The Glorious Hereafter and Ourselves

DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, JANUARY 23, 1870,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Now He that has worked us for the same thingis God, who also has given
unto us the earnest of the Spirit." 2 Corinthians 5:5.

IT is a very comforting thing to be able to see the work of God in our
own hearts. We can clearly enough perceive the effects of the Fall–the
workings of our inward corruption are always sufficiently perceptible.
We have not to search long for the foul handiwork of Satan within us,
for his temptations vex us day by day, and too often wound us to our
dismay. The evil influences of the world are also exceedingly apparent
to the eyes of self-examination. It is, therefore, consoling to the
highest degree when, amidst all this disfiguring of the vessel by the
hands of evil, we can see growing traces of the Great Artist's hand
still fashioning the clay upon the wheel and undoing the mischief of
His enemies.

It is a sweet thing to be able to say with the Apostle that God has
worked us to the most grand of all designs. When the Creator of the
world puts His all-wise hands to the work of our new creation, we are
favored in the highest degree, and ought to be filled with gratitude.

It appears from the text that the Apostle found the indications of the
Divine work in a groan. Observe, "We that are in this tabernacle do
groan, being burdened." In that groan of his burdened soul he saw the
working of the eternal God, and he exclaimed, "He that has worked us
for the same thing is God." Believers may trace the finger of God in
their holy joys when the soul, like the lark, mounts up towards Heaven
and carols her song of gratitude. But, just as surely is the Holy
Spirit present in their sorrows for sin, their inward conflicts, their
hungering and thirsting after righteousness, their deep-fetched sighs,
and their groans which cannot be uttered.

My Brethren, so long as it is the work of God it is comparatively a
small matter to us whether our hearts' utterance is song or sigh. Let
us be assured that it is worked by the Spirit, and either the one or
the other is a token for good. If it is but proven that "the Lord is
there," we hear a voice which says, "It is I, be not afraid."

Our text brings before us a great work of God with a distinct
object–our being "clothed upon with our house which is from Heaven."
And looking at the words minutely, we see that the one design is
accomplished by three great processes. The Lord has worked in us
desires after the heavenly Glory. "He that has worked us for the same
thing is God." The Apostle had twice over spoken of groaning after the
heavenly House, and we understand him here to affirm that this groaning
was worked in him by God.

Secondly, the Lord has worked in us a fullness for the eternal world,
for so the text may be understood. "He that has fitted us for" the
heavenly inheritance of which the Spirit is the earnest. Then thirdly,
God has given to Believers, in addition to desires after and fitness
for an earnest of the Glory to be revealed, which earnest is the Holy
Spirit. Let us speak of these three things as the Holy Spirit may
instruct us.

God's work is seen in our souls in causing us exciting, vehement
DESIRES AFTER being "clothed upon with our house which is from Heaven."

This earnest desire, of which the Apostle has been speaking in the
preceding verses, is made up of two things–a painful groaning and
sense of being burdened while we are in this present life, and a
supreme longing after our promised portion in the world to come.
Dissatisfaction with the very idea of finding a continuing city here,
amounting even to groaning, is the condition of the Christian's mind.
"We look not at the things which are seen," they are not worth a
glance. They are temporal and therefore quite unfit to be the joy of an
immortal spirit.

The Christian is the most contented man in the world, but he is the
least contented with the world. He is like a traveler in an inn,
perfectly satisfied with the inn and its accommodation, considering it
as an inn, but putting quite out of all consideration the idea of
making it his home. He waits by the way, and is thankful, but his
desires lead him ever on-

ward towards that better country where the many mansions are prepared.
The Believer is like a man in a sailing vessel, well content with the
good ship for what it is, and hopeful that it may bear him safely
across the sea, willing to put up with all its inconveniences without
complaint.

But if you ask him whether he would choose to live on board in that
narrow cabin, he will tell you that he longs for the time when the
harbor shall be in view, and the green fields, and the happy homesteads
of his native land. We, my Brethren, thank God for all the appointments
of Providence–whether our portion is large or scant we are content
because God has appointed it–yet our portion is not here, nor would we
have it here if we might!–

"We've no abiding city here,

Sad truth were this to be our home." No thought would be more dreadful
to us than the idea of having our portion in this life, in this dark
world which refused the love of Jesus, and cast Him out of its
vineyard. We have desires which the whole world could not fulfill. We
have insatiable yearnings which a thousand empires could not satisfy.
The Creator has made us to pant and long after Himself, and all the
creatures put together could not delight our souls without His
Presence–

"Hopeless of joy in anything below,

We only long to soar,

The fullness of His love to feel,

And lose His smile no more."

