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III. THE UNCLEAN SPIRIT IN DRY PLACES
I see the wicked spirit, like a winged dragon, having a long tail, drawing circles and flying in the air, in search of a dwelling-place. Casting his fiery look upon a certain neighborhood, he spies a young man, in the bloom of his days, and in the strength of his powers, sitting on the box of his cart, going for lime. “There he is,” says the old hellish dragon; “his veins are full of blood, and his bones are full of marrow; I will cast the sparks into his bosom, and will set all his lusts on fire; I will lead him on from bad to worse, until he commit every sin. I will make him a murderer, and will plunge his soul for ever beneath the boiling billows of the great fiery furnace.” With this, I see him descending in all the vehemence of his character – but when close by the lad, the dragon hears him sing,
“When on the cross the Saviour hung,
The mid-day sank in midnight gloom;
When guilty sinners were redeemed,
The midnight burst in mid-day bloom.”
Upon which the dragon cries out, “This place is too dry for me,” – and away he flies.
I see him again, a second time, hovering in the air, and seeking for a resting-place. In a flowery meadow, by a river of clear water, he sees a maiden, eighteen years of age, among the kine, picking up some beautiful flowers, here and there. “Behold her,” says Apollyon, full of hellish joy; “I will poison her mind, and lead her astray from the paths of the Almighty enemy; I will make her a harlot, and will ultimately cast her over the precipice, until she sink for ever in the furnace of divine wrath.” He hastens down; and, approaching the maiden, finds her singing the following stanzas, in a heavenly, transporting frame of mind, and with a voice that might almost melt the rocks:
“Unto the righteous will arrive,
A day of rest serene,
When to their joy they see the Lord,
Without a vail between.
“Then from the grave I shall arise,
And take my joyful stand
Among the saints who dwell on high,
Received at God’s right hand.”
“This place is too dry for me,” says the dragon, and off he flies.
From the meadow he ascends like a great balloon, with renewed rage, blowing smoke and fire from his mouth, and threatening damnation to all creation. “I will have a place to rest and dwell in,” says Apollyon, “in spite of the purpose, covenant, and grace of God!” With this he espies an aged woman, sitting at the door of her cot, and spinning on her little wheel. “Ah, she is ripe for destruction,” says the dragon; “I will give her a taste of the burning gall of damnation, and will cast her into the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.” With this he descends on the eaves of the cot, and hears the old woman, with a trembling voice, but with heavenly feelings, repeat the following beautiful passage: “For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee!” “This place is too dry for me,” says the dragon, and is off again.
It might be thought that all these disappointments would discourage him from prosecuting his infernal designs farther; but not so: he is determined, if possible, to find a dwelling-place. For this purpose he rises again, to mark some spot where he may alight and find a welcome. He sees in a small village a neat and decent house of refreshment. “There,” says he, “will I dwell, and lead to bondage every one that shall cross the threshold, and make him fast in eternal fetters.’” He flies down like lightning, enters the house, and walks into the parlor; but there he finds a company of ministers of the New Testament, returning from an Association, who are talking about the victory of Calvary, and exchanging appointments with each other. The wicked spirit cannot stay within the sound of their voice, but retreats with hasty steps, muttering and growling as he goes, – “This place is too dry for me, I will return to my house from which I came out!”
IV. SATAN AN ANGEL OF LIGHT
Satan perceived that it would be convenient and advantageous for him to have two suits of clothes. A suit of flaming, impurpled, and blackish red was his raiment since he instigated the rebellion in heaven: this he wears at home. This is the garment that is emblematic of his wrath and cruelty against El-Shaddai. He transformed himself when he tempted the first Adam, and succeeded in casting him down. The Second Adam knew him, when he required him to obey his command, and worship him instead of the true God. The Second Adam would die, rather than eat bread made out of a stone by the command of Satan.
