We must be much in meditation of the promises

           Direction Fourth.  Be much in meditation of the promises.  Whence is it that the poor Christian is so distressed with the present affliction that lies upon him, but because he museth more on his trouble than on the promise?  There is that in the promise which would recreate his spirit, if he could but fix his thoughts upon it.  When the crying child once fastens on the teat, and begins to draw down the milk, then it leaves wrangling, and falls asleep at the breast. Thus the Christian ceaseth complaining of his afflic­tion when he gets hold on the promise, and hath the relish of its sweetness upon his heart. ‘In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts de­light my soul,’ Ps. 94:19.  When a swarm of bees dis­lodge themselves they are all in a confusion, flying here and there without any order, till at last they are hived again.  Then the uproar is at an end and they fall to work peaceably as before.  Truly, even so the Christian will find it in his own heart.  God, in the promise, is the soul’s hive.  Let the Christian dislodge his thoughts thence, and presently they run riot, and fly up and down as in an affright at the apprehension of the present affliction or temptation lies upon him, till he can recollect himself, and settle his heart again upon the promise, and then he recovers his former peace and composure.  Hence the Spirit of God sounds a retreat to the troubled thoughts of afflicted saints, and calls them off from poring on that which roils them, into God, where alone they can be quiet and at ease.  ‘Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him,’ Ps. 37:7.  And David, finding his soul, like the dove while flying over the waters, without all repose, calls it back into the meditation of God and his prom­ise, as the only ark where it could find rest.  ‘Return unto thy rest, O my soul,’ Ps. 116:7.  The Christian’s heart is of that colour which his most abiding con­stant thoughts dye into.  Transient flitting thoughts, be they comfortable or sad, do not much work upon the soul, or alter its temper into joy or sorrow. Neither poison kills, nor food nourisheth, that doth not stay in the body.  No, then the affliction soaks into the heart, and embitters the Christian’s spirit into perplexing fears and disconsolate dejections, when his thoughts lie steeping in his sorrows from day to day—when, like her in the gospel, he is ‘bowed down with a spirit of infirmity,’ that he cannot raise his heart from the thought of his cross and trial to meditate on any promise that should refresh him. Such there are, God knows, whom Satan and their own pensive hearts keep such close prisoners, that no comfortable meditation is suffered to speak or stay with them.

           And again, on the other hand then the promise works effectually, when it is bound upon the Chris­tian’s heart, when he wakes with it and walks with it. No pain he feels, no danger he fears, can pluck him from his breast; but, as Samson went on his way eat­ing of the honeycomb, so he feeding on the sweetness of the promise.  Here is a Christian that will sing when another sighs, will be able to spend that time of his affliction in praising God, which others—whose thoughts are scattered and split upon what they suffer —too commonly bestow on fruitless complaints of their misery, and discontented speeches which reflect dishonourably upon God himself.  Let it be thy care therefore, Christian, to practice this duty of medita­tion.  Do not only exchange a few words with the promise, as one does with a friend passing by at his door.  But invite the promise, as Abraham did the angels, Gen. 18, not to pass away till thou hast more fully enjoyed it.  Yea, constrain it as the disciples did Christ, to stay with thee all the night of thy affliction. This is to ‘acquaint’ ourselves indeed with God, the ready way to be at peace.  This is the way the saints have taken to raise their faith to such a pitch, as to triumph over the most formidable calamities.  ‘My beloved,’ saith the spouse, ‘shall lie all night between my breasts.’  That is, when benighted with any sorrowful afflicting providence, she shall pass away the night comfortably in the meditation of his love and loveliness, his beauty and sweetness.  Never will the Christian come to any kindly heat of comfort in his spirit, till he takes this Abishag of the promise into his bosom to cherish him.  And this will do it indeed.  A soul that hath learned this heavenly art of meditation will feel no more the extremity of any af­fliction, than you do the sharpness of the cold weather when you are sitting by a good fire, or lying in a warm bed.  It was a notable speech of Julius Palmer, an English martyr: ‘To them,’ saith he, ‘that have their mind fettered to the body as a thief’s foot is to a pair of stocks, it is hard to die.  But if any be able to separate his soul from his body, then by the help of God’s Spirit, it is no more mastery for such a one than to drink this cup.’  He meant, if the creature be able to elevate his mind and thoughts above his suf­ferings by heavenly meditation on the ‘great and precious promises,’ then it were nothing to suffer. Such a one, his soul is in heaven; and a soul in heaven feels little what the flesh meets with on earth. Here, O ye Christians, is the most glorious prospect to be seen on this side heaven!

           When the soul stands upon this Pisgah of meditation, looking by an eye of faith through the perspective of the promise upon all the great and precious things laid up by a faithful God for him, it is easy to despise the world's love and wrath.  But alas! it is hard for us to get up thither, who are so short-breathed and soon tired with a few steps up this mount of God.  O let us all cry out, as once David, ‘Lead me to the rock that is higher than I!’  And with him in another place, ‘Who will bring me into the strong city?...wilt no thou, O God?’  So, who will lift us up to this high, holy hill of meditation, higher than all the surging waves that dash upon us from beneath, where we may see all our creature-enjoyments drowned, yet ourselves not wetshod?  Wilt not thou, O God? Yes, our God would do this for us, would we but shake off our sloth, and show, by parting with our mandrakes to purchase his company, that we highly prize the same.  My meaning is—would we but fre­quently retire from the world, and bestow some of that time in secret waiting upon God which we lavish out upon inferior pleasures and entertainments of the creature, we should invite God's Holy Spirit to us. Let a wicked man set up a lust for his thoughts to dally with, and the devil will soon be at his elbow to assist him.  And shall we not believe the Holy Spirit as ready to lend his helping hand to a holy meditation? Doubtless he is.  Spread thou thy sails and the Spirit will fill them with his heavenly breath.  Be but thou the priest to lay the wood and sacrifice in order, and fire from heaven will come down upon it.  Be thou but careful to provide fuel—gather from the promises matter for meditation, and set thy thoughts awork upon it—and the Spirit of God will kindle thy affections.  ‘While I was musing,’ saith David, ‘the fire burned: then spake I with my tongue,’ Ps. 39:3. Isaac met his bride in the fields; and the gracious soul her beloved, when she steps aside, to walk with the promise in her solitary thoughts.