In addition to this dissatisfaction, there reigns within the regenerate
heart a supreme longing after the heavenly state. When Believers are in
their right minds, their aspirations after Heaven are so forcible that
they despise death itself. When faith is weak, then the pains and the
groans of dying make a black cloud of forebodings which darken the
spirit, and we shrink from the thought of departing.

But when we know that our Redeemer lives, and look forward to the
Resurrection and to the Glory to be revealed, we cry–

"Oh, if my Lord would come and meet,

My soul should stretch her wings in haste,

Fly fearless through death's iron gate, Nor fear the terrors as she
passed." Whatever the separation of the soul from the body may involve
of pain or mystery, the Believer feels that he could dare it all to
enter at once into the unfading joys of Heaven. Sometimes the heir of
Heaven grows impatient of his bondage. Like a captive looking out of
the narrow window of his prison beholds the green fields of the
unfettered earth, and marks the flashing waves of the ocean, ever
free–and hears the songs of the free tenants of the air–he weeps as
he views his narrow cell and hears the clanking of his chains.

There are times when the most patient of the Lord's banished ones feel
the home sickness strong upon them. Like those beasts which we have
sometimes seen in our menageries, which pace to and fro in their dens,
and chafe themselves against the bars–uneasy, unhappy, bursting out
every now and then into fierce roars–as though they yearned for the
forest or the jungle. Even so we also chafe and fret in this, our
prison, longing to be free. As by the waters of Babylon the sons of
Zion sat down and wept, even so do we. Dwelling in Kedar's tents and
sojourning with Mesech, we long for the wings of a dove that we might
fly away and be at rest–

"O my sweet home, Jerusalem,

Would God I were in you!

Would God my woes were at an end,

Your joys that I might see."

Having thus seen that the groaning worked in us by God is made up of
dissatisfaction with this world and anxious desire for the world to
come, we may profitably consider it yet a little further. What is it
that makes the Christian long for Heaven? What is that within him which
makes him restless till he reaches the better land? It is, first, a
desire for the unseen. The carnal mind is satisfied with what the eyes
can see, the hands can handle, and the taste enjoy. But the Christian
has a spirit within him which has passions and appetites which the
senses cannot gratify.

This spirit has been created, developed, enlightened, and instructed by
the Holy Spirit, and it lives in a world of unseen realities of which
unregenerate men have no knowledge. While in this sinful world and
earthly body, the spirit feels

like a citizen exiled from his native land. It stands upon the outmost
borders of its own region and longs to penetrate into the center of
spiritual things. Hampered with this body of clay, the spirit, which is
akin to angels, cries after liberty. It longs to see the Great Father
of Spirits, to commune with the bands of the pure spirits forever
surrounding the Throne of God, both angels and glorified men.

It longs, in fact, to dwell in its true element. A spiritual creature,
begotten from above can never rest till it is present with the Lord.
Oh, to see the things which we have heard of in metaphor and simile, to
enjoy them really with our spirits! The harps, the crowns, the
palms–what must it be to possess such joys? The streets of transparent
gold, the river of the water of life, the glassy sea, the Throne of the
Great King–what must all these be? Until these joys and glories be all
our own, our souls will always cry and sigh.

Moreover, the Christian spirit pants after holiness. He who is born
again of incorruptible seed finds his worst trouble to be sin. While he
was in his natural state he loved sin, and sought pleasure in it. But
now, being born of God and made liken to God, he hates sin. The mention
of it vexes his ears. The sight of it in others causes him deep
sorrow–the presence of it in his own heart is his daily plague and
burden. If he could be rid of sin, this mortal body might not be to him
a load. But because the tendencies of the animal passions are always
towards evil, he longs to be rid of this vile body so that he may be
clothed with his House which is in Heaven–from which all these
passions will be expelled.

