The golden lamp: or, sketches upon the historic scenes, truths and characters of the Bible

Front matter

OR, SKETCHES UPON

OF THE BIBLE.

BY ,T. B. C. QUILLIAN,

Chapter I. A Lamp

SHINING THROUGH THE AGES.

Thy u>ord is a lamp unto my feet, and a light to my path. — Psa. 119: 105th verse.

This lamp from off the Everlasting Throne, Mercy took down, and in the night of Time, Stood casting on the dark, her gracious bow.

The Psalmist uses this beautiful illustration to represent the word of God, which shine upon His works and ways, and lights the footprints of Deity, amid the darkness of time. It is the Star of Bethlehem leading the poor wanderer to Christ; the pillar of fire in the howling wilderness, guiding the Israel of God to the bright lands of promise.

Light was the first thing created when all was darkness and void, and for six successive days, revealed the gradual work of the great builder of worlds. Revelation solves the mystery of the universe, chronicles the ages of time, and is full of prophecy of the life after death. As we trace the sacred page, we discover the unfolding of the redeeming plan — we feel the pulsation of Divine sympathy for our lost and alienated race. The Bible is a faithful portraiture of our natural and moral condition. It tells us why the thorn pierces the foot, unci the serpent hisses in the grass, and what brings the beaded sweat to the brow. Here we have the Divine reasons given for pains, burning fevers, and all the mysterious griefs of the human heart. We can understand what the thunder speaks, and why the lightning streams across the heavens, like the fiery coursers of an angry God; and the dreadful cyclone, like the car of Juggernaut or the herald of final Judgment, spreads death and ruin in its pathway. We know what withdrew the bloom of Eden, and why frowning Cherubims guard the way to the Tree of Life. God in His word explains those infant cries, and those wails of maternal anguish that float upon the breeze. Here the awful mystery of death is solved, and why his pale population spreads till earth has become like the valley of prophetic vision. Philosophy may vainly strive to account for its moral defacement, and to inaugurate some remedial plan, but, Divine revelation explains the whole, and presents us with the only remedy — the only method of salvation, as seen in the new and living way. The wisest philosopher could not explain the existence of moral evil in the world; he sighed for something better than was taught in the schools; and longed to know more of the future life — for some mellow prophecy of the boundless hereafter.

The Bible is not only a revelation from God, but a revelation of God. It is the only book from first to last, from the opening verse of Genesis, to the closing vision of the Apocalypse that gives us a rational and satisfactory solution of the Great First Cause of all things. On the pages of Heathen Mythology, this truth is darkened by ages of superstition. The most learned reasoned like children on the subject, showing clearly the truth of inspiration that the world by wisdom knew not God

With all their philosophy they could not understand the origin, or the'evidences of design in the universe — - they could not comprehend the grand harmonious combination of sevens and systems — they failed to spell out in the starry syllables of the sky the nature and the name of God. But the Bible carries us back to the dateless years before time began, when God existed alone — no burning Seraph, no harping Angel, or Songs of the Redeeming Story, but by Himself, in the full possession of all His peculiar attributes, invested with the infinite perfections that make -flp the Godhead. Whenever and wherever we open the Bible we find it full of God. His character is unveiled upon its pages; it is an external manifestation of the Great Author of all things — of Him with whom we have to do. Here are views of His character presented which the human mind could never have conceived. An inspired Apostle, caught up amid the visions and revelations of the third heaven, cries out in astonishment : " Oh ! the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out ! "

God held the hand that wrote his burning words.

He spread out the canvas on which the glowing pencil of Inspiration traced the successive revelations of the Divine will, the changes and events of Time, the onward roll of its ages, and the glory of final triumph. No book but the Bible carries ue back into the sacred retirement of God's Eternity, where Angels bend in awe and wonder and thought is bewildered and lost amid the bright effulgence of a glory indescribable. We have the revealings of His purpose to save the world by a plan Godlike in its inception and all its remediai appliances, a scheme new and unheard of and startling to the Thrones of Heaven. The Bible only explains the mystery of Creation. It tells us how the worlds were made, giving us a simple and rational account, contrary to the science and perplexed philosophy of ancient times. How wonderfully sublime is the first verse of Genesis : " In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth ! '"

It was this thought that so bewildered the unenlightened mind, that all things were created by the word of His power, that the universe sprang into being by His word. He said, " Let there be light, and there was light."

