The Bondage That Unburdens

“The law of liberty.” — Jas. ii. 12,

HERE are two theories in the w.ld
about the human will. One says, “Man

is a slave; he is bound hand and foot; he is for ever under law.” The other says, “Man is free; he is master of his own actions; law has no dominion over him.” St. James suggests terms of peace between the opposing views. He says that each of them assumes something which is wrong — that “to be free” is the opposite of “to be bound.” He declares that on the contrary there is such a thing as a “law of liberty” — a compulsion whose very essence consists in the strength of human will. What is this mysterious union of contraries — this law of liberty? It can be expressed in one word — love. Love is at once

the most free and the most bound of all things. We say habitually that one in love is “captivated” — made prisoner. And yet the prison is his own choice. He would not lose his chain for all the world. It is to him a golden chain — the badge not of his servitude but of his empire. It represents the freest thing in his nature — the desire of his heart. My love is my heart’s desire, my heart’s hunger, my heart’s prayer. It is the strongest exercise of will conceivable. Nothing shows the power of my will like my love. It is the power of my personality to pass out of itself and to claim a share in yours — to say, “You are mine.” James is right when he says that love is the marriage of opposites — liberty and law. Love is at once the most self-subduing and the most self-revealing of all things. It gives its neck to the yoke; it becomes the slave of its object. It bears another’s burden, it stoops to another’s service, it carries another’s care. But when my heart enters that prison-house it for the first time becomes free. It puts on fetters; but by its fetters it flies. It receives heavy weights; but by its weights it is winged. It contracts stringent ties; but its ties make its treasures. The bonds of love are the source of its boundlessness. Each new chain is a new chariot. I flower by self-forgetfulness. I grow when underground. I reach the bloom of summer in the burial of self.

Lord, imprison me in Thy love, and I shall fly. My heart has no freedom till it is mastered; it must be captured ere it can take wing. When my heart has no master it has no power of flight, no passion, no pinion. It scales not the heaven, it seeks not the mount, it soars not to meet the morning. It lies in a state of torpor, of death. But when its love comes, it is liberated. When Thou sendest it a master, Thou wakest it into music; the hour of its captivity is the hour of its emancipation. Be Thou the master of my heart, O Lord! Break its independence, and set it free. Captivate it with the sight of Thy beauty! Inspire it with the touch of Thy presence! Kindle it with a sense of Thy glory! The disease of my heart is its failure to find an object; it has no energy when it has no ruler. Be Thou its ruler, O Christ! Wield its sceptre, and it will lose its weakness; wear its crown, and it will be strong; conquer it, and it will be courageous; dominate it, and it will be deathless; enfold it, and it will banish fear. Thy prison will be its power; Thy sway will be its strength; Thy service will be its song. It will find the wings of a dove when it rests in Thee. It will burst into melody when its strings are swept by Thee. It will traverse the flood of waters when its ark is built in Thee. There are no forces so potent as those of my subjugated heart; Thy law of love is perfect liberty.