Oh, to be without the tendency to sin, without the possibility to sin!
What bliss the prospect affords! My Brethren, if we could be placed in
the meanest and most destitute condition, and yet could be perfect, we
would prefer it to being sinful, even though we should reign in the
palaces of kings. Our spirit, therefore, cries after the immortal
state, because sin will be forever banished from it.

In the Christian's spirit there is also a sighing after rest. "There
remains a rest for the people of God," as though God had put in us the
longing for what He has prepared. We labor daily to enter into that
rest. Brethren, we long for rest, but we cannot find it here. "This is
not our rest." We cannot find rest even within ourselves. Wars and
fights are continuous within the regenerate spirit. The flesh lusts
against the spirit, and the spirit wars against the flesh. As long as
we are here it must be so. We are in the camp of war, not in the
chamber of ease. The trumpet must sound, and the clash of arms must be
heard. We must go to our watchtower and continue there both night and
day, for we are militant as yet, and not triumphant.

Our soul pines to be at rest. When shall the rowers of our spirit
indulge themselves to the full without the fear of falling into sin?
When shall my memory remember nothing but what will glorify God? When
shall my judgment always rightly balance all events? When shall my
desires be after nothing but my Lord? When shall my affections cling to
nothing but Him? O when shall I possess the rest of the sinless, the
rest of the satiated, the rest of the secure, the rest of the
victorious? This longing for rest helps to inflame the Christian's
desires for the House not made with hands.

This Divinely-worked desire is made up of another element, namely, a
thirst for communion with God. Here, at the nearest, our state is
described as being "absent from the Lord." We do enjoy fellowship with
God, for, "Truly our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son
Jesus Christ," but it is remote and dark. "We see through a glass
darkly," and not as yet face to face. We have the smell of His garments
from afar, and they are perfumed with myrrh, and aloes, and cassia–but
as yet the King is in His ivory palaces–and the gate of pearl is
between us and Him.

O that we could come to Him! O that He would even now embrace us, and
kiss us with the kisses of His mouth! The more the heart loves Christ,
the more it longs for the greatest possible nearness to Him. Separation
is very painful to a bride whose heart is burning for the bridegroom's
presence. And such are we–longing to hear the most sweet voice of our
Spouse and to see the countenance which is as Lebanon, excellent as the
cedars. For a saved soul to long to be where its Savior is, is no
unnatural desire! To be with Him is far better than earth's best, and
it would be strange if we did not long for it.

God, then, has worked in us this in all its forms. He has made us to
dread the thought of having our portion in this life. He has created in
us a supreme longing for our heavenly Home, has taught us to value
unseen and eternal things, to pant after holiness, to sigh after
sinless rest, and to yearn after closer fellowship with God in Christ
Jesus. My Brethren, if you have felt a desire such as I have described,
give the glory of it to God! Bless and love the Holy Spirit who has
worked this same thing in you, and ask Him to make the desires yet more
vehement, for they are to His glory.

Bear with a word in praise of this God-worked groaning. This desire
after the world to come is above ordinary nature. All flesh is grass,
and the grass loves to strike its root deep into the earth. It has no
tendrils with which to clasp the stars. Man by nature would be content
to abide on earth forever. If you long for a holy and spiritual state,
your desire is not of nature's creation. God has worked it in you. Yes,
I will venture to say that the desire for Heaven is contrary to nature.
For as there is an inertia in matter which makes it indisposed to move,
so is there in human nature an indisposition to leave the present for
the future.

Like the snail, we stick to the rock on which we crawl. We cling to
earth like the ivy to the wall. We are afraid to set sail upon that
unknown sea of eternity, and therefore shiver on the shore. We dread to
leave "the warm precincts of this house of clay," and hovel as this
body is, we count it dear. It is the Lord who forbids our lying among
the pots and gives us the wings of a dove to mount aloft. As soon would
a clod seek the sun as a soul seek its God, if a miracle of Grace were
not worked upon it.

While they are contrary to the old nature, such aspirations prove the
existence of the new nature. You may be quite sure that you have the
nature of God in you if you are pining after God. And if your longings
are of a spiritual kind, depend upon it–you are a spiritual man. It is
not in the animal to sigh after mental enjoyments, neither is it in the
mere carnal man to sigh after heavenly things. What your desires are,
that your soul is. If you are really insatiably hungering after
holiness and after God, there is within you that which is liken to God,
that which is essentially holy. There is, indeed, a work of the Holy
Spirit within your hearts.

