The Farewell Gift
“This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest, and this is the refreshing’’’ —
“iptace K Ica&e iuitfj gou, fHg peace C gifae unto gou: not as tlje iDorlU gibctfj, gtijt E unto gou.”
—John xiv. 27.
TTi -ff (« TT ■^’^ shadow of the figurative grove of EHm /ic’ff niore grateful to the children of humanity
than this. It is in Jesus alone, and in His finished work, that the beautiful words of the Evangelical Prophet are fulfilled in the case of every pilgrim to the true Canaan, — “My people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings and in quiet resting-places’’’’ (Is. xxxii. 1 8)- The circumstances in which the Saviour uttered the words of our motto-verse were interesting and peculiar, and give an intense pathos to His declaration. It was at a time, one would have thought, of the deepest dispeace and disquietude to His own soul; a time when the saying, “My peace I give unto you,” would have seemed a strange and equivocal boon: for the shadows of the cross were gathering around Him. Some consolation, higher than earth could afford, was needed, when the Shepherd was about to be smitten and the sheep to be scattered. In the clouds of that dark, troubled horizon, He set the bow of covenant
Peace. His utterance was more than a promise: — it is couched in the formula of a last Will — a Testamentary deed. It is the dying legacy which the Prince of Peace bequeaths to His Church and people in every age. Let us note some of its characteristics.
It is a purchased peace. That palm whispers pre-eminently “the name of Jesus” — “Peace through the blood of His cross.” In no other way could it have been procured. By no other could it be bestowed. No voice but the voice which exclaimed in dying accents, “It is finished,” can say to the troubled tempest-tossed soul — “Peace, be still!” In the familiar Bible narrative, we see the heathen sailors rowing hard to bring the vessel to land, in whose hold was the fugitive prophet. It was in vain. “The sea wrought, and was tempestuous” — wave after wave baffled strength of oar and muscle. What was their expedient? The sacrifice of the one life was demanded and surrendered for the sake of the others! So it was with the true Jonah. When He was taken and cast into the deep, that deep was hushed into a calm, its fury stilled, every tumultuous billow was rocked to rest — “The sea ceased from her raging.” “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” He has done all, and suffered all, and procured all for us; — left nothing to be supplemented by human merit. In the words of an old theologian, “We which have believed do enter into rest, and that by ceasing from our own works, as God did from His.”
It is a perfect peace. It is no simulation — no counterfeit. There is no flaw in these title-deeds. It is a peace founded on everlasting truth and everlasting righteousness, securing alike the vindication ot the Divine law and the manifestation of the Divine glory. It is a peace with God above, and peace with conscience within — peace secured by the
Redeemer on the Cross, and ratified by the Kingly Intercessor on the Throne. Like the weary bird, after tracking its way across leagues of waste ocean, the believer can enter the opened window of the True Ark, and sing the song of an older heir of covenant blessings, “Return unto thy Rest (thy Peace), O my soul.”
It is z. permanent peace. As such, it is “not as the world giveth.” Many of the world’s best blessings, those which are considered to minister most effectually to outward happiness and inward tranquillity, ours to-day, may be gone to-morrow: — we have no pledge or guarantee for their continuance. They are fed from the low marshy grounds of earth, dependent on fitful seasons and capricious showers. But the peace of Christ, being from heaven, is a perennial stream; it is fed from surer supply than glacier Alps, and it rolls on in undiminished fulness and volume, in summer’s drought and in winter’s cold. It is irrespective and independent of all outward accidents. It bears up and sustains amid the harassments of business, the crushings of poverty, the weariness of sickness, the pangs of bereavement, the shadows of death. Well may the author of “The Pilgrim’s Progress” give the name of Peace to the chamber in which Christian lay, and whose window opened toward the sunrising!
It is said of Goethe, the great German, that in one of those dark, unsatisfied hours in which his mighty intellect and soul groped after the true Rest, he thus recorded his undefined longings for that which he had failed to attain: —
“Fairest among heaven’s daughters,
Thou who stillest pain and woe,
Pourest thy refreshing waters
On the thirsty here below;
Whither tends this restless striving?
Faint and tired, I long for rest.
Heaven-born peace,
Come and dwell M^ithin my breast!”
These words were found on a scrap of writing paper lying on his writing table, A devoted friend of kindred intellectual pursuits, but one who had personally experienced the shade of the Elim grove and tasted its perennial fountains, and who therefore knew what alone could quench these unsated aspirations, wrote on the other side, ‘■’■ Peace I leave with you, ATy peace I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid”
Peace — true peace. Intellect cannot bestow it; wealth cannot purchase it. Men, in their quest of it, entrench and buttress themselves around with creature comforts, and away from corroding care, invite the angel of peace to come and over downy couches to sing the longed-for lullaby! The lullaby is sung, “Peace, peace,” but often it is only to awaken the echo of dissatisfaction, “No peace.”
Speed your flight, O weary wanderer, under the shelter of this heavenly Palm. The bough on which your earthly nest was built may have been felled by the axe or broken by the storm; but “He is our peace.” And as driven by the windy tempest your cry is, “O Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world, grant me Thy peace!” may it be yours to listen to the glad response, “My peace I give unto you;” — “Though ye have lien among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.”
“We ask for peace, O Lord!
Thy children ask Thy peace:
Not what the world calls rest — That toil and care should cease;
That through bright sunny hours
Calm life should fleet away,
And tranquil night should fade
In smiling day; — It is not for such peace that we would pray.
“We ask Thy peace, O Lord!
Through storm, and fear, and strife,
To light and guide us on
Through a long struggling life;
To lean on Thee, entranced,
In calm and perfect rest; —
Give us that peace, O Lord!
Divine and blest,
Thou keepest for those hearts that love Thee best.”
THOU WILT KEEP HIM IN PERFECT PEACE, WHOSE MIND IS STAYED ON THEE; BECAUSE HE TRUSTETH IN THEE.”