This longing marks the character of evangelical religion-not merely duty, but delight.

Posted : 25 Sep, 2013 02:27 AM

Psalm 119:174 I have longed for Your salvation, O Lord; and Your law is my delight.





Before we close this Psalm, let us dwell once more upon this

word-salvation. Common as is its use, to the believer it has a

constant freshness and an infinite meaning. Do we wonder at

his longing for it? Look at its fullness-including all the mercy of

the everlasting covenant. Look at its ground-that work of

Calvary's cross once "finished," and leaving nothing to be

filled up or improved; standing out in all its glorious

completeness; constraining the admiration,-and encouraging

the confidence, of the chief of sinners; but wholly disclaiming

all assistance from the most eminent saint. Look at its

simplicity-not keeping the sinner aloof from the Savior, not

hedging up or bewildering the open freeness of his path, but

bringing to him immediate peace and joy in resting upon the

great atonement of the gospel. Mark its unchangeableness independent of and above all frames and feelings, so that,

while "walking in darkness" we can "stay upon our God,"

expecting salvation even from the hand that seems ready for

our destruction; leaving it to our heavenly Father to frown or to

smile, to change as He pleases from the one to the other; and

looking at every aspect of His countenance, as only a different

arrangement of the same features of ineffable paternity; and the different, suitable, and seasonable expression of

unchangeable covenant love.

Is not this an object for the longing of the soul, that feels its

own pressing wants, and sees in this salvation an instant and

full supply? This longing marks the character of evangelical

religion-not merely duty, but delight. The mind wearies in the

continued exertion for duty; but it readily falls in with delight.

Duties become privileges, when Christ is their source and life.

Thus every step of progress is progress in happiness. The

world's all to the believer is really nothing. It presents nothing

to feed the appetite, or quench the thirst, of an immortal soul.

Indeed the creatures were commissioned to withhold

consolation, until every desire was concentrated in the single

object. "You, O God, are the thing that I long for;" until the

sinner has found rest in the answer to his prayer-"Say unto my

soul, I am Your salvation." And now he enjoys his earthly

comforts, "as not abusing them," because he loves them as

God would have them loved, and longs for His salvation

above them all. This is true religion; when the Lord of all

occupies that place in the heart, which He fills in the universeThere He is "All in all." Here the believer cries-"Whom have I

in heaven but You? and there is none upon earth that I desire

beside You." Oh, what a privilege is it to have Him in heart, in

thought, and in view; to be rejoicing in His presence; and to be

longing for a more full conformity to His image, and for a more

lively enjoyment of His love! If this be but earth, what must

heaven be! This longing is a satisfactory evidence of the work

of God. It exercises the soul in habitual contemplation of the

Savior, in nearer communion with Him, and supreme delight in

His law. Such desires will be unutterably increased, and

infinitely satisfied in the 'fruition of His glorious Godhead.'

But the Lord often brings this charge against His professing

people-"You have left your first love." The principle is not

dead, but the energy is decayed. Human nature is prone to apostasy. Slumber unconsciously steals upon the soul. Faith

is not in habitual exercise. The attraction of the Savior is not

felt. His love is not meditated upon. The soul is satisfied with

former affections to Him. There is little heart to labor for Him.

The means of communion with Him are slighted. The heart

naturally becomes cold in spiritual desires, and warm in

worldly pursuits and too often without any smitings of

conscience for divided love.

Some professors indeed consider this declension of affections

to be a matter of course. The young convert is supposed to

abound most in love, and, as he advances, his fervor

gradually subsides into matured judgment. Those indeed, who

"have no root in themselves," lose their lively affections, and

their religion with them. But surely the real principle of love

cannot decay; that is, our esteem of God cannot be lowered:

our longing for His salvation cannot languish; our delight in its

enjoyment cannot diminish, without guilt and loss to our souls,

He claims our love, and it is most unreasonable to deny Him

His own. He is the same, as when we first loved Him. Then

we thought Him worthy of our highest love. Do we now repent

of having loved Him so much? Have we found Him less than

our expectations? Can we bestow our heart elsewhere with

stricter justice, or to better advantage? Do not all the grounds

of our love to Him continue in full force? Have they not rather

increased every day and hour? What would an indulgent

husband think of incessant and increasing attentions repaid

with diminished affection? Oh! let us be ashamed of our

indolence, and "remember" the times when our longings for

His salvation were more intense; when our communion with

Him was more heavenly; when we were ready to labor and

suffer for Him, and even to die to go home to His presence.