It was in his flaming, bloody, black-red garb that Satan appeared among the persecutors, both pagan and popish, lighting up the funeral fires of the Martyrs. But he soon found it necessary to have a suit of white, descriptive of his cunning and hypocrisy; and he ordered white garments for his servants also, to wear upon certain occasions, when from home upon his expeditions. He met with reception in his white robe, angel like, in many places where he would not have been received at all in his suit of flaming red-black, in which he took the lead at pastimes, Sabbath plays, in taverns, and horse-races. But in his white robe he had an early admittance into many a cathedral, and he appointed some of his servants to offices there.
He also, in his white suit, found his way into the houses of evangelical dissenters, though they profess to have a book which exhibits his devices. Notwithstanding all the watching that had been at the doors, he rushed in to the communion table, as he had done to the consecrated altar of the cathedral, and sowed discord between the minister and the deacons; and he himself undertook the managing matters between them, seated in his chair and vested in his white robe. He forced many to assume a profession, like tares of the field; and some also of his best beloved servants, who were utterly destitute of the love of Christ and the fear of God, he raised into the pulpit, while they were living in secret sins; but they all had a white robe, as white as the sepulchres of the Pharisees, covering all these things. Satan held these up to deceive before the eye of God, and all the terrors of eternity. To sustain them from fainting, he administered unto them his potions from the pitcher of presumption; and hardened their consciences with the hot iron of hypocrisy, heated in the fire of hell. He taught them to persecute religion in the garb of an angel.
Let us not give room to the devil in his white raiment! When he attempts to destroy the character of a brother, he assumes his white robe, and not his murdering garment, pretending to vindicate the glory of God and the cause of justice, asserting that the cause of religion must be cleared; while all this time envy rankles in his heart, notwithstanding his fair pretences, as when the Jews delivered Jesus to be crucified. It was his white garment that Satan wore in the court of Caiaphas, when he charged the true God with blasphemy. This garb, also, his servant Judas wore, when he displayed such zeal and sympathy for the poor, in the case of the ointment at Bethany. Let us ask grace, that we may be able to recognise the devil in his white raiment, as well as in his old black-red garb. He is not so easily distinguished in his borrowed white, as in his own proper suit. Let us cleanse out hypocrisy. Such is our instruction.
V. THE YOUNG CHILD
Herod said to the wise men, “Go and search diligently for the young child.” The magi immediately commenced their inquiries, according to the instructions they received. I see them approaching some village, and when they come to the gate they inquire, “Do you know any thing of the young child?” The gateman comes to the door; and, supposing them to have asked the amount of the toll, says, “O, three halfpence an ass is to pay.” “We do not ask what is to pay,” reply they, “but, do you know any thing of the young child?” “No; I know nothing in the world,” answers he; “but there is a blacksmith’s shop a little farther on; inquire there, and you will be very likely to obtain some intelligence concerning him.”
The wise men proceed, and when they come to the blacksmith’s shop, they ask, “Do you know any thing of the young child?” A harsh voice answers, “There is no such thing possible for you, as having the asses shod now; you shall in two hours hence.” “We do not ask you to shoe the asses,” say they; “but inquire for the young child, if you know any thing of him?” “Nothing in the world,” says the blacksmith; “but inquire at the tavern that is on your road, and probably you may hear something of him there.”
On they go, and stand opposite the door of the tavern, and cry, “Do you know any thing of the young child?” The landlord, thinking they call for porter, bids the servant attend, saying, “Go, girl; go with a quart of porter to the strangers.” “We do not ask for either porter or ale,” say the wise men; “but something about the young child that is born.” “I know nothing in the world of him,” says the landlord; “but turn to the shop on the left hand; the shopkeeper reads all the papers, and you will be likely to hear something respecting him there.”
They proceed accordingly towards the shop, and repeat their inquiry, “Do you know any thing of the young child, here?” The shopkeeper says to his apprentice, “Reach half a quarter of tobacco to the strangers.” “We do not ask for tobacco,” say the wise men; “but for some intelligence of the young child.” “I do not know any thing of him,” replies the shopkeeper; “but there is an old Rabbi living in the upper end of the village; call on him, and very probably he will give you all the information you desire respecting the object of your search.”
