The Mystical and the Practical
‘“‘ How precious are Thy thoughts unto me, O God! When I awake, I am still with Thee.” — Psa. cxxxix. 17, 18.
WAS long puzzled to find the connection
of these words; and the commentators did not help me. At last I think I have found it. I interpret thus the 17th and 18th verses: “To think of thee, O Lord, is a very precious thing; Thy mysteries are so deep that I get lost in reverie. Yet my love for Thee is not confined to my thinking about Thee. When I awake from my reverie, when I pass into the active work of life, when I move amid earthly objects and engage in secular pursuits, my heart is as much with Thee as when I am alone in Thy presence; my work for man is a service of Thee.” That is what I understand the Psalmist to mean. And what he says is true. It is not only true of religious love, but of all love. If
you have an object of supreme affection, you do not divide your day between your love for him and your work in the world. There is no part of your worldly work which is not lit by your love, there is no part that is not better done on account of your love. Love will help your music as much as your musing, your drawing-room equally with your dreaming, your social hour not Jess than your silent orison. You will walk further without weariness, fast longer without faintness, compass more without complaining. Love can muse when the fire burns; but love can also help to light the fire. Love can dream of its object dressed in gold; but love can also mend a tattered robe and repair a rent garment. Love can say, “The thought of thee is precious”; but love can also cry, “My thought of other things is helped by thee.”
Lord, I often awake from my dream and say, “How dreadful is this place!” It is not the dream that is dreadful, but the awakening. The bustle of life seems incongruous with the hour of communion. We say, “The sacramental symbols are about to be withdrawn; we are going forth from the Divine Presence into the world once more.” Nay, my Father, then were the awakening indeed a dreadful place; then would I ery with Moses, “If Thy presence go not with us, carry us not up hence!” But Thy presence will go with us; in our waking from the trance of beauty we shall be still with Thee. This world would be truly a dreadful place without the dream of Thee. Thou must be its waking dream, O Lord. I need the poetry of life to sustain its prose; I cannot walk till I have been on the wing. They tell me that if I dream of Thee I shall be unfitted for life’s reality. Nay, my Father; Iam unfit for the waking without the memory of the dream. It is in vain Thine angel cries, “Let me go! for the day breaketh.” It is because the day breaketh that I cannot let him go. The daybreak would be a heart-break if Thine angel were not there. I need Thee for the hour of bustle, I need Thee for the hour of burden. I cannot tread the earth till I have dwelt in heaven; I am unripe for this world till I have seen the world to come. All my secular springs are in Thee. My judgment is balanced in Thee. My tremors are calmed in Thee. My temper is sweetened in Thee. My foresight is quickened in Thee. My face is radiated in Thee. My voice is tuned in Thee. My action is gracefulin Thee. My politeness is complete in Thee. My manner is brilliant in Thee. I am never successful in the secular till I am steeped in the power of the sacred; O God of Bethel’s dream, guard fast my waking hours!