Let us "repent" with deeper contrition, and "do our first works:"

never resting until we can take up afresh the language of

delight-I have longed for Your salvation, O Lord. Some, however, of the Lord's dear children are distressed in

the conscious coldness of their spiritual affections. But if it be

a mark of the decay of grace to "lose our first love," it is at

least a mark of the truth of grace to mourn over this loss.

There is always a blessing for those "that hunger and thirst

after righteousness." These restless desires are the beating

pulse of the hidden life; and if there be not always a sensible

growth of desire and enjoyment, there may be (as with the

trees in winter) growth at the root, in a more fixed habit of

grace and love, in a deeper spirit of humility, and in a more

established self-knowledge and simplicity. Yet the shortest

way of peace will be to look off from our longing for this

salvation, to the salvation itself. For nothing is more

desecrating to this great work-nothing is more paralyzing to its

saving power, than the incorporating with it the admixture of

our own experience as the ground of hope. The most

Christian feelings must find no place at the foundation. Indeed

their continual variation renders them, especially in the hour of

temptation, very uncertain. Yet amid all these fluctuations,

Christ may always be safely trusted. While therefore our

coldness humbles us before Him, let not brooding

despondency cover His precious cross from view. Let not our

eyes be so filled with tears of contrition, as to obscure the

sight of His free and full salvation. "Looking" singly "unto

Jesus" as our peace and our life, is at once our duty, our

safety, and the secret principle of our daily progress

heavenward. We shall but realize the perception of our own

emptiness in the contemplation of His unbounded fullness.

But the connection between longing for salvation, and delight

in the law, is at least an incidental evidence, that right

apprehensions of salvation must be grounded upon the word

or law of God; and that a religion of feeling is self-delusion.

Our delight is not only in His love, but in His law. And so

practical is Christian privilege, that longing for salvation will

always expand itself in habitual delight in the law: which in its turn will enlarge the desire for the full enjoyment of salvation.

All spiritual desire therefore, that is not practical in its

exercise, is impulse, excitement; not, as in this man of God,

the religion of the heart; holiness, delight.

Would that this beautiful Psalm might quicken us to be

followers of Him, who evidently knew so much of the heavenly

joys of religion! Why should we not, why do we not determine

to know as much of God as we can? Why are our longings for

His salvation so transient and so few? The religion of

thousands who bear the name is of a very different stamp;

empty instead of solid; withering instead of profitable; insipid

instead of delightful. If there be any exercise, it is only "the

door turning upon hinges," movement without progress. The

head is stored with knowledge, but there is no unction in the

heart, "ever learning, and never able to come to the

knowledge of the truth."

But the soul that really longs shall "not be ashamed of its

hope." Even to taste the present fruits (though it be but a

taste) in a sense of reconciliation, liberty of access, a beam of

the love of Jesus in the heart, is unutterable enjoyment. It

strengthens the soul for endurance of trials, and for a devoted,

self-denying, obedient service. But there are heights and

depths of Divine love yet unexplored. He who has given large

apprehensions of them to others, "is rich in mercy to all that

call upon Him." The fountain of everlasting love is ever

flowing, ever full; and He who commands us to "open our

mouths wide," has promised-"I will fill them." After all,

however, the grand consummation is the object, to which

these longings for salvation stretch with full expansion.

The fullness and likeness of God; the complete and

everlasting deliverance from sin; the glorious "manifestation of

the sons of God;" the coming of the Lord. Then-not until then- will they be fully and eternally satisfied. Praised be God! "Now

is our salvation nearer than when we believed."

Lord of all power and might! create in our souls a more

intense longing for Your salvation, and a more fervent delight

in Your law. And as our longings for Your salvation increase,

oh! nail us to the door-posts of Your house, that we may be

Your happy servants forever!



by

Charles Bridges

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