They immediately direct their course towards the house of the Rabbi; and having reached it, they knock at the door; and being admitted into his presence, they ask him if he knows any thing of the young child. “Come in,” says he; and when they have entered and are seated, the Rabbi refers to his books and chronicles, and says he to the wise men, “There is something wonderful about to take place; some remarkable person has been or is to be born; but the best thing for you is to go down yonder street; there is living there, by the river side, the son of an old priest; you will be sure to know all of him.”
Having bid the old Rabbi a respectful farewell, on they go; and reaching the river’s side, they inquire of the by-standers for the son of the old priest. Immediately he is pointed out to them. There is a “raiment of camel’s hair about him, and a leathern girdle about his loins.” They ask him if he knows any thing of the young child. “Yes,” says he, “there he is: behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world! There he is; he will bruise the dragon’s head, and bring in everlasting righteousness to every one that believeth in his name.”
VI. VARIETIES OF PREACHING
I perceive four strong men on their journey toward Lazarus’ grave, for the purpose of raising him to life. One of them, who is eminent for his piety, says, “I will descend into the grave, and will take with me a bowl of the salt of duties, and will rub him well with the sponge of natural ability.” He enters the grave, and commences his rubbing process. I watch his operations at a distance, and after a while inquire, “Well, are there any symptoms of life there? Does he arise, does he breathe, my brother?” “No such thing,” replies he, “he is still quiet, and I cannot salt him to will– and besides this, his smell is rather heavy.”
“Well,” says the second, “come you out; I was afraid that your means would not answer the purpose; let me enter the grave.” The second enters, carrying in his hand a whip of the scorpions of threatening; and, says he, “I will make him feel.” He directs his scorpion and fiery ministry at the dead corpse; but in vain, and I hear him crying out, “All is unsuccessful; dead he is after all.”
Says the third, “Make room for me to enter, and I will see if I cannot bring him to life.” He enters the grave, and takes with him a musical pipe; it is melodious as the song of love; but there is no dancing in the grave.
The fourth says, “Means of themselves can effect nothing, but I will go for Jesus, who is the resurrection and the life.” Immediately he leaves to seek for Christ, and speedily returns, accompanied by the Saviour. And when the Lord came, he stands in the door of the sepulchre, and cries out, “Lazarus, come forth!” and the dead body is instantaneously instinct with life.
Let our confidence be in the voice of the Son of God. And let us turn our faces toward the wind, and say, “O breath, come from the four winds, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live!”
VII. THE SIX CROCODILES
Every church-member should learn to hunt a crocodile. The first crocodile is a spirit to search closely for faults, instead of hiding them with brotherly love, according to the directions of the gospel. This is Ham, the old crocodile, that exposed the nakedness of his father, instead of hiding it like Shem and Japheth; for which his father banished him to the river Nilus, where he still remains in Africa, under the curse of his father.
Old pious Eli erred greatly, by allowing his children to enter the sanctuary as crocodiles, by sparing them, and suffering them in their sins, which brought, through these crocodiles, destruction on his house: and in the same manner since upon many congregations, – as the churches of Asia. This is an evil spirit in the mount.
Another crocodile is the spirit of preference. This is the crocodile Judas, who was offended with Jesus in Bethany on account of Mary’s ointment, which she poured on the head of Jesus; and that only because they did not consult him; in revenge for which he turned traitor. He was a selfish miser; and ultimately hung himself, and went to his own place. This crocodile still lurks among the reeds. There are many like him, ready to blame every act of discipline in the church; not that they care so much for the interests of the church, or any belonging to it, but they wish to swallow all up themselves.
