Tuesday, July 8, 2008

This world is not our home


Lay not fast hold upon the things of earth. He who is but a lodger in an inn must not live as though he were at home. Keep thy tent ready for striking. Be thou ever prepared to draw up thine anchor, and to sail across the sea and find the better port, for while Jesus beckons, here we have no continuing city. No true wife hath rest save in the house of her husband. Where her consort is, there is her home — a home which draws her soul towards it every day. Jesus, I say, invites us to the skies. He cannot be completely content until he brings his body, the Church, into the glory of its Head, and conducts his elect spouse to the marriage feast of her Lord.

Besides the desires of the Father and the Son; all those who have gone before, seem to be leaning over the battlements of heaven to-night, and calling, “Courage, brothers! Courage, brothers! Eternal glory awaits you. Fight your way, stem the current, breast the wave, and come up hither. We without you cannot be made perfect: there is no perfect Church in heaven till all the chosen saints be there; therefore come up hither.” They stretch out their hands of fellowship; they look with glistening eyes of strong affection upon us, and still again they say, “Come up hither.” Warriors who wear your laurels, ye call us to the brow of the hill where the like triumphs await us. The angels do the same tonight. How they must wonder to see us so careless, so worldly, so hardened! They also beckon us away, and cry from their starry seats, “Beloved, ye over whom we rejoiced when you were brought as prodigals to your Father’s house, ‘Come up hither,’ for we long to see you; your story of grace will be a strange and wondrous one — one which angels love to hear.

From a sermon entitled "The Voice from Heaven," delivered November 23, 1862. Flickr photo by Michael ; some rights reserved.

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