We shall there enjoy the society of the angels. We know about those holy beings, but we do not know themselves as yet. But how often does it happen to us in regard to our earthly friends, that those who are unknown to us in our early years even by name, become in our latter years indissolubly bound up with our history and our joy? And thus the angels, whom on earth we have never seen, will, nevertheless, when the manhood of our being is reached, become our intimate friends and dear companions for ever. Let us not forget, however, that the angels know each saint on earth more intimately than the saints themselves are known by their nearest friends. "For are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?" But this fact suggests another analogy between our social relationships with men and angels,—viz., that as earthly friends who have been acquainted with ourselves and our family history during the forgotten days of infancy, are met by us, in after-years, not as strangers, but with feelings of sympathy and intimacy akin to those awakened by old kindred; even so will the saint, on reaching heaven, find God's angels to be, not strangers, but old friends who have known all about him from the day of his birth until the hour of his death. It is true that these high and holy ones belong to a different order of beings from ourselves, and this, we might be disposed to think, must prevent the possibility of their sympathising with us. But let us remember, that while in material forms there is no one common abiding type, by which, for example, the vegetable, beast, bird, or fish are formed; yet that it is quite otherwise with intellectual and moral beings, who are all necessarily made like God, and therefore like one another. And, finally, though we might conjecture that beings possessed of such vast stores of knowledge, the accumulated wealth of ages, and of such high and glorious intellects, would necessarily repel our approaches by the awe they would inspire in a child of earth when with all his ignorance he enters heaven, yet let our confidence be restored by remembering the fact, that in them, as in the great Jehovah, all majesty and wisdom become attractive when combined with, and directed by love. The love which enables us to cling to the Almighty and love Him as a Father, will enable us to meet the angels in peace, and to love them as brethren. And thus I am persuaded that a saint on earth, compassed about as he is with his many infirmities, would even now feel more "at home," so to speak, with angels, because of their perfect sympathising love, than with most of his fellow-men, because of their remaining pride and selfishness.
But "just men made perfect" also form apart of the society above. Their number is daily increasing. Day by day unbroken columns are passing through the golden gates of the city, and God's elect are gathering from the four winds of heaven. There are no dead saints; all are alive unto God, and "we live together with them."
But I further remark in reference to all this glorious society, that there shall be perfect union among its members. That union will not be one of sameness; for there can be no sameness either in the past history, or in the intellectual capacity of any of its members. How vast must be the difference for ever between the history of Gabriel, the thief on the cross, the apostle Paul, and the child who died on its first birthday! There is, moreover, every reason to believe that each person must retain his own individual features of mind and peculiarities of character, there as well as here. All the stars will shine in brilliancy, and sweep in orbits more or less wide around the great centre, but "each star differeth from another star in glory." Yet this want of sameness is what will produce the deepest harmony, such as one sees in the blending of different colours, or hears in the mingling of different notes. And I repeat it, the bond of this perfectness must be the same in heaven as on earth—love. For it is love which unites exalted rank to lowly place, knowledge to ignorance, and strength to weakness; thus bringing things opposite into an harmonious whole. See accordingly how the love which dwelt in "God manifest in the flesh," poured itself into the lowest depths of humanity, and met men far down to lift them high up; so that at the very moment, for instance, when Jesus was intensely conscious of His dignity, "knowing that he came from God and went to God," He even then shewed how inseparable was true love from true grandeur, for we read that "knowing" this, "He rose from supper and girded Himself with a towel, and washed His disciples' feet!" And as Jesus in the might of the same Divine affection bridged over the gulf which separated man from Himself and His Father, drawing the impure to Him the Holy One, that they might become holy; and the ignorant to Him the All-knowing, that they might become truly wise;—so shall the same Divine love include within its vast embrace all in heaven, from God seated on the throne down through the burning ranks of cherubim and seraphim till it reaches the once weeping Magdalene, and the once sore-stricken Lazarus, and the infant who has but the hour before left the bosom of its weeping mother! HOW glorious, again, is the thought that the poorest saint here—the most ignorant, the most despised, the most solitary and unknown—shall not only admire and love, but be himself the object of admiration and of love on the part of the highest spirit there. For the King who is not ashamed to call the poorest "brethren," will, in His adornments of their mind and heart, as well as of outward form, bestowed "according to His riches," make them in all things like Himself, and fit to move in regal grandeur with all saints and angels in the royal palace of his God. "Fear not, little flock; it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."
