solomon."Broadman Bible Commentary (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1972), op. cit., p. 137. Bunn suggested that, "It might be a reference to the young men who pursued her."Ibid., p. 138. Balchin also understood the verse as figurative. "The Shulamite requests that anything that would spoil the vineyard of their lives must be caught and eradicated. Let love be pure and undisturbed."The New Bible Commentary, Revised, p. 582. The imagination of men has been turned completely loose on this verse. Pope tells us of an alleged explanation, as follows: "The marauding foxes refer to the Amalekites who held a grudge against Jacob, and destroyed his birthright."The Anchor Bible Commentary (Garden City, New York: Doubleday and Company, 1972), op. cit., p. 403.

"My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feedeth his flock among the lilies" Anchor Bible cites a number of scholars who find the most explicit sexual meanings in the second clause;Ibid. but all such notions lie utterly beyond the perimeter of what our English text says; and, as stated earlier, our concern is to understand what the text says, not what some imaginative scholar thinks it might mean. As the verse stands, it stresses the marital happiness of the shepherd and his Shulamite lover. Furthermore, we cannot accept the supposition of Redford that the Shulamite, "Was here lovingly thinking of Solomon as a shepherd. She idealizes."The Pulpit Commentary, Vol. 9d, p. 41. It seems to this writer that not even an idiot could have idealized Solomon as a shepherd pasturing his flock all night long, that is, "until the morning breezes blow, and the darkness disappears."Good News Bible on v. 17.

"Until the day be cool and the shadows flee away" See the Good News Bible rendition of this in the above paragraph.

"Turn, my beloved, be thou like a roe, or a young hart" The Good News Bible translates this: "Return, my darling, like a gazelle."Ibid. The picture here is one of marital happiness. Although the shepherd is out all night with the flock, his wife lovingly, awaits and anticipates his return. It seems to this writer that any application of these verses to Solomon is impossible.

"Upon the mountains of Bether" "There was a chain of mountains east of the Jordan river that bore that name";James Waddey, p. 107 -- Waddey gave this as a possible meaning. which says as clearly as language could say it that this happy couple, was at this time, living happily beyond the Jordan river, whither they had fled from the harem. This is what the passage says.

Now we take an excursion into the never, never land of what the scholars say it might mean:

"These `mountains of separation'Waddey's translation is here used an alternate reading in the ASV (footnote). refer to her breasts, and, by metonymy, to her whole person. Comparing Song of Solomon 1:13 and Song of Solomon 4:6 we have similar usage. The Shulamite says, `My beloved is unto me a bundle of myrrh betwixt my breasts'; and Solomon sings, `I will get me to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense.'"Ibid. In case there is any doubt of what is meant by this, this rendition of Song of Solomon 1:13 will clarify it: "My lover has the scent of myrrh as he lies upon my breasts."From the Good News Bible. This comparison of a woman's breasts to twin mountains is evidently quite old. The American Indians did the same thing when they called the mountains near Jackson Hole, Wyoming, "The Grand Tetons." A recent example of the same thing is near Kokurah, in Japan, where the soldiers of the United States Air Force called a couple of symmetrical mountain peaks, "The Jane Russell Peaks." This writer made a picture of those.

Interpretation: In this chapter, the Shepherd Lover, standing for Jesus Christ, appears to his love trapped in an evil world (Solomon's harem), takes her unto himself and bestows upon her citizenship in the heavenly kingdom. This all stands for the incarnation of Christ, the establishment of his Church, the rescue of his love (all mankind who believe in Him and obey Him), and his ascension to heaven, leaving the bride separated from Himself until the Second Advent. This separation is found in the allegory of the Bether mountains, "the mountains of separation" (Song of Solomon 2:17). Note that the Shepherd is absent from his lover in Song of Solomon 2:16. His Church feels the absence of Christ in heaven.

Barnes' Notes on the Whole Bible

The bride relates to the chorus a visit which the beloved had paid her some time previously in her native home. He on a fair spring morning solicits her company. The bride, immersed in rustic toils, refuses for the present, but confessing her love, bids him return at the cool of day. It is a spring-time of affection which is here described, still earlier than that of the former chapter, a day of pure first-love, in which, on either side, all royal state and circumstance is forgotten or concealed. Hence, perhaps, the annual recitation of the Song of Songs by the synagogue with each return of spring, at the Feast of Passover, and special interpretations of this passage by Hebrew doctors, as referring to the paschal call of Israel out of Egypt, and by Christian fathers, as foreshadowing the evangelic mysteries of Easter - Resurrection and Regeneration. The whole scene has also been thought to represent the communion of a newly-awakened soul with Christ, lie gradually revealing Himself to her, and bidding her come forth into fuller communion.

Song of Solomon 2:8

Voice - Better, “sound.” Not a voice, but the sound of approaching footsteps is meant (compare “noise,” Isaiah 13:4).

Song of Solomon 2:9

Like a roe - Gazelle (compare Proverbs 5:19 note). The points of comparison here are beauty of form, grace, and speed of movement. In 2 Samuel 2:18; 1 Chronicles 12:8, princes are compared to “gazelles.”

Wall - The clay-built wall of the house or vineyard of the bride’s family, different from the strong wall of a city or fortress Song of Solomon 5:7; Song of Solomon 8:9-10.

Looketh forth at the windows - The meaning evidently is, that he is looking in at, or through, the window from the outside. Compare Song of Solomon 5:4 note.

Shewing himself - Or, peering. Some, taking the marginal rendering, imagine that the radiant face of the beloved is thus compared to some beautiful flower entangled in the lattice-work which protects the opening of the window, from where he gazes down upon the bride.

Song of Solomon 2:10-13

Arise, my friend, my beautiful one, and come away - The stanza begins and ends with this refrain, in which the bride reports the invitation of the beloved that she should come forth with him into the open champaign, now a scene of verdure and beauty, and at a time of mirth and mutual affection. The season indicated by six signs Song of Solomon 2:11-13 is that of spring after the cessation of the latter rain in the first or paschal month Joel 2:23, i. e., Nisan or Abib, corresponding to the latter part of March and early part of April. Cyril interpreted Song of Solomon 2:11-12 of our Lord’s Resurrection in the spring.

Song of Solomon 2:12

The time of the singing ... - i. e., The song of pairing birds. This is better than the rendering of the ancient versions, “the pruning time is come.”

Song of Solomon 2:13

The vines ... - The vines in blossom give forth fragrance. The fragrance of the vine blossom (“semadar”), which precedes the appearance of “the tender grape,” is very sweet but transient.

Song of Solomon 2:14

The secret places of the stairs - A hidden nook approached by a zig-zag path. The beloved urges the bride to come forth from her rock-girt home.

Song of Solomon 2:15

The bride answers by singing what appears to be a fragment of a vine-dresser’s ballad, insinuating the vineyard duties imposed on her by her brethren Song of Solomon 1:6, which prevent her from joining him. The destructive propensities of foxes or jackals in general are referred to, no grapes existing at the season indicated. Allegorical interpretations make these foxes symbolize “false teachers” (compare Ezekiel 13:4).

Song of Solomon 2:16

Feedeth among the lilies - Pursues his occupation as a shepherd among congenial scenes and objects of gentleness and beauty.

Song of Solomon 2:17

Until the day break - Or, rather, until the day breathe, i. e., until the fresh evening breeze spring up in what is called Genesis 3:8 “the cool” or breathing time of the day.

And the shadows flee - i. e., Lengthen out, and finally lose their outlines with the sinking and departure of the sun (compare Jeremiah 6:4). As the visit of the beloved is most naturally conceived of as taking place in the early morning, and the bride is evidently dismissing him until a later time of day, it seems almost certain that this interpretation is the correct one which makes that time to be evening after sunset. The phrase recurs in Song of Solomon 4:6.

Mountains of Bether - If a definite locality, identical with Bithron, a hilly district on the east side of the Jordan valley 2 Samuel 2:29, not far from Mahanaim (Song of Solomon 6:13 margin). If used in a symbolic sense, mountains of “separation,” dividing for a time the beloved from the bride. This interpretation seems to be the better, though the local reference need not be abandoned.

Smith's Bible Commentary

Chapter 2

I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys ( Song of Solomon 2:1 ).

The bridegroom responds.

As the lily among the thorns, so is my love among the daughters ( Song of Solomon 2:2 ).

The bride responds.

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick ( Song of Solomon 2:3-5 )

And it probably should be translated "sick with love" because we have a thing of sick of love. We think that, you know, I'm sick of it. But that isn't the meaning here. I'm sick because of it. I'm sick and like I would say I'm smitten of a bad malady or something. Well, I'm sick of love. Love is the cause of my sickness. I'm sick with love. I'm just lovesick, we would say.

His left hand is under my head, his right hand doth embrace me. 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 ( Song of Solomon 2:6-7 ).

And then the bride goes on to speak.

The voice of my beloved! behold, he comes leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he stands behind our wall, he looks forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; and the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is beautiful. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. My beloved is mine, and I am his: and he feeds [his flocks, actually] among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether ( Song of Solomon 2:8-17 ).

She continues to speak. Or sing, actually, because it's a song. "

Dr. Constable's Expository Notes

2. Increased longing 2:8-17

Whereas the setting so far had been Israel, it now shifts to the Shulammite’s home that was evidently in Lebanon (cf. Song of Solomon 4:8; Song of Solomon 4:15).

