But before passing on to the second verse, may I have a word with those, who have never felt their need, or seen the value of the blood of Jesus? You go regularly, it may be, to what you call, your place of worship; but whatever it may be to others, to you it can be no place of worship. Worship is the grace that has come down to save, re-ascending in grateful praise. But you are unpardoned, unsaved, unreconciled to God, and dare not come into His presence. His presence would be intolerable to you, and your sin would be intolerable to Him. Without the pardoning, cleansing power of the blood of Jesus, you can never come happily together. Why then, Ο why, be satisfied with a mere form of religion? Were God to meet you on your own ground, what would be the consequence? Nothing but the terrors of judgment against sin — nothing “but a certain fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries.” The “adversaries” are those who despise the blood of the covenant.
Oh then, dear friends — you who belong to that class — that large class, who pay an outward respect to religion, but have no inward grace in your souls, be warned — affectionately warned in time. The mere flickering light of profession is extinguished forever when the Bridegroom comes. You are left in darkness — eternal darkness, just when the light is needed. The brightness of His coming will extinguish forever the lamps of the foolish virgins. Let me entreat you then, to come at once to Jesus. Come to Himself. His own word is “come unto me.” It is not, be persuaded, go there, or do this, or that Î, but simply, sweetly, graciously, heartily, “come unto me,” and the promise is sure, “I will give you rest.” If you come to Jesus, you are God’s friends, if you refuse, you are God’s foes. Are you not alarmed sometimes? are you not unhappy? It must he so. Are you not going the downward road to destruction with your eyes open? Oh! what shelter, think you, would the thin veil of a little religiousness afford? It would only be the witness of your guilt, like Adam’s fig-leaf apron, and aggravate your misery. Awful thought! No Jesus — no blood — no pardon — no salvation — no heaven! Oh! the thought, the dreadful thought, of going down, it may be, from a well-frequented pew, or from the communion table, to the depths of unutterable woe.
May God in mercy save from this awful doom every precious soul that shall ever hold these lines in his hands Him that cometh to me, says the loving, gracious Savior, I will in no wise cast out. The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.
“The Seraphim, with shading wings,
Whose cry through heaven’s vast temple rings,
In glory serve near God’s high throne,
And there may blood-washed sinners come.
From darkness brought to wondrous light,
And called to walk with Christ in white,
Ο may our lips and lives declare
His praise whose holy name we bear.”
Ver. 2. “My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.” Here, an important question presents itself—Is there any difference between the state of a believer who longs and thirsts for the courts of the Lord, and one who longs and thirsts for the Lord Himself? Most assuredly there is. Both states are good, and they may be very closely connected, but they are distinct; and both may have been the experience of the believer at different times. In the one case, blessing is desired, in the other, it is God Himself. Blessing would surely be the result in the latter case, even more abundantly than in the former, but it is not the object. If the quality of an action depends upon the motive, the difference is manifest. In the one state, self is thought of; in the other, God only. But if we compare the first two verses of this Psalm, with the first two of Psalm 63, we may see more clearly what the difference is.
Psalm 63, you will observe, opens differently to Psalm 84, and surely in a much higher strain. There, the desire of the soul is for God Himself. It says, with great fervor, “My God” It is fully conscious of its relationship with Him, and the blessings which flow there from. What state of soul can be more blessed than this? Only listen to its deep and ardent, yet holy breathings, “Ο GOD, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. To see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary.” Psalm 84 opens with, “How amiable are thy tabernacles, Ο Lord of hosts. My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.” Here, God is known and desired, but it is in His relationship with His people — as He reveals Himself in the assembly of His saints. There, it is the direct, blessed, outgoing of the new nature to Himself, abstractly, though placed in the most unfavorable circumstances, even in the dry and thirsty land, where no water is. Here, it is more like the longings of a captive Israelite, who once enjoyed the privileges of the tabernacle worship, but who is now deprived of those happy seasons. Nevertheless, he who thus longs after the courts of the Lord, is no stranger, either to them, or to the Lord who is worshipped there. It was love to the Lord, no doubt, that led the disciples, on the mount of transfiguration, to propose to make three tabernacles. The desire was that He might remain with them in the tabernacle; so that in some cases, the tabernacles may be valued for the sake of Him who dwells there. But though the living God must ever be the real object of all the desires of the new nature, the blessed truth, as to the privileges of God’s children, may not be fully known, and if so, the thoughts cannot rise to their proper center.
