XIV. Rest, But Not Loiter.

There is a bridge crossing the river Thames, at London, and at one end of this bridge, there is a seat prepared for the weary pilgrim to rest himself; and just above this seat hangs a sign, with these words, “Rest, but not loiter.”

In the great plan of salvation, God has provided a mercy-seat, where all may find rest; rest to the weary soul; rest from the commission of sin, rest from the inbeing of sin, rest from all moral defilement;—rest from slavish fear, rest from the fear of evil tidings, rest from the fear of man; rest from the fear of what the people will say; rest from the fear of want; rest in prosperity, when all goes well, and in adversity when all goes ill, rest in the fire, rest out of the fire; rest in sickness, rest in persecution, in necessities, in cruel mockings, in stripes, in imprisonments; rest under all the ills which flesh is heir to; and, O! what a blessed prospect of rest in death—in the resurrection morn; rest, rest forever in the paradise of God.

How few have found this rest. The multitude are loitering about Christ, as in bygone days, for the loaves and fishes. You find them thronging holy places, and in fact, their names are on the church record—they call themselves Christians,—but, O! how destitute of soul-rest. They talk of rest, but how easily is their rest turned into unrest, their humility into vain pomp and show; their love into downright anger; their benevolence, into God-dishonoring covetousness; their separation from the world into commingling with those that hate God and trample his law under their feet. The lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, sits enthroned in their hearts. Many thronged the Saviour when he was on earth, but how few got near enough to touch the hem of his garment. On one occasion, a poor woman pressed her way into the crowd, touched the Saviour and found rest; yes, glory be to God, she found rest for soul and body. Hallelujah! We may rest, and not loiter.

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Thank God! there is a place of rest. You need not be fretful, peevish, impatient, cross, proud, vain, fierce, heady, high-minded, jealous, full of deceit—evil speaking—tale-bearing, covetous, filthy, fearful, unbelieving. No! there is power in Jesus’ blood to wash these all away, and give perfect rest to the soul. “For we which have believed do enter into rest.”

How refreshing to the weary pilgrim, after the toils of the day are o’er, the sun sinking in the west, the shades of night coming on, to have a place of rest,—a place where the cares of life are for the time-being forgotten, and the mind is at liberty to roam the vast fields of thought, and revel in all the delights of fancy. How blessed it will be, after the toils and conflicts of life are o’er, to have an eternity of rest—to be forever shut in with God, “Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.”

Rest, but not loiter.