Songs For Desolate Hearts

Songs For Desolate Hearts

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 10, 1865, BY C. H. SPURGEON, AT
THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Sing, O barren, you that did not bear. Break forth into singing, and
cry aloud, you that did not travail with child: for more are the
children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, says
the Lord."

Isaiah 54:1.

IT was a great sorrow to an Eastern woman to be childless. In modern
times that affliction is endured with cheerful equanimity, but in those
days it was regarded as a dreadful curse and the feelings of those
afflicted by it were of the most painful kind, as we find in the case
of Hannah. Alas, for human nature! Those who were favored with children
were often guilty of cruel haughtiness and taunting derision towards
those who were not so blessed. We may instance the cases of Peninnah
over Hannah and Hagar over her mistress, Sarah. We must therefore
endeavor to bring our minds to the Eastern idea and we shall then have
before us a case of very great, deep, constant, abiding, bitter sorrow.
And yet the person in that case is bid to sing and to rejoice aloud,
because the visitation of God's mercy should soon come to make
desolation itself glad!

I. The text shall first of all be taken in its reference TO THE CHURCH
OF GOD. For a long season before the coming of Christ the Church of God
was desolate. Few were her sons and daughters. Her solemn feast days
were attended by a multitude of hypocrites and her courts were crowded
with formalists–the genuine children of Israel were sadly few. And
when the Lord, the Husband of the Church, Himself arrived, the Church
was in no happy condition. And even while He remained with her, her joy
was not complete, for Christ's ministry was, with all reverence to His
name, by His own appointment, doubtless comparatively an unsuccessful
one.

After all His preaching there were but some hundred and twenty persons
who believed on Him. "He came unto His own and His own received Him
not." The children of the married wife were but very, very few.
Isaiah's wailing might have been heard all through the life of Christ,
"Who has believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord
revealed? For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant and as a
root out of a dry ground: He has no form nor loveliness. And when we
shall see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him."

What a dark night that must have been when the Savior was betrayed by
Judas! Ah, Church of God, what will come of you now? While the
Bridegroom was with you your children were but few and now that He is
taken away to prison and to death, what will you do? As for your sons,
you can not rely upon them. Yonder is Peter, denying his Master with
oaths and curses. John–even the loving John–has forsaken Him and
fled. They have all gone their ways. They have all turned their backs.
Like the children of Ephraim, "being armed and carrying bows, they have
turned their backs in the day of battle."

Alas for you, Zion, for now you are desolate! Your Husband is led away
captive. Your sons have forsaken you–your hour of mourning has come!
Still darker must have been the hour when Salem's daughters wept around
the Savior, led away to a shameful crucifixion along the via dolorosa.
See Him as He dyes the streets of Jerusalem with drops of blood
trickling from His thorn-crowned head. He is taken outside the camp to
the mount of doom. They fasten Him to the wood. They lift Him high upon
the Cross–His enemies compass Him about. The bulls of Bashan roar upon
Him and the dogs of Hell bark about Him.

Where are you now, O Zion? But for a few that cluster round the
shameful tree, where are your sons and daughters now? Your sun has set
forever and your candle is gone out in darkness! So Unbelief whispers,
but not thus speaks the Lord! For after the Lord had been lain in the
grave and risen again and ascended and left the Church, then were the
days of refreshing and the times of the visitation of the Spirit!
Suddenly when the saints were met together in an upper room, for they
were so few that they could all be enclosed within one room, there was
heard a sound as of "a rushing mighty wind," and suddenly flames of
fire sat on each chosen one.

Then was fulfilled the saying of the Prophet Joel, "I will pour out My
Spirit upon all flesh and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy."
Rejoice, O Zion! Sing you barren, you that did not bear, for three
thousand are your children in one day and there are multitudes yet to
come! There are added to the Church daily of such as shall be saved.
And the multitude increases! Persecution scatters them, but as they
scatter they grow–in every land the Church of God has its sons and
daughters.

