The “I Will” of Subjection

Matthew xxvi. 39; Mark xiv. 36

“Nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt.” “Nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt.”

If we could only see, with these our mortal eyes, that which is going on in the spiritual world, we should be amazed at its deep reality, at its terrible intensity. By the spiritual world, we do not here mean the angelic, whether good or bad, but men’s spiritual being, with all the action of spiritual agents upon them, for good or evil.

Were our eyes thus opened, here should we see a soul pressed down under heavy weights, the like of which, if placed upon the frame, would crush its vitality in a moment; and there should we behold a soul fettered and manacled with chains, the like of which, if binding any human body, would effectually prevent its ever getting free. On one side should we behold men driven on to the brink of precipices which they see not, imagining that they are upon a smooth and easy road, the end of which is Paradise — and on another, men driven on to those same precipices seeing them and yet unable to avoid them; and as we looked on all these real sights we should then perhaps believe, that the spirit world is as real as this in which we live and move, and touch and eat.

But it is not evil only that by such an opening of our eyes would be revealed to us, we should also be shewn good — good,’” beautiful in its calm sweetness — “good,” beautiful in its terrific sublimity. For example: here is a soul in which the will is conformed in great measure to the will of God; and whether it be the will of God, that there should be a day of toil to be borne, or that the night of death should now close in; in either case there is an even calm; just as there is in the long day’s early twilight, when the day is about to break, or in its shadowy eventide, when it is about to close.

But all good sights would not be like this. We should see strife and crucifixion, we should hear sounds of sorrow and of pain. Battles would be seen going on in the souls of some, as real as are fought upon the fields of earth; crucifixions as real as that which took place on Calvary. Men, under the generalship of God, would be seen fighting their evil selves — cutting, thrusting their own evil wills; and although we can imagine but little sublimity about a cross which was the malefactor’s deathspot — -the end of his life of ignominy and shame; yet, forasmuch as Jesus raised even the cross into the regions of the sublime, so also can the followers of Jesus; and when a man is seen binding his will to the cross, nailing it, crucifying it, piercing it, hearkening not to its cries; what is this but the sublime? No! not the sublime in the eyes of those who see with unsanctified eyes — but the sublime in the eyes of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Grhost.

There is nothing harder than the crucifixion of the will; the highest stage of Christian attainment is the sanctification of the will. There are many triumphs to be won in the spiritual warfare; many points of progress to be made in the spiritual journey; many evidences of our having learned specific lessons to be obtained in the spiritual school; but they all sink into comparative nothingness, when compared with the great attaintment of all — the sanctification of the will.

Let it be distinctly observed, that we do not undervalue any spiritual triumph, progress, or attainment. God forbid! each has its own specific worth, and its relative worth also, as we trust, an evidence of a measure of sanctification of the will; but the sanctification of the will itself, that inner root work in the very depth and mystery of our being, is the great point of all. This is fountain work, and lo! the streams will fiow as clear as crystal; this is root work, and lo! the flowers and fruits will bloom and ripen to perfection; this is heart work, and lo! the whole system will partake of the health of the vital organ — a sanctified will is the very kernel of spiritual life.

Let us, with all reverence, ponder a while the human will of our blessed Lord; and then bethink us of our own wills, alas! so unlike His; but yet capable of being made like thereto, by the gracious influences of the Holy Ghost.

Jesus Christ commenced, passed through, and ended His life with a sanctified human will.

Our Lord, as being in all points like unto us, with the exception of sin had a true human will; it was I suppose, in no particular different from our wills, with this exception, that it was ever sanctified, even from the womb — that it never had any bias towards the commission of evil, or rebellion against God. I believe that Jesus, the second man, had the same free will that Adam, the first man, had in Paradise; and if He had not that free will, I do not see how He could have been tempted in all points,’” like unto ourselves. If He had so willed it. He might have cast Himself down from the pinnacle of the temple; or commanded the stones to be made bread; or have refused the bitter cup of Gethsemaue, and the bitter anguish of Calvary. What the consequences of His so doing would have been, so far as we are concerned, we can easily see; all we desire to say is, that such things might have been done. Christ was born with a real, but a sinless human will.

And we find the blessed Saviour living in a perfect sanctification of this human will; we have indications in Scripture of how this holy will interpenetrated His whole life; it was a part of His very being, therefore its actings were everywhere to be found. Let us gather up some of the Scripture teachings which we have concerning it.

In John iv. He is represented to us as sitting upon Jacob’s well, weary with His journey. While there, all weary as he was. He enters into conversation with the Samaritan woman, penetrating her conscience, enlightening her mind, and enunciating in His declaration of God’s intense spirituality, one of the highest forms of spiritual truth. His disciples come to Him, and bringing provisions with them, pray Him, saying, Master, eat,’”

But He said unto them, I have meat to eat that ye know not of. Therefore said the disciples one to another, Hath any man brought Him aught to eat? Jesus saith unto them. My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me, and to finish His work.’’ The Lord does here, what He does on so many occasions, take a passing word or fact, and either grounds upon it or teaches from it some wondrous truth. Whilst the disciples thought of nothing but the lower need of hunger, Jesus felt the higher need of hungering after the fulfillment of His Father’s will, in the enlightening of a soul; while they thought of no means of supplying hunger but by bread. He discerned a higher nourishment, the fulfillment of His Father’s will.

Now how was it meat to Jesus, to fulfill His Father’s will? We can easily imagine His being silent in doing that will, but not so easily. His being nourished therein. We can learn something on this point from our own experiences. When we work out the determinations of our own evil wills, do Ave not thereby confirm and strengthen those wills in evil? do we not nourish them for becoming stronger to will fresh evil? and is it not thus that sinners become ever harder and more confirmed in sin? Our will strengthens itself by its own acts, just as the banyan tree, which drops its branches to the ground, and forms from each branch a stem, increases itself, by the spending of its energies. And hence is it not a marvel of grace, that the evil will, which we have so stengthened, and fed, from earliest youth, should be controlled, and overruled, and actually changed, by the influences of the Holy Ghost? Jesus’ holy will was nourished by its own acts, yet was it perfect even from the beginning, just as Adam’s body fed upon the fruits of Paradise though it came perfect from its makers hands. There is a sustaining power in holy action, when that action is the result of sanctified will; and that sustaining power was enjoyed by Jesus, as the man Christ J esus, with a perfect human will; He had it as a natural consequence, and thus, as in many other ways, it was meat to Him to do His Father’s will. Thus much appears to us to be upon the surface; the depths of the mystery of the interpenetration of Christ’s human will, by the Father’s divine will, we presume not to attempt to sound.

