The Chariots Of Amminadib

DELIVERED BY

C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Before I was even aware, my soul made me like the chariots of
Amminadib." Song of Solomon 6:12.

WE cannot be quite sure at this date what these chariots of Amminadib
were to which the Inspired poet here refers. Some suppose that he may
have alluded to a person of that name who was renowned, like Jehu of
old, for his furious driving. Therefore it might have been familiar at
the time and afterwards have become proverbial to speak in metaphor of
the chariots of Amminadib. The conjecture seems harmless, still it is
only a conjecture, and cannot be verified. It is quite possible,
however, that our translators may have retained as a proper name a
conjunction of two words, which, taken separately, are capable of being
interpreted.

You remember the word "Ammi" as it occurs in the prophet Hosea? "Say
unto your brethren, Ammi," which signifies "you are My people," even as
before He had said, "Call his name Loammi, for "you are not My people."
The one word Ammi, thus stands for "people," and the other word,
"Nadib," means "willing," so that the two united may be rendered
"willing people"–"like the chariots of a willing people." Or the words
may be read, I think, more correctly, "The chariots of the princely
people"–the princely chariots, the chariots of the prince.

Some have understood them to mean the chariots of God, of the people
that surround the Great Prince, Himself, that is to say, the chariots
of the angels, according as we read, "The chariots of God are twenty
thousand, even thousands of angels." In this case the figure would be a
very striking one–"Before I was even aware, my soul made me like the
chariots of the attendants upon the Great King. I was like the cherubim
themselves, all aglow with consecrated fire." In whatever way the
critical point is deciphered, the practical solution appears to be
this–the writer's soul was quickened because full of life, full of
energy, full of might, full of spirit and full of princely dignity,
too. And not only stimulated to a high degree, but also elevated,
lifted up from dullness, indifference, and apathy–"Before I was even
aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib."

To whom does this text refer? Probably those of us who would never
raise a doubt about the Song being a dialogue between Christ and the
spouse–a matter we have no intention to canvass just now–as we take
it for granted. We might find no small difficulty in determining to
which of the two sacred personages this speech belongs, whether it was
to Solomon or to Shulamite (the masculine or the feminine variety of
the same name)–the Prince the husband, or the princess the
spouse–whether, in a word, it was Christ or the Church. There is very
much to be said for its being Christ Himself that is speaking.

You will notice in this chapter that, from the fourth verse, He has
been referring to His Church. "You are beautiful, O My love, as Tirzah,
comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners. Turn away your
eyes from Me, for they have overcome Me," and so on. He is speaking of
His Church on to the 10th verse. "Who is she that looks forth as the
morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army
with banners?" Then the 11th verse proceeds, "I went down into the
garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the
vine nourished, and the pomegranates budded. Before I was even aware,
My soul made Me like the chariots of Amminadib." May it not be the Lord
Himself who is speaking here?

We may entertain the question for a moment without absolutely fixing
upon this as its proper solution. If it refers to Christ, it means just
this–that He had been, for a while, away from His people. They had
grieved Him and He had hid His face from them. Out of very love and
faithfulness He felt bound to chasten them, by hiding from them the
brightness of His Countenance. But He began to think tenderly of His
people–His heart turned towards His Church–and while He was thinking
of her, He saw such beauties in her that His soul was melted with her
charms. Oh, what an extraordinary thing that He should see loveliness
in His poor imperfect Church!

And He saw such a loveliness about her, as her image rose up before His
face, that He said, "You have ravished My heart, My Sister, My Spouse;
you have ravished My heart with one of your eyes." "Turn away your eyes
from Me, for they have overcome Me." And then, musing upon her, still,
and coming into her garden and seeing the various Graces like plants
and flowers in their different stages of development, His heart began
to grow warm again towards her and all that concerned her. It had never
really been cold–it only seemed so in the deviation of His accustomed
manner. But, like Joseph before his brethren, He could not refrain any
longer.

When He saw some of His people budding with desires, others bursting
into the realization of those desires. When He saw some like ripe and
mellow fruit upon the bough, ready for Heaven. When He saw others just
commencing the Divine life, He was charmed to be in the garden of
nuts–before He was even aware, He found He must be with His people–He
must return in the fullness of His love to His Church! Not her beauties
only, but the kindling of His own soul began to stir Him. His Free
Grace sought free hope–His Infinite love became more than a match for
the temporary prudence that had made Him hide His face, and, swift as
the chariots of Amminadib, did He speed back to His people to let them
see Him again–to let them enjoy His fellowship again.