Another crocodile is the spirit of Ahithophel, who plotted a cunning artifice to dethrone a person whose heart was with God, and raise Absalom, a wicked man like himself, to the throne in his stead. God turned his counsel into foolishness. He was disappointed – his heart failed – he saddled his ass, and went and hung himself. This was the end of that crocodile.
Another is a spirit to trample and destroy, for the sake of being head. This is the crocodile Joab, who killed Abner, who was better than himself. This crocodile strikes every one who may be in his way under the fifth rib, for the sake of being head himself. But his end came; he lost his life at the horns of the altar, by the sword with which he himself destroyed another.
But, upon looking again, we see the sixth crocodile, and his name is Cain, who would triumph over God and man; without grace, or talents, or faith, or love; and without any sacrifice that has blood in it; and because God will not regard him without faith, he opens his mouth, and sets himself to swallow pious Abel. God delivers him over to the possession of the wicked one.
O brethren, let us prove the spirits, whether they are of God, or of the devil!
I will tell you an anecdote of Mr. Rowlands, of Llangeitho. When he wished to crush the spirit of calumny (the crocodile Ham) which lurked in the church, he said to the slanderer: “Thou sayest, man, that sins must be hunted and exposed, because they are too numerous in the church – and that they ought not be hidden. Be quiet, man. Who art thou? I think I know thy family, and thy eldest brother, even Ham, the son of Noah. His two brothers wished to hide their father’s nakedness, but he would expose it. What reward did they receive for covering their father’s nakedness? The blessing of God and their father. And what reward did thy brother receive? The curse of God and their father. And I doubt not thy reward will be nothing better.”
VIII. ENVIOUS AMBITION
The forest of Lebanon once held a consultation to choose a king, upon the death of the king, the Yew-tree. They agreed to offer the crown to the Cedar; and if the Cedar should refuse, to invite the Vine and the Olive to office. They all refused the honors for the following reasons. The Cedar refused, “because,” said be, “I am sufficiently high as I am.” – “I would rather,” said the Vine, “yield wine to cheer others, than receive for myself.” And in the same manner, the Olive preferred giving its oil to honor others rather than receive any honors to itself.
All these having refused the honors offered them, they next agreed to call the Thorn to the government; and if he should decline, to choose the Bramble. The White Thorn, in its beautiful dress, received the honor, speaking thus to itself: – “I have nothing to lose but the white coat, and some red berries; and I have prickles enough to hurt the whole forest.” But the Bramble instigated a rebellion against the White Thorn, and kindled the fire of pride in the forest, so that all the trees were set on flame.
Two or three vain and proud men in a peaceful congregation, have, by contending for the preference, disturbed the peace, and obstructed the prosperity of many a church, while there was no more virtue in them than there is of value in the white thorn or prickly bramble.
IX. THE DOVE, THE RAVEN, AND THE EAGLE
A nobleman had a Dove, a Raven, and an Eagle, belonging to his palace. There was no sociability or fellowship prevailing among them. The Dove fed on its own food, and hid herself in the clefts of the rocks, or in the dove-house near the palace. The Raven fed upon dead carcasses, and sometimes picked out the eyes of little innocent lambs, if she could pounce upon them in a chance place; – she also nestled in the top of the trees. The Eagle was a royal bird, flying very high, but yet of a rapacious character. Sometimes he would not mind eating some half a dozen of the Doves for his breakfast. He thought himself the king of birds because he flew higher than they all. The Doves greatly dreaded his strong beak, his wrathful eyes, and his sharp grappling claws. When the gentleman threw wheat for the Dove on the pavement, the Raven would have a piece of an ear or the foot of a lamb in its beak; and the Eagle was for taking up some little child from the cradle to his nest.
The Dove is the pious diligent Christian; the Raven is the dissolute and difficult to be managed; and the proud, selfish professor is the Eagle. These three characters are too frequently to be found together, and there is no denomination, in church or chapel, without these three birds, if there are any birds at all there. It is impossible for three birds, so different in their dispositions, ever to be happy together. Brethren, pray for the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
