Evening and Morning
By Charles Haddon Spurgeon
August 15
Morning
"Isaac
went out to meditate in the field at the eventide."—Genesis 24:63.
Very admirable was his
occupation.
If those who spend so many hours in idle company, light reading, and useless
pastimes, could learn wisdom, they would find more
profitable society and more interesting engagements in meditation than in the
vanities which now have such charms for them. We should all know more, live
nearer to God, and grow in grace, if we were more alone. Meditation chews the
cud and extracts the real nutriment from the mental food gathered elsewhere.
When Jesus is the theme, meditation is sweet indeed. Isaac found Rebecca while
engaged in private musings; many others have found their best beloved there.
Very admirable was the
choice of place. In the field we have a study hung round with texts for thought. From
the cedar to the hyssop, from the soaring eagle down to the chirping
grasshopper, from the blue expanse of heaven to a drop of dew, all things are
full of teaching, and when the eye is divinely opened, that teaching flashes
upon the mind far more vividly than from written books. Our little rooms are neither so healthy, so suggestive, so agreeable, or so
inspiring as the fields. Let us count nothing common or unclean, but feel that
all created things point to their Maker, and the field will at once be hallowed.
Very admirable was the
season.
The season of sunset as it draws a veil over the day, befits that repose of the
soul when earthborn cares yield to the joys of heavenly communion. The glory of
the setting sun excites our wonder, and the solemnity of approaching night
awakens our awe. If the business of this day will permit it, it will be well,
dear reader, if you can spare an hour to walk in the field at eventide, but if
not, the Lord is in the town too, and will meet with thee in thy chamber or in
the crowded street. Let thy heart go forth to meet Him.
Evening
"And I
will give you an heart of flesh."—Ezekiel 36:26.
A heart of
flesh is known by its tenderness concerning sin. To have indulged a foul
imagination, or to have allowed a wild desire to tarry even for a moment, is
quite enough to make a heart of flesh grieve before the Lord. The heart of
stone calls a great iniquity nothing, but not so the heart of flesh.
"If to
the right or left I stray,
That moment,
Lord, reprove;
And let me
weep my life away,
For having
grieved thy love"
The heart of flesh is tender
of God's will. My Lord Will-be-will is a great blusterer, and it is hard to
subject him to God's will; but when the heart of flesh is given, the will
quivers like an aspen leaf in every breath of heaven, and bows like an osier in
every breeze of God's Spirit. The natural will is cold, hard iron, which is not
to be hammered into form, but the renewed will, like molten metal, is soon moulded by the hand of grace. In the fleshy heart there is a
tenderness of the affections. The hard heart does not love the Redeemer,
but the renewed heart burns with affection towards Him. The hard heart is
selfish and coldly demands, "Why should I weep for sin? Why should I love
the Lord?" But the heart of flesh says; "Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee; help me to love Thee more!"
Many are the privileges of this renewed heart; "'Tis
here the Spirit dwells, 'tis here that Jesus rests." It is fitted to
receive every spiritual blessing, and every blessing comes to it. It is
prepared to yield every heavenly fruit to the honour
and praise of God, and therefore the Lord delights in it. A tender heart is the
best defence against sin, and the best preparation
for heaven. A renewed heart stands on its watchtower looking for the coming of
the Lord Jesus. Have you this heart of flesh?