Turn we now from our dear master who has been taken away to that Master, still more dear, that perfect Master, “chiefest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely,” who remains. They fail, but Thou remainest. Human friends, comforters, pastors forsake us, but Thou, O Christ, art with us all the days even unto the end. Even an Elijah, that chief of the prophets, had to go up and stand before his Master. But we, beloved, have a kingdom which cannot be moved, and a kingly Master who cannot die. He, “the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever, is able to keep us from falling. He shall preserve us blameless, and present us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy.”
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Earth and heaven are not very far apart. When we stand at the foot of the ladder with the ascending and descending angels, when we sit at the feet of Jesus, some down here, some up there, but all, all for ever at His feet, and all, all for ever in His hand, and every one of us receiving of His words—when this is so, beloved, heaven draws very near to earth, and earth to heaven; and when the gate opens to receive some loved one in, we can almost hear the music and the singing. There is just this difference and distinction: here on earth we are labouring to enter into rest; there they are resting in the midst of joyful labour, being so close to their King. We might be closer than we are, and thus have more “days of heaven upon earth.”
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And now, feeling sure on this occasion of your forbearance and sympathy, I add a few things which may interest you concerning our earthly master, father, teacher, friend, taken from our head to-day by the Lord.
His knowledge of Scripture was wonderful, was it not? and his memory for quotation—not the words only, but chapter and verse—up to the very last, after ten years of total blindness.
His knowledge too of that piece of intricate and, alas! disordered mechanism, the human heart, was remarkable. How his sermons turned us inside out, so to speak, but all loving, wise, and persuasive, leading us to Christ and to comfort.
The wondrous mixture in his disposition and character of thorough humanity and great spirituality—of manliness, vigour and cheerfulness, with a very tender, sympathising heart! How he could turn at once, and without causing any jar to our feelings, or any sense of discrepancy in his action, from the brightest play of mirth and humour to fervent, pleading prayer. How real and transparent he was, both as a man and a Christian!
There is another thing I desire to mention. “When the messengers of John were departed, Jesus began to speak unto the people concerning John: What went ye out into the wilderness to see, a reed shaken with the wind? . . . a man clothed in soft raiment? . . . a prophet?” You remember that that, on Sunday week, was the text your dear pastor last preached from; and what reply can we give to that question as regards himself? Was he a fickle, changeable man, “a reed shaken with the wind”? Was he a man living delicately, surrounding himself with luxury, and not rather a man given to self-denial, rising very early in the morning, winter and summer, and depriving himself of comforts, almost of necessaries, for the sake of his beloved poor?
“But what went ye out for to see, a prophet?” Yea, and a true prophet concerning the things of God. If you know not now, the day is coming when “ye shall know that there has been a prophet among you.” For myself, I desire this once publicly to testify that I have never heard a sermon from his lips (and I have heard many) or spent half-an-hour in his company (and I have spent many), without gaining conscious benefit to my soul.