Morning “Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof.” / Ecclesiastes 7:8
Look at David’s Lord and Master; see his beginning. He was despised and
rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Would you see the
end? He sits at his Father’s right hand, expecting until his enemies be made
his footstool. “As he is, so are we also in this world.” You must bear the
cross, or you shall never wear the crown; you must wade through the mire, or
you shall never walk the golden pavement. Cheer up, then, poor Christian.
“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof.” See that creeping
worm, how contemptible its appearance! It is the beginning of a thing. Mark
that insect with gorgeous wings, playing in the sunbeams, sipping at the
flower bells, full of happiness and life; that is the end thereof. That
caterpillar is yourself, until you are wrapped up in the chrysalis of death;
but when Christ shall appear you shall be like him, for you shall see him as
he is. Be content to be like him, a worm and no man, that like him you may be
satisfied when you wake up in his likeness. That rough-looking diamond is put
upon the wheel of the lapidary. He cuts it on all sides. It loses much–much
that seemed costly to itself. The king is crowned; the diadem is put upon the
monarch’s head with trumpet’s joyful sound. A glittering ray flashes from that
coronet, and it beams from that very diamond which was just now so sorely
vexed by the lapidary. You may venture to compare yourself to such a diamond,
for you are one of God’s people; and this is the time of the cutting process.
Let faith and patience have their perfect work, for in the day when the crown
shall be set upon the head of the King, Eternal, Immortal, Invisible, one ray
of glory shall stream from you. “They shall be mine,” saith the Lord, “in the
day when I make up my jewels.” “Better is the end of a thing than the
beginning thereof.”
Evening “Knowest thou not that it will be bitterness in the latter end?” / 2 Samuel
2:26
If, O my reader! thou art merely a professor, and not a possessor of the faith
that is in Christ Jesus, the following lines are a true ketch of thine end.
You are a respectable attendant at a place of worship; you go because others
go, not because your heart is right with God. This is your beginning. I will
suppose that for the next twenty or thirty years you will be spared to go on
as you do now, professing religion by an outward attendance upon the means of
grace, but having no heart in the matter. Tread softly, for I must show you
the deathbed of such a one as yourself. Let us gaze upon him gently. A clammy
sweat is on his brow, and he wakes up crying, “O God, it is hard to die. Did
you send for my minister?” “Yes, he is coming.” The minister comes. “Sir, I
fear that I am dying!” “Have you any hope?” “I cannot say that I have. I fear
to stand before my God; oh! pray for me.” The prayer is offered for him with
sincere earnestness, and the way of salvation is for the ten-thousandth time
put before him, but before he has grasped the rope, I see him sink. I may put
my finger upon those cold eyelids, for they will never see anything here
again. But where is the man, and where are the man’s true eyes? It is written,
“In hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torment.” Ah! why did he not lift up
his eyes before? Because he was so accustomed to hear the gospel that his soul
slept under it. Alas! if you should lift up your eyes there, how bitter will
be your wailings. Let the Saviour’s own words reveal the woe: “Father Abraham,
send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my
tongue, for I am tormented in this flame.” There is a frightful meaning in
those words. May you never have to spell it out by the red light of Jehovah’s
wrath!