Although we shall have to consider specifically our own wills, a little farther on; yet we must not leave these various Scripture indications of Christ’s will, without drawing from them what instruction we can for ourselves; for He, the man Christ Jesus, must he our teacher and example in the matter of the human will, as in all else.

Now (1.) what kind of a will have we been nourishing? Has the reader been simply gratifying his own will; has he, by every act, been confirming himself in selfishness, in obstinacy, in such like sins, or has he been nourishing a will in unison with God’s will, by holy obedience, after the example of His Lord? Ecmember that if your acts fiow forth from your will, they react upon that will also. And this is how many persons are lost; by carrying out their wills in acts of worldliness and fieshliness, those wills become stronger and stronger against God, and stronger and stronger for the service of Satan. Of course divine interferences can do anything with a man; but this is the legitimate result. Well might the will of the flesh, and of man, be set aside by the apostle, when he tells us who are the sons of God. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the* sons of God, even to them that believe on His name, which were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God John i. 12, 13.

Does not this show us (2.) the immense importance of a holy life? We complain of the strength of our evil wills — alas! have not we ourselves fed them? We complain of the weakness of our good wills; alas! have not we ourselves starved them? We are as much bound to nourish the life of a holy will, given to us of the spirit, as we are to nourish the life of the body; we, like Jesus, should have meat to eat which the world knows not of.

And in truth, this meat would nourish us in a wonderful way; we should rise above the world; we should become a mystery perhaps to our very own, as the Lord did to His disciples. A life for God has not its influences confined simply to the judgment day, it is a mighty engine acting upon our own characters, penetrating, I am persuaded, even to having reflex effect upon our wills. Alas! how profoundly do we, by writing such things, shame ourselves, but this we believe to be the truth.

Mark also, how this sanctified will entered into Christ’s pursuit in life. In John v. 30, He tells us, seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.’” The one absorbing aim of life with Jesus was the performance of His Father’s will; He did not merely take up that will when it crossed His path, but He pursued it. He went about doing good.’^ His life was one long labor in fulfilling His Father’s will. And in this pursuit, we can easily perceive, how many opportunities there were, for the giving up of the mere natural will to the higher will of the Father, as evidenced in the path which He plainly outstretched before His Son. The human will of Jesus would never have led Him to the temptation of the desert — never to fastings and reproaches; He would as naturally have shrunk from these things as ourselves. And He could have shrunk from them. He might have retired into private life; He might have shunned the contradiction of sinners,” but He must pursue His father’s will, whenever it was to be done; and so, forth He came again and again in His self-denying ministry to man. The energy of the divine will was seen in His will to pursue God’s work, whenever it was to be done.

Alas! here also we have to feel profoundly the difference between our Lord and us. What sought He? What seek we? What know we of the energy of pursuit, in doing the will of God? Do we not seek our own wills, even though we be so far sanctified as to yield to God’s will, when He shows it? It is a solemn inquiry; Whose will do I pursue?

Then mark the affections of our Lord, We are told in Mark iii. that His brethren and mother (after the flesh) came and sought him; and when the multitude told Him of it, He said, Who is my mother, or my brethren And He looked round about on them which sat about Him, and said, Behold my mother, and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother and my sister and mother.’’ Mere human affection would have centred the heart’s longings upon the relatives after the flesh; Jesus, in fulness of union with the will of His Father, saw in the performers of this will, those who were by the law of spiritual affinity nearest relatives to Himself; “the same,” said He, “is my brother, and sister, and mother.” Jesus did not ignore the relationships of earth, but He showed that the truest and highest relationship was not that of the flesh, but of the Spirit, and men were to take place according to their spirit life, in fulfilling the will of God.

It is a comfortable thought that there will be recognition for brethren and sisters — for those who carry out the will of God in the bold actings of manhood; and those who carry it out in the tender sympathies of womanhood; yea, for such as are mothers to the weak ones of Christ’s church, servers of the least of the brethren of Jesus, and so doing unto Him. Here our Lord lets us into the secret of how interwoven into His heart, was the desire for the performance of His Father’s will. There is something more than the judgment that it is the best that can be done; something more than the stern determination that it shall be done; there is the fact that all His sympathies are wrapped up in those who do it; in thus doing the will, they and He are in close relationship. How perfect must have been the sanctification of Christ’s will, when it thus overpasses all the claims of nature, and institutes a new relationship, in which all depends upon doing the will of God.

It will surely be worth our while to ask ourselves. whether we, in our daily life, are admitting the existence of this relationship. Are we swallowed up in the selfishness of earthly wife and child love? have we a heart only for our kith and kin? is the tie of blood everything to us? There’s many a one that would rather give £1000 to a thirty-fifth cousin after the flesh, than to a brother or sister in the Lord. Surely either the spiritual relationship does not exist at all, or wo have not as yet arrived at Christ’s method of estimating such relationship; we do not love on the same principle as He did. Let us remember, how precious in His eyes were those who did the will of His Father; precious, from the power of sympathy; and may such be precious in our eyes also. But we cannot now enlarge on this; the point which we must now especially note, is the amazing worth of His Father’s will in His eyes, seeing that its performance by others involved even relationship with Himself.

