We have to take our choice: we cannot enjoy both the world and Christ.
The bride had not learned this: she would fain enjoy both, with no thought of their incompatibility. She observes with joy the approach of the Bridegroom.
In yet more touching words the Bridegroom continues:—
But strong as is His love, and His desire for His bride, He can come no further. Where she now is He can never come. But surely she will go forth to Him. Has He not a claim upon her? She feels and enjoys His love, will she let His desire count for nothing? For, let us notice, it is not here the bride longing in vain for her Lord, but the Bridegroom who is seeking for her. Alas that He should seek in vain!
We have a sad illustration of the deceitfulness of sin in the response of the bride. Instead of bounding forth to meet Him, she first comforts her own heart by the remembrance of His faithfulness, and of her union with Him:—
Poor foolish bride! she will soon find that the things that once satisfied her can satisfy no longer; and that it is easier to turn a deaf ear to His tender call than to recall or find her absent Lord.
The day became cool, and the shadows did flee away; but He returned not. Then in the solemn night she discovered her mistake: It was dark, and she was alone. Retiring to rest she still hoped for His return—the lesson that worldliness is an absolute bar to full communion still unlearned.
Communion fully restored, the section closes, as did the first, with the loving charge of the Bridegroom that none should disturb His bride:—
May we all, while living down here, in the world, but not of it, find our home in the heavenly places to which we have been raised, and in which we are seated together with Christ. Sent into the world to witness for our Master, may we ever be strangers there, ready to confess Him the true object of our soul's devotion.
They themselves give the reply:—
In these verses the bride is not mentioned; she is eclipsed in the grandeur and the state of her royal Bridegroom; nevertheless, she is both enjoying and sharing it. The very air is perfumed by the smoke of the incense that ascends pillar-like to the clouds; and all that safeguards the position of the Bridegroom Himself, and shows forth His dignity, safeguards also the accompanying bride, the sharer of His glory. The car of state in which they sit is built of fragrant cedar from Lebanon, and the finest of the gold and silver have been lavished in its construction. The fragrant wood typifies the beauty of sanctified humanity, while the gold reminds us of the divine glory of our Lord, and the silver of the purity and preciousness of His redeemed and peerless Church. The imperial purple with which it is lined tells us of the Gentiles—the daughter of Tyre has been there with her gift; while the love-gifts of the daughters of Jerusalem accord with the prophecy, "Even the rich among the people shall intreat thy favour."
These are the things that attract the attention of the daughters of Jerusalem, but the bride is occupied with the King Himself, and she exclaims:—
We have already found the explanation of the fairness of the bride in her reflecting like a mirror the beauty of the Bridegroom. Well may He with satisfaction describe her beauty while she is thus occupied with Himself! The lips that speak only of Him are like a thread of scarlet; the mouth or speech which has no word of self, or for self, is comely in His sight.
How sweet His words of appreciation and commendation were to the bride we can well imagine; but her joy was too deep for expression; she was silent in her love. She would not now think of sending Him away until the day be cool and the shadows flee away.
Still less does the Bridegroom think of finding His joy apart from His bride. He says:—
Separation never comes from His side. He is always ready for communion with a prepared heart, and in this happy communion the bride becomes ever fairer, and more like to her Lord. She is being progressively changed into His image, from one degree of glory to another, through the wondrous working of the Holy Spirit, until the Bridegroom can declare:—
What are lions' dens when the Lion of the tribe of Judah is with us; or mountains of leopards, when He is at our side! "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me." On the other hand, it is while thus facing dangers, and toiling with Him in service, that He says:—
But to resume. The Bridegroom cheers the toilsome ascents, and the steep pathways of danger, with sweet communications of His love:—
The bride now speaks for the second time in this section. As her first utterance was of Him, so now her second is for Him; self is found in neither.
To this the Bridegroom replies:—
The section closes by the bride's invitation to His friends and hers, as well as to Himself:—
We have, then, in this beautiful section, as we have seen, a picture of unbroken communion and its delightful issues. May our lives correspond! First, one with the King, then speaking of the King; the joy of communion leading to fellowship in service, to a being all for Jesus, ready for any experience that will fit for further service, surrendering all to Him, and willing to minister all for Him. There is no room for love of the world here, for union with Christ has filled the heart; there is nothing for the gratification of the world, for all has been sealed and is kept for the Master's use.