There are other Scripture passages where the Savior is spoken of as
being like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether, or
division, because He is so willing to come to His people–so willing to
make matters up with them–and end the days in which they mourn because
the Bridegroom is absent. When He has hidden His face for a while out
of love for them, and out of desire to reveal to them their faults–I
say again, He is so willing to blot out their faults once more and to
return to them again with mercies–that His return is compared for
swiftness and irresistibleness to the motions of the chariots of
Amminadab!

It is a delightful thought that if communion between our souls and
Jesus is suspended, it is not because He takes pleasure therein. His
delights are with the sons of men. He a thousand times invites His
chosen to abide in Him, to continue in His love and to remain in His
company. In this Song He cries again and again, "Come with Me, My
Spouse." This should encourage us to seek Him for renewed love-tokens,
however serious may have been our departures from Him, and however dark
our prospects under the hiding of His face. If He who is the aggrieved
party is eager to be reconciled, the matter is easy and we may at once
rise to the blessed condition from which our sin has cast us down.
Jesus longs to embrace us! His arms are opened wide–do not our hearts
warm at the sight? Do we not at once rush to His bosom and find a new
Heaven in a fresh sense of His boundless love? Why hesitate? What
possible cause can there be for abiding in darkness? Lord, we fall upon
Your bosom and our joy returns!

Not that I intend to adopt that view as the groundwork of our present
reflections. It appears to me that without the slightest degree of
twisting the passage, or deviating from an honest interpretation, we
may understand that this is the language of the Church concerning
Christ. If so, Christ's words conclude at the end of the 10th verse and
it is the Church that speaks at the eleventh. There is not an instance
in the whole Song, so far as I can remember, of the Prince, Himself,
speaking in the first person singular. Therefore, this would be a
solitary exception, or else, following the current plan, where the same
pronoun is used, the Church is speaking to Christ and telling Him of
herself.

"I went down into the garden of nuts, to see the fruits of the valley,
and to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates budded.
Before I was even aware, my soul made me like the chariots of
Amminadib." Taking the text, then, as referring to the Church in
particular, and more generally to the Lord's people, there will be four
observations which we would pointedly make and prayerfully meditate.
May God bless us, now, in fulfilling this purpose!

I. Our first observation shall be this. What is most needed in all
religious exercises is THE MOTION, THE EXERCISE OF THE SOUL. "Before I
was even aware, my soul made me"–or my soul became–"like the chariots
of Amminadib." Soul-worship is the soul of worship and if you take away
the soul from the worship, you have killed the worship–it becomes dead
and barren. Let us turn over that well-known thought.

It may benefit us if we look at the many sides of it. There are
professors in this world who are perfectly content if they have gone
through the mechanical part of public devotion. If they have occupied
their seats, joined in the hymns and the prayers, and listened to the
preaching, they go away quite content and easy. They would not like to
be absent from the solemn assembly and their conscience would prick
them if they neglected the outward ordinances. And having gone through
them and complied with the accustomed form, they are perfectly content
with themselves–and think they have done that which is lawful and
right–comely and excellent.

Now, it is never so with the child of God. If his soul is awakened from
the torpor of death, and his sensibilities quickened into the vigor of
life, he will feel that unless in the song he has really praised God in
strains of gratitude with emotions of thankfulness, he has rather
mocked his heavenly Father than acceptably adored Him. He knows that in
prayer, if it is not the soul that speaks with God, it is but the
carcass of prayer, destitute of the sweet savor which can find
acceptance with God, and of the sweet satisfaction that can bring
refreshment to one's own breast. When he hears the Word preached, he
longs to feel it penetrate his heart, even as the rain soaks into the
soil. And if he cannot so receive the Truth of the Gospel when it
breaks on his ears as the engrafted Word that saves his soul, and so
feed upon it as the Bread of Life which nourishes his soul, he goes
away sad at heart, deploring that, while others were feasting at the
banquet, he was there without appetite and had not the pleasure or the
profit which they derived.

Beloved, in our public services we ought to account nothing truly and
rightly done which is not done with the heart. That is one reason why
in this Tabernacle we have tried to lay aside everything of outward
show or external form which might distract the thoughts or disturb the
simplicity of waiting on the Lord. As far as I can, I try to avoid the
use of all symbols, except the two which Scripture has ordained–lest
the symbol should tempt you to rest satisfied with itself, as I believe
it generally does–and so prevent your reaching the Lord with your
heart. We try to lay aside everything that would at all touch your
senses in the worship–anything which appeals to the ear in the way of
sweet music–anything of the aesthetic that would appeal to the eye.

If you do not worship God with your souls, I hope you will get tired of
our fellowship. Yet, be it confessed, I painfully feel that it is
almost as easy not to worship God with the bald plainness of Quakerism
as it is not to worship God with the studied pomp of Ritualism! In any
form, or without any form of worship, the amount of real devotion must
be measured by the quantity of soul that is in it–provided the quality
is pure, sincere, guileless. If the soul is there in the full exercise
of its powers and passions, knowing what is revealed and feeling what
is Inspired, I believe God is gracious to pity and forgive a thousand
mistakes in outward fashion and skill of execution.

The preacher's modulation may be faulty and the people's singing may be
ill-timed to barbarous tunes without peril of the unpardonable sin. But
if the soul is lacking, though you should have worshipped according to
the pattern given on the Mount and have never had a word uttered or a
sound made but such as, in itself, would be accredited by men and
acceptable with God had it been quickened by the Spirit, yet without
that Divine Spirit, which alone can give force and fervor to the human
soul, it is all null and void!

I think every genuine Christian knows it is so and feels it is so. He
says, "My heart cries out for God, for the living God!" Nor can he be
satisfied unless he finds God and draws near before Him. As in public
worship, it is precisely the same in our own private and personal
transactions with the Most High. The religious worldling will say a
prayer when he wakes in the morning, and perhaps, unless he is out
late, or too sleepy at home, he will have a bit of prayer at night,
again, in the way of the repetition of some collect, or something which
he has learned by rote. And very likely he has family prayer, too. It
is not so much a custom as it was, but there are some who think they
cannot go through the day unless they have what they call, "Prayers."

But mark how the Christian prizes private prayers above everything that
has to do with the ordering of his daily habits! And look how he
esteems family prayer to be a necessity of every Christian household!
At the same time he is not content because he prays for a few minutes
unless he draws near to the Lord. He is not satisfied because he
gathered his children together and read the Scriptures and prayed with
them, if, on adding up the sum total of the day, he is compelled to
say, "It was heartless worship. When I awoke it was heartless worship.
When I gathered my children and my servants it was the same. And it was
sleepy, heartless worship when I knelt by my bedside and professed to
seek the Lord

at nightfall."

If it is heartless it is unacceptable! God cannot receive it. If we
have not thrown our heart into it, depend upon it, God will never take
it to His heart and be pleased with it. Only that prayer which comes
from our heart can get to God's heart. If we pray only from the lips,
or from the throat, and not low down from the very heart of our nature,
we shall never reach the heart of our Father who is in Heaven. Oh, that
we may be more and more scrupulous and watchful in these things! In the
diary of Oliver Heywood, one of the ejected ministers, he often says,
"God helped me in prayer in my chamber and in the family." And once he
writes thus–"In my chamber this morning I met with more than ordinary
incomings of Divine Grace and outgoings of heart to God."

I am afraid we may get satisfied with ourselves, especially if we are
regular in private Scripture reading, private prayer, family prayer and
public prayer. Instead of being satisfied with these exercises we ought
to be weeping over them and deploring the formal and heartless manner
in which we are prone to discharge them. Be it always remembered that
we do not pray at all unless the soul is drawn out in pleading and
beseeching the Lord. Si nil curarem, nil orarem, said Melanchthon,
"Were I without cares, I should be without prayers."

Now, perhaps you may know a friend of yours who thinks himself a poet.
He can make poetry at any time, all the year round! Just pull him by
the sleeve and he will make you, very soon, a verse or two at the spur
of the moment to show the readiness of his wit and the versatility of
his talent. Yet I dare say you think that he is about as far off from
being a poet as a sparrow is from being an eagle! You know if he were a
poet he would not be able to command the glow of imagination at one
time and at another time he would hardly be able to control it. He
would sometimes have a Divine melting upon him, as some call it, and
then noble thoughts in appropriate words would flow from his pen.
Otherwise he would be just as dull and insipid as ordinary mortals. He
would tell you indignantly that he could not write verses to order like
those who scribble rhyme to advertise a tailor's wares. Unless the
inspiration comes upon me, he would say, I cannot compose a line!

In like manner, a man cannot always pray–and the man who pretends he
can, only utters jargon! He never prays at all, as the other never
makes poetry at all. Prayer is a Divine art. It is a thing which needs
the Inspiration not of the muses, but of the Spirit of God, Himself,
and it is when the Spirit comes upon us with Divine force and makes our
soul like the chariots of Amminadib that we can pray! And at other
times when that Spirit is not with us, we cannot pray as we did before.
Every living child of God knows this. We must measure our prayers by
the state of soul that we were in. Take another illustration from the
painter. One person, who thinks himself a painter, can paint any day
you like anything you ask him–a mountain, a river, a horse, an insect,
or a flower–it is all the same to him. He takes a brush and soon
produces something which ordinary people might think to be a picture.

But send that daub of his to the Royal Academy and they will tell you
that it may do for a tea tray, but not for the walls of a gallery. But
the man that can paint, how does he mix his colors? The great painter
will tell you that he mixes his brains with his colors–and when he
takes his brush and dips it into the paint, he lays it on with his
soul. In a great picture, such as sometimes we have seen by a Titiens,
or a Raphael, it is not the color, but the man's heart that has got out
onto the canvas. Somehow he has managed to drop his brush into his
soul! That is real painting. And so it is with prayer. The most humble
man that prays to God with his soul understands the fine art of prayer.
But the man who chants a pompous liturgy, or repeats an extemporaneous
effusion has not prayed. He has dashed off what he thinks to be a
picture, but it is not a picture, it is not a prayer.

Had it been a prayer it would have had a palpable inspiration in its
light and shade. A painting may consist of few lines, but you will see
the painter's hand in it. And a prayer may consist of only half a dozen
words, but you can see the hand of God in it. The formality repels you
in the one case–the vitality attracts you in the other. So we will
come back to the proposition with which we started. We can only pray
according to the proportion in which our soul puts forth its force and
feeling. And it is the same with praise. We have praised God up to the
amount of soul that was in the sense as well as in the sound–be it
with an organ or without an organ–with good music or with groans that
cannot be uttered. We may have praised God either way, but only if our
soul has been in full swell. With every kind of religious exercise, the
soul is the standard of the whole compass of worship.

II. We proceed to a second remark. SOMETIMES IT HAPPENS THAT THE HEART
IS NOT IN THE BEST

STATE FOR DEVOTION. If religion is a matter of soul, it cannot always
be attended to with equal pleasure and advantage. You can always grind
a barrel organ–it will invariably give you the same discordant noise
which people call music–but the human voice will not admit of being
wound up in the same fashion, nor will it, for the most part, discharge
the same monotonous functions. The great singer finds that his voice
changes and that he cannot always use it with the same freedom. If the
voice is a delicate organ, how much more delicate is the soul! The soul
is continually the subject of changes.

Ah, how often it changes because of its contact with the body! If we
could be disembodied, oh, how we would praise God and pray to Him! "The
spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is weak." I sat among some
Brethren the other day who were devout, and I tried to be, but I had a
splitting headache. I do not know whether you could pray under so
grievous a

disability–let me confess to you that I could not. At another time,
not long ago, I was one of a solemn assembly, when various disturbances
occurred in the room–somebody getting up and others coming in late, as
some of you do–and I could not get into a right frame as I ought to
have done. Little things will affect little minds and our minds, many
of them, are little. In that case I could not pray because my mind was
being distracted and my attention was being taken away.

Such distractions frequently happen and they bitterly remind us of our
infirmities. The Apostles, themselves, fell to sleeping when they ought
to have been praying. And under Paul's preaching, Eutychus went to
sleep, and Paul never blamed him. He died as the result of it, but he
got raised again from the dead, so I suppose there was no fault in him.
We may sometimes, without any willfulness on our part, as a necessary
result of the weakness of our nature, or the stress of our toil and
care, have brought ourselves into a condition in which we cannot feel
like the chariots of Amminadab–and it is no use for us to attempt it!
The body affects the soul materially and a thousand outside agencies
will tell upon our mental susceptibilities.

I have known persons come into this Tabernacle who have, perhaps, been
annoyed with somebody in their pew, or somebody outside. It ought not
to be so, but it is so. A little fly buzzing about one's face–as small
a thing as that–will disturb one's devotion so that you cannot pray as
you would and as you desire. And then, alas, our sins are a much more
serious hindrance to our devotion. A sense of guilt puts us into such a
state that we cannot be bold in our faith and childlike in our
confidence when we appear before God. Perhaps we have been angry. How
can we come before the Lord calmly when our spirit has been just now
tossed with tempest? Probably we have been seeking the world and going
after it with all our might. How can we suddenly pull up and put all
our strength into a vigorous seeking of the Kingdom of God and His
righteousness in a moment?

It is possible, too, that there is a sick child at home, or a wife
lying suffering, or serious losses and crosses about business and
domestic affairs. Perhaps one has a very heavy heart to bring before
the Lord. Now God's Grace can help us to overcome all these things and
can even make our souls like the chariots of Amminadab! We need Divine
Grace for such emergencies. The soul, in its different phases and
states, has need of help from the sanctuary to which it repairs.
"Well," perhaps one here will say, "I always do what I think right
every Sunday in much the same manner. I always pray the same and I
don't know but what I can always sing God's praises the same." Yes, let
me answer our good friend, I have no doubt of your thorough sameness,
or of your habitual self-content.

If you were to ask one of the statues in St. Paul's Cathedral how it
felt, I have no doubt it would say that it always felt the same because
it never had any feeling. Appeal to anything destitute of life and you
will find that it has no change. But where there is life, and that
which is intensely delicate–spiritual life–and where it is placed in
circumstances so hostile to it as the circumstances which surround us
here, there, I say, you will find that not only the revolutions of the
seasons, but the variations of the temperature affect it. And every man
who has this life in him experiences such changes. We have read of
those who have no changes–and therefore they do not fear God. The fact
that a Believer cannot, at all times, draw near to God as his spirit
would desire, becomes accordingly the key which interprets to him the
Grace and goodness whereby he sometimes gains access after a manner
that surprises and delights his spirit.

III. This leads cheerfully up to our third observation–THERE ARE
SEASONS WHEN OUR HEART IS SWEETLY MOVED TOWARDS GOD. "Before I was even
aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib."

Have you not proved welcome opportunities when all your thoughts have
been quickened, enlivened and stimulated to activity in the highest
degree about your highest interests? We have ceased to moan–

"Our souls, how heavily they go

To reach eternal joys,"

and we have been all wings, and could soar and mount aloft Like David!
We could have danced before the ark of God for very joy! And if any had
said to us that we might, ourselves, fall by our enthusiasm while we
seemed vile by our hilarity, we should have replied that we purposed to
be viler still!

All within us was awake–there was not a slumbering faculty. Our memory
told us of the goodness of the Lord in days gone by and our hopes were
regaled by the mercy which we had not tasted yet, but which was made
sure to us by promise and brought near to us by faith. Our faith was
active and bright of eye. Our love, especially, shed a clear light over
all our prospects. Oh, we have had blessed times when our soul has been
light and rapid as the chariots of

Amminadib! And at such times we were conscious of great elevation. The
chariots of Amminadib were those of a prince. And oh, we were no more
mean and low, beggarly and groveling–we saw Christ!–and were made
kings and princes and priests with Him!

Then we longed to crown His head. Then we could have performed martyrs'
deeds. Then we were no cowards, we were afraid of no foes. We sat down
at the feet of Jesus and thought everything little compared with Him!
Suffering for His sake would have been a gain! And reproach would have
been an honor! We had princely thoughts, then–large, liberal,
generous, capacious thoughts concerning Christ and His people, His
cause and His conquests–our souls were like the chariots of Amminadab!
At the same time they were full of power, for, when the chariots of
Amminadib went forth, who could stop them? Who could lay his hand upon
the reins and turn the coursers as they went onward in their mighty
tramping? Such was our spirit! We laughed at thoughts of death and
poured contempt upon the trials of life. We were "strong in the Lord
and in the power of His might." Oh, what splendid times we have had
when God has been with us!

Do you remember when you had them? I remember, when newly converted,
how full my spirit was of love and holy triumph, like the chariots of
Amminadab! Yours, no doubt, were much like mine. The love of your
espousals was upon you. With what pleasing rapture you embraced your
Lord and said, "I will never let You go." Stronger is love than death
or Hell. You felt it to be so. You flamed and burned and glowed–and
though in yourself you were like low brushwood–yet you were like the
bush in the desert that burned with fire because God was in your soul!
Do you remember that? Well, since then, in private prayer, you have
sometimes had gracious access, and meditation has been added to prayer,
and the love of Christ has come in upon you like a great flood tide and
drowned everything in your soul except itself.

