In arousing us, God proceeds at first most gently. He touches us slightly, as the angel did Elijah, under the juniper tree, that he may awake us. He sends some slight visitation to shake us out of our security. He causes us to hear some distant noise ; it may be the tumults of the nations, or it may be the tidings of famine, or war, or pestilence afar off. Perhaps this entirely fails ; we slumber on as securely as ever. Our life is as listless and as useless as ever. Then he comes nearer, and makes his voice to be heard in our own neighborhood. or within the circle of our kindred. This also fails. Then he comes nearer still, for the time is hurrying on, and the saint is still asleep. He speaks into our very ears. He smites upon some tender part, till every fibre of our frame quivers, and every pulse throbs quicker. Our very soul is stricken through, as with a thou- sand arrows. Then we start up like one awakening out of a long sleep, and, looking round U3, wonder how we could have slept so long.
But oh, how difficult it is thoroughly to
awaken us ! It needs stroke upon stroke in
long succession to do this. For after every
waking up, there is the continual tendency to
11
122 THE AROUSING.
fall back again into slumber. So that we need both to be made awake, and to be kept awake. What, sorrows does our drowsiness cost us— • what bleeding, broken hearts ! The luxury of " ease in Zion," indulged in perhaps for years, has been dearly bought.
" Think of living," was the pregnant maxim of the thoughtful German. " Thy life," says another, quoting the above, " wert thou the pitifulest of all the sons of earth is no idle dream, but a solemn reality. It is thy own. It is all thou hast to confront eternity with. Work then, like a STAR, unhasting yet un- resting."
There are some Christians who work, but they do not work like men awake. They move forward in a certain track of duty, but it is with weary footstep. Their motions are constrained and cold. They do many good things, devise many good schemes, say excel- lent things, but the vigorous pulse of warm life is wanting. Zeal, glowing zeal, — elastic and untiring, — is not theirs. They neither burn themselves, nor do they kindle others. There is nothing of the "star" about them, save its coldness. They may expect some sharp stroke of chastisement, for they need it.
THE AROUSING. 123
There are others who are only wakeful by fits and starts. They cannot be safely counted on, for their fervor depends upon the humor of the moment. A naturally impulsive tempera- ment, of which, perhaps, they are not suf- ficiently aware, and which they have not sought either to crucify or to regulate, renders them uncertain in all their movements. This inter- mittent wakefulness effects but little. They do and they undo. They build up and they pulldown. They kindle and quench the flame alternately. There is nothing of the " star " about them. They stand in need of some sore and long-continued pressure, to equalize the variable, fitful movements of their spirit.
There are others who seem to be always wakeful, but then it is the wakefulness of bustle and restlessness. They cannot live but in the midst of stirring, and scheming, and moving to and fro. Their temperament is of that nervous, tremulous, impatient kind that makes rest or retirement to be felt as restraint and pain. These seldom effect much themselves, but they are often useful, by their perpetual stir and friction, for setting or keeping others in motion, and preventing stagnation around them. But their incessant
124 THE AROUSING.
motion prevents their being filled with the needed grace. Their continual contact with the outward things of religion hinders their inward growth, and mars their spirituality. These are certainly in one sense like the " star," wakeful and unresting, but they move forward with such haste, that instead of gathering light or giving it forth, they are losing every day the little that they pos- sessed. A deep sharp stroke will be needed for shaking off this false fervour, and impart- ing the true calm wakefulness of Spirit, to which, as saints, they are called. It is the deepening of spiritual feeling that is needed in their case, and it takes much chastening to accomplish this.
There are others who are always steadily at work, and apparently with fervour too. Yet a little intercourse with them shows that they are not truly awake. They work so much more than they pray, that they soon become like vessels without oil. They are further on than the last class, yet still they need arousing. They are like the " star," both " unresting and unhasting," yet their light is dim. Its reflection upon a dark world is faint and pale. It is a deeper spiritual life
f
\ t
THE AROUSING. 125
and experience that they need ; and for this, it may be, there is some sore visitation in store for them.