Dr. Constable's Expository Notes

Even though they faced problems, the Shulammite rejoiced in the security of her beloved’s love and in the assurance that he would take care of his responsibilities to her (Song of Solomon 2:16 b).

Song of Solomon 2:17 probably looks forward to their wedding and to its physical consummation. "Bether" is a transliteration rather than a translation. Since no Bether mountains apparently exist in this part of the Middle East, it seems preferable to translate the Hebrew word (bater) as "cleavage" or "separation." The mountains of cleavage then may be an allusion to the Shulammite’s breasts. Another possibility is that Bether refers to the cleft in the mountains where the deer suddenly appears. [Note: Patterson, p. 57.]

"Contrary to some commentators, the Song does not portray sex as the great and final goal in order to experience true joy. Nor does it suggest that mutual admiration of the lovers, their physical bodies and sensuality, is the source of joy. Rather, the Song directly associates the joy of the heart with the final commitment of marriage. It is only within this commitment that all the joys of the male and female lovers come together, for it is only here that they realize the freedom to express those joys without restraint, knowing that the marriage bond seals their love in a lifetime commitment to each other." [Note: Hess, p. 123.]

Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible

My beloved [is] mine, and I [am] his,.... These are the words of the church; who, having had such evidences of Christ's love to her, and care of her, expresses her faith of interest in him, and suggests the obligations she lay under to observe his commands. The words are expressive of the mutual interest had property Christ and his church have in each other: Christ is the church's, by the Father's gift of him to her, to be her Head, Husband, and Saviour; and by the gift of himself unto her, to be her Redeemer and ransom price; and by marriage, having espoused her to himself, in righteousness and lovingkindness; and by possession, he living and dwelling in her, by his Spirit and grace: the church also acknowledges herself to be his, as she was, by the Father's gift of her to Christ, as his spouse and bride, his portion and inheritance; and by purchase, he having bought her with his precious blood; and by the conquest of her, by his grace in effectual calling; and by a voluntary surrender of herself unto him, under the influence of his grace: hence all he is, and has, are hers, his person, fulness, blood, and righteousness; and therefore can want no good thing. Moreover, these words suggest the near union there is between Christ and his church; they are one in a conjugal relation, as husband and wife are one; which union is personal, of the whole person of Christ to the whole persons of his people; it is a spiritual one, they having the same Spirit, the one without measure, the other in measure; it is a vital one, as is between the vine and its branches; and it is a mysterious one, next to that of the union of the three Persons in the Godhead, and of the two natures in Christ; it is an indissoluble one, the everlasting love of Christ being the bond of it, which call never be dissolved; and from this union flow a communication of the names of Christ to his church, conformity to him, communion with him, and an interest in all he has. Likewise these phrases express the mutual affliction, complacency, and delight, Christ and his church have in each other; he is beloved by his church, and she by him; she seems to have a full assurance of interest in him, and to make her boast of him; excluding all other beloveds, as unworthy to be mentioned with him: of whom she further says,

he feedeth among the lilies; which is either an apostrophe to him, "O thou that feedest", c. thou only art my beloved or is descriptive of him to others, inquiring who he was, and where to be seen: the answer is, he is the person that is yonder, feeding among the lilies; either recreating and delighting himself in his gardens, the churches, where his saints are, comparable to lilies; :-, and

:-; or feeding his sheep in fields where lilies grow: and it may be observed, it is not said, he feedeth on, or feeds his flock with lilies, but among them; for it is remarked y, that sheep will not eat them: or the sense may be, Christ feeds himself, and feeds his people, and feeds among them, as if he was crowned with lilies, and anointed with the oil of them; as was the custom of the ancients at festivals z, thought to be here alluded to by some who read the words, "that feeds"; that is, sups in or with lilies, being anointed and crowned with them. The lily is a summer flower a; the winter was now past, Song of Solomon 2:11.

y Tuccius in Soto Major in loc. z Vid. Fortunat. Schacc. Eleochrysm. Sacr. l. 1. c. 28. p. 137. a Theophrast. apud Athenaeum in Deipnosoph. l. 15. c. 7. p. 679.

Henry's Complete Commentary on the Bible

      14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.   15 Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.   16 My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.   17 Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

      Here is, I. The encouraging invitation which Christ gives to the church, and every believing soul, to come into communion with him, Song of Solomon 2:14; Song of Solomon 2:14.

      1. His love is now his dove; David had called the church God's turtle-dove (Psalms 84:19), and so she is here called; a dove for beauty, her wings covered with silver (Psalms 18:13), for innocence and inoffensiveness; a gracious spirit is a dove-like spirit, harmless, loving quietness and cleanliness, and faithful to Christ, as the turtle to her mate. The Spirit descended like a dove on Christ, and so he does on all Christians, making them of a meek and quiet spirit. She is Christ's dove, for he owns her and delights in her; she can find no rest but in him and his ark, and therefore to him, as her Noah, she returns.

      2. This dove is in the clefts of the rock and in the secret places of the stairs. This speaks either, (1.) Her praise. Christ is the rock, to whom she flies for shelter and in whom alone she can think herself safe and find herself easy, as a dove in the hole of a rock, when struck at by the birds of prey, Jeremiah 48:28. Moses was hid in a cleft of the rock, that he might behold something of God's glory, which otherwise he could not have borne the brightness of. She retires into the secret places of the stairs, where she may be alone, undisturbed, and may the better commune with her own heart. Good Christians will find time to be private. Christ often withdrew to a mountain himself alone, to pray. Or, (2.) her blame. She crept into the clefts of the rock, and the secret places, for fear and shame, any where to hide her head, being heartless and discouraged, and shunning even the sight of her beloved. Being conscious to herself of her own unfitness and unworthiness to come into his presence, and speak to him, she drew back, and was like a silly dove without heart,Hosea 7:11.

      3. Christ graciously calls her out of her retirements: Come, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice. She was mourning like a dove (Isaiah 38:14), bemoaning herself like the doves of the valleys, where they are near the clefts of the impending rocks, mourning for her iniquities (Ezekiel 7:16) and refusing to be comforted. But Christ calls her to lift up her face without spot, being purged from an evil conscience (Job 11:15; Job 22:26), to come boldly to the throne of grace, having a great high priest there (Hebrews 4:16), to tell what her petition is and what her request: Let me hear thy voice, hear what thou hast to say; what would you that I should do unto you? Speak freely, speak up, and fear not a slight or repulse.

      4. For her encouragement, he tells her the good thoughts he had of her, whatever she thought of herself: Sweet is thy voice; thy praying voice, though thou canst but chatter like a crane or a swallow (Isaiah 38:14); it is music in God's ears. He has assured us that the prayer of the upright is his delight; he smelled a sweet savour from Noah's sacrifice, and the spiritual sacrifices are no less acceptable,1 Peter 2:5. This does not so much commend our services as God's gracious condescension in making the best of them, and the efficacy of the much incense which is offered with the prayers of saints,Revelation 8:3. "That countenance of thine, which thou art ashamed of, is comely, though now mournful, much more will it be so when it becomes cheerful." Then the voice of prayer is sweet and acceptable to God when the countenance, the conversation in which we show ourselves before men, is holy, and so comely, and agreeable to our profession. Those that are sanctified have the best comeliness.

      II. The charge which Christ gives to his servants to oppose and suppress that which is a terror to his church and drives her, like a poor frightened dove, into the clefts of the rock, and which is an obstruction and prejudice to the interests of his kingdom in this world and in the heart (Song of Solomon 2:15; Song of Solomon 2:15): Take us the foxes (take them for us, for it is good service both to Christ and the church), the little foxes, that creep in insensibly; for, though they are little, they do great mischief, they spoil the vines, which they must by no means be suffered to do at any time, especially now when our vines have tender grapes that must be preserved, or the vintage will fail. Believers are as vines, weak but useful plants; their fruits are as tender crops at first, which must have time to come to maturity. This charge to take the foxes is, 1. A charge to particular believers to mortify their own corruptions, their sinful appetites and passions, which are as foxes, little foxes, that destroy their graces and comforts, quash good motions, crush good beginnings, and prevent their coming to perfection. Seize the little foxes, the first risings of sin, the little ones of Babylon (Psalms 137:9), those sins that seem little, for they often prove very dangerous. Whatever we find a hindrance to us in that which is good we must put away. 2. A charge to all in their places to oppose and prevent the spreading of all such opinions and practices as tend to corrupt men's judgments, debauch their consciences, perplex their minds, and discourage their inclinations to virtue and piety. Persecutors are foxes (Luke 13:32); false prophets are foxes, Ezekiel 13:4. Those that sow the tares of heresy or schism, and, like Diotrephes, trouble the peace of the church and obstruct the progress of the gospel, they are the foxes, the little foxes, which must not be knocked on the head (Christ came not to destroy men's lives), but taken, that they may be tamed, or else restrained from doing mischief.

