When Destitute of Joy

 Guest blog by Phoebe Worrall Palmer (1807-1874)

If feeling were the principle commanding religious action, instead of calm, deliberate, steady faith, how often should we be led astray, even when in our most pious moods! Think of the disciples, who, from the impulse of exuberant, pious feeling, desired to have three tabernacles reared, in order that they might ever abide on the mount, alone with the Saviour and his heavenly visitants; unmindful that the work of the Redeemer in saving the world was not yet accomplished, neither the work to which they, as his disciples, were called, in establishing his kingdom. Imagine that the pious feelings with which they were at this time favored had formed the principle of action, what would have been the fate of a lost world?

Inward Crucifixion and Inward Consolations

Those, who are the subjects of inward crucifixion, do not seek, and do not value inward consolations in themselves considered. “It is written,” says the Savior, “man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” Consolation is the attendant of religion, but it is not religion itself. Religion, in its highest sense, implies an entire union with the will of God. The true food of our souls is God’s commandment, which is only another name for God’s will. A desire of any thing, and complacency in any thing, which does not place God’s will first, is infidelity to God’s claims. Holy joy is not a thing, which comes by volition; but by a necessary law. If our hearts are right with God, such joy will always come in its appropriate place; not because it is called or willed, but because it cannot help coming. It is a thing which flows from holiness as from its natural fountain. The truly crucified man, therefore, is right in seeking the fountain first. Holiness is something which must be desired and sought for itself; something, which must stand, independently of its pleasant results, first in the mind’s eye, first in the heart’s affections.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 12.

Strength from the Cross

"But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." — Gal. 6.14.

Oh, who shall sing the joyful song at last?
Oh, who shall raise in heaven the conqueror's strain,
O'er foes subdued, and inward vices slain,
And seasons of temptation safely pass'd?
'Tis he, who counts all other things but dross,
When put into the scale with God's dear Son;
Who willingly the Christian race doth run,
And fights and toils and conquers in the cross.
The cross imparts perennial peace within;
The cross resists and scatters outward foes;
'Tis by the cross the saints their victories win,
And rise to glory, as their Savior rose.
Then heed not earthly shame nor earthly loss,
But count it all for good, if thou may'st bear the cross.

— The Religious Offering, Scripture Sonnets XXII.

Spiritual Joy

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

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Further reflections on Jean Guyon's conversion experience:

It is very obvious from her statements, that, in her first experience of the new life, she had great joy. Joy was a marked characteristic of it. But taught by the great inward Teacher, she was enabled to perceive from the first, that it would not be safe for her to estimate either the reality or the degree of her reli­gion by the amount, of her happiness.

It is true there is not only such a thing as joy, but such a thing as religious joy, or joy attendant on religion, and which, therefore, may properly be described, in the language of the Scriptures, as "joy in the Holy Ghost." But this is a very different thing from saying, that joy and religion are the same thing. Joy is not only not religion, but it does not always arise from religious causes. The grounds or causes of its origin are numerous, and sometimes very diverse. A new speculative truth, new views which are at variance with the truth, or even the pleasant intimations of a dream or vision, whether more or less remarkable, (to say nothing of physical causes, and of providential causes,— causes connected with the state of our health and with our situation in life,) may be followed by a pleasurable excitement of the emotional part of our nature, which may be mistaken for true religion.

Certain it is, however, that no joys can be regarded as really of a religious nature and as involving the fact of religion, which are not attended with repentance for sin and faith in Jesus Christ, with the renovation of the desires and with the subjection of the will.

The views of Madame Guyon on this subject were distinct and decided. She took the Savior for her example, who was not the less a religious man, because he was a man of "sorrows and acquainted with grief." She did not seek joy, but God. God first,  and what God sees fit to give, afterwards. She believed and knew, (so far as she thought it necessary to give attention to the subject of her own personal enjoyments at all,) if she gave herself to God wholly, without reserve, God would not be slow to take care of her happiness. 

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 7.