Even in the palace of the Caesars the Truth of God is confessed.
Mountains cannot stay the progress of Messiah's kingdom. Goths and
Gauls, uncivilized men of war, feel the potent power of the love of the
Cross. From eastern coast to western, Jupiter and Venus fall from their
thrones, and Jesus Christ is exalted. "From the river even to the ends
of the earth" His name is known. Thus you see there was to the whole
Church at Jerusalem a glorious fulfillment of this text, "Sing, O
barren, you that did not bear." And more were the children of the
desolate Church in the absence of her Lord than when she was as a
married wife having Jesus Christ the Bridegroom with her!

Although this is a well-known fact, it ought not to be passed over
without a little thought, because it is very pleasant to remember that
at all seasons when the Church has been desolate and has become barren,
God has appeared to her. In the dark ages when the children of the
Church were a little and hidden flock–probably a few monks in
monasteries holding a faith which they dared not confess, and feeding
it by turning over the Bible in secret–a handful among the mountains
of Piedmont. The Albigenses and Waldenses, a few scattered ones among
the Nestorians and a few "even in Sardis" who had not defiled their
garments.

The poor Church was barren. There were no ministers, but here and there
one to preach the Gospel, and these were hunted like partridges upon
the mountains by those who thirsted for their blood. She might have
taken up her wailing and her heart might have sounded like a harp for
her ruin and decay. But in her hour of dire necessity the Lord appeared
to her and the children of the desolate were suddenly many! The monk of
Wirtemburg began to proclaim the Gospel. The mighty seer of Geneva
stood up and declared the Truth of God as it is in Jesus, distinctly
enunciating the glorious doctrines of Grace!

Zwingli, full of fire and energy, led on the saints in Switzerland. It
is true the stakes began to flame with their victims– the racks were
red with the blood of martyrs and prisons crowded with the elect of
God–but what did it matter? The day was come when God had visited His
people and, as in some desperate fight when suddenly a reinforcement
comes with a mighty captain at its head and every man along the line
gathers courage, every coward becomes a hero and every hero seems
gifted with a thousand hands–each hand filled with a two-edged
sword–even so it was in that day of struggle and of victory!

A song went up from earth even to Heaven, "Sing unto the Lord, for He
has triumphed gloriously! His own right hand and His holy arm has
gotten Him the victory!" Nor has God failed since the days of the
Reformation. We in England had gone to sleep. The Church of England was
sleeping in the dark–Dissenters were sleeping in the light–that was
the only difference between them. There seemed to be no breath of life
throughout the whole of England. Spiritual death crept over all
ministers and all professors. There were, of course, a few exceptions,
but those were, alas, so weak and so isolated that they could effect
but little.

Six young men were expelled from Oxford for the egregious crime of
praying! Among those young men were three destined to carve their names
in everlasting rock–the two Wesleys and George Whitefield. These men,
little knowing why they were called, preached the Word. First of all in
the regular and orderly fashion, but still with the Holy Spirit sent
down from Heaven. They were driven by persecution to the gross
irregularity of preaching in the open air. Blessed day! Whether they
stood on the tombstone and preached to the living from the portals of
the grave, or by the mountain-side, calling Heaven and earth to
witness, it mattered not!

The Gospel had broken from the chains of lethargic propriety. And what
a change, my Brothers and Sisters, came over the spirit of the age!
"The Lord gave the Word: great was the multitude of them that published
it." The fire came down from Heaven like that of old in Pharaoh's day
and it ran along upon the ground and consumed the enemies of God!
Irresistible as the lightning flash it descended and none could stand
against it–for the day of the Lord was come and it was a day of
burning and a day of might–and blessed be the name of God, "the
children of the desolate" were many!

Now we know what has been said concerning the Church of God in England
at the present time and here is the practical lesson I want you to
gather. Some of our Brethren are perfectly contented, but I cannot
number myself among those who think that the Church is flourishing and
that vital godliness is abundant. It may be so, Brethren, it may be so.
I wish I could thoroughly feel satisfied of it. I would not, however,
on the other hand, unite myself altogether with the ranks of the
alarmists who say that everything is wrong.

The Christian Church, according to some, is nothing but a mass of
hypocrisy. We are all going post haste, as fast as ever we can, towards
Romanism and Romanism is next door to the abode of Satan himself. We
are supposed to be going down, down, down a most precipitous descent.
Well, I do not know. It may be so. I wish I was quite sure it was not
so. I hardly think it, but I strike the balance between the two and
rejoice with trembling. On this we may all be agreed–there is an
abundant room both for mourning because we have not the Presence of God
as once we had it and, on the other hand, for a hopeful anxiety that
yet our desolation may be turned into fruitfulness.