      III. The believing profession which the church makes of her relation to Christ, and the satisfaction she take sin her interest in him and communion with him, Song of Solomon 2:16; Song of Solomon 2:16. He had called her to rise and come away with him, to let him see her face and hear her voice; now this is her answer to that call, in which, though at present in the dark and at a distance,

      1. She comforts herself with the thoughts of the mutual interest and relation that were between her and her beloved: My beloved to me and I to him, so the original reads it very emphatically; the conciseness of the language speaks the largeness of her affection: "What he is to me and I to him may better be conceived than expressed." Note, (1.) It is the unspeakable privilege of true believers that Christ is theirs: My beloved is mine; this denotes not only propriety ("I have a title to him") but possession and tenure--"I receive from his fulness." Believers are partakers of Christ; they have not only an interest in him, but the enjoyment of him, are taken not only in the covenant, but into communion with him. All the benefits of his glorious undertaking, as Mediator, are made over to them. He is that to them which the world neither is nor can be, all that which they need and desire, and which will make a complete happiness for them. All he is is theirs, and all he has, all he has done, and all he is doing; all he has promised in the gospel, all he has prepared in heaven, all is yours. (2.) It is the undoubted character of all true believers that they are Christ's, and then, and then only, he is theirs. They have given their own selves to him (2 Corinthians 8:5); they receive his doctrine and obey his laws; they bear his image and espouse his interest; they belong to Christ. If we be his, his wholly, his only, his for ever, we may take the comfort of his being ours.

      2. She comforts herself with the thoughts of the communications of his grace to his people: He feeds among the lilies. When she wants the tokens of his favour to her in particular, she rejoices in the assurance of his presence with all believers in general, who are lilies in his eyes. He feeds among them, that is, he takes as much pleasure in them and their assemblies as a man does in his table or in his garden, for he walks in the midst of the golden candlesticks; he delights to converse with them, and to do them good.

      IV. The church's hope and expectation of Christ's coming, and her prayer grounded thereupon. 1. She doubts not but that the day will break and the shadows will flee away. The gospel-day will dawn, and the shadows of the ceremonial law will flee away. This was the comfort of the Old-Testament church, that, after the long night of that dark dispensation, the day-spring from on high would at length visit them, to give light to those that sit in darkness. When the sun rises the shades of the night vanish, so do the shadows of the day when the substance comes. The day of comfort will come after a night of desertion. Or it may refer to the second coming of Christ, and the eternal happiness of the saints; the shadows of our present state will flee away, our darkness and doubts, our griefs and all our grievances, and a glorious day shall dawn, a morning when the upright shall have dominion, a day that shall have no night after it. 2. She begs the presence of her beloved, in the mean time, to support and comfort her: "Turn, my beloved, turn to me, come and visit me, come and relieve me, be with me always to the end of the age. In the day of my extremity, make haste to help me, make no long tarrying. Come over even the mountains of division, interposing time and days, with some gracious anticipations of that light and love." 3. She begs that he would not only turn to her for the present, but hasten his coming to fetch her to himself. "Even so, come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Though there be mountains in the way, thou canst, like a roe, or a young hart, step over them with ease. O show thyself to me, or take me up to thee."

Spurgeon's Verse Expositions of the Bible

Two Sermons: A Song Among the Lilies and Loved and Loving

August 30th, 1874 by C. H. SPURGEON (1834-1892)

"My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies." Song of Song of Solomon 2:16 .

Last Sabbath, in our morning's sermon ("The Turning Point"), we began at the beginning and described the turning point in which the sinner sets his face towards his God, and for the first time gives practical evidence of spiritual life in his soul. He bestirs himself, he goes to his Father's house, and speedily is pressed to his Father's bosom, forgiven, accepted, and rejoiced over. This morning we are going far beyond that stage, to a position which I may call the very crown and summit of the spiritual life. We would conduct you from the door-step to the innermost chamber, from the outer court to the Holy of Holies, and we pray the Holy Spirit to enable each one of us who have entered in by Christ Jesus, the door, to pass boldly into the secret place of the tabernacles of the Host High, and sing with joyful heart the words of our text, "My beloved is mine, and I am his."

"For he is mine and I am his, The God whom I adore; My Father, Savior, Comforter, Now and for evermore."

The passage describes a high state of grace, and it is worthy of note that the description is full of Christ. This is instructive, for this is not an exceptional case, it is only one fulfillment of a general rule. Our estimate of Christ is the best garage of our spiritual condition; as the thermometer rises in proportion to the increased warmth of the air, so does our estimate of Jesus rise as our spiritual life increases in vigor and fervency. Tell me what you think of Jesus and I will tell you what to think of yourself. Christ us, yea, more than all when we are thoroughly sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost. When pride of self fills up the soul, there is little room for Jesus; but when Jesus is fully loved, self is subdued, and sin driven out of the throne. If we think little of the Lord Jesus we have very great cause to account ourselves spiritually blind, and naked, and poor, and miserable. The rebel despises his lawful sovereign, but the favored courtier is enthusiastic in his praise. Christ crucified is the revealer of many hearts, the touchstone by which the pure gold and the counterfeit metal are discerned; his very name is as a refiner's fire and like fuller's soap; false professors cannot endure it, but true believers triumph therein. We are growing in grace when we grow in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Let everything else be gone, and let Christ fill up the entire space of our soul, then, and only then, are we rising out of the vanity of the flesh into the real life of God. Beloved, the grandest facts in all the world to a truly spiritual man are not the rise and fall of empires, the marches of victory, or the desolations of defeat; he cares neither for crowns nor mitres, swords nor shields; his admiring gaze is wholly fixed upon Christ and his cross and cause. To him Jesus is the center of history, the soul and core of providence. He desires no knowledge so much as that which concerns his Redeemer and Lord; his science deals with what Jesus is and what he is to be, what he has done, what he is doing, and what he will do. The believer is mainly anxious as to how Jesus can be glorified, and how sinners can be brought to know him. That which concerns the honor of Jesus is our chief concern from day to day; as for other matters let the Lord do as he wills with them, only let Jesus Christ be magnified, and all the rest of the world's story has small significance for us. The Beloved is the head and front, the heart and soul of the Christian's delight when his heart is in its best state. Our text is the portrait of a heavenly-minded child of God, or rather, it is the music of his well stringed harp when love as minstrel touches the tenderest chords: "My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feedeth among the lilies." We shall note then, first, that here is a delighting to have Christ; secondly, a delighting to belong to Christ; and thirdly, a delighting at the very thought of Christ. I. First, here is A DELIGHTED TO HAVE CHRIST. "My beloved is mine." The spouse makes this the first of her joy notes, the cornerstone of her peace, the fountain of her bliss, the crown of her glory. Observe here that where such an expression is truthfully used the existence of the Beloved is matter of fact. Scepticism, and questioning have no place with those who thus sing. There are dreamers now-adays who cast doubt on everything; taking to themselves the name of philosophers, and professing to know something of science, they make statements worthy only of idiots, and demand for their self-evidently false assertions the assent of rational men. The word "philosopher" will soon come to mean a lover of ignorance, and the term "a scientific man" will be understood as meaning a fool, who has said in his heart there is no God. Such attacks upon the eternal verities of our holy faith can have no effect upon hearts enamoured of the Son of God, for, dwelling in his immediate presence, they have passed the stage of doubt, left the region of questioning far behind, and in this matter have entered into rest. The power of love has convinced us; to entertain a doubt as to the reality and glory of our Well-beloved would be torment to us, and therefore love has cast it out. We use no perhapses, buts, or ifs concerning our Beloved, but we say positively that he is, and that he is ours. We believe that we