How grateful to the heart of God must it be, to see His child so longing after Himself, and so caring for His glory, as in Psalm 63, and that, too, when everything in the world is against it. But in such a case, self is lost sight of, it is the divine life that breathes. What bloom — what fruit, for the eye of God, in this wilderness world! But this was always and perfectly so in Christ only. The world, and even Israel as God’s sanctuary, was to Him a dry and thirsty land, yet His first care ever was His Father’s glory. Blessed, perfect example, for all the children of God! Let it be thine, I pray thee, Ο my soul. Let the subject command thy deepest meditation. It is worthy of thy most prayerful study, and of thy closest imitation. This world never furnished for Him one drop of water to quench His thirst, or one green blade to refresh His eye, yet He complained not, but trusted in the Lord and waited for Him. All His fresh springs were on high. He drank at the fountain; yet, as man, He thirsted for God — the living God, as no one else ever did. He could say, in a sense peculiarly His own, “Ο GOD, thou art my God; early will I seek thee; my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.”
But is not the Christian now, as welcome in those courts above, as was the once lowly Jesus Himself? Through the riches of God’s grace He is. And, oh! what grace this is! His title is thine — His privileges are thine — thou art ONE with Him as the exalted man in heaven. Let thy thoughts then, and the deep breathings of thy heart rise to their proper object. Though feeling this world’s barrenness, murmur not, but send thy thoughts above, and drink at the fountain there. Reckon that all thy fresh springs are in the living God—thy God and Father. Meditate on the countless blessings of accomplished redemption, and of closest relationship. Know that thou art a child in the family of God — a member in the body of Christ, as risen and glorified, and also a servant, in His kingdom. Seek, Ο seek, to walk worthy of such distinguished privileges. They are now real to faith, and shall, ere long, be fully manifested in the glory. And, oh! blessed truth, these relations in grace can never be disturbed. God’s gifts and calling are without repentance. He never recalls His gifts, neither in time nor throughout eternity. Hast thou a gift? — wait upon it — cultivate it — be diligent in thy gift — it is thine forever, and to be used forever for God’s glory, though now we know not in what way. But, meantime, let these things be thy whole study—the one great business of all thy earthly days. The knowledge of Christ is the most excellent of all knowledge; and the science of Christianity is the most excellent of all science.
But we must take one other glance at Psalm 63 before leaving it. In place of the saint seeking his own blessing in the courts of the Lord, right as that may be, we find him longing to see the power and glory of God. “My soul longeth,” he says, “to see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary.” This is surely a blessed state of soul to be in, especially when in the sanctuary, or seated at the Lord’s table. In place of thinking about good to ourselves, we should be thinking about glory to Him. Would to God that this were more usually the case with those whose privilege it is to remember and show forth His dying love.
How differently even Christians may be occupied, though seated around the same table, and eating the same bread, and drinking the same wine. We speak not now of timid, doubting souls who go there tearing and trembling, lest they should eat and drink judgment to themselves; but of those who have the full assurance of pardon and acceptance. Some may be occupied with the happy associations of the place — the presence of certain friends, rather than the presence of the Lord; or, it may be, with their own refreshment. They may have come weary and thirsty, but their thoughts and desires are not rising higher than their own blessing. Of course, they know it is the Lord’s table, and that He is there; but such is their present state of soul, that they rise not to full occupation with Himself, or to the apprehension of His power and glory as displayed in the sanctuary. But when we are more thoroughly done with self, and more fully occupied with Christ, it is different. He is then our all and in all — a perfect covering to the eyes — the complete filling up of the heart. We are sweetly conscious of our nearness to Him, and of our oneness with Him. We remember Him on the cross, we know Him on the throne. The effects of the cross and the effects of the glory are seen and felt. Love is lost in its object, and the disciple is lost in his Lord. He has not a breath but for His praise, and not a word but for thanksgiving.
“ Of the vast universe of bliss,
The Center Thou, and Sun:
Th’ eternal theme of praise is this,
To heaven’s beloved One. Worthy,
Ο Lamb of God, art Thou,
That ev’ry knee to Thee should bow.”
This, Ο my soul, is worship — true, spiritual worship; and well becomes, on all occasions, the courts of the Lord — the Holy of holies. Christ has His right place in the heart, and in the assembly. The Holy Ghost is ungrieved — unquenched. Is this thine own experience, may I ask? Is it thy habit, or only known at intervals and far between? There is no good reason why it should not be the uniform experience of every Christian. The blood of the sacrifice has been sprinkled seven times on the mercy seat — sin has been blotted out — the Great High Priest is in the sanctuary above, and the Holy Ghost is in the assembly on earth. God is fully satisfied in Christ—He has thought of everything for us — we can only worship and adore. “Wherefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Christ Jesus.”