After what has been said, it is unnecessary to prove what I have assumed as so evidently true; I mean the future recognition of our Christian friends. It is almost as unreasonable to ask for proofs of this as for the probable recognition of friends in a different part of the country after having been separated from one another during a brief interval of time. What! shall memory be obliterated, and shall we forget our own past histories, and therefore lose the sense of our personal identity, and be ignorant of all we have been and done as sinners, and of all we have received and done as redeemed men? or, knowing all this, shall we be prevented from communicating our histories to others? Shall beloved friends be there whom we have known and loved in Christ here; with whom we have held holy communion; with whom we have laboured and prayed for the advancement of Christ's kingdom; and with whom we have eagerly watched for His second coming,—and shall we be unable throughout eternity, either to discover their existence or associate with them in the New Jerusalem? Are the apostles now ignorant of each other? Did Moses and Elias issue out of a darkness which mutually concealed them in heaven, and recognising one another for the first time amidst the light on Tabor's hill, did they then return into darkness again? Oh, what is there in the whole Word of God,—what argument derived from, our experience of the blessings of Christian fellowship,—what in the character of God or His dealings with man,—what in His promises of things to come laid up for those who love Him, that could have suggested such strange, unworthy, false, and dreary thoughts of the union, or rather disunion, of friends in their Father's home! Tell me not that special affection to Christian brethren, from whatever causes it may arise, is inconsistent with unfeigned love to all, and with absorbing love to Jesus. It is not so here, and never can be so from the nature of holy love, and was not so in Christ's own case when He the Perfect One lived amongst us. With supreme love to God, "He loved His church and gave Himself for it;" with love to His church He yet loved the disciples as "His own;" while again within this circle one of these was specially the loved one; and beyond it "He loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus!" Tell me not that it is enough to know that our friends are in glory. I know this now in regard to some of them, as surely as I know anything beyond the grave; yet my heart yearns to meet them "with the Lord," and I bless Him that He permits me to comfort myself with the hope of doing so. Nor let it be alleged as an insuperable objection to all this anticipated happiness, that knowledge of the saved would imply knowledge of the lost, and that this would balance the pleasure we hope for, by the great pain by which we, it is assumed, must thus be compelled to endure. For even admitting that such knowledge would be possessed at all, which is very doubtful; yet surely, at the worst, this is a strange way of escaping pain from the knowledge that some are lost, by taking refuge in the ignorance of any being saved! I shall not prove this further, but express my joy in heartily believing that we shall resume our intercourse with every Christian friend; that remembering all the past, and reading it for the first time aright, because reading in the full light of revealed truth, we shall know and love as we never knew and loved here; and shall sit down at that glorious intellectual, moral, and social feast, not with ideal persons and strangers, but with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with Peter, Paul, and John, and with every saint of God!
But I have not as yet spoken of one friend there who will be the centre of that bright society—"Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant!" "I will take you to Myself," is the blessed promise. "We shall see Him as He is," is the longed-for-vision. "We shall be like Him," is the hoped-for perfection. To know, to love, to be in all things like Jesus, and to hold communion with Him for ever—what "an exceeding weight of glory!" Jesus will never be separated personally from His people; nor can they ever possibly separate their character, their joy, or their safety from His atoning death for them on earth, or from His constant life for them in heaven. It is the Lamb who shall lead them to living fountains of waters; and the Lamb upon the throne who shall still preside over them. The Lamb shall be the everlasting light of the New Jerusalem; and "Worthy is the Lamb!" will be its ceaseless song of praise. Beyond this I cannot go. In vain I endeavour to ascend in thought higher than "God manifest in the flesh," even to the Triune Jehovah who dwelleth in the unapproachable light of His own unchangeable perfections; and seek to catch a glimpse of that beatific vision which, though begun here in communion with God, is there enjoyed by "the spirits of just men made perfect," "according to His fulness," and therefore in a measure which to us passeth all understanding. But if any real spiritual intercourse with Jehovah is now "joy unspeakable;" if the hunger of the soul to possess more, fails often from its intensity to find utterance for its wants in words, what must it be to dwell in His presence in the full enjoyment of Himself for ever! There are saints who have experienced this blessedness upon earth to a degree which was almost too much for them to bear; and there are some who have had glories flashed upon them as if snatched from the light beyond, just as the soul was loosening from the ligaments of the body, and preparing itself for flight from the prison-house to its own home—strange moments when things beyond were seen by the eye closing on the weary world, and overpowering bliss was experienced by the chilling heart. And if men, sinful men, yea, dying men, can behold such visions of joy even while dwelling in tabernacles of clay that are crumbling around them, what is the measure of that bliss which fills the souls of those redeemed ones at this moment in the temple above, in perfectly knowing and enjoying God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! May the Lord give us all grace to love on earth such as we may hope to meet in heaven; and if we cannot as yet enjoy the communion of angels, may we seek for, and enjoy, the communion of saints!
V.
OUR ACTIVE LIFE.
It is unnecessary to do more than remind you how labour is essential here to our happiness. Rest from fatigue is indeed enjoyment; but idleness from want of occupation is punishment. Nor is this fact a part of our inheritance as sinners. Fatigue and pain of body from exertion may be so, but not exertion itself. Perfect and unfallen man, as I have already reminded you, was placed in the garden of Eden "to dress and to keep it." And this is what we would expect as the very appointment for a creature made after the image of Him who is ever working, and who has imbued every portion of the universe with the spirit of activity. For nothing in the world of nature lives for itself alone, but contributes its portion of good to the welfare of the whole. And man, as he becomes more godlike, rejoices more and more in the dispensation by which he is enabled to be a fellow-worker with his Father, and is glad in being able to give expression by word or deed to what he knows and admires.