have better evidence of his being, power, Godhead, and love to us than can be given for any other fact. So far from being abashed by the cavils of sceptics, or quailing beneath the question, "Is there such a Beloved?" we are not careful to answer in this matter, for we know that there is; our love laughs at the question, and does not condescend to answer it save by bidding those who seriously inquire to "come and see" for themselves. We have ever found, beloved, that when a time of chilling doubt has come over us and such ague fits will come we have only to return to meditations upon Jesus and he becomes his own evidence by making our hearts burn within us with love of his character and person, and then doubt is doomed. We do not slay our unbelief by reason, but we annihilate it by affection. The influence of love to Jesus upon the soul is so magical I wish I had a better word so elevating, so ravishing, so transporting, it gives such a peace, and withal inspires such holy and lofty aspirations, that the effect proves the cause. That which is holy is true, and that which is true cannot rise out of that which is false. We may safely judge a tree by its fruit, and a doctrine by its result: that which produces in us self-denial, purity, righteousness, and truth, cannot itself be false, and yet the love of Jesus does this beyond everything else. There must be truth for a cause where truth is the effect; and thus love, by the savor which it spreads over the soul by contemplation of Christ, puts its foot upon the neck of doubt and triumphantly utters bold, confident declarations, which reveal the full assurance of faith. New-born love to Jesus, while yet in its cradle, like a young Hercules, takes the serpents of doubt and strangles them. He who can say from his heart "My Beloved," is the man who is in the way to confirmed faith. Love cannot, will not doubt; it casts away the crutches of argument and flies on the wings of conscious enjoyment, singing her nuptial hymn, "My Beloved is mine, and I am his." In the case before us the love of the heavenly-minded one is perceived and acknowledged by herself. "My beloved," saith she; it is no latent affection, she knows that she loves him, and solemnly avows it. She does not whisper, "I hope I love the peerless one," but she sings, "My beloved." There is no doubt in her soul about her passion for the altogether lovely one. Ah, dear friends, when you feel the flame of love within your soul, and give it practical expression, you will no longer inquire, "Do I love the Lord or no? "Then your inner consciousness will dispense with evidences. Those are dark days when we require evidences; well may we then fast, for the Bridegroom is not with us; but when he abides with us, enjoyment of his fellowship supersedes all evidences. I want no evidence to prove that food is sweet when it is still in my month; I want no evidence of the existence of the sun when I am basking in his beams, and enjoying his light, and even so we need no evidence that Jesus is precious to us when, like a bundle of myrrh, he perfumes our bosom. We are anxious doubters as to our safety, and questioners of our own condition, because we are not living with Jesus as we ought to be; but when he brings us to his banqueting house, and we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with him and with the Father, and then we believe and are sure, and our love to Jesus is indisputable, because it burns within too fervently to be denied. Why, when a Christian is in a right state, his love to Jesus is the mightiest force in his nature, it is an affection which, like Aaron's rod, swallows up all other rods; it is the mainspring of his action, and sways his whole body, soul, and spirit. As the wind sweeps over all the strings of the Alolian harp, and causes them all to vibrate, so does the love of Jesus move every power and passion of our soul, and we feel in our entire being that our Beloved is indeed ours, and that we love him with all our hearts. Here, then, is the Beloved realized, and our love realised too. But the pith of the text lies here, our possession of him is proven, we know it, and we know it on good evidence "My beloved is mine." You know it is not a very easy thing to reach this point. Have you ever thought of the fact that to claim the Lord and call him "my God," is a very wonderful thing? Who was the first man in the Old Testament who is recorded as saying "My God"? Was it not Jacob, when he slept at Bethel, and saw the ladder which reached to heaven? Even after that heavenly vision it took him touch effort to reach to "My God." He said "If God will be with me and will keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to put On, so that I come again to my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God." Only after long experience of divine goodness could he climb up to the height of saying "My God." And who is the first man in the New Testament that calls Jesus "My Lord and My God"? It was Thomas, and he must needs have abundant proofs before he can speak thus: "Except I see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe." Only when he had received such proofs could he exclaim "My Lord and my God." Blessed are they who reach it by simpler faith, who have not seen and yet have believed. "My Beloved" is a strong expression. "Beloved" is sweet, but "MY Beloved" is sweetest of all. If you think of it, it is no little thing to claim God as ours, to claim Jesus the Beloved as ours, yea, to put it in the singular, and call him mine; and yet, when the believer's heart is in the right condition, he makes the claim, and is warranted in so doing; for Jesus Christ is the portion of all believers. His Father gave him to us, and he has given himself to us. Jesus was made over to every believing soul, as his personal possession, in the eternal covenant ordered in all things and sure; Jesus actually gave himself for us in his incarnation, becoming bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh; he has made himself ours by his passion and death, loving us and giving himself for us, to save us from our sins; he has also given us power to appropriate him by the gracious gift of faith, by which we are in very deed married to him, and are enabled to call him the husband of our souls, who is ours to have and to hold, for better for worse, for life and for death, by a bond of marriage union which neither death nor hell, time nor eternity, can break. Jesus is ours by the promise, the covenant, and oath of God; a thousand assurances and pledges, bonds and seals, secure him to us as our portion and everlasting heritage. This precious possession becomes to the believer his sole treasure. "My beloved is mine," saith he, and in that sentence he has summed up all his wealth. He does not say "My wife, my children, my home, my earthly comforts are mine." He is almost afraid to say so, because while he is yet speaking, they may cease to be his: the beloved wife may sicken before his eyes, the child may need a tiny coffin, the friend may prove a traitor, and the riches may take to themselves wings, therefore the wise man does not care to say too positively that anything here below is his; indexed, he feels that in very truth they are not his, but only lent to him "to be returned anon"; but the Beloved is his own, and his possession of him is most firm. Neither doth the believer when his soul is in the best state so much rejoice even in his spiritual privileges as in the Lord from whom they come. He has righteousness, wisdom, sanctification and redemption; he has both grace and glory secured to him, but he prefers rather to claim the fountain than the streams. He clearly sees that these choice mercies are only his because they are Christ's, and only his because Christ is his. Oh, what would all the treasures of the covenant be to us if it were possible to have them without Christ? Their very sap and sweetness would be gone. Having our Beloved to be ours, we have all things in him, and therefore our main treasure, yea, our sole treasure, is our Beloved. O ye saints of God, was there ever possession like this? You have your beloveds, ye daughters of earth, but what are your beloveds compared with ours? He is the Son of God and the Son of Man! The darling of heaven and the delight of earth! The lily of the valley and the rose of Sharon! Perfect in his character, powerful in his atoning death, mighty in his living plea! He is such a lover that all earthly loves put together are not worthy to touch the hem of his garment, or loose the latchet of his shoes. He is so dear, so precious, that words cannot describe him nor pencil depict him, but this we will say of him, he is "the chief among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely," and he is ours. Do you wonder that we glory in this fact, and count this the crowning delight of our lives, "My beloved is mine"? The very tenure upon which we hold this priceless possession is a matter to glory in. O worldlings, you cannot hold your treasures as we hold ours. If you knew all, you would never say of anything, "It is mine," for your holding is too precarious to constitute possession. It is yours till that frail thread of life shall snap, or that bubble of time shall burst. You have only a leasehold of your treasures, terminable at the end of one frail life; whereas ours is an eternal freehold, an everlasting entail. "My beloved is mine," I cannot lose him, nor can he be taken from me; he is mine for ever, for "who shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord? "So that, while the possession is rare, the tenure is rare also, and it the life of our life, and the light of our delight that we can sing