Supposing–taking the worst view of the case–supposing it is so–and I
am sure there is very much truth in the supposition–suppose it is so
that the sturdiness with which we once held orthodoxy is giving place
to a trifling latitudinarianism? Suppose it to be true that the
enthusiasm which once made us worthy to be called fanatics, is
gradually dwindling down into indifference? Suppose it to be so that
the Puritan rigidity of morals which once made the professing Christian
something awful to look upon, is now turning into a looseness and
laxity of behavior? Well, then, we are like the barren and desolate
woman! But, at any rate, we have a promise still to cling to and we
will hold it fast–"Sing, O barren, you that did not bear. Break forth
into singing, and cry aloud, you that did not travail with child: for
more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married
wife, says the Lord."

Doubt not but that the Lord will appear for His Church even yet. Let
not your gloomy apprehensiveness cause your hands to hang down, for in
your darkest night God will suddenly light a candle. It may be that He
will let wickedness grow ripe and not send forth the reaper, the
ordained man, with the sickle to cut it down, till it is ripe. It may
be that He may let iniquity abound and the love of many may wax cold.
But fear not! Though He never is before His time, He never is behind!
He will come punctually at the moment, in a time which shall be best
for His Church and most for His own Glory!

Once again we shall hail the happy days of revival and the seasons of
gladness of heart–when "one shall say, I am the Lord's, and another
shall call himself by the name of Jacob," and the children of Zion
"shall spring up as willows by the watercourses." Let us hope and
labor! Let us lament our desolation! Let us expect the gracious
visitation and it shall yet come and we shall "sing together," even we,
"the waste places of Jerusalem."

II. I now intend to use the text, as God helps me, in reference to ANY
ONE CHURCH. I do not think that what I have to say now will have very
special reference to the Church which meets in this place, for we have
reason to thank God that through eleven years or more we have had about
as high a flood-tide of revival as we could well endure. And I do not
know if God had given us more conversions, what we should have done
with them. He has already increased our numbers so marvelously that we
scarcely know how we shall oversee the whole. And it has become almost
a matter of necessity that some should swarm off to form other
churches.

But still a part of what is said may, nevertheless, apply to our case.
And as there are many Brothers and Sisters here from the country and
yet, since some twenty or thirty thousand will read these words, I
shall not speak without having an audience even though not a word may
belong to the members of this Church. Let us observe, then, that there
are some separate churches which are in a very sad condition and may
most truly be said to be barren and desolate. Do we not know some in
our land which are cursed with a lifeless ministry? A ministry which
murders the Truth of God by a drawling, careless utterance of it? A
ministry without force or life?

Some ministries are not truthful. They may preach part of the Truth,
but not the whole–ministries, which, for some reason or other, give
prominence to one or two doctrines, while other parts of the Truth of
God, equally precious, are kept back from the people. And the whole of
what is preached is too often delivered in a cold, official,
ministerial manner–without passion or earnestness and so the Church
necessarily, I may say, becomes barren. And how many churches have to
complain of worldly Church officers?

We cannot help observing with grief and regret that certain Church
officers are far more active when they are in the world than they are
in the Church! And that if they show some little common sense in
conducting their own business, they show little enough in managing
Christ's business. They put out both their hands and all their heart
when the matter is one of personal gain. But when it is only that the
Church of God may be fed, or that the boundaries of Zion may be
enlarged, they go about it as though it were a thing of no consequence,
or of very small importance.

And worse than this, for the Church might still live even with a
lifeless ministry and a worldly deaconship and eldership, but often
there is a lifeless membership! How many churches are there where a
large portion of members scarcely think of assembling themselves
together for supplication? Where, if there is any life, it seems to
expend itself in quarrelling and fault-finding? They do not contend
earnestly for "the faith once delivered to the saints," against the
common foe, but they wrangle over that faith and make foes of one
another!