And if all this holds true of man now, what reason have we for doubting that it shall hold true of man for ever? Why should this inherent love of action, and delightful source of enjoyment, so refined and elevated, be annihilated? and what shadow even of probability have we for supposing that the heaven revealed in Scripture is a world the occupations of whose inhabitants must for ever be confined to mere ecstatic contemplation?
This cannot be! Such a heaven has not been prepared for man. Arguing from analogy, the presumption is that those mental and moral habits which have been acquired with so much difficulty, and at so much expense in this present world, will not be cast away as useless in the next, but find there such scope for their exercise as cannot possibly be afforded to them within their present limited sphere of action. But this presumption is immensely strengthened by what we know of the life of the angels, to which I have more than once alluded, as it bears so much upon the several topics discussed by us. These angels "excel in strength;" and they "do His commandments, and hearken to the voice of His word." As "ministers of His," they "do His pleasure." They are represented to us as ever actively employed as messengers of peace or of woe. They have destroyed armies and cities; delivered captives; comforted the disconsolate; and are represented as the future reapers of the earth's harvest. All this proves, at least, that the sinless perfection and happiness of heaven are not inconsistent with a life of busy labour; and that though God can dispense with the services of either men or angels, yet, as they cannot be happy without rendering such services to Him, He, in accordance with His untiring, ungrudging benevolence, satisfies this desire of their nature as created by Himself. Let it be remembered also, that men have acquired a wider experience than even angels, by reason of that very sin which might be supposed to render them less fit for the exalted services of heaven. For the very storms and vicissitudes of earth have given a form and a strength to those "trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord," that could not have been acquired amidst the sunny skies and balmy air of the heavenly paradise. The saints of God have learned lessons here of patience, endurance, self-denial, and faith, that could not have been learned there. Like old soldiers, they have been trained by long campaigns and terrible combats with the enemy. On earth and not in heaven are Marthas and Maries with whom we can weep; and prodigals whom we can receive back; and saints in sickness, in prison, or in nakedness, whom we can visit, soothe, and clothe. And therefore is earth a noble school by reason of its very sins and sorrows. It is asked, indeed, in triumph, What employments can there be in heaven for saints? This question I cannot answer. The how employed, and where, must be as yet mere conjecture. But who will be so bold as to deny, that in the new heavens and in the new earth, there may be employment for even those powers—such as inventive genius—which might seem to be necessarily confined to this our temporary scene? If we are through a bodily organisation to be for ever united to matter, why may not science and art be called into exercise then as well as now, in order to make it minister to our wants or desires? And even as regards the noble creations of artistic genius, why should the supposition be deemed as unworthy of the most exalted and spiritual views of heaven, that man may for ever be a fellow-worker with the Divine Artist who fills the universe with His own endless creations of beauty and magnificence? And can it be that our moral habits and Christian graces shall never be called into exercise in works and labours of love among orders of beings of whom as yet we know nothing? Countless worlds may be teeming with immense populations, and who knows but such worlds may be continually added to the great family of God. And if throughout the endless ages of eternity, or in any province of God's boundless empire, there should ever be found some responsible beings who are tempted to depart from God by the machinations of wicked men or evil spirits,—permitted, then, it may be, as well as now, to use all their powers in the service of sin and against the kingdom of God,—and who being thus tempted shall require warning or support to retain them in their allegiance;—or if there be found others who are struggling in an existence, which, however glorious, demands patience, fortitude, and faith in Jehovah; if there are now in other worlds, or ever shall appear any persons who need such ministrations as can be afforded only by those educated in the wonderful school of Christ's Church;—then can I imagine how God's saints from earth may have glorious labours given them throughout eternity, which they alone, of all the creatures of God, will be able to accomplish, when every holy habit acquired here can be put to noble uses there. I can conceive patience needed to overcome difficulties; and faith to trust the living God amidst evolutions of His providence that baffle the understanding; and indomitable courage, untiring zeal, gentle love, heavenly serenity and intense sympathy, yea, even the peculiar gifts and characteristics of each individual;—all having their appropriate and fitting work given them. "Now abideth faith, hope, and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." And what immense joy will be experienced in each saint thus finding an outlet for his love, and exercise for his knowledge, and full play for his every faculty, in that "house of many mansions," with all God's universe around and eternity before him! I borrow the language of the great and good Isaac Taylor, who has written so eloquently and convincingly on this subject:—"There labour shall be without fatigue, ceaseless activity without the necessity of repose, high enterprise without disappointment, and mighty achievements which leave behind no weariness or decay;—where 'they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; shall walk, and not faint.'"