"Yea, thou art mine, my blessed Lord, O my Beloved, thou art mine! And, purchased with thy precious blood, My God and Savior, I am thine.

"MY CHRIST! Oh, sing it in the heavens, Let every angel lift his voice; Sound with ten thousand harps his praise, With me, ye heavenly hosts, rejoice.

"The gift unspeakable is given, The grace of God has made him mine; And, now, before both earth and heaven, Lord, I will own that I am thine."

Now, beloved friends, I cannot talk about this as I feel, I can only give you hints of that which fills me to the full with joy. I beg you to contemplate for a single moment the delight which is stored up in this fact, that the blessed Son of God, the "brightness of the Father's glory," is all our own. Whatever else we may have, or may not have, he is ours. I may not exhibit in my character all the grace I could wish, but "My beloved is mine"; I may have only one talent, but "My beloved is mine"; I may be very poor and very obscure, but "My beloved is mine"; I may have neither health nor wealth, but "My beloved is mine"; I may not be what I want to be, but "My beloved is mine." Yea, he is altogether mine, his Godhead and his manhood, his life, his death, his attributes, and prerogatives, yea, all he is, all he was, all he ever will be, all he has done, and all he ever will do, is mine. I possess not a portion in Christ, but the whole of him. All his saints own him, but I own him as much as if there were never another saint to claim him. Child of God, do you see this? In other inheritances, if there are many heirs, there is so much the less for each, but in this great possession every one who has Christ has a whole Christ all to himself, from the head of much fine gold, down to his legs, which are as pillars of marble. The whole of his boundless heart of love, his whole arm of infinite might, and his whole head of matchless wisdom, all is for thee, beloved. Whoever thou mayst be, if thou dost indeed trust in Jesus, he is all thine own. My beloved is all mine, and absolutely mine; not mine to look at and talk about merely, but mine to trust in, to speak to, to depend upon, to fly to in every troublous hour, yea, mine to feed upon, for his flesh is meat indeed, and his blood is drink indeed. Our beloved is not ours only to use in certain ways, but ours outright, without restriction. I may draw what I will from him, and both what I take and what I leave are mine. He himself in his ever glorious person is mine, and mine always; mine when I know it, and mine when I do not know it, mine when I am sure of it, and mine when I doubt it; mine by day, and mine by night; mine when I walk in holiness, ay, and mine when I sin, for "if any man sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." He is mine on the hill Mizar, and mine in the swellings of Jordan; mine by the grave where I bury those I love, mine when I shall be buried there myself, mine when I rise again; mine in judgment, and mine in glory; for ever mine. Note well that it is written, "My beloved is mine," in the singular. He is yours, I am glad of it; but still to me it is most sweet that he is mine. It is well to bless God that others have a possession in Christ, but what would that avail if we were strangers to him ourselves? The marrow and the fatness lie in the personal pronoun singular, "My beloved is mine. "I am so glad that Jesus loves me." Oh for a blessed grip with both hands on such a Christ as this! Observe well that he is ours as our Beloved, so that he is ours as whatever our love makes of him. Our love can never praise him enough, or speak well enough of him, she thinks all descriptions fall short of his deservings; well, then, Jesus is ours at his best; if we think him so glorious, he is ours in all that glory. Our love says that he is a fair, lovely, sweet, and precious Christ, and let us be sure that, however lovely, sweet, and precious he is, he is all ours. Our love says there is none like him, he is King of kings and Lord of lords, he is the ever blessed; well, as the King of kings and Lord of lords he is yours. You cannot think too much of him, but when you think your best he is yours at that best. He has not a glory so high that it is not yours, nor a lustre so brilliant that it is not yours. He is my beloved, and I would fain extol him, but never can I get beyond this golden circle, when I most extol him he is still mine. Here, then, is the basis of Christian life, the foundation on which it rests: to know that most surely Christ is altogether ours is the beginning of wisdom, the source of strength, the star of hope, the dawn of heaven. II. The second portion of the text deals with DELIGHTING TO BELONG TO CHRIST. "I am his." This is as sweet as the former sentence. I would venture to put a question to each loving wife here present when you were married which was the sweetest thought to you, that you were your husband's, or that he was yours? Why, you feel that neither sentence would be sweet alone: they are necessary to each other. Ask any fond, loving heart which of these declarations could best be parted with, and they will tell you that neither can be given us. Christ is mine, but if I were not his it would be a sorry case, and if I were his and he were not mine it would be a wretched business. These two things are joined together with diamond rivets "My beloved is mine, and I am his." Put the two together, and you have reached the summit of delight. That we are his is a fact that may be prove yea, it should need no proving, but be manifest to all that "I am his." Certainly we are his by creation: he who made us should have us. We are his because his Father gave us to him, and we are his because he chose us. Creation, donation, election are his triple hold upon us. We are his because he bought us with his blood, his because he called us by his grace, his because he is married to us, and we are his spouse. We are his, moreover, to our own consciousness, because we have heartily, from the inmost depths of our being, given ourselves up to him, bound by love to him for ever. We feel we must have Christ, and be Christ's, or die "For me to live is Christ." Brethren and sisters, mind you attend to this clause, I am sure you will if the former one is true to you. If you can say, "My beloved is mine," you will be sure to add, "I am his, I must be his, I will be his: I live not unless I am his, for I count that wherein I am not his I am dead, and I only live wherein I live to him." My very soul is conscious that I am his. Now this puts very great honor upon as. I have known the time when I could say "My beloved is mine" in a very humble trembling manner, but I did not dare to add "I am his" because I did not think I was worth his having. I dared not hope that "I am his" would ever be written in the same book side by side with "My beloved is mine." Poor sinner, first lay hold on Jesus, and then you will discover that Jesus values you. You will prize him first, and then you will find out that he prizes you, and that though you do not feel worthy to be flung on a dunghill, yet Jesus has put a value upon you, saying "Since thou wert precious in my sight thou hast been honorable, and I have loved thee." It is no small joy to know that we poor sinners are worth Christ's having, and that he has even said, "They shall be mine in the day when I make up my jewels." This second part of the text is true as absolutely as the first. "I am his" not my goods only, nor my time, nor my talents, nor what I can spare, but "I am his." I fear that some Christians have never understood this. They give the Lord a little of their surplus, which they never miss. The poor widow who gave all her living, had the true idea of her relation to her Lord. She would have put herself into the treasury if she could, for she felt "I am his." As for myself, I wish I could be dropped bodily through the little slit of Christ's treasure box, and be in his casket for ever, never to be heard of any more as my own, but to be wholly my Lord's. Paul desired to spend and be spent. It is not easy to do those two things distinctly with money, for when you spend a thing it is spent at one and the same time, but the apostle meant that he would spend himself by activity, and then when he could do no more, he would be glad to be spent by passive endurance for Christ's sake. The believer feels that he belongs to Jesus absolutely; let the Lord employ him as he may, or try him as he pleases; let him take away all earthly friends from him or surround him with comforts; let him either depress him or exalt him, let him use him for little things or great things, or not use him at all, but lay him on the shelf; it is enough that the Lord does it, and the true heart is content, for it truthfully confesses, "I am his. I have no mortgage or lien upon myself, so that I can call a part of my being my own, but I am absolutely and unreservedly my Lord's sole property." Do you feel this, brethren and sisters? I pray God you may. Blessed be God, this is true evermore "I am his," his to-day, in the house of worship, and his to-morrow in the house of business; his as a singer in the sanctuary, and his as a toiler in the workshop; his when I am preaching, and equally his when I am walking the streets; his while I live, his when I die; his when my soul ascends and my body lies mouldering in the grave; the whole personality of my manhood is altogether his for ever and for ever. This belonging to the Well-beloved is a matter of fact and practice, not a thing to be talked about only, but really to be acted on. I am treading on tender ground now, but I would to God that every Christian could really say this without lying: "I do live unto Christ in all things, for I am his. When I rise in the morning I wake up as his, when I sit down to a meal I eat as his, and drink as his. I eat, and drink, and sleep unto the Lord, in everything giving thanks unto him. It is blessed even to sleep as the Lord's beloved, to dream as his Abrahams and Jacobs do, to awake at night and sing like David, and then drop off to "sleep in Jesus." "It is a high condition," say you. I grant it, but it is where we ought to abide. The whole of our time and energy should be consecrated by this great master principle, "I am his." Can you say it? Never rest till you can. And if you can, beloved, it involves great privilege. "I am his," then am I honored by having such an owner. If a horse or a sheep is said to belong to the Queen, everybody thinks much of it: now you are not the Queen's, but you are the Lord's, and that is far more. Through belonging to Christ you are safe, for he will surely keep his own. He will not lose his own sheep, he paid too dear a price for them to lose them. Against all the powers of earth and hell the Redeemer will hold his own and keep them to the end. If you are his he will provide for you. A good husband careth for his spouse, and even thus the Lord Jesus Christ cares for those who are betrothed unto him. You will be perfected too, for whatever Christ has he will make worthy of himself and bring it to glory. It is because we are his that we shall get to heaven, for he has said, "Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am." Because they are his he would have them with him. Now, give your thoughts licence to wonder that any one of us should be able to say, "I am his." "I who used to be so giddy and thought" less, So sceptical, and perhaps profane, I am his." Ay, and some of you can say, "I who used to be passionate and proud, I who was a drunkard, I whose lips were black with blasphemy, I am his." Glory he unto thee, O Jesus Christ, for this, that thou hast taken up such worthless things as we are and made us thine. No longer do we belong to this present evil world, we live for the world to come. We do not even belong to the church, so as to make it our master; we are part of the flock, but like all the rest we belong to the Great Shepherd. We will not give ourselves up to any party, or become the slave of any denomination, for we belong to Christ. We do not belong to sin, or self, or Satan; we belong entirely, exclusively, and irrevocably to the Lord Jesus Christ. Another master waits upon us and asks us to give our energies to his services, but our answer is, "I am already engaged." "How is that?" "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus, and therefore from henceforth trouble me no more." "But can you not serve me in part?" "No, sir, I cannot serve two masters; I am not like a man who can do as he pleases, I have no time to call my own." "How is that?" "I belong to Christ, I am wholly his. If there is anything to be done for him I am his man to the best of my ability; I decline no service to which he calls me, but I can serve no other Lord." Lord Jesus, help each one of us now to say

"I am thine, and thine alone, This I gladly, fully own; And in all my works and ways, Only now would seek thy praise."

III. To conclude: the saint feels DELIGHT IN THE VERY THOUGHT OF CHRIST. "He feedeth among the lilies." When we love any persons, and we are away from home, we delight to think of them, and to remember what they are doing. You are a husband travailing in a foreign land; this morning you said to yourself, "At this time they are just getting up at home." Perhaps the time is different, for you are in another longitude, and you say to yourself, "Ah, now the dear children are just getting ready to go to the Sabbath-school;" and by-and-by you think they are at dinner. So delight in the thought of Christ made the church say, "He feedeth among the lilies." She was pleased to think of where he was and what he was doing. Now, where is Jesus? What are these lilies? Do not these lilies represent the pure in heart, with whom Jesus dwells? The spouse used the imagery which her Lord had put into her mouth. He said "As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters," and she appropriates the symbol to all the saints. A preacher who is great at spiritualizing has well said on this verse, "The straight stalk, standing up erect from the earth, its flowers as high from the ground as possible, do they not tell us of heavenly-mindedness? Do they not seem to say, 'set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth'? And if the spotless snow of the leaves teaches us of grace, then the gold of the anthers tells us of that crown which shall be the reward of grace." The violet and the primrose in spring nestle close to the earth, as if in sympathy with her chill condition, but the lily lifts up itself towards heaven in sympathy with the summer's light and splendor. The lily is frail, and such are the saints of God; were not Jesus among them to protect them the wild beast would soon tread them down. Frail as they are, they are surpassingly lovely, and their beauty is not that which is made with hands. It is a beauty put upon them by the Lord, for "they toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." The saints work not for life, and spin no righteousness of their own, and yet the royal righteousness which adorns them far surpasses all that wisdom could devise or wealth procure. Where, then, is my Lord to-day? He is up and away, among the lilies of Paradise. In imagination I see those stately rows of milkwhite lilies growing no longer among thorns: lilies which are never soiled with the dust of earth, which for ever glisten with the eternal dews of fellowship, while their roots drink in unfading life from the river of the water of life which waters the garden of the Lord. There is Jesus! Can you see him? He is fairer even than the lilies which bow their heads around him. But he is here too where we are, like lilies which have scarce opened yet, lily buds as yet, but still watered by the same river, and yielding in our measure the same perfume. O ye lilies of Christ's own planting, he is among you; Jesus is in this house to-day, the unction which has made his garments so fragrant is discerned among us. But what is he doing among the lilies? It is said, "He feedeth among the lilies." He is feeding himself, not on the lilies, but among them. Our Lord finds solace among his people. His delights are with the sons of men; he joys to see the graces of his people, to receive their love, and to discern his own image in their faces. As he said to the woman of Samaria, "Give me to drink," so does he say to each one of his people, "Give me to drink," and he is refreshed by their loving fellowship. But the text means that he is feeding his people. He feedeth that part of his flock redeemed by blood of which we read that "the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them and shall lead them into living fountains of waters." Nor does he forget that part of his bock which is in the low lands of earth, but he gives them also their portion of food. He has fed us this morning, for he is the good Shepherd, and leaves none of his sheep to famish. Then what shall I do? Well, I will abide among the lilies. His saints shall be my companions. Where they flourish I will try to grow. I will be often in their assemblies. Ay, and I will be a lily too. By faith I will neither toil nor spin in a legal fashion, but I will live by faith upon the Son of God, rooted in him. I would be pure in life, and I would have the golden anther of looking to the recompense of the reward. I would lift up my soul aloft" towards heaven as the lily lifts up its flower. Jesus will come and feed by my side if I am a lily, and even I may yield him some pleasure by my humble gratitude. Beloved, this is a choice subject, but it is more sweet as a matter of fact than mere hearing can make it. "He feedeth among the lilies." This is our joy, that Christ is in his church, and the pith of all I want to say is this; never think of yourself or of the church apart from Jesus. The spouse says, "My beloved is mine, and I am his", she weaves the two into one. The cause of the church is the cause of Christ; the work of God will never be accomplished by the church apart from Christ, her power lies in his being in her midst. He feedeth among the lilies, and therefore those lilies shall never be destroyed, but their sweetness shall make fragrant all the earth. The church of Christ, working with her Lord, must conquer, but never if she tries to stand alone or to compass any end apart from him. As for each one of us personally, let us not think of ourselves apart from Christ, nor of Christ apart from us. Let George Herbert's prayer be ours.