Oh, how many Christians there are that can boast of
respectability–there are no end of carriages at the door! They can
talk of the wealth, the large subscriptions which they can give to
God's cause! But where is their zeal and the sounding of their hearts
over dying men? Where are the tears that move the heart of God? Where
are the sighs and cries which bring down a blessing upon the preached
Word? Alas, in many of our churches echo can only answer to the
question "Where are they?" with the refrain, "Where are they?" for they
are gone and gone so long that some Christians seem content that they
should be gone forever!

They scarcely remember the time when they were in earnest–the period
when the bedewing of the Holy Spirit rested upon them! I hesitate not
to say solemnly that I know in our own denomination there are many,
many churches in such a state of desolation–if the places where they
worship were closed it would be small loss to the neighborhoods in
which they stand. And if the ministry to which they listen were put out
and silenced, it might be almost a gain–for it only enables the people
to wrap themselves up in the idea that they are all right and that they
have the Spirit of God among them when they have only the name to live
and are dead!

This being their present state, Brothers and Sisters present this
morning who are in earnest, will ask me what is their present duty as
members of such churches? I reply, Brethren, your duty is very plain.
Labor to be conscious of the sad barrenness of the Church to which you
belong! Has the Baptism pool not been stirred for the last five or six
years? Will you be easy about that? Have there been no additions to the
Church for many months? Can you be satisfied about that? Do you observe
an absence of all earnestness, of all passion and vehemence for the
promotion of the Savior's kingdom? Can you be quiet about that? If so,
my dear Friend, I really cannot say anything to you about what you can
do, for it seems to me that you are not the person to whom I ought to
appeal in this matter.

But I will say, do labor, dear Brethren, if you are members of churches
that are not prospering, to be conscious of the sad mischief that you
are doing. If the salt has lost its savor it is therefore good for
nothing! It is neither fit for the land nor for the dunghill and men
cast it out. We can manage to struggle on with a bad trader, for he may
make a good politician or philosopher–but a dead Church is good for
nothing, good for nothing of any sort or in any way–it is only fit to
be cast out.

Even the dunghill rejects a dead Church. Oh, if we did but know it, the
existence of the devil is not more pretentious of evil than the
existence of a Church that has lost spiritual life. Mind, I am not
exaggerating, for I have a proof of it. What is the Church of Rome in
its deadly operation upon the world but the greatest curse that could
ever come from Hell itself? I question if Hell can find a more fitting
instrument within its infernal lake than the Church of Rome is for the
cause of mischief.

And your Church will, in its measure, be the same if bereft of the
Spirit. I do not care if it is Wesleyan, Baptist, Independent, or what
it is–when the life is gone it becomes good for nothing–it is not
even fit to fertilize the ground, as the contents of the dunghill
are–but men cast it out and tread it under foot. Get conscious of that
and then let those of you who are humbled in the sight of God meet
together and spread the case before the Lord. We ought to have great
faith in the power of the twos and threes, for, "Where two or three are
gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them," says
the Lord.

The long thin red line, which has often won the battle, will yet win it
in England–I mean the thin line of the few that sigh and cry for the
desolations of the Church! If you, my Brother, an earnest man, are the
only member of the Church that does really sigh and cry before God, God
intends to bless that Church yet–for He has already blessed it in
sending you to it! Look out for others of a kindred sort, and without
murmuring, without raising divisions, without seeking to expel the
minister or make any changes in the discipline, just set to work, and
pray down, as Elijah did, the fire from Heaven upon the sacrifice.

This is the one thing which is needed. The wrong in organization, the
mistakes in government, the unfitness of the Church officers–all this
will come right enough if you once get the Divine Life. But without
this, though you should rectify everything else, you would have done
but little to any real purpose. Let me beg of you, therefore, to spread
the case before Jehovah and be sure that you look away from everything
that you, yourself, can do and look to Him and to Him alone. What can
the barren woman do? What can she that is desolate do? Why, she can
take this promise before God and say, "You have said, 'Sing, O
barren'–Lord, make me sing! You have said, 'The children of the
desolate shall yet be many'–Lord make our children many!"

