Follow Jesus

To follow Jesus is to be
Possessor of  His  inward state;
His  truth, His love, His purity,
And all that made Him good and great.

To follow Jesus is to take
The yoke of the great Father's will;
And friends and earthly good forsake,
The Father's purpose to fulfill.

To follow Jesus is to go
The bloody way of Calvary's cross,
If that can ward oppression's blow,
And save humanity from loss.

Oh, be it ours to be like Him;
Our thought, our purpose, and our prayer;
And thus the crown, that grows not dim,
Of the great "Eider Brother" share.

— Christ in the Soul  LXXXV.

The Hidden Life

"Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." — Col 3.2, 3.

My life is folded in the life of Jesus,
No longer mine, but purchased by that tide,
That crimson tide, which shed on Calvary, frees us
From those dark stains that in our hearts abide.
MY LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST and I am His.
Whate'er his will, that am I bound to do;
If He doth call me to far lands and seas,
I hear his summons, and his steps pursue.
Where'er He goes, I cannot stay behind;
In what He does, my hand shall have employ;
Whene'er He suffers, sorrow fills my mind;
When He rejoices, I partake the joy.
He bought me by his blood, and I am his;
I have no other will, no other grief nor bliss.

— The Religious Offering  XXVIII.

The Land of Rest

"Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then I would flee away and be at rest." — Ps. 66. 6.

There is no quietude in mortal life,
But, like the fretful and imperious sea,
Whose angry surges heave incessantly,
'Tis toss'd and driven with eternal strife.
Oh when, oh when, shall a deliverance rise
To him, who feels the ceaseless war within
Of truth with falsehood, holiness with sin?
Alas! 'Tis not on earth, but in the skies.
'Tis there we find, and only there, a rest,
Never attained, and never known before;
'Tis there sweet peace shall soothe the weary breast,
And songs re-echo from that happy shore.
Then murmur not, but from the future borrow
Assured hope of joy, to crown this life of sorrow.

— The Religious Offering  XXVII.

Forgiveness

Let men of hatred aim the blow;
And point the cruel, jealous dart;
I will not fear, if I can know,
The power of Love's forgiving art.

Oh God! Be Thou that living power;
Make Thou my soul with pity strong;
That, in the sad and hostile hour,
Forgiving love may conquer wrong.

They smite; but grant that in return
My heart may seek to do them good;
And with its strongest impulse yearn
To show its love and brotherhood.

In vain is all their angry strife,
If God the mighty love hath given,
Which makes the soul's immortal life,
And conquers hate with power from heaven.

 — Christ in the Soul  LXXMV.

Married to the Savior

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Reference to the renewed and entire consecration which she had made of herself in the year 1670. This act of consecration reduced to writing and signed for the first time, July 22d, 1672. Instrumentality of Genevieve Granger in this transaction. Form of this consecrating act or spiritual marriage covenant. Remarks. Dangers connected with a journey taken at this time. Reflections upon it

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We have already had occasion to notice, that in the latter part of the year 1670, more than a year and a half previous to the period of which we are now speaking, she had anew given herself to God, in great sincerity, and, as it seemed to her, without any reserve. By a solemn act, to which God himself was a party, she had placed herself on the altar of sacrifice, “the altar which sanctifies the gift,” — never more to be taken from it. She had left herself with God, both in doing and suffering; and whatever might take place in the fulfilment of his will, she could never wish it to be otherwise. In all the trials to which he had seen fit to subject her, no whisper of complaint, no word of murmur, had ever escaped her lips. But it is worthy of notice, that she had not as yet committed her religious purposes to the formality of a written record. At least, we have no mention of any such thing. It was a mental purpose, communicated to Him who is emphatically MIND; a simple transaction between her soul and God, of which God alone was the witness. It was possible, however, that she might forget, that she might be faithless. There were yet many and heavy trials before her.

The Death of Her Father and Her Daughter

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Incidents of 1672. Presentiment of her father’s death. A message reaches her soon after with the news of his last sickness. His death. Remarks. Affectionate eulogium on her daughter.  Her sickness and death.

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Thus passed the year 1671. I am particular in the periods of time, so far as I am able to ascertain them, which is not always easy to be done. And the reason is, that by connecting the dealings of God and the progress of the inward life with specific times and situations, the mental operation is aided, and we can hardly fail to have a clearer idea of the incidents which are narrated. Another year had now opened upon her, and found her renewedly consecrated to God, and growing wiser and holier through the discipline of bitter experience. Her trials had been somewhat less in this year than in the preceding, but still they were not wholly suspended. And as God designed that she should be wholly his, there were other trials in prospect, which were designed to aid in this important result. We proceed, therefore, in our narrative, with such incidents and facts as we are able to gather from the sources of information found in her own writings and in the writings of some of her contemporaries, which remain to us.