Yet once again: let us look at the Saviour’ s jo]]. We know what His portion was on earth; sorrow and distress of every kind; it was the fulfilment of the prophecy which went before, that He should be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” but He was not destitute of joy; only His joy, like His food, was such as the world knew not of. What that joy was, we find in Ps. xl. 8, I delight to do Thy will, 0 my God, yea. Thy law is within my heart.” And this was indeed our Lord’s joy, through a world which, so far as its pleasures were concerned, was a joyless world to Him. That which excited the hopes and expectations of the young, had no excitement for Him; that which moved the mirth of the joyous and the gay, won no smile from Him; earth’s sins and sorrows lay too heavily upon His heart for any of its joys to sparkle there. We are told He wept we never read that he laughed. But J esus was not without joy; He had joy over the one sinner that repented He had joy over every pang of suffering that He removed — over every tear that He caught and dried up ere it fell — over the great prospects of the victory of holiness which lay before Him in His death. He was the revealer, as well as the doer of the Father’s will, and when do we find Him rejoicing, what is it that excites His joy? (Luke x. 21.) In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank Thee, 0 Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so. Father; for so it seemed good in Thy sight. All things are delivered to Me of My Father; and no man knoweth who the Son is, but the Father; and who the Father is, but the Son, and he to whom the Son will reveal Him. Even so. Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight” — that was God’s will; and then Jesus declares how He carried out that will; and therein He found His joy.

These are some of the scripture indications of how Jesus was one with the Father, in the perfect sanctification of His will.

At last the time came for Christ to die; then it was that He spake the words, which above all others shew us the subjection of His will, He went forward a little and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him; and He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee, take away this cup from me, nevertheless, not what I will, but what Thou wilt Mark xiv. 35, 36.

Let us with deep reverence, contemplate for a while the action, and yet the abnegation, of this human will of Christ.

When our Lord says, Not what I will,’’ He doubtless referred to His human will; that which He had as the man Christ J esus; that which, in His true humanity. He has in common with us. This will was now in natural action; in no otherwise than yours and mine would have been, under similar circumstances, shrinking from agony and death, and that death a death of shame. To Jesus, such a death involved much more than it could possibly have done to you or me, had we been led to the cross, but it was the human will that shrank from all the suffering.

Now,” says Bishop Hall, before these eyes, this Sun begins to be over-cast with clouds; He began to be sorrowful and very heavy; Many sad thoughts, for mankinde, had He secretly hatched, and yet smothered in his owne brest, now. His griefe is too great to keep in; My soule is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: O Saviour, what must Thou needes feele, when Thou saidst so? Feeble minds are apt to bemone themselves upon light occasions; the griefe must needs be violent that causeth a strong heart to break forth into passionate complaint; Wo is Me; what a word is this for the Son of God? where is that Comforter, which Thou promisedst to send to others? where is that Thy Father of all mercies, and God of all comfort; in whose presence is the fulnesse of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore? where are those constant and cheerful resolutions of a fearelesse walking through the valley of the shadow of death? Alas! if that face were not hid from Thee, whose essence could not be disunited; these pangs could not have beene; the Sun was withdrawne a while that there might be a coole, though not a dark night, as in the world, so in Thy brest, withdrawne, in respect of sight, not of being; it was the hardest part of Thy suiferings that Thou must be disconsolate. Every one of these words is both sharpe and edged; My soule is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death; what humane soule is capable of the conceit of the least of those sorrows that oppressed Thine? It was not Thy body that suifered now: the paine of body is but as the body of paine; the anguish of the soule is as the soule of anguish. That, and in that Thou sulferedst; where are they that dare so far disparage Thy sorrow, as to say Thy soule suffered only in sympathy with Thy body; not immediately, but by participation; not in its selfe, but in its partnere? Thou best knewest what Thou felfst, and Thou that felFst Thine own paine, can’st cry out of Thy soule. Neither didst Thou say. My soule is troubled; so it often was, even to teares; but My soule is sorrowfull; as if it had been before assaulted; now possessed with griefe. Nor yet this in any tolerable moderation; changes of passion are incident to every humane soule, but exceeding sorrowful. Yet, there are degrees in the very extremities of evils; those that are most vehement, may yet be capable of a remedy, at least, a relaxation; Thine was past these hopes; exceeding sorrowfull unto death.

What was it? What could it be? 0 Saviour, that lay thus heavy upon Thy Divine soule? Was it the feare of death? Was it the fore-felt paine, shame, torment of Thine ensuing crucifixion? Oh! poore and base thoughts of the narrow hearts of cowardly and impotent mortality! How many thousands of Thy blessed martyrs have welcomed no lesse tortures with smiles and gratulations? And have made a sport of those exquisite cruelties, which their very tyrans thought unsufferable? Whence had they this strength but from Thee? If their weaknesse were this undaunted and prevalent, what was Thy power? No! No! it was the sad weight of the sinne of mankind; it was the heavy burden of Thy Father’s wrath for our sin that thus pressed Thy soule, and wrung from Thee those bitter expressions.

What can it availe Thee, 0 Saviour, to tell Thy griefe to men? Who can ease Thee but He of whom Thou saidst, My Father is greater than I?’ loe! to Him Thou turnest: ^0 Father, if it be possible, let this cup passe from mee.”

Was not this that prayer (0 deare Christ) which in the days of Thy flesh Thou offeredst up with strong crying and teares, to Him that was able to save Thee from death? Surely this was it; never was cry so strong; never was God thus solicited. How could heaven choose but shake at such a prayer from the power that made it? How can my heart but tremble to heare this suite from the Captaine of our salvation? 0 Thou that saidst, and my Father are one,’ dost Thou suffer ought from Thy Father but what Thou wouldest — what Thou determinest? Was this cup of Thine either casual, or forced? Wouldst Thou wish for what Thou knewest Thou wouldst not have possible? Farre, farre be these mis-raised thoughts of our ignorance and frailty; Thou cam’st to suffer, and Thou wouldst do what Thou earnest for; yet, since Thou wouldst be a man, Thou wouldst lake all of man, save sin. It is but humane (and not sinfull) to be loath to suffer what we may avoid; in this velleity of Thine, Thou wouldest shew what that nature of ours, which Thou hadst assumed, could incline to wish; but in Thy resolution Thou wouldst show us what Thy victorious thoughts raised and assisted by Thy Divine power, had determinately pitched upon; neverthelesse, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.’ As man Thou hadst a wille of thine owne; no humane soule can be perfect without that maine faculty; that will, which naturally could be content to incline towards an exemption from miseries; gladly vailes to that Divine will, whereby thou art designed to the chastisements of our peace; those paines, which in themselves were grievous, Thou embracest as decreed; so as Thy feare hath given place to Thy love and obedience. How should wee have knowne these evills so formidable, if Thou hadst not in halfe a thought inclined to deprecate them? How could we have avoided so formidable and deadly evills, if Thou hadst not willingly undergone them? We acknowledge Thine holy feare; we adore Thy Divine fortitude.”