Faith — Not Emotion

There is another class of persons, whose experience is something more than intellectual; but which, just so far as it exists independently of faith as its basis, cannot safely or justly be regarded, as a true religious experience. We refer to those, whose religious life is characterized chiefly or exclusively by strong emotions. These cases are in some respects more difficult to be rightly estimated than those which have just been mentioned. It is well known, that many persons find it difficult to form an idea of religion separate from feeling; and they are very apt to consider great feeling and great religion as very much the same thing. In many minds religion and feeling are almost identical. But it will be noticed in the proposition, which we have laid down, that we do not condemn feeling, that we do not exclude feeling as a part of religious experience, but only that we condemn and exclude from religious experience all that feeling, which exists independently of faith as its basis.

Anticipations

Departed ones, that shine afar,
My earthly life is hasting through;
And soon, beyond the circling star,
Shall wing its raptured way to you.

Oh come, and meet me in my flight,
Oh come, and take me by the hand,
When first I greet celestial light,
And tread the new, the heavenly land.

Long years have worn my furrow'd brow,
And stained my cheek with many a tear;
But that is past, and brightly now
I see the land of glory near.

Dear sharers of my joys and tears,
Not dead, but only gone before!
Friends of my past, my early years,
Oh, meet me on the shining shore.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXV.

The Joys of the Good

Let men of worldly power and arts
The future love, the present hate;
It is the gift of holy hearts
The bliss of heaven to ante-date.

While sighing worldlings oft exclaim,
The hours are passing swift away;
To those of heavenly heart and name
They circle round, but love to stay.

Our heart's emotions are as flowers,
When cloth'd with pearls of morning dew;
With these we crown the passing hours,
With chaplets bright and ever new.

Not night more surely comes to day,
And day succeeds to starry night,
Than joys unnumber'd find their way
To bosoms bath'd in heavenly light.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXVII.

Evening Reflections

Hushed was the tumult of the day,

The evening's wonted breeze was still,

The placid moon, with silver ray,

Chequered the groves of vale and hill,

And not a cloud o'er all the sky,

Was witnessed by my wandering eye.

The light was out in each lone cot,

The farmer slept at nature's call,

And sound or action reached me not,

Save but the cricket in the wall.

The beast was on his lair; his breast

The bird had pillowed on his nest.

Then thought my soul of each dear scene,

Where childhood sported gay and boon;

The gambols on the village green,

Beneath the pale and watchful moon,

When friends and nature had a charm

The sting of sorrow to disarm.

Nor did my soul find resting here;

But prompted by this hour of bliss,

She soared above this earthly sphere,

And found a scene more calm than this;

A heaven, where there is endless joy,

No cares invade, no griefs annoy.

— The Religious Offering (1835).

Although Affliction Smites My Heart

Although affliction smites my heart,
And earthly pleasures flee,
There is one bliss that ne'er shall part,
My joy, Oh God, in Thee.

That joy is like the orb of day,
When clouds its track pursue;
The shades and darkness throng its way,
But sunlight struggles through.

Oh Thou, my everlasting light,
On whom my hopes rely;
With Thee the darkest path is bright,
And fears and sorrows die.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

Man's Spirit Hath an Upward Look

Man's spirit hath an upward look,
And robes itself with heavenly wings;
E'en when 'tis here compelled to brook
Confinement to terrestrial things.

Its eye is fastened on the skies;
Its wings for flight are opened wide;
Why doth it hesitate to rise?
And still upon the earth abide;

And would'st thou seek the cause to know,
And never more its course repress;
Then from those wings their burden throw,
And set them free from worldliness.

Shake off the earthly cares that stay
Their energy and upward flight;
And thou shalt see them make their way
To joy, and liberty, and light.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

Jehovah, Sov'reign of My Heart

Jehovah, sov'reign of my heart!

My joy by night and day!

From Thee, oh may I never part,

From thee, ne'er go astray.

Whene'er allurements round me stand,

And tempt me from my choice;

Oh,  let me find thy gracious hand,

Oh,  let me hear thy voice.