"Oh, be mine still, still make me thine, Or rather make nor mine nor thine."

Let mine melt into thine. Oh, to have joint stock with Christ, and to trade under one name; to be married to Christ and lose our old name, and wast his name, and say, "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." As the wife is lost in the husband, and the stone in the building, and the branch in the vine, and the member in the head, we would be so amalgamated with Christ, and have such fellowship with him that there shall be no more mine nor thine. Last of all, poor sinner, you will say, "There is nothing in all this for me," and I should not like to send you away without a word. You are saying "This is a day of good tidings, but it is only for God's own people." I beg you to read through the first and second chapters of the Song, and see who it was that said, "My beloved is mine," because I should not wonder but what you are very like her. She was one who confessed, "I am black", and so are you. Perhaps grace will, one of these days, help you to say, "I am comely." She was one with whom her mother's children were angry perhaps you, too, are a speckled bird. She had done servile work, for they made her a keeper of the vineyards. I should not wonder but what you are doing servile work, too, trying to save yourself instead of accepting the salvation which Jesus has already wrought out for sinners. So it came to pass that she became very sorrowful and passed through a winter of rain and cold. Perhaps you are there; and yet you know she came out of it her winter was past, and the birds began to sing. She had been hidden in the secret places of the stairs, as you are now; but she was called out from the dust and cobwebs to see the face of her Lord. One thing I wish to whisper in your ears she was in the clefts of the rock. O soul, if thou canst but get there, if thou canst shelter in the riven side of our Beloved, that deep gash of the spear from which flowed blood and water, "to be of sin the double cure"; if thou canst get there, I say, though thou be black and grimed with sin, and an accursed sinner, only fit to be a firebrand in hell, yet shalt thou, even thou, be able to sing with all the rapture of the liveliest saint on earth, and one day with all the transport of the brightest ones above, "My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies." There, go your way with those silver bells ringing in your ears; they ring a marriage peal to saints, but they ring also a cheery invitation to sinners, and this is the tune they are set to Come and welcome! Come and welcome! Come and welcome! Sinner, come! God bless you, for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Loved and Loving

by C. H. SPURGEON (1834-1892)

"My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feeds among the lilies." -Song of Song of Solomon 2:16

"My Beloved" -- this is a sweet name which our love takes liberty to apply to the Lord Jesus. His inexpressible beauty has won our affection, and we cannot help loving him whatever may come of it: whether he be ours or not, and whether he smiles upon us or frowns, we love him and cannot do otherwise. We are carried away by the torrent of his goodness, and have no longer the control of our affections. As long as we live we must and will love the altogether lovely One. Yes, he is, and must be to me, "My Beloved." BUT suppose -- suppose for a moment that we loved and had no right to love. Many a heart that has cried "My beloved," has been wounded even unto death, because it could not come at its choice, but was doomed never to exclaim, "My beloved is mine." The beloved was longed for, but could not be grasped. This is often so in earthly love, since such love may be unlawful, or unwise, and in every case it is the source of grievous misery. Thank God, this is not the case with the soul enamored with Christ Jesus; for he freely presents himself in the gospel as the object of our confidence and love. Though he is infinitely above us, yet he delights to be one with all his loving ones, and of his own will he gives himself to us. A polluted sinner may love the perfect Savior, for there is no word in Scripture to forbid. Ay, if a sinner would be wedded to the Lord of glory there is none to forbid the marriage. Suppose that our possession of Jesus were a matter of doubt, as, alas! it is with far too many: that would be a door of sorrow indeed. Life would be unhappy if it were soured by a question as to whether our Well-beloved is ours or not. To an awakened and instructed mind it is anguish to be dubious of our hold of Christ; about this we must needs be sure, or be unhappy. All else may be in jeopardy, but, O most blessed Lord, never allow our possession of yourself to be in dispute! It would be a poor thing to say, "My beloved may be mine," or even "he was mine," or "perhaps he is mine": we cannot bear any verb but one in the indicative mood, present tense -- "My beloved IS mine." Suppose yet once again that, though we loved, and rightly loved, and actually possessed the beloved object, yet our affection was not returned. Ah, misery! to love and not be loved! Blessed be God, we can not only sing, "My Beloved is mine," but also, "I am his." He values me, he delights in me, he loves me! It is very wonderful that Jesus should think us worth the having; but since he does so, we find a matchless solace in the fact. Which is the greater miracle -- that he should be mine, or that I should be his? Certainly, the second is the surer ground of safety, for I cannot keep my treasures, since I am feebleness itself; but Jesus is able to preserve his own, and none can pluck them out of his hand. The truth that Jesus calls me his is enough to make a man dance and sing all the way between here and heaven. Realize the fact that we are dear to the heart of our incarnate God, and amid the sands of this wilderness a fountain of overflowing joy is open before us.

BUT THE TEXT IS FREE FROM ALL SUPPOSITION: it is the language of indisputable possession, the exclamation of a confidence which has made its assurance doubly sure. There are two positive verbs in the present tense, and not the smell of a doubt has passed upon them. Here is a brave positiveness which fears no controversy, "my beloved is mine, and I am his," doubt it who may. There he is, for "he feeds among the lilies." The spouse sees him of whom she speaks; he may be a mere myth to others but he is a substantial, lovable, lovely, and actually beloved person to her. He stands before her, and she perceives his character so clearly that she has a comparison ready for him, and likens him to a gazelle feeding on the tender grass among the lilies. This is a very delightful state of heart. Some of us know what it is to enjoy it from year to year. Christ is ours, and we know it. Jesus is present, and by faith we see him. Our marriage union with husband or wife cannot be more clear, more sure, more matter of fact, than our oneness with Christ and our enjoyment of that oneness. Joy! joy! joy! He whom we love is ours! We can also see the other side of the golden shield, for he whom we prize beyond all the world, also prizes us, and we are his. Nothing in the universe besides deserves for an instant to be compared in value with this inestimable blessing. We would not exchange with the cherubim: their chief places in the choirs of heaven are poor as compared with the glory which excels -- the glory of knowing that I my best Beloved's am, and he is mine. A place in Christ's heart is more sweet, more honorable, more dear to us than a throne among the angels. Not even the delights of Paradise can produce a rival to this ecstatic joy -- "My Beloved is mine, and I am his." YET HAS THE TEXT A NOTE OF CAUTION. The condition of fully assured love is as tender as it is delightful. The spouse in the seventh verse had charged her companions by all things of gentleness, delicacy, and timidity -- "by the roes, and by the hinds of the field " -- to refrain from offending her beloved while he deigned to abide with her; she had also compared him to a roe or a young hart, rather hiding than revealing himself; and here she likens him to the same roe, quietly pasturing in the gardens, so gently moving that he does not break or even bruise a lily, but softly insinuates himself among their delicate beauties, as one of the same dainty mould. This hints in poetic imagery at the solemn and sacred truth that the dearest fellowship with Jesus can never be known by the rough and the coarse, the hard and the restless, but remains the priceless heritage of the lowly and meek; and these can only retain it by a studious care which cherishes love, and guards it from even the least intrusion. A gazelle among the lilies would start at the bark of a fox, and be gone at the voice of a stranger; and therefore soft whispers of inward love must say, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes," and nimble hands with noiseless fingers must draw up the lattice that kindly eyes may look forth at the windows, and may be seen of him who delights in love. The evident intent of the language is to set forth the delicacy of the highest form of holy fellowship. The Lord our God is a jealous God, and that jealousy is most seen where most his love is displayed. The least sin, willfully indulged in, will grieve the Holy Spirit; slights, forgetfulnesses, and neglects will cause him to turn away. If we would remain positively and joyously assured that the Beloved is ours and that we are his, we must use the utmost circumspection and holy vigilance. No man gains full assurance by accident, or retains it by chance. As the gentle hind wanders in lovely spots where grow the pure white lilies, and as he shuns the places profaned by strife, and foul with rank weeds and nettles, so does the Lord Jesus come to holy minds perfumed with devotion and consecrated to the Lord, and there in sacred quiet he finds solace and abides with his saints. May the Lord preserve us from pride, from self-seeking, from carnality, and wrath, for these things will chase away our delights even as dogs drive off the hind of the morning. Both our inward and outward walk must be eagerly watched lest any thing should vex the Bridegroom. A word, a glance, a thought may break the spell, and end the happy rest of the heart, and long may it be before the blessing be regained. We have some of us learned by bitter experience that it is hard to establish a settled peace, and easy enough to destroy it. The costly vase, the product of a thousand laborious processes, may be broken in a moment; and so the supreme delight of communion with the Lord Jesus, the flower of ten thousand eminent delights, may be shattered by a few moments' negligence. Hence the one lesson of our little sermon is -- I charge you, O you daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that you stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please."