We are not told of the steps that led to her failure; of how self again found place in her heart. Perhaps spiritual pride in the achievements which grace enabled her to accomplish was the cause; or, not improbably, a cherished satisfaction in the blessing she had received, instead of in the Blesser Himself, may have led to the separation. She seems to have been largely unconscious of her declension; self-occupied and self-contented, she scarcely noticed His absence; she was resting, resting alone,—never asking where He had gone, or how He was employed. And more than this, the door of her chamber was not only closed, but barred; an evidence that His return was neither eagerly desired nor expected.
Yet her heart was not far from Him: there was a music in His voice that awakened echoes in her soul such as no other voice could have stirred. She was still "a garden shut up, a fountain sealed," so far as the world was concerned. The snare this time was the more dangerous and insidious because it was quite unsuspected. Let us look at her narrative:—
How often the position of the Bridegroom is that of a knocking Suitor outside, as in His epistle to the Laodicean[4] Church: "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." It is sad that He should be outside a closed door—that He should need to knock; but still more sad that He should knock, and knock in vain at the door of any heart which has become His own. In this case it is not the position of the bride that is wrong; if it were, His word as before would be, "Arise, and come away"; whereas now His word is, "Open to Me, My sister, My love." It was her condition of self-satisfaction and love of ease that closed the door.
Very touching are His words: "Open to Me, My sister" (He is the first-born among many brethren), "My love" (the object of My heart's devotion), "My dove" (one who has been endued with many of the gifts and graces of the Holy Spirit), "My undefiled" (washed, renewed, and cleansed for Me); and He urges her to open by reference to His own condition:—
Why is it that His head is filled with the dew? Because His heart is a shepherd-heart. There are those whom the Father has given to Him who are wandering on the dark mountains of sin: many, oh, how many, have never heard the Shepherd's voice; many, too, who were once in the fold have wandered away—far away from its safe shelter. The heart that never can forget, the love that never can fail, must seek the wandering sheep until the lost one has been found: "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." And will she, who so recently was at His side, who joyfully braved the dens of lions and the mountains of leopards, will she leave Him to seek alone the wandering and the lost?
We do not know a more touching entreaty in the Word of God, and sad indeed is the reply of the bride:—
How sadly possible it is to take delight in conferences and conventions, to feast on all the good things that are brought before us, and yet to be unprepared to go out from them to self-denying efforts to rescue the perishing; to delight in the rest of faith while forgetful to fight the good fight of faith; to dwell upon the cleansing and the purity effected by faith, but to have little thought for the poor souls struggling in the mire of sin. If we can put off our coat when He would have us keep it on; if we can wash our feet while He is wandering alone upon the mountains, is there not sad want of fellowship with our Lord?
Meeting with no response from the tardy bride, her
But, alas, the door was not only latched, but barred; and His effort to secure an entrance was in vain.
When, all too late, the bride did arise, she seems to have been more concerned to anoint herself with the liquid myrrh than to speedily welcome her waiting Lord; more occupied with her own graces than with His desire. No words of welcome were uttered, though her heart failed within her; and the grieved One had withdrawn Himself before she was ready to receive Him. Again (as in the third chapter) she had to go forth alone to seek her Lord; and this time her experiences were much more painful than on the former occasion.
Her first relapse had been one of inexperience; if a second relapse had been brought about by inadvertence she should at least have been ready and prompt when summoned to obey. It is not a little thing to fall into the habit of being tardy in obedience, even in the case of a believer: in the case of the unbeliever the final issue of disobedience is inexpressibly awful:—
The backsliding of the bride, though painful, was not final; for it was followed by true repentance. She went forth into the darkness and sought Him; she called, but He responded not, and the watchmen finding her, both smote and wounded her. They appear to have appreciated the gravity of her declension more correctly than she had done. Believers may be blinded to their own inconsistencies; others, however, note them; and the higher the position with regard to our Lord the more surely will any failure be visited with reproach.