The desolate woman can do this and your poor desolate heart, though you
sigh and cry over the fewness of the congregation and the coldness of
the Church members–your desolate heart can do the same! And doing it,
you shall get an answer of peace. But mind you, do not pray without
proving the sincerity of your prayers by action. Do bestir yourself! I
have noticed that many who complain of a want of brotherly love are
just the people who have least themselves. And those who see no
spiritual life in a Church are often the people who have no spiritual
life themselves. They see outside what they see within.

But I hope I am addressing myself to nobler men than these. You feel
that you would not willfully and willingly make any false accusation
against God's saints, nor impeach them for anything in which they are
not guilty. You love the Church too well! You would rather paint her
with your finger upon her spots, than magnify her blemishes. Well, dear
Brothers and Sisters, if such is your state of heart, live and labor
for Jesus Christ yourselves and give the Lord no rest till this Word of
His servant Isaiah is fulfilled to the very letter!

This my message may seem to be of no importance to some here present,
yet I hope it may be fraught with usefulness to churches represented
here by gracious and godly men.

III. By your leave, we will now turn to a third use of our text. Here
the case is before us–THE POOR HELPLESS

SINNER HAS HIS CASE WELL DESCRIBED BY THE PROPHET AS BARREN AND
DESOLATE. I will speak for you and you will recognize your own words.
"Barren! Ah, that I am. I have not one meritorious fruit that I can
bring before God. As well might one expect to gather grapes from
thorns, or figs from thistles, as to find any good thing in me! My
heart is a fountain of polluted waters and all that comes forth
deserves to be called Marah, Marah–for every drop is bitter. How is it
possible that I can ever hope, while I see in myself all that is evil
and nothing that is good?

"Alas, I am not only barren of merit but I am also barren of feeling! I
ought to be humbled on account of sin, but I am not. My eyeballs ought
to be perpetual conduits of tears, but they are dry. My heart should be
like Moses' rock when it was smitten! But alas, it is a flinty rock
yielding no water. O that my heart would break! O that I were truly
contrite! Unto the contrite and broken heart the Lord will have regard,
but I am barren even of that! And alas, I seem to be barren even in
prayer. If I get upon my knees I cannot pray! 'God be merciful to me, a
sinner,' is as far as I can reach.

"And I am afraid I am so barren that I cannot even pray that prayer as
the publican prayed it, so as to get acceptance. I come down from my
closet with the sense that I have tried to pray, but that I have been
so distracted both with doubts and with wandering thoughts that I have
rather multiplied my sins than had any prevalence with God! I am
commanded to believe in Jesus and I wish I could exert faith in Him–

'O could I but believe!
Then all would be easy
I would, but cannot, Lord, believe–
My help must come from You!'

"I have a will, but I have no power. I can say, 'To will is present
with me'–and I am thankful to God for that–but 'how to perform that
which I would, I find not.' I am barren of merit, barren of feeling,
barren of power, barren of prayer, barren of faith. I am barren–barren
with a vengeance."

Yes, and Sinner, it is very probable that I can also speak out your
heart if I take the word "desolate." You are desolate, too–no one can
comfort you. The friend to whom you told your trouble tried his best,
but he could not succeed in cheering your heavy heart. You have been up
to this House, sometimes, hoping that I might say a word, but I have
only added fuel to the flame, for the Truth preached has been far from
comfortable to you! It has rather depressed you and brought you still
lower. You have listened, you have read good books, you have turned
over Scripture, but for all that there does not seem to be a text that
speaks comfortably to you. But the threats leap up out of the page and
seem as if they would drag you down, as the dogs drag down the stag
when they seize him for their prey.

You are "desolate" as a poor lone wanderer who has lost his way far out
in the desert. He looks around upon the horizon and sees not one single
hope or glean of hope! But far above he sees the cruel vulture, waiting
for his lifeless corpse. So it is with you–you see the vultures of
Hell ready to devour you and there is no hope, no comfort whatever. You
are barren and you are desolate. I will tell you one of your thoughts.
You have often envied those whom you would not envy if you knew better.
You poor barren souls have often envied "the married wife." I mean the
Pharisee–you have said of him, "Ah, I wish I could say that I was not
as other men are! I wish I could say I had not sinned, but had walked
in righteousness–'All these things have I kept from my youth up'–O
that I could say that!"