I shall detain you awhile to notice the means by which the Holy Spirit
quickens these desires within our spirits. This desire after a portion
in the unseen world is first infused in us by regeneration.
Regeneration begets in us a spiritual nature, and the spiritual nature
brings with it its own longings and desires. These longings and desires
are after perfection and God. Imagine an angel imprisoned in a
stable–it is perfectly certain that it would be discontent with the
place where the horned oxen lay. If it felt that the Divine will
commanded it to tarry there for awhile, I doubt not that the bright
visitant would contentedly put up with the confinement.

But if it had liberty to leave the society of beasts, how gladly would
the bright spirit ascend to its native place! Yes, Heaven is the place
for angels, the true abode of holy spirits and we, too, since our
spiritual nature is born from above, long to be there–nor shall we be
content until we are. These desires are further assisted by
instruction. The more the Holy Spirit teaches us of the world to come
the more we long for it. If a child had lived in a mine it might be
content with the glimmer of candle light. But if it should hear of the
sun, the green fields and the stars, you may depend upon it–the child
would not be happy until it could ascend the shaft and behold for
itself the brightness of which it had heard. And as the Holy Spirit
reveals to us the world to come we feel longings within us, mysterious
but mighty, and we sigh and cry to be where Jesus is.

These desires are further increased by sanctified afflictions. Thorns
in our nest make us take to our wings. The embittering of this cup
makes us earnestly desire to drink of the new wine of the kingdom. We
are very much like our poor who would stay at home in England and put
up with their lot, hard though it is. But when at last there comes a
worse distress than usual, then straightway they talk of emigrating to
those fair and boundless fields across the Atlantic where a kindred
nation will welcome them with joy.

So here we are in our poverty, and we make the best of it we can. But a
sharp distress wounds our spirit and then we say we will run away to
Canaan, to the land that flows with milk and honey. For there, we
think, we shall suffer no distress, neither shall our spirits hunger
any more. Heavenly desires are still farther inflamed by communion with
Christ. The sweets as well as the bitters may be made to increase our
longings after the world to come. When a man has once known what
fellowship with Jesus is, he then pines to enjoy it forever. Like the
Gauls on this side the Alps, who, when they had once drank the Italian
wines, said one to another, "It must be a fair land where they grow
such wine as this. Come, Brethren, let us draw our swords and cross the
Alps and take the vineyards for ourselves." Thus does the love of Jesus
set us longing to be with Him–

"Since I have tasted of the grapes, I oftentimes long to go Where my
dear Lord the vineyard keeps, And all the clusters grow."

Communion with Christ sharpens the edge of our desire for Heaven. And
so, to close this vein of thought, does elevation of soul. The more we
are sanctified and lifted above the grossness of earthliness into
conformity with Jesus, the more we long for the world to come.

A peasant at the plow is quite content to mix with his fellow
laborers–but suppose he forms a passion for the study of the stars,
feels a poet's frenzy, develops mathematical powers, learns the science
of flowers–or in any way discovers the treasure hidden in the field of
learning? He will be sure to be uneasy in ignorance, and will pine for
books and education. He dreams of schools, and colleges, and libraries.
His fellow plowmen laugh at him and count him but a fool. If they have
enough to eat and drink and clothe themselves, they are content–but he
has wants for which the village has neither sympathy nor supply.

His elevation of mind has brought with it groans–desires to which, had
he no more ambition than his fellows–he would have been a stranger. So
is it with the regenerated man–in proportion as he is elevated by the
Holy Spirit by growth in Divine Grace, the higher he rises–the more he
longs to rise. To him that has, it is given, and he desires to have in
abundance. With a sacred covetousness he pants after yet higher degrees
of Grace, and after Glory itself. Thus have I opened up to you the
desire which the Holy Spirit works in us. "He that has worked us for
the same thing is God."

II. Our second subject of discourse is THE FITNESS FOR HEAVEN which is
worked in us. Calvin's interpretation of the text is, "He that has
fitted us for the same thing is God." Ah, how true this is! There is no
fitness whatever in man by nature for communion with his God. It must
be a Divine work within him. The Father works in us fitness for Heaven
by separating us in the everlasting decree to be His own. Heaven is the
place of God's own abode–we must be God's own people to be fit to be
there. He fits us by adopting us into His family, by justifying us
through the righteousness of Jesus Christ, by preserving us by His
power.