Wounded, dishonoured, unsuccessful in her search, and almost in despair, the bride turns to the daughters of Jerusalem; and recounting the story of her sorrows, adjures them to tell her Beloved that she is not unfaithful or unmindful of Him.
The reply of the daughters of Jerusalem shows very clearly that the sorrow-stricken bride, wandering in the dark, is not recognized as the bride of the King, though her personal beauty does not escape notice.
This question, implying that her Beloved was no more than any other, stirs her soul to its deepest depths; and, forgetting herself, she pours out from the fulness of her heart a soul-ravishing description of the glory and beauty of her Lord.
It is interesting to compare the bride's description of the Bridegroom with the descriptions of "the Ancient of Days" in Dan. vii. 9, 10, and of our risen Lord in Rev. i. 13-16. The differences are very characteristic.
In Dan. vii. we see the Ancient of Days seated on the throne of judgment; His garment was white as snow, and the hair of His head like the pure wool; His throne and His wheels were as burning fire, and a fiery stream issued and came forth from before Him. The Son of Man was brought near before Him, and received from Him dominion, and glory, and an everlasting kingdom that shall not be destroyed. In Rev. i. we see the Son of Man Himself clothed with a garment down to the foot, and His head and His hair were white as wool, white as snow; but the bride sees her Bridegroom in all the vigour of youth, with locks "bushy, and black as a raven." The eyes of the risen Saviour are described as "a flame of fire," but His bride sees them "like doves beside the water brooks." In Revelation "His voice is as the voice of many waters ... and out of His mouth proceeded a sharp two-edged sword." To the bride, His lips are as lilies, dropping liquid myrrh, and His mouth most sweet. The countenance of the risen Saviour was "as the sun shineth in his strength," and the effect of the vision on John—"when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as one dead"—was not unlike the effect of the vision given to Saul as he neared Damascus. But to His bride "His aspect is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars." The Lion of the tribe of Judah is to His own bride the King of love; and, with full heart and beaming face, she so recounts His beauties that the daughters of Jerusalem are seized with strong desire to seek Him with her, that they also may behold His beauty.
The bride replies:—
Forlorn and desolate as she might appear she still knows herself as the object of His affections, and claims Him as her own. This expression, "I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine," is similar to that found in the second chapter, "My Beloved is mine, and I am His"; and yet with noteworthy difference. Then her first thought of Christ was of her claim upon Him: His claim upon her was secondary. Now she thinks first of His claim; and only afterwards mentions her own. We see a still further development of grace in chap. vii. 10, where the bride, losing sight of her claim altogether, says:—
No sooner has she uttered these words and acknowledged herself as His rightful possession—a claim which she had practically repudiated when she kept Him barred out—than her Bridegroom Himself appears; and with no upbraiding word, but in tenderest love, tells her how beautiful she is in His eyes, and speaks her praise to the daughters of Jerusalem.
To her He says:—
Then, turning to the daughters of Jerusalem, He exclaims:—
Thus the section closes with communion fully restored; the bride reinstated and openly acknowledged by the Bridegroom as His own peerless companion and friend. The painful experience through which the bride has passed has been fraught with lasting good, and we have no further indication of interrupted communion, but in the remaining sections find only joy and fruitfulness.
As in the commencement of Section III., the bride, in unbroken communion with her Lord, was present though unmentioned until she made her presence evident by her address to the daughters of Zion; so in this section the presence of the King is unnoted until He Himself addresses His bride. But she is one with her Lord as she engages in His service! His promise, "Lo, I am with you alway," is ever fulfilled to her; and He has no more to woo her to arise and come away; to tell her that His "head is filled with dew," His "locks with the drops of the night"; or to urge her if she love Him to feed His sheep and care for His lambs. Herself His garden, she does not forget to tend it, nor keep the vineyards of others while her own is neglected. With Him as well as for Him, she goes to the garden of nuts. So thorough is the union between them that many commentators have felt difficulty in deciding whether the bride or the Bridegroom was the speaker, and really it is a point of little moment; for, as we have said, both were there, and of one mind; yet we believe we are right in attributing these words to the bride, as she is the one addressed by the daughters of Jerusalem, and the one who speaks to them in reply.