You have heard these married wives, as it were, boast of all their
goodness and you have looked at them and thought, "What blessed people
they must be! O that I could see what they can see!" There are some
about in the world who preach up human ability. They tell us that men
can believe and can repent and can do all sorts of spiritual actions.
And there are some who think they can do them irrespective of the Holy
Spirit. Well, then, I do not doubt but what you envy them! You say, "I
wish I could feel as So-and-So. I wish I could rejoice as Such-and-Such
does. Oh, if I could get as good a hope as he has." Hark to this, he is
a hypocrite.

"Oh, that I could be as full of peace as he is!" Mark, he is a mere
formalist. "Oh, that I had his unbroken peace!" If you had such peace
as he has it would be your eternal ruin! Poor, barren Sinner, let me
say this much to you. Your help is to be found, not in your barrenness,
not in your desolation–do not look to that as though it could help
you! Your barrenness is barrenness forever if left to itself! And your
desolation is utter and helpless unless someone shall intervene. May I
ask you to look at the chapter which precedes my text?

I wish the Bible had never been chopped up into chapters at all, it
spoils it so! It was not intended by the Holy Spirit that it should
be–that is human device! If you read it right on you see how it
runs–"All we like sheep have gone astray. We have turned every one to
his own way. And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." You
know how it continues till it gets to this–"He shall see of the
travail of His soul and shall be satisfied: by His knowledge shall My
righteous Servant justify many, for He shall bear their iniquities.
Therefore will I divide Him a portion with the great and He shall
divide the spoil with the strong, because He has poured out His soul
unto death: and He was numbered with the transgressors. And He bore the
sin of many and made intercession for the transgressors. Sing, O
barren, you that did not bear. Break forth into singing and cry aloud,
you that did not travail with child."

Do you see the drift of it? Jesus has taken the sinner's sin upon
Himself and made a complete Atonement. Therefore, "sing, O barren." The
mighty Redeemer has come out of His dwelling place, and has fought the
enemy and won the victory. "Sing, O barren." Sin can be pardoned now,
for Christ has died. "Sing, O barren!" Sinfulness can be conquered now,
for Christ has won the victory over the hosts of Hell. You barren one!
All barren as you are, stand here and see that wondrous sight. He comes
from Edom "with garments dyed in blood."

Can you see the blood upon His garments? It is red as though He had
trod the wine vats. Can you see that blood? It is the blood of all your
sins! They are gone! They are gone! O Desolate! They are gone! The
blood of all your foes–they are slain! O barren woman! They are slain!
And now He who vanquished Hell, comes! Can He not rescue you? "The prey
shall be taken from the mighty and the lawful captive shall be
delivered." And though you stood bound in iron surrounded with darkness
about you like that of Egypt, "which night he felt," He could set you
free–

"He comes the prisoners to release, In Satan's bondage held. The gates
of brass before Him burst, The iron fetters yield."

Your hope is in a bleeding Savior who is now ascended up on high to
receive gifts for men! Surely I myself will lead the strain, while I
ask you now, you barren ones, to sing! Break forth into singing and cry
aloud, for your Redeemer is mighty and will save! Whereas you envied
the Pharisee, you shall have greater joy than he. "More are the
children of the desolate than the children of the married wife."
Whereas you envied the proud man who said, "I can do this and I can do
the other," you who could do nothing because you were so barren, shall
be filled with such love and endowed with such Grace–you shall be
admitted into such familiarity with Christ, such oneness with God, such
glory with Him forever– that your joy, your glory, shall be far
greater than the married wife could claim!

I pray the sinner, as he hears these gladsome words, to be obedient to
them! Trust in the Savior and, "You shall go out with joy and be led
forth with peace. The mountains and hills shall break forth before you
into singing and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands."

IV. Does not this text, in the fourth place, belong to the DEPRESSED
BELIEVER? Here, as before, I can speak experimentally. Beloved in the
Lord Jesus Christ, you and I, though we have brought forth some fruit
unto His name, and are still confident that we are "plants of His own
right hand planting," yet sometimes feel very barren. I hope you do not
feel it so often as I do. There are occasions when, having preached to
others, I have to examine myself, "lest I myself should be a castaway."

I would, if I could, always weep for the sins and for the ruin of
rebellions men. I would always feel tenderness of heart on account of
those who reject His great salvation. But sometimes I am barren of all
this. I feel my heart cold as a stone and hard as a rock. Do you ever
feel, Brothers and Sisters, when you try to pray–you that have nearest
access to God– that there are times when you cannot pray? You would
wrestle with the angel, but it is as much as ever you can say, "Lord, I
believe! Help my unbelief." You want to love Christ, but instead of a
furnace of love, you can only find a spark in your soul.

Oh, how you want to burn! How you desire to grow, to mount, to reach to
something higher and better than this poor dead level of a mere
profession–but you cannot get up to it. O dew of Heaven, water my dry
branch! O river of God, flow hard by my poor barren roots! For if not,
I shall be always barren! Have you not often felt desolate? I know the
righteous man never is desolate, but still he sometimes thinks himself
so. His soul abhors all manner of meat and he refuses to be comforted.
He was no bad man who said, "I watch and am as a sparrow alone upon the
housetop." For those who have looked the sun in the face have,
nevertheless, sometimes had to say, "Look not on me, for I am black,
because the sun has looked upon me."

Depressions of spirit, humiliating thoughts of one's self, deep and
grievous bondage–all these the children of God are well aware of. With
Paul we have, at times, to cry, "O wretched man that I am, who shall
deliver me from the body of this death?" Beloved, it is well for us to
know, as I am sure we do know experimentally, that in this matter of
barrenness and desolation the creature can do but little. It is the
Spirit that quickens–the flesh profits little. When we get into this
state, we feel like a man who cannot swim. And the more we kick and
struggle the more rapidly we sink. It seems as if all human energy were
but the energy to sin and a power to make us yet more dead to true
spiritual life.

Well, what are we to do, then? Why, let us remember that the text is
addressed to us in just such a state. "Sing, O barren! Break forth and
cry aloud you that did not travail with child." But what can I sing
about? I cannot sing about the present. I cannot even sing concerning
the past. Well, but yet I can sing of Jesus Christ, can I not? I can
turn to that which precedes the text and I can sing of visits which the
Redeemer has before paid to me! Or, if not of these, I can sing of the
great love with which He loved His people when He came from the heights
of Heaven for their redemption!

I will go to the Cross again. Come, my Soul, heavy laden you were once
and you did lose your burden there. Come again, come again! Once you
did wash in yonder fount and you were clean. O my poor bespattered
Spirit, come and wash again! A prodigal I once returned–He fell upon
my neck and kissed me then. I will go to Jesus yet once more. Though my
sins rise like mountains, I will be obedient to the Word which says,
"Return, you backsliding children, for I am married unto you, says the
Lord."

What is my barrenness? It is the platform for His Divine power! What is
my desolation? It is the black setting for the sapphire of His
everlasting love! I will go in poverty! I will go in helplessness! I
will go in all my shame and backsliding! I will tell Him that I am
still His child and in confidence in His faithful heart, I, even I, the
barren one, will sing and cry aloud! Beloved, I think this is a very
delightful text for us to think upon–especially when we remember that
the joy of hardened hearts is, by-and-by, greater than the joy of those
who never did feel their barrenness so much.

There are some Christians that seem to be like the married wife. They
have an equable temperament. They are not much depressed. They keep the
even tenor of their way. I know I often envy them. We have our ups and
downs, but mark you, when our ups come, those who despised us when we
were in the downs might very well envy us! Though the valleys are dark
and very gloomy, yet oh, the hilltops! The hilltops are so bright that
when the Lord makes our feet to stand upon our high places, we no
longer envy the married wife with all her ordinary calm and peace! We
will take our trails for the sake of our joys–for as our tribulations
abound, so our consolations abound in Christ Jesus!

V. And now, lastly, it strikes me that our text ought to have a very
special voice TO THOSE CHRISTIANS WHO HAVE NOT BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN DOING
GOOD. As a Church I am sure it is our unanimous desire that we might
bring forth spiritual children unto Christ Jesus. I hope I have not a
single member of this Church who is content to go to Heaven alone. As
far as I know you, I believe there is commonly among you this
desire–that you may bring sinners to Christ.