This vain and feeble heart, I know,

To worldly ways is prone;

But penitential tears shall show,

There's joy in Thee alone.

With God all darkness turns to day;

With Him all sorrows flee;

Thou art the true and living way,

And I will walk in Thee.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

If There Is Sunshine in the Face

If there is sunshine in the face,

And joy upon the brow,

Do not suppose, that there's a trace

Of answering joy below.

And what avails the outward light,

Upon the face the smile;

If all within is dark as night,

If all is dead the while.

Deep in the heart the evil lies,

Which nought on earth can cure,

Aversion to the only Wise,

To God, the only Pure.

Oh Thou, who giv'st the heart renewed,

Withhold it not from me,

That, all my enmity subdued,

I may rejoice in Thee.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

Penitence

Oh, say when errors oft and black
Have deeply stained the inmost soul,
Who then shall call the wanderer back,
Who make the broken spirit whole?
Who give the tortured and depressed
The grateful balm, that soothes to rest?

When storms are driven across the sky,
The rainbow decks the troubled clouds,
And there is one whose love is nigh,
Where grief annoys and darkness shrouds;
He'll stretch abroad his bow of peace,
And bid the storm and tempest cease.

Then go, vain world, 'tis time to part,
Too long and darkly hast thou twined
Around this frail, corrupted heart,
And poisoned the immortal mind;
Oh, I have known the pangs that spring
From pleasures beak and folly's sting.

Hail, Prince of Heaven! Hail, Bow of rest!
Oh, downward scatter mercy's ray,
And all the darkness of my breast
Shall quickly turn to golden day.
With Thee is peace; no griefs annoy;
And tears are grateful gems of joy.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

Labor Not in Vain

Another reason that the labor of the holy man ceases to be labor, is this; he knows that he will be prospered in what he does; in other words, that his "labor is not in vain in the Lord." There are many promises to this effect. But this is not all. He knows that, when God imposes on his people something to be done, it is not merely to secure a particular outward result, but also, and sometimes chiefly, for the purpose of training and disciplining the inward dispositions. And if he fails to do the particular thing which is required to be done, still, if the effort has resulted in the trial and strengthening of his faith and obedience, he has his reward. He is sure of success in one way or the other. This imparts a joyousness of spirit, which gives a new character to his toil. Labor, which is enlivened by the joy of anticipated fruition, is rendered by that circumstance so delightful, that it virtually ceases to be labor.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 7.

The Physician of the Mind

"And Jesus answering, said unto them, They that are whole need not a physician;  but  they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance."  Luke v. 31.

He makes the deaf to hear, the blind to see,
Restores the faint, and doth the bleeding bind,
But shows himself more strong in charity,
In healing the diseases of the mind.
Thou sick and bowed of soul, to Jesus go!
Tell him how weak and how diseased the heart,
And learn how he compassionates your woe,
And plucks the spirit's, as the body's smart.
He  quells the fears that throng thee and annoy,
With brighter views the intellect doth fill,
Gives strength to hope, and permanence to joy,
And aids with power divine the doubting will.
Others may heal the body; Christ makes whole,
(And only He hath power,) the crushed and fallen soul.

— American Cottage Life (1850) XXIII.

The True Ground of Joy

"Notwithstanding, in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven."  Luke x. 20.

Rejoice not in thy wealth of house and fields,
Nor build your hopes and bliss on earthly fame;
Earth but a momentary glory yields,
Its brightest joys are as an empty name.
Oh, fix no fondness there; 't will prove a thorn;
Many, that deeply loved, have deeply rued
Attachments so unworthy; and they warn
Others from treading where their feet have stood.
The Savior teaches a far wiser course,
To deem it glory, not that we possess
Mere wealth or power, or learning's proud resource,
Which mock us with the show of happiness;
But that we have, in that dread Book on high,
Our names inscribed of God, in words that never die.

— American Cottage Life (1850) XXII.