"For I am jealous of my heart Lest it should once from him depart; Then should I lose my best delight Should my Beloved take to flight."

Spurgeon's Verse Expositions of the Bible

Over the Mountains

by C. H. SPURGEON (1834-1892)

"My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feeds among the lilies. Until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away; turn, my Beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether." Solomon's Song of Solomon 2:16-17 .

It may be that there are saints who are always at their best, and are happy enough never to lose the light of their Father's countenance. I am not sure that there are such persons, for those believers with whom I have been most intimate, have had a varied experience; and those whom I have known, who have boasted of their constant perfectness, have not been the most reliable of individuals. I hope there is a spiritual region attainable where there are no clouds to hide the Sun of our soul; but I cannot speak with positiveness, for I have not traversed that happy land. Every year of my life has had a winter as well as a summer, and every day has had its night. I have seen both clear shining days, and heavy rains, and felt both warm breezes and fierce winds. Speaking for the many of my brethren, I confess that though the substance be in us, as in the teil-tree and the oak, yet at times we do lose our leaves, and the sap within us does not flow with equal vigor at all seasons. We have our downs as well as our ups, our valleys as well as our hills. We are not always rejoicing; we are sometimes in heaviness through manifold trials. Alas! we are grieved to confess that our fellowship with the Well-beloved is not always that of rapturous delight; but rather, at times we have to seek Him, and cry, "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!" This appears to me to have been in a measure the condition of the spouse when she cried, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my Beloved."

I. These words teach us, first, that COMMUNION WITH CHRIST MAY BE BROKEN. The spouse had lost the company of her Bridegroom: conscious communion with Him was gone, though she loved her Lord, and sighed for Him. In her loneliness she was sorrowful; but she had by no means ceased to love Him, for she calls Him her Beloved, and speaks as one who felt no doubt upon that point. Love to the Lord Jesus may be quite as true, and perhaps quite as strong, when we sit in darkness, as well as when we walk in the light. No, she had not lost her assurance of His love to her, and of their mutual interest in one another; for she says, "My Beloved is mine, and I am His;" and yet she adds, "Turn, my Beloved." The condition of our graces does not always coincide with the state of our joys. We may be rich in faith and love, and yet have so low a view of ourselves as to be much depressed. It is plain, from this Sacred Canticle, that the spouse may love and be loved by Christ, may be confident in her Lord, and be fully assured of her possession of Him, and yet there may for the present time, be mountains between her and Him. Yes, we may even be far advanced in the divine life, and yet be exiled for a while from conscious fellowship with Jesus. There are dark nights for spiritual men as well as for spiritual babes; and the strong know that the sun is hidden quite as well as do the sick and the feeble. Do not, therefore, condemn yourself, my brother, because a cloud is over you; do not cast away your confidence; but the rather let faith burn up in the midst of the gloom, and let your love resolve to come to your Lord again whatever may be the barriers which divide you from Him. When Jesus is absent from a true heir of heaven, SORROW will ensue. The healthier our condition, the sooner will that absence be perceived, and the more deeply will it be lamented. This sorrow is described in the text as DARKNESS- this is implied in the expression, "Until the day break." Until Christ appears, no day has dawned for us. We dwell in midnight darkness; the stars of the promises, and the moon of our experience yield no light of comfort until our Lord, like the sun, arises and ends the night. We must have Christ with us, or we are in the night: we grope like blind men for the wall, and wander in dismay. The spouse also speaks of SHADOWS. "Until the day break, and the shadows flee away." Shadows are multiplied by the departure of the sun, and these are apt to distress the timid believer. We are not afraid of real enemies when Jesus is with us; but when He is absent from us, we tremble at even a shadow. How sweet is that song, "Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff comfort me!" But we change our note when midnight is now come, and Jesus is not with us: then we populate the night with terrors: demons, hobgoblins, and things that never existed except in our imagination, are apt to swarm about us; and we are in fear where no fear really exists. THE SPOUSE'S WORST TROUBLE WAS THAT THE BACK OF HER BELOVED WAS TURNED TO HER, and so she cried, "Turn, my Beloved." When His face is towards her, she suns herself in His love; but if the light of His countenance is withdrawn, she is sorely troubled. Our Lord turns His face from His people, though He never turns His heart from His people. He may even close His eyes in sleep when the vessel is tossed by the tempest, but His heart is awake all the while. Still, it is pain enough to have grieved Him in any degree: it cuts us to the quick to think that we have wounded His tender heart. He is jealous, but never without cause. If He turns His back upon us for a while, He has doubtless a more than sufficient reason. He would not walk contrary to us if we had not walked contrary to Him. Ah, this is sad work! The presence of the Lord with us, makes this life the preface to the celestial life; but His absence leaves us pining and fainting, neither does any comfort remain in the land of our banishment. The Scriptures and the ordinances, private devotions and public worship- all are as sun-dials, -all are most excellent when the sun shines, but of small avail in the dark. O Lord Jesus, nothing can compensate us for Your loss! Draw near to Your beloved yet again, for without You our night will never end.

"See! I repent, and vex my soul, That I should leave You so! Where will those vile affections roll That let my Savior go?"

When communion with Christ is broken, in all true hearts there is a strong desire to win it back again. The man who has known the joy of communion with Christ, if he loses that nearness, will never be content until it is restored. Have you ever entertained the Prince Emmanuel? Is He gone elsewhere? Your chamber will be dreary until He comes back again. "Give me Christ or else I die," is the cry of every person that has lost the dear companionship of Jesus. We do not part with such heavenly delights without many a pang. It is not with us a matter of "maybe He will return, and we hope He will;" but it must be, or we faint and die. We cannot live without Him; and this is a cheering sign; for the soul that cannot live without Him, shall not live without Him: He comes speedily where life and death hang on His coming. If you must have Christ, you shall have Him. This is just how the matter stands: we must drink of this well or die of thirst; we must feed upon Jesus, or our spirit will famish.

II. We will now advance a step, and say that WHEN COMMUNION WITH CHRIST IS BROKEN, THERE ARE GREAT DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF ITS RENEWAL. It is much easier to go down hill than to climb to the same height again. It is far easier to lose joy in God, than to find the lost jewel. The spouse speaks of "MOUNTAINS" dividing her from her Beloved: she means that the DIFFICULTIES were great. They were not little hills, but mountains, that closed up her way. Mountains of remembered sin, Alps of backsliding, dread ranges of forgetfulness, ingratitude, worldliness, coldness in prayer, frivolity, pride and unbelief. Ah me, I cannot teach you all the dark geography of this sad experience! Giant walls rose before the spouse like the towering steeps of Lebanon. How could she come to her Beloved? The dividing difficulties were MANY as well as great. She does not speak of "a mountain", but of "mountains": Alps rose on Alps, wall after wall. She was distressed to think that in so short a time, so much could come between her and Him of whom she sang just now, "His left hand is under my head, and His right hand does embrace me." Alas, how we multiply these mountains of Bether with a sad rapidity! Our Lord is jealous, and we give Him far too much reason for hiding His face. A fault, which seemed so small at the time we committed it, is seen in the light of its own consequences, and then it grows and swells until it towers aloft, and hides the face of the Beloved. Then has our sun gone down, and fear whispers, "Will His light ever return? Will it ever be daybreak? Will the shadows ever flee away?" It is easy to grieve away the heavenly sunlight, but ah, how hard to clear the skies, and regain the unclouded brightness! Perhaps the worst thought of all to the spouse was the dread that the dividing barrier might be PERMANENT. It was high, but it might dissolve; the walls were many, but they might fall. But alas, these barriers were 'mountains', and mountains stand fast for ages! She felt like the Psalmist, when he cried, "My sin is ever before me." The pain of our Lord's absence becomes intolerable when we fear that we are hopelessly shut out from Him. A night one can bear, hoping for the morning; but what if the day should never break? And you and I, if we have wandered away from Christ, and feel that there are ranges of immovable mountains between Him and us- we will feel sick at heart. We try to pray, but devotion dies on our lips. We attempt to approach the Lord at the communion table, but we feel more like Judas than John. At such times we have felt that we would give our eyes once more to behold the Bridegroom's face, and to know that He delights in us as in happier days. Still there stand the awful mountains- black, threatening, impassable; and in the far-off land, the Life of our life is away, and grieved. So the spouse seems to have come to the conclusion that THE DIFFICULTIES IN HER WAY WERE INSURMOUNTABLE IN HER OWN POWER. She does not even think of herself being able to go over the mountains to her Beloved, but she cries, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my Beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether." She will not try to climb the mountains, she knows she cannot: if they had been less high, she might have attempted it; but their summits reach to heaven. If they had been less craggy or difficult, she might have tried to scale them; but these mountains are terrible, and no foot may stand upon their treacherous crags. Oh, the mercy of utter self-despair! I love to see a soul driven into that close corner, and forced therefore to look to God alone. The end of the creature is the beginning of the Creator. Where the sinner ends, the Savior begins. If the mountains can be climbed, we shall have to climb them; but if they are quite impassable, then the soul cries out with the prophet, "Oh, that You would rend the heavens, that You would come down, that the mountains might flow down at Your presence..." Our souls are lame, they cannot move to Christ, and we turn our strong desires to Him, and fix our hopes alone upon Him. Will He not remember us in love, and fly to us as He did to His servant of old when He rode upon a cherub, and did fly, yes, He did fly upon the wings of the wind!