The Son of God has an equal share in the working of this fitness. He
fits us by blotting out our iniquities and by transferring to us His
righteousness–by taking us into marriage union with Himself. The Holy
Spirit, forever to be blessed, has His share in this work. It is He who
first infuses the new nature. He who gives us spiritual food for the
new nature, giving us to feed upon the flesh and blood of Christ. It is
He who instructs and develops that new nature, and through the blood of
Jesus makes the man meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the
saints in light. Glory be unto the Father, and to the Son, and to the
Holy Spirit, who thus in blessed union "has worked us for the same
thing."

Now, let me describe with great brevity the work of the Holy Spirit in
preparing us for Glory. As we have already hinted–and we must
necessarily traverse much the same ground–fitness for Heaven, as
worked in us by the Spirit, consists, first, in the possession of a
spiritual nature. Heaven is pre-eminently a spiritual region and those
who have no nature begotten from above would not by any possibility be
able to enjoy the bliss of Heaven. They would be quite out of their
element. It could not be a Heaven to them. A garden bee in the midst of
the flowers is at home and gathers honey from all their cups and bells.

But open the gate and admit a swine, and it sees no beauty in lilies,
roses, or other flowers. Therefore it proceeds to root, and tear, and
spoil in all directions. Such would an unregenerate man be in Heaven.
While holy saints shall find bliss in everything in the Paradise of
God, an ungodly sinner would be at war with everything in that holy
region. Fitness for Heaven lies much in a holy nature–a love of Heaven
is as contrary to fallen humanity as light to darkness. Do you not feel
it so? Left to yourselves, O saints of God, do you not know that you
would go back to Egypt? Do you not feel that the old nature lusts after
evil?

Well, then, as you cannot possibly inherit Heaven unless you delight in
holiness, you owe this fitness for the perfect state to the Holy
Spirit. Fitness for Heaven lies in a capacity to delight in God. I have
always loved that first question and answer in the Assembly's
Catechism, "What is the chief end of man? The chief end of man is to
glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." Not to enjoy yourself forever,
not even to enjoy the harps of gold, the angelic society and the feasts
of the beatified–but to enjoy God forever. If a man has as yet no
delight in God and takes no solace in thoughts of Him, he has no
fitness for Heaven, and cannot get there. But if you delight in God, it
is God that has "worked you to the same

thing."

Fitness for Heaven will lie very much in love to the saints. Those who
do not love the people of God on earth would find their company very
irksome forever. Here the unrighteous can manage to endure the company
of the godly because it can be diluted with an admixture of graceless
men. But up there the people shall be all righteous and their
conversation

shall be all of Christ and of things Divine–such society and such
conversation would be weariness, itself, to godless hearts. My Hearer,
if you delight in the company of the Believers–and if the more
spiritual their conversation the more you enjoy it–then you have been
worked to this same thing by the work of the Holy Spirit in your soul,
and you may bless the Lord for it.

Joy in service is another sweet preparation for Heaven. Heaven is
sinless service. They serve God day and night in His Temple–service
without weariness, service without imperfection, service without
cessation. Now do you delight to serve God? If so, you evidently have a
fitness for Heaven. But as you once abhorred that service, and were the
bondslave of the Prince of Darkness–if you now long and wish to
glorify your God–you have been worked thereto by the Holy Spirit's
power.

Conformity to Christ Jesus, again, is another preparation for Heaven.
Much of Heaven consists in being like Christ. It is the very object of
Divine Grace that we should be conformed to His image, that He should
be the first-born among many Brethren. Now, if you are growing, by His
Grace, somewhat like Christ–if you desire to be like He is, imitating
His tender, loving, brave, prayerful, obedient, self-sacrificing
spirit–you have some fitness for the skies. But that fitness was not
there by nature. You were once as unlike Christ as possible. God has
worked all this in you.

I am afraid that I go from one point to another rather too rapidly, but
the gist of it all is this–Heaven is the world of spirits, the land of
holiness, the House of God– and if we have any capacity for the
enjoyment of Heaven, it has been worked in us by God. The unfitness of
unrenewed souls for Heaven may be illustrated by the incapacity of
certain uneducated and coarse-minded persons for elevated thoughts and
intellectual pursuits.