The Trials of the Sanctified Life

It is perhaps a common opinion, that those, who are greatly advanced in religion, and have experienced what may properly be regarded as the grace of present sanctification, are not very much tried and afflicted. They are supposed to possess not only an inheritance of constant peace, but of much joy.

That a truly sanctified person is never in darkness, in one sense of the term, viz. condemnatory darkness; in other words, that he never loses the grace of a confiding trust in God and of solid internal peace, which his Savior has given to him as his inheritance, is undoubtedly true. If there ever be an exception, as for instance when the mental powers are depressed and darkened by the pressure of some physical disease, yet such exceptions are, probably, few in number, are explainable on principles peculiar to themselves, and are not to be regarded as essentially affecting the general doctrine.

But although those, who are wholly devoted to God, may be said always to have a solid and permanent peace, it is not true, that they are exempt from heavy afflictions both external and internal. On the contrary, there is some reason to believe, that those, who love most, will suffer most; that those, who are the strongest in the Lord, will have the heaviest burden to bear. "In the world," says the Savior, "ye shall have tribulation." "For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ," says the Apostle in his Epistle to the Philippians, "not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake." 

It  is important to understand this, to know that it is our lot and our privilege to be partakers of Christ's sufferings, so that those, who enter into the way of holy living, which is just what it is described to be, viz. a narrow way, may not be discouraged and overcome in the season of heavy trial. Satan will say to them at such times, Where now is your God? And it is exceedingly desirable, that they should know how to answer him.

— edited from The Interior or Hidden Life (1844) Part 2, Chapter 12.

Mutual Love as the Basis of Marriage and Family

Happiness must be the result of a divinely ordered and perfect constitution of things. It is true, as we have had frequent occasion to say, that love is, and must be, the life;  that is to say, the central and moving principle of such a divine constitution. But love is not necessarily free from sorrow; — although it must be admitted, that true happiness cannot exist without love. The love, which good men have to erring and fallen sinners, is necessarily more or less mixed with grief. This being the case, the question naturally arises, — When can a truly holy or love being be said to be a happy being; — not only happy, but enjoying happiness in the highest degree?  This is a question, which it is obviously necessary to solve, in ascertaining the true constitution of an order of moral beings. That is to say, it is necessary to answer the question, — Under what circumstances can the highest happiness be secured to such an order of beings? And the answer, as it seems to us, is this. A moral being is happy in the highest degree, when it meets with another being, constituted on the same principles of holy love; and meets with it under such circumstances as to behold the unspeakable beauty of its own benevolent nature reflected back upon itself in the mirror of the other's loving heart. Seeing itself in another, and therefore, feeling another in itself, it not only recognizes but realizes, by the necessities of its nature, the eternal law of unity. 

How Selfishness Corrupts Even the Gifts of God

It is difficult to express and even to conceive of the subtleties and insinuations of selfishness.  It enters every path. It lurks in every secret place. And wherever it finds its way, it pollutes, poisons, and destroys. It sometimes attaches itself, by a process almost imperceptible, to God's most valuable gifts and graces; those which are spiritual, as well as those which are natural. An individual, for instance, is possessed of great natural ability. This ability is a gift of God. But how often it is, that the possessor, thinking but little of the great Author of the gift, regards it as something peculiarly his own, and instead of seeing God in it, sees only himself. Almost unconsciously to himself, and greatly to his spiritual injury, he is experiencing a secret elevation of spirit, and is taking a hidden complacency in an intellectual possession, which, when properly considered, should have increasingly detached him from self, and led him nearer to his Maker.

No Separation

Oh, can I leave Thee! Can I go

Back  to the world that once was nigh?

And so debase me, as to know

The joys that only bloom to die?

Oh, can I quit celestial good,

The growth of life's immortal tree,

And feed, instead of Angel's food,

On earth's poor dust and vanity?

I sought Thee, that my soul might stay

In  endless unity of mind;

And dare not, cannot rend away

The golden links my heart that bind.

If others blindly choose to roam,

And find the path of tears and gloom;

Be MINE, in God's great heart, the home,

Where peace, and joy, and glory bloom.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXXVI.