Psalm i. Ver. 3.
"He shall be like a Tree planted by the Rivers of Water, that bringeth forth his Fruit in his Season: his Leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall prosper."
Whatever seeming inequality there may be in the dispensations of the Almighty, or however partial he may appear to the eye of human reason, in his distribution of spiritual or temporal blessings among the sons of men; it will, nevertheless, be found, at the consummation of the great scheme of Providence; that he has done every thing "in number, weight, and measure;" and that every part and period of the Divine Administration hath been planned by unerring Wisdom, and conducted by universal and impartial Love.
Minute philosophers, and men who value themselves upon what they call a liberal and enlarged way of thinking, may imagine, that this is no more than a religious dream; and argue, from present appearances, that "all things happen alike unto all men, and that there is but one event to the righteous and to the wicked, to him that serveth God, and to him that serveth him not." But the Heaven-taught philosopher, whose inward eye is illuminated from above, can see into the secret springs, by which the vast machine is perpetually kept in motion, and by which all the infinite variety of workings in intelligent and inanimate nature, are rendered subservient to the Glory of God, and the final consummation of his eternal plan in the supreme felicity of his creatures. By virtue of that heavenly euphrasy with which his visual ray is purged and cleansed, he sees, and is intimately convinced, that notwithstanding the frequent vicissitudes with which the life of a good man is sadly checquered, he is nevertheless "like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; that his leaf also doth not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall prosper."
There is a peculiar beauty and propriety in this similitude, and every part of it bears a wonderful analogy to that spiritual life, into which fallen man hath been reinstated by the Mediation of the Son of God.
Man, by turning his will from his Maker, lost that paradisiacal glory, in which he was originally created; and found nothing left, in its stead, but a wrathful spirit within, and a dark disordered world without. By this act of his own will, he transplanted his nature, if I may so speak, from the delightful garden of Eden, in which the Almighty had placed him, into the midst of a thorny barren desart. He deprived it of all that nourishment it received from those waters of life, which surrounded the blissful spot; and, in consequence, it must have been parched up and have withered away, had not Divine Love affectionately interposed, and put him once more into a capacity of recovering his lost inheritance, and regaining the vital streams, by which alone his heavenly nature could be preserved and cherished.
It is true, man still continues in the desart of fallen nature: the first Adam is still condemned to till the ground from whence he was taken. But the second Adam, the Lord from Heaven, hath caused those rivers of water, which are solely at his disposal, to flow through the dry and comfortless waste, that "the wilderness and solitary place might thereby be made glad, and the desart rejoice and blossom like the rose."
When man, therefore, convinced of his dark and barren state by nature, and the sovereign efficacy of these waters of life to chear and restore him, freely opens his heart for their reception, he is then, indeed, like "a tree planted by the rivers of water:" his roots shoot deep, and his branches spread fair and luxuriant in the heavenly element: the kindly moisture insinuates itself into every part, and leaves, and flowers, and fruits, manifest the internal operation of the life-giving stream.
"I am the vine, ye are the branches"—says the Lord of Life.—"As the branch cannot bear fruit, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me." There must be an intimate union betwixt Christ and his redeemed offspring; an union not suddenly formed, and as suddenly broken, but piously and constantly maintained; an abiding union, without which there can be no communication of his Heavenly Virtues, and, consequently, no fruits of holiness. But wheresoever this blessed union effectually takes place, the regenerated nature soon springs forth; the bud, the blossom, the leaves, the fruits, all appear in their proper season: the man of God stands forth content, and, like a tree nourished by a living stream, imparts his refreshing shade, and pleasant wholesome fruits, to all around.
Would you know what these fruits are? They are fully enumerated by the Apostle, who tells us, that "the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." These fruits, says my text, are "brought forth in their season." The sun must shine upon the tree, the air must breathe, the dews and rains must descend, and the rivers of water must rise through the roots into the trunk and branches. All this process must be performed, before the fruit will appear.
It is just so with that "plant of celestial seed," which is sown in the human heart. Meekness, humility, resignation, love, &c. are not the growth of an hour: days, and months, and years, must pass, before they will begin to appear. I well know, that the first faint manifestation of these graces in an awakened soul, hath frequently been mistaken for the whole of a sinner's conversion. It has been called the "Witness of the Spirit," testifying to the sinner, that the act of his justification is past, and that his pardon is sealed in the courts of Heaven. The Witness of the Spirit it undoubtedly is, because it results from an union of the human spirit with the Divine. And as the Divine Spirit is meekness and love supreme, so it is no wonder that such an union should produce such a spiritual sensation. But we are not to conclude from hence, that a sudden, and seemingly instantaneous sensibility of Heavenly Peace and Love, can be the whole of our conversion. It is, doubtless, a sweet token of Divine Grace; an happy earnest of the residence of the Divine Spirit, who, perhaps, for years before, had been seeking to manifest himself in our hearts, and now gives this present consolation, as the result of previous and frequent operations. Our salvation is so far from depending upon these momentary sensations, that our Lord expressly assures us, that though we are united to him by as intimate an union as "the branches are to the vine;" yet, except "we abide in him, we shall be cast as withered branches into the fire."
"Let him, then, that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." Let us not value ourselves upon past experiences, or think that we are God's children, and that our names are indelibly written in his book of life, merely because we were once under spiritual distress, and were once rescued from it by the consolations of his Spirit. Nothing can preserve us in a state of union with our Divine Redeemer, but an inward, constant thirsting after those "waters of life," which he alone can give us. Whilst we stand before him in such a frame of soul, meekly and humbly waiting for such portions of his Grace, as he sees necessary and expedient to impart, we may then be assured, that "our leaf shall not wither, and that whatsoever we do shall prosper." For when the will of man coincides with the Divine Will, and is implicitly resigned thereto in every situation, circumstance, and event of life, he must necessarily prosper, because God wills nothing but Good, and Good Supreme is the aim and end of all his dispensations.
Well, but say some, How can this be? Do we not daily see the best of men, groaning under the most grievous calamities, pining away with sickness, worn out with pain, or afflicted with some sad reverses of fortune? On the other hand, do we not daily behold men, who shew not the least regard to religion, who have no fear of God before their eyes, who neither in private nor in public testify the least sense of their dependance upon him, or their connexion with another world, who violate his sabbaths, deride his Revelation, and scoff at every thing that bears the appearance of seriousness or sobriety; do we not daily behold such men advanced to the pinnacle of preferment, abounding in wealth, favoured with health and strength, and surrounded with every good thing this world can afford? Yes—we certainly do; and so did David many ages since. But attend to David's reflections upon this subject, and you will find them rational and satisfactory.
"I was grieved at the wicked: I do also see the ungodly in such prosperity. For they are in no peril of health, but are lusty and strong. They come in no misfortune like other folk, neither are they plagued like other men. Lo, these are the ungodly; these prosper in the world, and these have riches in possession: and I said, then have I cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. Yea, I had almost said even as they; but lo, then I should have condemned the generation of thy children. Then thought I to understand this, but it was too hard for me, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I the end of these men, namely, that thou dost set them in slippery places, and castest them down and destroyest them. O, how suddenly do they consume, perish, and come to a fearful end!"
These are David's reflections on the condition of wicked men in his day; and the experience of preceding, as well as of after-ages, does abundantly confirm them. Vice will, sooner or later, meet with its recompence, even in this world. But supposing this should not be the case, and that good and righteous men should have a much larger share of temporal misery than the wicked; yet it may with truth be said, that by this very misery they prosper; yea, that their inward prosperity keeps pace with their outward sufferings.
Every thing that has a tendency to disengage the heart and affections from this transient scene of things, ought to be deemed a real blessing. Now, who can deny, that sickness, pain, sorrow and affliction, have in their very nature this tendency? and, when seen by the happy sufferer in a true point of light, they never fail of producing this effect. Hence it is, that many a pious soul is enabled to rejoice in such visitations, and to thank God for them as the richer blessings: for, "though no chastisement for the present is joyous, but rather grievous; yet it afterwards yields the peaceable fruits of righteousness to those that are exercised thereby." True it is, that the outward man suffers, and is sadly weakened and distressed; but the Inward Man, the Child of God, thrives and prospers. The riches of eternity appear more and more real, in proportion as he discovers the vanity of time; and his disappointment in any worldly concern, is sure to render him more prosperous and successful in matters of eternal moment.
Alas! methinks I hear some say, it would be well if it were always so. But are not many good men afflicted inwardly, as well as outwardly? Are they not often destitute of spiritual as well as of worldly comforts? Are not their souls as much bowed down by the weight of their sinful nature, as their bodies by temporal evils and infirmities? And can these men be said to "prosper in whatsoever they do?" Surely, they are alike unfortunate with respect to the present and the future world.
Suspend thy judgment, poor partial observer! reason not from appearances. Inward darkness, and distress, and anguish, are the proper inlets through which the Christ of God is received into the heavy-laden soul. A sensibility of its burden makes it groan for relief: and the very moment that "patience hath done its perfect work," and the human will is thereby brought to yield itself with implicit resignation to its God, the burden drops, and sweet peace and tranquillity of soul succeed. God never willingly afflicts his children; he deals with them as a most indulgent parent. Sin must be known and felt, before it can be shunned and conquered. And it is by repeated strokes, that the wayward child is taught to avoid what may prove injurious and destructive to its happiness.
To conclude with the apt similitude of my text: the real Christian is "like a tree planted by the rivers of water;" they afford it all the nourishment that is necessary. The stormy wind and the beating rain, while they try its strength, increase it; they make it cling closer to the kindly soil, take deeper root, and bear fruit in greater abundance. Thus, "all things work together for good, to them that love God;" and "whatsoever they do," notwithstanding the many apparent disappointments and disquietudes they meet with, "shall finally prosper," and terminate in never-fading bliss.