And this will was also in sinless action — there was no sin in that shrinking; it was a purely natural act; had there been the smallest speck of sin in it, it would have made Jesus unfit for sacrifice — He would then have been a spotted and blemished lamb.

And hence may we not gather, with what eye God looks upon our shrinkings, albeit we be prepared that in us His great will should be carried out? We have such shrinkings — they are the natural and sinless motions of our very nature; sin begins when our will must have its own way — when it will not put itself at the disposal of God’s will — when, perhaps even worse, it will not succumb to the pressure of it. Now the Father never had to bring pressure to bear upon the will of Christ; that will was ever at the disposal of the Father’s will; it acknowledged its existence, what I will,” but it held itself at the Father’s command — not what I will, but what Thou wilt.” We may have shrinkings without sin; obedient not unfeeling human nature is what God desires. The very shrinkings of Jesus formed, no doubt, an ingredient in His cup of suffering — they were a part of the dark valley of death — they were almost the first pangs of His now present dissolution. He was to be taken as a human sacrifice; therefore, with all that belonged to sinless humanity, its shrinkings, and all beside.

‘Ah! what heart shrinkings and flesh shrinkings we have, when times of trial draw near: shall we say that God is angry with us because of them — that He counts them sin? I do not think so; I believe He pities us in them, and sends us some messenger to strengthen us; He knoweth whereof we are made “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him a consecrated will, and yet a shrinking will, may exist in one and the same person. Truly God is no hard God, waiting for an opportunity to strike, but patient and gentle; He encourages our wills, so that we also are taught to say with our Lord, “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.”

We may pause for a moment to ask what this human will of Jesus could have done apart from the will of the Father? It could have willed not to suffer — it could have willed this sinlessly; had Jesus pleased to surrender the salvation of the worlds what was there to hinder Him? hut His will and the Father’s were one for atonement — so He died.

It may he that we can easily understand how the will of Jesus suffered a rude assault in Grethsemanej and perhaps also on Calvary; and possibly we think that the trial, though quick and sharp, was soon over; but His will had other trials beside these.

This sanctified will of Jesus met with opposition, where, humanly speaking, we should have least expected it, {. e., in the bosom of His own family — the ajAOstolic band. Then Peter took Him, and began to rebuke Him, saying, be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto Thee; but He turned, and said unto Peter, get thee behind Me, Satan; thou art an offence unto Me; for thou savorest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men Matt. xvi. 22, 23. Now, these were very sharp words to utter to a zealous and beloved disciple, whose only apparent feeling was deep sympathy with his Lord — a love too great to hear Him talk of suffering and death, without being moved. Such words had never before fallen from the lips of J esus towards any one of His apostles, nor had they been said even to the worst of His adversaries; the nearest approach to them, being what Ave find in John viii., where He says to the cavilling Jews, Ye are of your father the Devil, and the lusts of your father you will do.”

There must have been a profound depth of sin in Peter’s remonstrance with his Lord to call forth this indignant rebuke“^ — the like of which we do not find in the jDrevious history of Jesus; no nor afterwards, when in the upper chamber, He held forth His pierced hands to the doubting Thomas; nor yet, when from the discovered radiance of another world. He spake to the i:)ersecuting Saul. Such being the case, we may expect something more than ordinary in these verses, which exhibit Jesus in an attitude so energetic, and Peter in a character so dark; and in truth we shall not be disappointed, for through the instrumentality of an apostle, the wicked one here ventures very close to Christ, presuming to try to interfere with, and to unsanctify His will, and endeavoring by the hand and voice of friendship to arrest the salvation of man. It is true that the apostle was personally guilty; he had mingled selfishness with love; he could not part with his visions of worldly power which he still entertained, and which made him believe that he should receive great temporal things from the Christ the Son of the living God; he was under the darkness and the sin of an earthly heart; but it was not earthliness alone that was rebuked; it was also misguided affection — Satanic will hidden under the mask of human love — a temptation which was calculated to be a peculiar hindrance to the great work which the Saviour was to do. We know that as a man, the Lord shrank from death; and now, when the voice of love without strengthened the feelings of the heart within, Christ saw a peculiar manifestation of the Devil, and rebuked it in these fearful words. The words of Peter, when looked at in the original, seemed to throw yet further light upon this matter. We can scarce imagine, that however bold the apostle might have been he would have presumed to rebuke the Lord in the way in which one man rebukes another. After all the displays of Christ’s power which he had witnessed we can hardly think of his having ventured so far; nor did he; the words used imply “an affectionate chiding.” And Peter took Him, and began affectionately to chide Him, saying, Pity Thyself,’(mark here the disturbing influence brought to bear upon Christ’s will,) this shall not be unto Thee. Then Christ turned and said unto Peter, Gret thee behind Me, Satan, adversary, thou art an offence, an obstacle unto Me, thou art not well affected to the things of God, but to those that be of men.”

Let us suppose for a moment that Peter had been altogether untinged with any earthly aim; that he scorned all worldly advancement, that he was even at that very moment ready to shed his blood for Christ — that he would have stamped the gold of an earthly crown to powder beneath his feet — that he had altogether forgotten self in J esus; even though it were thus, what mistaken kindness was it to endeavor to hold back the Lord from the accomplishment of His high aim — an aim which involved at once our salvation and His glory, and to attain which, suffering must be undergone. The executioner that nailed the hands of Jesus to the accursed tree, the soldier who pierced His tender side, the scoffing rabble who railed upon and cursed Him — array all these together, and not one of them was such an adversary to Jesus as the apostle who said to Him, “Pity Thyself; this shall not be mnto Thee.”

Thus was Jesus’s holy will tried severely — we have seen what that will was able to do in itself, now let us look at it for a moment in connection with the will of the Father. What position did it occupy with reference to that? It was a will not overruled by necessity, (as ours, alas! too often is,) but drawn with all human shrinkings into perfect unison with the Father’s. There is no reason for supposing that Jesus ever lost any of His shrinkings from death; Heremainedtheman Christ Jesus to the very end; and it was the triumph of His holy will, that it entered even with all flesh- shrinkings into the will of God. It is not sin in us, nor is it the least deterioration from the purity of our will, to carry our fleshshrinkings into our trials with us; the spirit maybe willing and the flesh be weak — excision of feeling is by no means essential to sanctiflcation of the will. What comfort does this apply to some, whose natural man is faint, but whose spiritual man is strong in time of trial.

And now, before we turn from this contemplation of Christ’s will, let us obserVe where these words were spoken — in Gethsemane — Gethsemane was the place of truest and greatest conflict; it was the last place of trial and decision; it was with human shrinkings, but no longer with an expressing human will that Jesus went to Calvary. It is flnished” might have been said in one sense, in the garden, as well as on the -cross. We too have our place and time of decision, often preliminary to that of suffering; thrice happy are we if we pass as victors out of the first conflict into the second, victorious in the second conflict, because we have been victorious in the first.

We descend now from this higher subject of Christ’s will; concerning which we write with great restraint, as being one too high for us to venture far into, down to man’s will, a subject with which we are alas! only too familiar in its dark aspects of waywardness, unconsecration, and selfishness. What darker subject of contemplation can any man have, than his own will? And yet, the subject is, we trust not altogether full of gloom; are there not some streaks of light? Yea, perhaps it may be said of the reader, that even though it be only as a twilight, still there is pervading light, which shall shine more and more unto the perfect day? Now, first, what is the condition of our wills by nature? We have inherited sinful wills, and one part of the sinfulness consists in our very self-will, our standing out for independence — our saying, Who is lord over us.“” we will be lord unto ourselves. The Devil tempted man to independence, For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil: Gen. hi. 5, and that independence is now the main characteristic of the natural will. The pride of the natural heart will hear of no subjection; its own will must be its law.

In disowning God’s will as a rule, we disown all those attributes which flow from His will, as goodness, righteousness, and truth. As an act of the Divine understanding is supposed to precede the act of the Divine will; so we slight the infinite reason of God. Every law, though it proceed from the will of the lawgiver, and doth formally consist in an act of His will, yet it doth presuppose an act of the understanding. If the commandment be holy, just, and good, as it is, (Rom. vii. 12,) if it be the image of God’s holiness, a transcript of His righeousness, and the efflux of His goodness; then in every breach of it dirt is cast upon those attributes which shine in it, and a slight of all the regards He hath to His own honor, and all the provisions He makes for His creation.”’^*’’

It was not so in Adam when he was created; it was not so in the sinless man Christ Jesus; it is so in us; we begin our life with a will contrary to the will of God. If we were only to sin, when drawn into it by grievous temptation, bad as our case would be, it would be good compared with what it is now; for now man sins out of an ingrained evil will, pervading his whole life, and cursing him more or less in every act. His depraved will, is a law within him which is contrary to the law of God. And this will is not something that can be idle; its very nature is activity; it is the great impulsive power of our nature; it sets all else in motion to accomplish its determinations; it must of necessity keep up a continual rebellion against God.

We make an idol of our own wills,’’ says Charnock, “and as much as self is exalted, God is deposed; the more we esteem our own wills, the more we endeavor to annihilate the will of God; account nothing of Him, the more we account of ourselves; and endeavor to render ourselves His superiors, by exalting our own wills. No prince but would look upon his authority as invaded, his royalty derided, if a subject should resolve to be a law to himself, in opposition to his known will; true piety is to hate ourselves, deny ourselves, and cleave solely to the service of God. To make ourselves our own rule, and the object of our chiefest love, is atheism. If self-denial be the greatest

* “Charnock on the Divine Attributes.” — Art. Practical Atheism. part of godliness the great letter in the alphabet of religion; self-love is the great letter in the alphabet of practical atheism. Self-love is so far from bending to the righteous will of the Creator that it would have the eternal will of God stoop to the humor and unrighteous will of a creature; and this is the ground of contention between the flesh and the spirit in the heart of a renewed man; flesh wars for the godhead of self, and spirit flghts for the godhead of God; the one would settle the throne of the Creator, and the other maintain a law of covetousness, ambition, envy, lust, in the stead of God.’’

In connexion with the last days of Jesus’ life, wherein we And His holy will submissive to the will of His Father, we And a horrible development of the will of man. We are told in Luke xxiii. 25, that Pilate delivered Jesus to their will. He who was, so to speak, the very incarnation of the will of God, is put into the power of the will of man, and how does that will act? It develops itself in hatred to the light, quenching the beams which shone upon it, determining to kill Jesus at any cost. It stops the warning voice, which should have been all the more powerful as coming from a heathen’s lips, Shall I crucify your king It wreaks its vengeance on Christ; a vengeance long stored up, a vengeance connected with the thwarting of its will, by the whole life and teaching of the Lord. The will of man was capable of doing this dreadful deed long before; it was ever seeking the way to work out this deadly will, but the restraining hand of the Lord was upon it, it could do nothing until that restraint was removed.

And have we not here a doleful suggestion as to what the will of man will be in hell? All its activity will remain in full force, and the restraint now on it will be taken away. Oh! what a horrible prospect is thus in store for the lost. Oh! what must it be to dwell for ever amongst unrestrained evil wills; there are few more fearful subjects than that of ^Hhe activities of hell

It is to this now unrestrained will, that Jesus is delivered; everything in the way of reason, justice, and thought, is overborne; man’s wicked will works out its own desire to the uttermost, and Jesus dies.

And after all, what have we here.^ is it anything strange or unnatural? No! it is only the full natural development of an evil will. This is what we have in us; our will, if left to work out its evil bent, would crucify the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame.

But it is earnestly hoped that the reader is not altogether under the power of an evil will, that he knows something of the work of sanctification upon that will; so that in the matter of his will, as of all else, he feels, I am not mine own, I am bought with a price, therefore I must glorify God with my body and my spirit which are His.”

It is to the subject of the condition of ourivill during the ‘process of sanctification that we must now turn for awhile.

The will of man undergoes a progressive change. We do not by any means come into immediate conformity with the will of God in all things, when we embrace the cross and are washed in the justifying blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Sore disaj)pointinent does this cause to many true hearted beginners in the Divine life; they thought that the blood of Jesus would immediately make them holy in themselves, even as it certainly made them accepted before God, but lo! even after conversion they found self-will, and that self-will in direct opposition sometimes to the will of Q-od. At times, this will showed itself by refusing to go with the will of God; and at times, by wanting to go in a course diametrically opposed to it. But no matter how it showed itself; it was an un sane titled will, and acted simply out of its own nature, as such.

Does not Satan often perplex, and sorely cast down young believers, by arguing upon this their as yet untutored will? Does he not tell them that they cannot bo the children of God — that they cannot have received Christ in love — that it is all a make-believe of grace with them? We know he often argues thus, and almost succeeds in drawing poor, weak, and young believers, down into the very depths of despair. Would that such could see, how that even in the most advanced believers — old grey-headed saints — there is still a progressive work going on with reference to the will; they would then know that this is no strange thing which is happening to them; they would not be surj)rised, at not being, even at the beginning of their course, perfect in that which is the very last thing to bo perfected in the saints of God.

Our will by no means. succumbs willingly and all at once. Is it natural that it should do so? After having had all its own way for so long a time, is it according to the usual order of things, that it should enter upon a new arrangement, in which it becomes, as it were, nothing, with willingness? The reason may be convinced, the affection may be won; and yet the evil will want to work out its own desires; and hence come some of those fierce strifes, and rendings of the inner man, which make the believer cry, 0 wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death Kom. vii. 24. Surely all of us, who know anything of the Divine life, have felt, that reason has not had power over the will; our reason may have been convinced, but the will was urging hither or thither, irrespective of reason! a new infiuence had to come in — it was the power of the Holy Ghost — we were taught that God’s people shall be willing in the day of His power. (Psa. cx. 3.)

To such as are aiming after this entire sanctification of the will, a few words of caution may not be out of place.

Let us beware of mistaking ajoathy for active consent to the will of God; it is j)ossible to fall into the fatalism of the Turk, while desiring to carry out the highest life of the Christian.

The sanctification of the will has made but little jji’ogress, if the utmost we have attained to be the feeling ‘ we can’t help it, and therefore, we may as well make the best of it, and resign ourselves to the will of God.’ Might it not be well said, What thank is there to you for that? You can’t help it, and therefore you are making the best of it,’ i, e., you are treating the will of God just as you would a bad debt; you are making a virtue of necessity. God knows the pressure of the necessity, and He will not give such a one credit for the virtue.’” There may be little or no difference between that man who struggles against God’s will, and the one who sulkily, or sleepily, or slavishly lies down under it. Resignation” is a word that is greatly abused as regards moral position before God; in many a case, if it were paraphrased, it would run thus: I don’t rebel, for there’s no use.” Let us beware of this kind of conformity of our will with God’s will, under circumstances of worldly loss, and especially of bereavement. We must aim not merely at a crushed assent, but at a living consent with the will of our Father that is in heaven, — we must try to enter individually into the words we utter, Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.” Oh! how little life of the will” really exists in much of what we call resignation; assent, and not consent, is the highest to which we can attain.

The harmony of the human will is essential to God’s glory; when this harmony does not exist, the service is of constraint. Now constrained service is not what God desires; that He can have simply by the power of the bridle, and the lash, keeping back or urging on by irresistible force. This was the kind of service He took out of Balaam; this is what He unquestionably takes out of many a one now; it is not the service claimed by a Father, but that exacted by a Lord. The apostle shews us in 2 Cor. ix. 7, the kind of service in which God delights — a willing service. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly or of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful giver.”

In our times of great bereavement let us be alive by God’s grace, to the need of the harmony of our will with the Divine will; let us seek after the active principle in our obedience; there is rarely happiness in mere resignation.

No doubt this is very very hard; but the Holy Spirit, who is the Sanctifier of our wills, can do this for us; thus we may become as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

And now, it will doubtless encourage us much to seek this sanctification of the will, if we see plainly the special advantage which we shall have from having our will in unison with the will of God.

The harmony of our human with the Divine will, will bring us calmness of mind. The rebellious element of antagonism will he removed and we shall have the peace of God which passeth all understanding. When wind and tide are contrary to each other, then the waves arise; but when they go together, though the tide be running strong and the wind be blowing fresh, there are harmless riplets instead of angry waves.

Then, there will be less cause for chastening discipline. We bring much chastening and corrective discipline upon ourselves, in immediate connection with our wills. We are not chastened because we did such and such a thing, or left such and such a thing undone — the doing, or the leaving undone were, we will allow, the proper course of action; it is with the spirit at work in that course of action that God is dealing now; many a time is the child of God chastened for his will, and not for his deed at all.

There is, however, another kind of discipline besides that which is corrective, viz., instructive; and this we cannot under any circumstances hope to escape, — nor indeed, should we wish so to do. The will cannot advance in sanctification without Divine dealings upon it, and exercises of it — without its being crossed. The crossing of our wills by providential dispensations and teachings, draws out their inward corrujition; it shews us the evil that is within us; it superinduces the exercise of struggling with the will; it is in crossings of the will that we learn to overcome the will. No mere precept will accomplish this; it can only be brought about through the discipline of facts. And this will, perhaps, account for many of the thwartings with which we have met in our daily life; we were under instructive discipline, though we knew it not; and hence, perhaps it is, that some one trial has been continued for a long time; and that oftentimes, when we thought we were upon the point of escaping from it, we were put back and obliged to remain exactly where we were before; and hence, also, that the same trial assumed new jfiiases, or complicated itself with other trials, or returned after it seemed to have taken its departure for ever. Our wills were being drilled — they were under discipline — they were being taught the word of command. Watch the motions of a regiment on parade: now they form in line, now in column; now they are broken up into sections; at one moment they are charging at the double, at the next they are standing immovable in a square; now the rifies discharge a volley, now it is file-firing that falls upon the ear, as up and down the fiashes run along the line. Here, we see varied positions taken up in response to the will of a single man; and that which the men are being taught is to give quick and precise obedience to that will. What else are we being taught by the instructive discipline of the Divine dealing with these too wayward wills of ours?

But to return to the special advantage of having our will in unison with the will of God; this will give us calmness of mind under changes of providential arrangement, Man never continueth in one stay; when we have settled down into comfortable conformity with the will of God in some one position we think we are in conformity in everything; then comes a change of providential arrangement and it remains to be seen whether the will be ready, not for some one obedience, but for any which may be required.

It is highly possible that the mind may be so torn with temptation, and the body so racked with anguish, that all that can be done is to hold fast to the will of God, come what may. But this is a great achievement. With the afflictive dispensation comes the Satanic temptation, and to hold unwavering to the will of God, as the rule of our will, is the effect of its sanctification by the Holy Ghost.

Let us look at two eminent children of God under deeply afflictive circumstances, and see in each, the sanctification of the will.

The first of these is Mrs. Fletcher, of Madeley. Her change from the height of human happiness to the depth of human misery was sudden; it came upon her when she was weakened with fever; Satan took advantage of her state; she seemed to lose all except a close clinging to the will of God; but in retaining this she kept — how much! We turn to her journal for a history of her trial.

For a good while past my dear husband has joined with me in prayer in an uncommon manner. We are led to offer ourselves to do and suffer all the will of God. Something seems to tell me I must have more of the bitter cup; and these words are much to me, That I may stand in the evil day and having done all stand.’ My prayer is that the evil day may be before death — not at the last. But Lord Thy will Thy whole will be done. Certainly I have now scarce any cross. Thou hast made my cup to run over! Yea! Thou hast made me to forget all my sorrows. It seems as if I had never suffered anything. There is not a comfort I can wish for which I have not; but Lord, I want more grace.

Oct. 25. — When I wrote last (J uly 26) I was indeed arrived at the summit of human felicity! My cup did indeed run over! I often said, Lord, how is this? Am I indeed one of those of whom it is said, These are they who came out of great tribulation.’ My way is strewed with roses; I am ready to say with Joseph, The Lord hath made me to forget all my afflictions, and all my father’s house.’ But oh! how shall I write it? on the 14th of August, 1785, the dreadful moment came. The sun of my earthly joys for ever set, and the cloud arose which casts the sable on all my future life. At half-past ten that Sabbath night, I closed the eyes of my beloved! What a change! The whole creation wears a new face to me. The posture of my mind at this season I will not trust my memory to describe.

On the Tuesday before my love died, when those words were applied to my mind, Where I am, there shall my servants be that they may behold my glory.^ I felt such a j)ower in them, as seemed in a great degree to take away the bitterness even of that dreadful cup. To behold my glory!’ That thought would for moments swallow up all, and I seemed to lose myself in the desire of His glory being manifested. But that awful night! when I had hung over my dear husband for many hours expecting every breath to be his last, and during which time he could not speak to, nor take any notice of me, a flood of unspeakable sorrow overspread my heart, and quite overwhelmed my spirit. I was scarcely in my senses; and such a fear seized my soul, lest I should say or do anything displeasing to the Lord, that I was torn as it were a thousand ways at once.

My fatigue had been great. I was barely recovered of my fever, and this stroke so tore my nerves, that it was an inlet to much temptation. In former parts of my life, I have felt deep soitoav; but such were now my feelings, that no words I am able to think of can convey an adequate idea thereof. The next morning, — 0, my God! What a cup didst Thou put into my hand! Not only my beloved husband, but it aj)peared to me my Saviour who was torn from me! Clouds and darkness surrounded both soul and body! The sins even of my infancy came before me, and assaulted me as thick as hail! I seemed to have no love, no faith, no light — and yet I could not doubt but I should see the smiling face of God in glory! Yea, that heaven would terminate all my sufferings! There did not seem one doubt thrown at my Jinal salvation. An unshaken belief that Christ would bring me through all, was my great support; and it seemed to me that I must have been annihilated had I been moved from that anchor. No finite creature could have supported it. My agonized soul seemed to sweat blood, and I felt the meaning of these words, The pains of hell gat hold upon me!’ What, said I, is this the soul that but a few days ago delighted in the thought of His glory! But now He hath entered into judgment with me! My soul was amazed, and in deep anguish; and literally my life drew nigh to the grave.

When formerly I have read accounts like this I have thought, — these persons have a strong way of expressing themselves; but alas! I solemnly declare, no expression appears to me strong enough for what I felt; that word passed my mind several times,

‘ Even to His Father did he look
In vain — His Father Him forsook 1

A host of fears seemed to surround me, and I was (as it appeared to me) given into their hands. Those words came often to my mind, To know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings.” Sometimes I remembered that expression,

My God! My God! why hast thou forsaken me.” I cast my mournful eyes towards the Man of sorrows,” who spoke them, but there seemed no answer. All was horror and darkness.

Many times a day I visited my lovely corpse, remembering as I knelt beside him how he used to say, Ah! my dear Polly, must I ever see thee laid out on this bed!” But alas! he could no more speak to me, no more express his tender sympathy! Now I trod the winepress alone,” and truly, There was none with me.” The rest of the day I sat mostly alone in the next room, where my window presented to my view the grave digging, and the church-yard visited by numbers to look at the vault!

My anguish was extreme. All outward support seemed to be withdrawn; appetite and sleep quite failed me; and even the air, I often thought, had entirely lost all its vivifying powers. As I never before had any conception of the bitter anguish which the Lord saw good to visit me with at this season; so I can give no just description of it. Known unto God are all His ways and I was assured, even in the midst of my trouble, that all Pie did was well, and that there was a needs be for this heavy trial. But what bound all my other trials upon me was, I felt continually the keenest accusations from Satan, constraining me by every possible suggestion to look at my extreme sensibility in suffering, as being deeply sinful! What, thought I, has made this change? If J esus was my all, should I not feel as keenly the sense of His having suffered for me, as I do in the thought of my dear husband’s kindness, and in the dreadful feeling of my separation from him? And because I could feel but very faint touches of sensible communion with God, I was torn as it were in pieces. All my religion seemed shrunk into one point; viz., a constant cry, Thy will be done!’ I will, yes, I loill glorify Thee, even in this fire.

Yet it seemed to me I did not glorify Him; and so afraid was I of turning to any human comfort, or stopping short of all the Lord would have me to do or be, that in the midst of this terrible furnace, I can say, that at every moment my conscience was quick as the apple of an eye, the slightest touch of sin to feel.’ Yea, my spirit was all eye to discern its most distant approach. Yet in everything I seemed to he accused, and also condemned! so that my soul was’ indeed sorrowful even unto death.’”

And now let us look at Madame Griiyon’s trials.

It would be difficult for me,” said she, to enumerate all the acts of unkindness and cruelty which were practised towards me. The little garden near my cottage, I had put in order. Persons came at night and tore it all up, broke down the arbor, and overturned everything in it; so that it appeared as if it had been ravaged by a body of soldiers. My windows were broken. They were dashed through with stones, which fell at my own feet. All the night long persons were around the house, making a great noise, threatening to break it in, and uttering personal abuse. I have learned since who put these persons upon their wicked work.

It was at this time that notice reached me, that 1 must go out of the diocese. The good which God had enabled me to do, was condemned more than the greatest crimes. Crimes were tolerated; but the work of God, resulting in the conversion and sanctification of souls, could not be endured. All this while I had no uneasiness of mind. My soul found rest in God; I never repented that I had left all to do what seemed to me to be His will. I believed that God had a design in everything which took place; and I left all in His hands, both the sorrow and the joy.”

Under these circumstances, it is obvious that she could no longer remain. I saw,” she says, that there was nothing for me to do here, so long as the bishop should be against me. I did what I could to gain his good will; but it was impossible to do it on any other terms than the engagement which he demanded of me, and which I knew it to be my duty not to make.’’ The union of priests, bishop, and people against her, she regarded as an obvious indication of Providence, that in the language of scripture, she must shake off the dust of her feet against them,” and go to another city.

And what were the feelings under which she was thus compelled, for a second time, to leave her field of labor, and go again, she knew not whither My soul,” she says, leaving all to God, continued to rest in a quiet and peaceable habitation. 0 Thou, the great, the sole object of iny love! If there were no other reward for the little services which we are able to perform, than this calm and fixed state, above the vicissitudes of the world, would it not be enough? The senses, indeed, are sometimes ready to start aside, and to run off like truants; but every trouble flies before the soul which is entirely subjected to God.

By speaking of a fixed state, I do not mean one which can never decline or fall that being only in heaven. I call it fixed and permanent, in comparison with the states which have preceded it, which, being in the mixed life, and without an entire and exclusive devotedness to God, are full of vicissitudes and variations. Such a soul, one which is wholly the Lord’s, may be troubled; but the sufferings which it is called to endure, affect only the outside, without reaching and disturbing the centre. Neither men nor devils, though they discharge all their fury against it, can permanently harm a soul that is free from selfishness, and is in union with the Divine will. No sufferings whatever could ever affect it, neither more nor less, neither within nor without, were it not permitted for icise purposes from above”

We shall have this calmness of mind in petty circumstances also. According to the trite aphorism. Life is made up of little things,’’ and the mind that will accept the will of God in great matters and not in small, must have some out of the way sphere appointed to it, if it be conformed to this will at all. Let us take care how we provoke the Lord to appoint us out of the way spheres; they may shake us with terrible rendings; the lack of humility displayed in not accepting the Divine will in little things, will surely make the Lord deal with us with the rod. He who refuses the discipline of the crook, shall surely get the discipline of the rod.

And let us mark the great advantage which we shall get in an increased rectitude of judgment. Our will now biases our judgment; it comes in as a disturbing influence; if it do not kick the beam, it at least holds the balance unevenly; it ceases to be what should be,” and becomes what we would have it be.” The bias of the will is often fatal to the rectitude of the judgment. But if our wills be conformed to the will of God; if we cease to wish to have a will of our own, we shall allow all arguments and facts to have their due weight with us; and we shall judge righteous judgment. Even the natural judgment will find its great advantage, in the subservience of the will; that subservience will produce quiescence; and the heart being stilled, the will of God will speak.

And now, lastly, how much this sanctification of the 16^ will comes home to hs in the matter of our own ‘personal happiness.

When wo have given up our will to God’s will, we shall enjoy the peace of being in the path of duty. The consciousness of being in the path of duty sweetens many bitter trials; lightens many heavy depressions; and gives stability in many slippery places. We know that all must be right and well, seeing that it comes in the order of the working out of God’s will, and we are at peace.

See what contentment it will give us when others increase and wo decrease; when we are put low, or kept low, for it is all according to the will of God.

Oh! that such a consecration of the will may be abundantly vouchsafed to the readers and the writer of this book; may we be able to pray from the heart’s core, Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven may we be able to say, Nevertheless, not as I will but as Thou wilt.’’ We, in our small measures, have our Gethsemane and Calvary, our garden, and our cross; oh! that the utterance of our consecrated, though bleeding, hearts may be this, Nevertheless, not what I will, but what thou wilt.”