There have been periods when a sense of the eternal, immutable,
never-ending love of God–His electing sovereign favor, the love of God
in giving His Son for you–have been upon your spirit with a mighty
influence that has laid you prostrate for very joy! You could not speak
because words were too poor to express the emotions of your soul! You
had to feel the force of James Thomson's hymn of the seasons–"Come,
then, expressive silence, muse His praise," for you could not speak it.
You know it has been so with you. sometimes–and has not it been so,
sometimes, under the Word, when you have been ready to stand up and
clap your hands for joy?

Have not I seen gratitude and exultation reflected on your faces,
sometimes, when the Lord has been present in the preaching of the
Gospel? When the Truth of God has come to you like marrow and fatness
from the King's own hands till Dr. Watts has proved to be a faithful
interpreter of the very scene and circumstance that ravished your
heart?–

"The King Himself draws near

And feasts His saints today.

Here we may sit and see Him here,

And love, and praise, and pray." Oh, yes, in God's House you have known
the days of Heaven upon earth! Might I speak for the rest of you I
should pronounce the choicest periods of fellowship those we have found
at the Lord's Table. When the bread has been broken and the wine poured
out down in the Lecture Hall, He has been with us in the breaking of
bread! If ever we have come near to Christ, surely it has been in that
blessed communion!

There are the windows of agate and the gates of carbuncle through which
Christ comes to His people in the ordinances He has ordained. By His
Grace we will never slight them! We cannot! The Master puts such
reality and fullness of joy into them–apart from Him they are idols.
But with Him, when He is there, when we have the real Presence–not the
superstitious presence some speak about–but the real Presence which
His own Spirit imparts and our waiting souls participate–ah, then we
have said–

"No beams of cedar or of fir

Can with His courts on earth compare,

As myrrh new bleeding from the tree,

Such is a dying Christ to me."

Not infrequently, too, have I known that the Lord has appeared to His
people and warmed their hearts when they have been working for Him.
Some idle, indolent, sluggish professors who have used the ordinances
have not found benefit in the ordinances because the Lord has intended
to rebuke their sloth.

But when they have got up and gone forth among the poor. When they have
gone forth to visit the sick, the sorrowful and the dying, they have
heard such delightful expressions from the lips of holy, suffering men
and women, or felt their hearts so kindled by a sight of Divine
compassion in the midst of desperate poverty and gracious pardon for
grievous sin, that a quickening has come over them! And whereas they
did not seem to care, before, whether souls were lost or saved, they
have gone out into the world with zeal to win fresh trophies for the
Messiah! Their hearts have been, by His Grace, like the chariots of
Amminadib through the benefits they have received from Christian
service!

A great many Christian people never will be happy and never fully alive
to the destinies that wait on their Redeemer till they get something to
do to give them an interest in those mighty issues. The rule of the
Christian life is, "If any man will not work, neither shall he eat." If
you will not serve God as Christians, you shall not feed upon the sweet
things of the kingdom to your own soul's comfort. A little more service
and your soul would become like the chariots of Amminadib.

Beloved, there is no need that I should enlarge. I merely say this to
bring up your grateful memories that you may thank God for what He has
done. Remember whatever He has done in the past He will do again in the
future. When the Lord has come once to His people, He says, "I will see
you again, I will come to you again, and your hearts shall rejoice." Of
everything He has ever given you, He has got as much in store–and He
is quite as able to give it to you now as He was before. You have never
gone so high in joy but you may go higher yet! You have never drunk
such draughts from the well of Bethlehem as left the well empty–you
shall drink of it again.

Do not say, "I had those sweet times when I was young, I shall never
have them again." You shall have precious times again! Get back to your
first love, dear Brother, dear Sister–go forward to a higher love than
ever you had, for God will help you say, "I look back and think–

"What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!

How sweet their memory still!

But they have left an aching void

The world can never fill."

Thank God for that ache! Bless God for the aching void. If your soul
aches for God, He will be to your relief before long. Whenever a soul
puts up a flag of distress at the masthead, he may be sure that Christ
is on the lookout for just such a soul. He has thrown up the windows of
Heaven and wherever He sees a soul that does what is right and longs to
find joy and reconciliation with God, He will come to it–and before
long it shall be better for you than even the chariots of
Amminadab–and more desirable.