The bride and Bridegroom appear to have been discovered by their willing people while thus engaged in the happy fellowship of fruitful service, and the bride, or ever she was aware, found herself seated among the chariots of her people—her people as well as His.
The daughters of Jerusalem would fain call her back:—
There is no question now as to who she is, nor why her Beloved is more than another beloved; He is recognized as King Solomon, and to her is given the same name, only in its feminine form (Shulammite).
Some have seen in these words, "Return, return," an indication of the rapture of the Church; and explain some parts of the subsequent context, which appear inconsistent with this view, as resumptive rather than progressive. Interesting as is this thought, and well as it would explain the absence of reference to the King in the preceding verses, we are not inclined to accept it; but look on the whole song as progressive, and its last words as being equivalent to the closing words of the Book of Revelation, "Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus." We do not therefore look upon the departure of the bride from her garden as being other than temporary.
The bride replies to the daughters of Jerusalem:—
In the presence of the King, she cannot conceive why any attention should be paid to her. As Moses, coming down from the mount, was unconscious that his face shone with a divine glory, so was it here with the bride. But we may learn this very important lesson, that many who do not see the beauty of the Lord, will not fail to admire His reflected beauty in His bride. The eager look of the daughters of Jerusalem surprised the bride, and she says, You might be looking "upon the dance of Mahanaim"—the dance of two companies of Israel's fairest daughters—instead of upon one who has no claim for attention, save that she is the chosen, though unworthy, bride of the glorious King.
The daughters of Jerusalem have no difficulty in replying to her question, and recognizing her as of royal birth—"O Prince's daughter"—as well as of queenly dignity, they describe in true and Oriental language the tenfold beauties of her person; from her feet to her head they see only beauty and perfection. What a contrast to her state by nature! Once "from the sole of the foot even unto the head" was "but wounds, and bruises, and festering sores"; now her feet are "shod with the preparation of the Gospel of peace," and the very hair of the head proclaims her a Nazarite indeed; "the King" Himself "is held captive in the tresses thereof."
But One, more to her than the daughters of Jerusalem, responded to her unaffected question, "What will ye see in the Shulamite?" The Bridegroom Himself replies to it:—
He sees in her the beauties and the fruitfulness of the tall and upright palm, of the graceful and clinging vine, of the fragrant and evergreen citron. Grace has made her like the palm-tree, the emblem alike of uprightness and of fruitfulness. The fruit of the date-palm is more valued than bread by the Oriental traveller, so great is its sustaining power; and the fruit-bearing powers of the tree do not pass away; as age increases the fruit becomes more perfect as well as more abundant.
But why are the righteous made so upright and flourishing?
One with our Lord, it is ours to show forth His graces and virtues, to reflect His beauty, to be His faithful witnesses.
The palm is also the emblem of victory; it raises its beautiful crown towards the heavens, fearless of the heat of the sultry sun, or of the burning hot wind from the desert. From its beauty it was one of the ornaments of Solomon's, as it is to be of Ezekiel's temple. When our Saviour was received at Jerusalem as the King of Israel the people took branches of palm-trees and went forth to meet Him; and in the glorious day of His espousals, "a great multitude, which no man" can "number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues," shall stand "before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes"; and with palms of victory in their hands shall ascribe their "salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb."
But if she resembles the palm she also resembles the vine. Much she needs the culture of the Husbandman, and well does she repay it. Abiding in Christ, the true source of fruitfulness, she brings forth clusters of grapes, luscious and refreshing, as well as sustaining, like the fruit of the palm—luscious and refreshing to Himself, the owner of the vineyard, as well as to the weary, thirsty world in which He has placed it.
The vine has its own suggestive lessons: it needs and seeks support; the sharp knife of the pruner often cuts away unsparingly its tender garlands, and mars its appearance, while increasing its fruitfulness. It has been beautifully written:—