III. Here arises THAT PRAYER OF THE TEXT WHICH FULLY MEETS THE CASE. "Turn, my Beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of division." Jesus can come to us, when we cannot go to Him. The roe and the young hart, or, as you may read it, the gazelle and the ibex, live among the crags of the mountains, and leap across the abyss with amazing agility. For swiftness and sure-footedness they are unrivalled. The sacred poet said, "He makes my feet like deer's feet, and sets me upon my high places," alluding to the feet of those creatures which are so fitted to stand securely on the mountain sides. Our blessed Lord is called, in the title of the twenty-second Psalm, "the Deer of the morning"; and the spouse in this golden Canticle sings, "My Beloved is like a roe or a young hart; behold He comes, leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills." Here I would remind you that this prayer is one that we may fairly offer, because it is the way of Christ to come to us when our coming to Him is impossible. "How?" do you say. I answer that of old He did this; for we remember "His great love with which He loved us even when we were dead in trespasses and in sins." His FIRST COMING into the world in human form-- was it not because man could never come to God until God had come to him? I hear of no tears, or prayers, or entreaties after God on the part of our first parents; but the offended Lord spontaneously gave the promise that the Seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. Our Lord's coming into the world was unbought, unsought and unthought of- he came altogether of His own free will, delighting to redeem.

"With pitying eyes, the Prince of grace Beheld our helpless grief; He saw, and oh, amazing love! He ran to our relief."

His incarnation was a type of the way in which He comes to us by His Spirit. He saw us cast out, polluted, shameful, perishing- and as He passed by, His tender lips said, "Live!" In us is fulfilled that word, "I was found by them that did not seek Me." We were too averse to His holiness, too much in bondage to sin, to ever have returned to Him if He had not first turned to us. What do you think? Did He come to us when we were His enemies, and will He not visit us now that we are His friends? Did He come to us when we were dead sinners, and will He not hear us now that we are weeping saints? If Christ's coming to the earth was after this manner, and if His coming to each one of us was after this style, we may well hope that now He will come to us in like fashion-- like the dew which refreshes the grass, and does not wait for man, neither tarries for the sons of men. Besides, He is coming again in person, in the LAST DAY, and mountains of sin, and error, and idolatry, and superstition, and oppression stand in the way of His kingdom-- but He will surely come and overturn them, until He shall reign over all! He will come in the last days, I say, though He must leap over these mountains to do it- and because of that I am sure we may comfortably conclude that He will draw near to us who mourn His absence so bitterly. Then let us bow our heads a moment, and silently present to His most excellent Majesty the petition of our text: "Turn, my Beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of division." Our text gives us sweet assurance that our Lord is at home with those difficulties which are quite insurmountable by us. Just as the roe or the young hart knows the passes of the mountains, and the stepping-places among the rugged rocks, and is void of all fear among the ravines and the precipices-- so does our Lord know the heights and depths, the torrents and the caverns of our sin and sorrow. He carried the whole of our transgressions, and so became aware of the tremendous load of our guilt. He is also quite at home with the infirmities of our nature-- He knew temptation in the wilderness, heartbreak in the garden, and desertion on the cross. He is quite at home with pain and weakness, for "Himself took our infirmities, and bore our sicknesses." He is at home with despondency, for He was "a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." He is at home even with death, for He gave up His spirit, and passed through the sepulchre to resurrection. O yawning gulfs and frowning steeps of woe and despair- our Beloved, like hind or hart, has traversed your glooms! O my Lord, You know all that divides me from You; and You know also that I am far too feeble to climb these dividing mountains, so that I may come to You; therefore, I beg You, come over the mountains to meet my longing spirit! You know each yawning gulf and slippery steep, but none of these can keep You back-- hasten to me, Your servant, Your beloved, and let me again live in Your presence. It is easy, too, for Christ to come over the mountains for our relief. It is easy for the gazelle to cross the mountains- it is made for that end. Just so is it easy for Jesus, for to this purpose was He ordained from of old that He might come to man in his worst estate, and bring with Him the Father's love. What is it that separates us from Christ? Is it a sense of sin? You have been pardoned once, and Jesus can renew most vividly a sense of full forgiveness. But you say, "Alas! I have sinned again: fresh guilt alarms me." He can remove it in an instant, for the fountain appointed for that purpose is still opened, and is still so full. It is easy for the dear lips of redeeming love to put away the child's offences, since He has already obtained pardon for the criminal's iniquities. If with His heart's blood He won our pardon from our Judge, he can easily enough bring us the forgiveness of our Father. Oh, yes, it is easy enough for Christ to say again, "Your sins are forgiven." You say, "But I feel so unfit, so unable to enjoy communion with Him." He that healed all manner of bodily diseases can heal with a word your spiritual infirmities. Remember the man whose ankle-bones received strength, so that he ran and leaped! And remember her who was sick with a fever, and was healed at once, and arose, and ministered unto her Lord! "My grace is sufficient for you; for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Still you say, "But I have such afflictions, such troubles, such sorrows, that I am weighted down, and cannot rise into joyful fellowship with Christ." Yes, but Jesus can make every burden light, and cause each yoke to be easy. Your trials can be made to AID your heavenward course instead of hindering it. I know all about those heavy weights, and I perceive that you cannot lift them- but skillful engineers can adapt ropes and pulleys in such a way that heavy weights lift other weights. The Lord Jesus is great at 'gracious' machinery, and He has the are of causing a weight of tribulation to lift from us a load of spiritual deadness, so that we ascend by that which, like a millstone, threatened to sink us down. What else hinders Him from coming to us? I am sure that, if it were a sheer impossibility, the Lord Jesus could remove it, for things impossible with men are possible with God. But someone objects, "I am so unworthy of Christ. I can understand eminent saints and beloved disciples being greatly loved by Him- but I am a worm, and no man; utterly below such condescension by Him." So you say? Don't you know that the worthiness of Christ covers your unworthiness, and He has become for us wisdom from God-- that is, our righteousness, holiness, and redemption? In Christ, the Father does not think so worthless of you, as you think of yourself-- you are not worthy to be called His child, but He does call you His child, and reckons you to be among His jewels. Listen, and you shall hear Him say, "Since you were precious in My sight, you have been honorable, and I have loved you..." Thus, then, there remains nothing which Jesus cannot overleap if He resolves to come to you, and re-establish your broken fellowship.

To CONCLUDE, our Lord can do all of this INSTANTANEOUSLY. As in the twinkling of an eye, the dead shall be raised incorruptible; so in a moment can our dead affections rise to fullness of delight. He can say to this mountain, "Be removed from here, and be cast into the midst of the sea," and it shall be done. In the sacred emblems now upon this supper table, Jesus is already among us. FAITH cries, "He has come!" Like John the Baptist, she gazes intently on Him, and cries, "Behold the Lamb of God!" At this table Jesus feeds us with His body and His blood. His physical presence we do not have, but His real spiritual presence we can perceive. He has come here. He looks forth at these windows, I mean this bread and wine; showing Himself through the lattices of this instructive and endearing ordinance. He speaks. He says, "The winter is past, the rain is over and gone." And so it is; we feel it to be so- a heavenly springtime warms our frozen hearts. Like the spouse, we wonderingly cry, "Before ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib." Now in happy fellowship we see the Beloved, and hear His voice-- our heart burns; our affections glow; we are happy, restful, brimming over with delight. The King has brought us into his banqueting-house, and His banner over us is love. It is good to be here! Friends, we must now go our ways. A voice says, "Arise, let us go from here." O Lord of our hearts, go with us! Home will not be home without You. Life will not be life without You. Heaven itself would not be heaven if You were absent. Abide with us. The world grows dark, the twilight of time draws on. Abide with us, for it is toward evening. Our years increase, and we near the night when dews fall cold and chill. A great future is all about us, the splendors of the last age are coming down; and while we wait in solemn, awe-struck expectation, our heart continually cries within herself, "Until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away, turn, my Beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of division."

"Hasten, Lord! the promised hour; Come in glory and in power; While Your foes are unsubdued; Nature sighs to be renewed. Time has nearly reached its sum, All things with Your bride say 'Come;' Jesus, whom all worlds adore, Come and reign for evermore!