When a little child, I lived some years in my grandfather's house. In
his garden there was a fine old hedge of yew of considerable length
which was clipped and trimmed till it made quite a wall of verdure.
Behind it was a wide grass walk which looked upon the fields. The grass
was kept mown, so as to make pleasant walking. Here, ever since the old
Puritan Chapel was built, godly divines had walked and prayed and
meditated. My grandfather was likely to use it as his study. Up and
down it he would walk when preparing his sermons, and always on Sundays
when it was fair, he had half an hour there before preaching.

To me it seemed to be a perfect Paradise, and being forbidden to stay
there when Grandfather was meditating, I viewed it with no small degree
of awe. I love to think of the green and quiet walk at this moment. But
I was once shocked, and even horrified, by hearing a farming man remark
concerning this sanctum sanctorum, "It' ud grow a many 'taturs if it
wor ploughed up." What cared he for holy memories? What were meditation
and contemplation to him? Is it the chief end of man to grow potatoes
and eat them? Such, on a larger scale, would be an unconverted man's
estimate of joys so elevated and refined as those of Heaven.

Alphonse Karr tells a story of a man servant who asked his master to be
allowed to leave his cottage and sleep over the stable. What was the
matter with his cottage? "Why, Sir, the nightingales all around the
cottage make such a 'jug, jug, jug' at night, that I cannot bear them."
A man with a musical ear would be charmed with the nightingales' song–
but here was a man without a musical soul who found the sweetest notes
a nuisance. This is a feeble image of the incapacity of unregenerate
man for the enjoyments of the world to come–as he is incapable of
enjoying them, so is he incapable of longing for them.

But if you and I have grown out of all taste for the things of sin and
time. If we are sighing for holy, godly joys, we have therein an
evidence that God has worked in us, by His Grace, and will continue to
do so till we are made perfect and immortal.

III. The text informs us that in addition to working in us desires and
fitness for Glory, the Lord has graciously given to us an EARNEST OF
GLORY. An earnest, as you all know, is unlike a pledge, in some
respects. A pledge has to be returned when the matter which it ensures
is obtained–but an earnest is a part of the thing itself. A man has so
much wage to take on Saturday night, he receives a part of it in the
middle of the week, it is an earnest of the full payment–a part of the
payment itself.

So the Holy Spirit is a part of Heaven itself. The work of the Holy
Spirit in the soul is the bud of Heaven. Divine Grace is not a thing
which will be taken away from us when we enter Heaven, but which will
develop into Glory. Grace will not be withdrawn as though it had
answered its purpose, but will be matured into Glory. What is meant by
the Holy

Spirit being given to us as an earnest? I believe it signifies, first,
that the very dwelling of the Holy Spirit within our soul is the
earnest of Heaven.

My Brothers and Sisters, if God Himself condescends to make these
bodies His temples, is not this akin to Heaven's honors? Only put away
sin, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit would make even this earthly
state to be heavenly to us. O my Brethren, you little know what a
weight of Glory is contained in the indwelling of the Holy Spirit! If
you did but know it and believe in it always, the sorrows of this life
would become trivial, and as for the frowns of men you would deride
them. God dwells in you. You walk among the sons of men unknown and
despised, yet as angels see you, you are the objects of their wonder!
Rejoice that in this, then, you have an earnest of Heaven.

But everything the Holy Spirit works in us is an earnest of Heaven.
When the Holy Spirit brings to us the joys of hope, this is an earnest.
While singing some glowing hymn touching the New Jerusalem, our spirit
shakes off all her doubts and fears and anticipates her everlasting
heritage. When we enjoy the full assurance of faith and read our title
clear to mansions in the skies–when faith, looking simply to the
finished work of Christ, knows whom she has believed, and is persuaded
that he is able to keep that which she has committed to Him–this is an
earnest of Heaven. Is not Heaven security, confidence, peace?