Now it is possible that some dear Brothers and Sisters present have not
yet been successful. You have been at work. You have been in prayer.
You have depended upon Christ in simple faith and hoped for His Spirit,
but still you have been denied the happy privilege of being made
useful. Well, now, two or three words to you. You are barren and I am
glad that while you are barren your heart feels desolate! You will not
be barren long if you are unhappy in your barren state!

Now, my dear Friends, it may be possible that you are only barren in
your own esteem. It is possible that God may have blessed you to many,
though you think He has never blessed you to one. There may be,
somewhere, precious jewels which you first brought up from the depths
of sin–though you have not seen them glisten, Christ has! And though
you thought you did not succeed the other day in your attempt, it is
just possible that you are not a good judge of your own success!

Frequently I have gone home groaning over a sermon which God has
blessed to never-dying souls. And those very discourses which I have
thought the worst of, God has blessed the most. I think we are not to
be judges of how we do our work–the Master knows better than we do the
success of our enterprises. Beside, dear Friends, you do not expect to
see fruit at once, do you? "Cast your bread upon the waters and you
shall find it tomorrow"–is that the text? If I read rightly it is,
"You shall find it after many days." You have not had your "many days"
to wait yet. The farmer, when he plants corn, may plow in October or
November, but he does not expect to have a harvest in January! He will
wait till the season comes. And you farmers of your Lord must wait and
be patient for the precious fruits of your toil–"In due season you
shall all reap if you faint not." Therefore wait on.

Perhaps, however, your barrenness really is true and if so, ought not
this greatly humble you? You were not always barren, my Brethren–when
you were fruitful, did you give God all the glory? Were you very
careful not to say, "Well done, I"? Possibly this barrenness has come
upon you to make you feel your nothingness and to qualify you for yet
greater success. It often happens that before God means to bless His
servants He depresses them greatly. Whether or not it is absolutely
necessary, I cannot tell. But this I know, it is generally the rule
that there is a flogging behind the door for the man whom God means to
honor in public. He will give him a thorn in the flesh either before or
after He gives him marvelous revelations.

Dear Friend, perhaps this is the reason. "Well," you say, "I do not
know what the reason is, but I wish I could be rid of it, for I cannot
bear to be useless, to be a tree cumbering the ground." My dear
Brother, I am thrice glad to hear you say that, because now that you
are really ashamed of being barren, you will soon be fruitful! And now
that God makes you loathe to be without fruit, He will soon cover you
with precious clusters. One thing is certain–you cannot alter your
being barren. You cannot, yourself, change your barrenness into
fruitfulness.

But is it not significant that my text should stand just after the
passage to which I have invited your attention just now? Just after the
story of the despised and rejected Savior stands this note of joy for
you poor barren ones! Let me invite you, then, to come to the Cross!
Perhaps that very Cross which gave you life may give you fruitfulness.
You have found help there before–may you not find vigor there now?

Brothers and Sisters–my fellow workers for Christ Jesus–let us look
up and view the flowing of the Savior's precious blood. Let us see the
chastisement of our peace as it falls in cruel blows upon His blessed
shoulders. Let us see the scourging. Let us mark the drops of blood as
they roll down to the ground and what do we feel but this?–"Now for
the love I bear His name." Yes, and I must and will esteem what was my
gain I count my loss, all things but loss for Jesus' sake. My former
pride I call my shame, O may my soul be found in Him. And nail my glory
to His Cross. And of His righteousness partake.

O Beloved, there is nothing like a sight of the Savior! I have heard of
a minister who was ready to give up his work but he fell asleep and
dreamed that he saw the thorn-crowned Redeemer reaping with a sweat of
blood upon His face. The Crucified One said to him as He saw him
standing idly by, "Could you not reap with Me one hour?" He seized a
sickle and worked on and on and on, with the Crucified One at his side
and his strength grew as he continued at his work.

O servants of God, will you depart from your work when the pierced hand
is at your side? Courage, my Brethren, courage! We cannot fail, for
Christ is with us! And we must not cease, for Jesus ceases not.
Together let us praise our Lord that He has sent us this morning such a
promise to gird about our loins to make us strong even to the end.
"Sing, O barren, you that did not bear. Break forth into singing and
cry aloud you that did not travail with child: for more are the
children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, says
the Lord."

The Lord grant it may be so to us for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.