Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3476
“Now will I sing to my Well-Beloved a song of my Beloved.” Isaiah 5:1.
IT was a Prophet who wrote this, a Prophet inspired of God. An ordinary Believer might suffice to sing, but he counts it no stoop for a Prophet, and no waste of his important time, to occupy himself with song. There is no engagement under Heaven that is more exalting than praising God—and however great may be the work which is committed to the charge of any of us, we shall always do well if we pause awhile to spend a time in sacred praise. I would not wish to prefer one spiritual exercise before another, else I think I would endorse the saying of an old Divine who said that a line of praise was better than even a leaf of prayer—that praise was the highest, noblest, best, most satisfying and most healthful occupation in which a Christian could be found! If these may be regarded as the words of the Church, the Church of old did well to turn all her thoughts in the direction of praising her God. Though the winning of souls is a great thing, though the edifying of Believers is an important matter, though the reclamation of backsliders calls for earnest attention, yet never, never, never may we cease from praising and magnifying the name of the Well-Beloved! This is to be our occupation in Heaven—let us begin the music here and make a Heaven of the Church! The words of the text are, “Now will I sing,” and that seems to give us a starting word.
I. The Strains of the Soul’s Song
“Now will I sing.” Does not that imply that there were times when he who spoke these words could not sing? “Now,” he said, “will I sing to my Well-Beloved.” There were times, then, when his voice, his heart and his circumstances were not in such order that he could praise God. My Brothers and Sisters, a little while ago we could not sing to our Well-Beloved, for we did not love Him—we did not know Him—we were dead in trespasses and sins! Perhaps we joined in sacred song, but we mocked the Lord. We stood up with His people and we uttered the same sounds as they did, but our hearts were far from Him. Let us blush for those mock Psalms! Let us shed many a tear of repentance that we could so insincerely have come before the Lord Most High! After that, we were led to feel our state by nature and our guilt lay heavy upon us. We could not sing to our Well-Beloved then. Our music was set to the deep bass and in the minor key. We could only bring forth sighs and groans. Well do I remember when my nights were spent in grief and my days in bitterness. It was a perpetual prayer, a confession of sin and a bemoaning of myself which occupied all my time. I could not sing, then, and if any of you are in that condition, tonight, I know you cannot sing just now. What a mercy you can pray! Bring forth the fruit which is seasonable and in your case the most seasonable fruit will be a humble acknowledgment of your sin and an earnest seeking for mercy through Christ Jesus. Attend to that, and by-and-by, you, too, shall sing to your Well-Beloved a song!
Brothers and Sisters in Christ Jesus, it is now some years ago since we believed in Christ, but since then there have been times when we could not sing. Alas, for us there was a time when we watched not our steps, but went astray—when the flatterer led us from the strait road that leads to Heaven and brought us into sin! And then the chastisements of God came upon us—our heart was broken until we cried out in anguish, as David did in the 51st Psalm. Then if we did sing, we could only bring out penitential odes, but no songs. We laid aside all parts of the Book of Psalms that had to do with Hallelujah and we could only groan forth the notes of repentance. There were no songs for us, then, till at last Emmanuel smiled upon us once more and we were reconciled again, brought back from our wanderings and restored to a sense of
the Divine favor! Besides that, we have had—occasionally had to sorrow through the loss of the Light of God’s Countenance. It is not always summer weather with the best of us. Though for the most part—
“We can read our title clear
To mansions in the skies,”
yet we have our fasting time when the Bridegroom is not with us. Then do we fast. He does not intend that this world should be so much like Heaven that we should be willing to stay in it—He, therefore, sometimes passes a cloud before the sun, that we in darkness may cry out, “Oh, that I knew where I might find Him! I would come, even to His seat.” Even the means of Grace at such times will bring us no comfort. We may go to the Throne of Mercy in private prayer, but we shall perceive but little Light even there! If the Lord withdraws Himself, there is no merry-making in the soul, but sadness, darkness and gloom that covers all. Then we hang our harps upon the willows and if any require of us a song, we tell them we are in a strange land, and the King has gone—how can we sing? Our heart is heavy and our sorrows are multiplied!