The security, confidence, peace which spring from faith in Jesus Christ
are part and parcel of the Heaven of the blessed. Heaven is the place
of victory, and, my dear Friends, when we are victorious over sin, when
the Holy Spirit enables us to overcome some propensity, to put down our
anger, to crush our pride, to mortify the flesh with its affections and
lusts–then in that conscious victory over sin we enjoy an earnest of
the triumph of Heaven. And once more, when the Holy Spirit gives us to
enjoy fellowship with Jesus Christ, and with one another–when in the
breaking of bread we feel the union which exists between Christ and His
members–we have a foretaste of the fellowship of Heaven.

Do not say, then, that you know nothing of what Heaven is. "Eye has not
seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the
things which God has prepared for them that love Him." But, "He has
revealed them unto us by His Spirit." Spiritual natures do know what
Heaven is–in the sense of knowing from the drop what the river must be
like–of understanding from the beam what the sun must be. Its fullness
you cannot measure, its depth you cannot fathom, its unutterable bliss
you cannot tell.

But still you know of what character the Glory will be–you know that
pure are the joys of the blessed, and all their dwellings peace. You
know that fellowship with Christ and with holy spirits makes up much of
Heaven, and you know this because the earnest of the Spirit is a part
and parcel of the thing itself.

I conclude with a practical remark or two. If these things are so, what
emotions are most fitting for us? Answer– first, O Believers in Jesus,
be thankful! Overflow with thankfulness. Remember these things are not
your own productions. They are not flowers of your own garden–they
have been planted in your soul by another Hand–and watered by a
superior Power. Give all the glory to His holy name, for to Him all the
glory belongs. Not a good desire in you was self-originated, no part of
your fitness for Paradise was self-formed. Grace has done it, Divine
Grace has done it all!

Adore and bless the Holy Spirit who has worked all your works in you,
for you are "His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works,
which God has before ordained that we should walk in them." Be
thankful! As the birds created sing to pour out their song. As the
flowers, the handiwork of God, load the air with their perfume–so
sing– and let your lives be all-fragrant with gratitude to Him who has
worked you to the same thing.

Another emotion we ought all to feel who have this worked in us is that
of reverence. When a scholar knows that all he has learned has been
taught him by his master, he looks up from his master's feet into his
master's face with respectful reverence and esteem. O reverence the
Holy Spirit! Let us, in our public ministry, and in our private
meditations always stand in awe of Him. I am afraid we too much forget
Him–let us, instead, reverence Him especially by obedience to His
faintest monitions. As the leaves of the aspen tremble to the faintest
breath of the wind, so may we tremble to the faintest breath of God's
Holy Spirit.

Let us prize the Word of God because He wrote it. Let us love the
ordinances because He puts life and power into them. Let us love His
indwelling, and never grieve Him lest He hide His face from us. "He
that has worked us for the same thing is God." Vex not His Spirit, but
anxiously ask that He would continue His work, and complete it in
righteousness.

Lastly, our heart ought to feel great confidence this morning. If the
good thing had been worked by ourselves, we might be sure that it would
fail before long. Nothing of mortal man was ever perfect. But if He
that has begun the good

work is God, there is no fear that He will forsake or leave His work
undone. They shall never say of Him, " He began to build and was not
able to finish." No war of His was ever undertaken and then given up
because He had not counted the cost. God has begun, God will complete.
His promise is "Yes and amen," and never was forfeited yet. Therefore
let us be well assured, and let our hearts be glad.

Dear Hearers, the unhappy thing about this is that there are so many
who have no desires for the blessed hereafter, no fitness for it, no
earnest of it. Ah, then, the prophecies that are within you–what do
they foretell? No yearning for Heaven–does not that foretell that
there is no Heaven for you? No fitness for the Presence of God. What
does that say? Why, that in the Presence of God you shall not rest.
Earnest of the Spirit? Why, you almost laugh at the idea. Ah, then, no
earnest is a proof that there is no reward for you.

But what then? Will you be annihilated? Will you pass out of this
existence and cease to be? Dark as were that prospect–yes, dark as
midnight–yet were it brighter than the fate which the Word of God
allots you. There will be darkness, but you shall live in it. There
will be death, but in it you must ceaselessly exist. For if the
righteous are promised "life eternal," it is also written, "these shall
go away into everlasting punishment." God save you from such woe by
leading you to trust the Savior. Then you will confess with us, "He
that has worked us for the same thing is God," and unto God be the
glory. Amen.
__________________________________________________________________

Method and Music, Or the Art of Holy and Happy Living