IV. Our last observation is this–SOMETIMES THE SWEET SEASONS COME TO
US WHEN WE DO NOT EXPECT THEM. "Before I was even aware, my soul made
me like the chariots of Amminadib." Some poor hearts do not reckon ever
to have these joys again. They say, "No, no. They are all gone. The
last leaf has blown from the tree. The last flower has faded in the
garden. My summer is past. It is all over with me!" That is the bitter
complaint and the hollow murmuring of unbelief. But the Lord for whom
you wait can suddenly appear–and while you are saying hard things of
yourself He can refute them with the beams of His Countenance.

Even at this very moment you may stand like Hannah, a woman of
sorrowful spirit, feeling as if you would be sent away empty. Yes, and
God's servant, himself, may address you with rough words as Eli did
her–and may even tell you that you are drunk when it is deep grief
that enfeebles your steps and chokes your voice–and all the while the
Lord may have in store for you such a blessing as you have never
dreamed of! And He may say to you, "Go your way, My daughter. I have
heard your petition, your soul shall have its desire." Before I was
even aware, while my unbelief led me to think such a thing impossible,
You have made me like the chariots of Amminadab! "Before I was even
aware," as if it came upon me almost without my own consent. Glad
enough I was when it did come, but it took me by surprise. It led me
captive.

Now, is not that the way that the Lord dealt with you when you were not
aware of it, when you had no reason to expect Him, when you found and
felt yourself to be utterly lost, ruined, and undone? Did He not
surprise you with His mercy and prevent you with His lovingkindness?
Again, you are diminished and brought low through oppression,
affliction and sorrow. There is nothing that leads you to expect a
season of joy–you are just as empty and unworthy as you can well be.
You feel as if your heart were of stone and you cannot stir it, and you
are saying, "I only wish I could enjoy the freedom that my companions
have, and keep the solemn feasts with their holy gladness. But, alas,
for me! I am

afraid I have got to be a mere mechanical Christian without the lively
instincts and lofty inspirations of spiritual worship."

Thus you are writing bitter things against yourself. Oh, Beloved, the
Lord is looking down upon you now as His son or daughter, as His own
dear child! And He is about to surprise you with His infinite love! Let
me give you one text to put into your mouth and take home with you. The
Lord has said, concerning every one of His people, "You are all fair,
My Love; there is no spot in you." "Why, now, I am all covered over
with spots and blemishes," you say, "and no beauty!" But the Lord Jesus
Christ has washed you with His blood and covered you with His
righteousness! Do you think He can see any imperfection in that? You
are members of His body, united to Him!

In Christ you are without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. You are
all spots in yourself, but He sees you as He intends to make you before
He has done with you–and He can discern unspeakable beauties in you.
"Oh," you say, "does He think that? Surely, then, I see unspeakable
beauties in Him! His love to me opens my eyes to see how dear an one He
must be. Is He enamored of me? Has He given His whole heart to me? Did
He prove His love to me by bleeding on the Cross? Oh, then, I must love
Him, if He will but let me! Shall such a poor worm as I am love
Infinite Perfection? Oh, yes, I must, since Infinite Perfection deigns
to love me! And since the Sun of Righteousness, in all His Glory deigns
to shine on my soul!"

You are beginning to warm already, I see you are! Before you are aware,
your soul is making you like the chariots of Amminadab! And if you keep
on with these holy contemplations, you will leave off all misgivings
about your love to Him, so deeply absorbed will you be in musing on His
love to you! You will forget all the while about your sin, while you
remember the blood that has put that sin away–the perfect
righteousness that has made you accepted in the Beloved– and the
Everlasting Covenant which, through Grace, has put your feet upon a
rock and saved your eyes from tears and your feet from falling!

Engaged in such sweet soliloquies, before you are aware, your soul will
make you like the chariots of Amminadab! The Lord make it so! God grant
that surprising Grace may come likewise even to sinners, and lead them
to Jesus, and constrain them to look to Jesus. Then, while looking,
faith will breathe in their spirit so that they will sing–

"Your mercy is more than a match for my heart,

Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart.

Dissolved by Your goodness, I fall to the ground

And weep to the praise of the Glory I've found."
__________________________________________________________________