Inward Quietness as a Spiritual Test

In the Christian grace [of inward quietness] which we have been considering, we find one of the most decisive and most satisfactory tests of religious character.

True religion is a thing, not fragmentary but continuous, not coming and going at separated and distant intervals, but existing always, moment by moment. It is obvious, therefore, that we need a test of religious character which is perpetual; one which is a permanent, ever living, and ever present expression of what exists within. Quietness of spirit, which shows itself so distinctly in the countenance and the outward manner, and which adjusts itself in all its acts so beautifully to the relations and the reciprocal duties of man with man, furnishes this test.

Quietness and Prayer

Quietness of spirit is especially favorable, and to some extent it is indispensable to a state of prayer. 

Prayer is not a demand, but a request, a petition; it is essential, therefore, to its very nature, that it should recognize the divine supremacy. He, who prays aright, always and necessarily says, THY WILL BE DONE. Who would presume to approach the throne of God, and to offer up his requests there, without feeling and without expressing the feeling, that God’s will should rule? And yet it is very obvious, that the man, who is discontented and rebellious in spirit, just so far as he is so, fails in this important and indispensable feeling. 

When people lament, as they often do and as they often have occasion to do, that their prayers are so inefficacious, would it not be well for them to inquire whether they have that resigned, peaceable, and acquiescent spirit in view of God’s character and dealings, which is so indispensable to the state of acceptable prayer? Some persons, who creditably sustain their claims to the character of Christians in many respects, fail here. They are willing to speak openly and freely for God on appropriate occasions; they sustain their professions and declarations by their contributions and alms; they would not hesitate a moment to undergo bonds and imprisonments in support of the truth; and at the same time, with an inconsistency almost unaccountable, they often, very often, exhibit a clouded brow and a restless, unquiet temper under those common dispensations, which characterize every day and every hour. The amount of this evil is incalculable. It is here, without looking further, that they may often find the worm in their bud of promise; the secret canker that consumes their flower of hope.

 — from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.

Quietness is Sustained by God's Commands

[The grace of inward quietness] is sustained by faith in God’s commands; that is to say, by a belief, that they are true, that they are reasonable, that they ought to be obeyed, and that they cannot be disobeyed without danger. 

The man of true faith and strong faith feels, that the command, FRET NOT THYSELF, and others like them are as binding upon us, as any other commands which are admitted to be of the most solemn and imperative nature. Immense is the error and the evil, which has arisen from man’s attempting to make distinctions, where they ought not to be made. The sin of an unquiet or fretful spirit is not the same, it is true, with other sins; but the obligation, which attends the command not to indulge in such a sin, is the same. No man can knowingly violate such an obligation, although it relates to a matter which the world is very apt to designate as of small consequence, without showing that his heart is not right with God. 

Wherever God’s command is, no matter how small the thing is to which the command relates, obedience must follow. Otherwise sin lies at the door. The man of faith, deeply realizing this, feels himself bound by that sacred and paramount obligation which God’s command always carries with it, to guard against the least impatience, the least unquietness of spirit. Bound by the command, supported by the promise, with his heart filled with love, and added to all this, meeting God as it were face to face in his providences, he understands the import of those delightful expressions; “They, that trust in the Lord, shall be as mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth forever. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth, even forever.” Psalm 125:1, 2.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13

Quietness is Sustained by God's Promises

The grace of quietness of spirit is sustained by faith in God’s promises. The man of true faith is very far from considering the afflictions of God’s people the same thing with their being cast off and rejected. On the contrary, relying on God’s promises, he has not a doubt, that their trial will in due season be changed into redemption, and their mourning into victory. Abraham had his long day of trial; but his hopes deferred were ultimately satisfied and made rich in the gift of Isaac, “the son of promise.” The patriarch Joseph endured the severe trial of his faith in exile and imprisonments and in false accusations; but at length, in the language of the author of the Mute Christian, “he changed his iron fetters into chains of gold, his rags into royal robes, his stocks into a chariot, his prison into a palace.” David also was afflicted in his youth; but was victorious in age. He, who dwelt in caverns and made his pillow upon a rock, was at last seated upon the throne of Israel. Once the humble keeper of his father’s sheep, and known only in the solitudes of his native vallies, he became, in God’s time, the shepherd and ruler of a mighty people; great in his renown, great in his achievements, and greater still in being able to bear testimony to the favor and faithfulness of God. The man of faith understands this. He knows it all. It is written in letters uneffaceable on the centre of his heart. And is it strange, therefore, marking as he does the bow of promise in the dark cloud that overhangs him, that he should be resigned and quiet in spirit? “The steps of a good man,” says the Psalmist, “are ordered by the Lord; and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.”

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 13.