At God's command countless camp fires were lighted through all the unbounded sky. Why such avast array of worlds, clustering stars, and sun flaming to sun? They illustrate the wonders of Almighty Power and display His wisdom from age to age. The Scriptures present us views of the Providence of God which could never have been known but by Divine Revelation — a Providence extending to all parts of His dominion, regulating its laws and directing the whole. His particular Providence shows that He rules in the affairs of men, " Thus demonstrating His supremacy and power in countervailing the designs of His creatures and accomplishing His own j " a Providence that numbers the hairs of the head, watches the blooming of the flower and sees th«e sparrow as it falls to the ground. Like a pitying father watching over his erring children, He will number their steps and order their way. He will not forsake them in feebleness and declining fig >, when the strong men bow themselves and the grasshopper is a burden. He will hand them gently down to their last sleep. Angels will guard the soft repose, and the undistinguished grave shall be green in the memory of

THE GOLDEN LAMP, n

God. There is no conflict between His general and His particular Providence. It may at times have the appearance of a wheel within a wheel ; there may be much that is dark to us ; but the spirit of the Living One is upon the wheels, and all things shall work together for good. The Judge of all the earth will do right ; His plans and purposes extend through the long ages of Time and the unending cycles of the world to come. How sublimely wonderful are those Scripture views of the God of Providence! How infinite the width and range of the Divine Presence — high as Heaven, deep down as Hell ! — ranging through all His wide dominions, listening to the song of angels, to the cries of penitence and the wails of earthly grief ! How tender is the Divine Solicitude ! What ample provision has been made ! The Almighty Father hangs the universe upon His arm and satisfieth the desire of every living thing ! But the greatest thought revealed in the Bible is the Redemption of Man. In the center of this book this work of Redeeming Mercy is revealed — the Mystery hid from ages — the grand central thought of Christianity forming its Alpha and Omega, its beginning and end. The Scriptures everywhere represent this work as the work of God, while Creation and Providence are made subservient to the grand remedial economy of Heaven. It was no afterthought of God ; it was no thought incidental to our fallen state, but a great forethought. Christianity is a revelation of the hidden wisdom ordained before the world for our glory — a work in which all the Godhead were engaged, Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

It is true the human mind might have thought of some method of Recovery, but it never would have thought of such a method as (he Scriptures reveal. Had hitman wisdom devised the plan, it would have been human like ourselves and subject to modification and change. It would have had no reference to a violated law, to the injured, insulted majesty of Heaven. It would have been a system of arbitrary mercy, saving alike fallen angels and fallen men. But the heavendevised scheme of human recovery excites the wonder and astonishment of the unfallen creation of God. In the Tabernacle and in the Temple they were represented as bending over the blood-besprinkled mercy seat, to show the interest of unfallen spirits in the coming Redemption. How shall man be just with God ? was the problem of nges, and only explained by the incarnation of the Redeemer and the mysterious scenes of the Garden and the Cross. The Cross stands upon the hilltop of time, midway between the song of the morning stars and the clangoring trump of the great Archangel. Redemption inspires feelings and hopes which nothing else could, and spreads out a range of thought new and wonderful to the human mind. The most learned in council for ages could never have conceived of such a plan. God alone could save that which was lost — bring back our alienated race and gather from the depths of sin the countless jewels of the Redeemer's crown.

Here we have the Mystery of Mysteries — the union of the two natures, divine and human, in the person of Christ. This is the great Mystery of Godliness— God manifested in the flesh. It is a depth we have no line to fathom, where even angelic thoughts are drowned. The bleeding cross, the universe in gloom and the opening graves of the sainted dead, hushed all the harps of

Immortality, and Heaven has never yet recovered from the sacred consternation.

Heathen Mythology, Romance and Song never thought of such a person as Christ — of one so pure and sinless all his life long. The Lamb of God without blemish, He was innocence itself, living and embodied. From the judgment hall of Pilate we hear the words: "I find no fault in this man;" and the Centurion near His cross smote his anguished bosom, saying, "Surely this was a righteous man." Devils trembled as He approached, fearful of the coming doom, and begged for a lingering vengeance. But crowding all down through the starry worlds, along the pathway of clouds, the voice of the Father is borne : " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

How grand was the Divine method of Redemption ! God becomes man, the Creator becomes a creature, the Lawgiver a subject, and learned obedience as a Son ! He who never knew7 in all the eternity of the past one hour of the intermission of heavenly joy becomes the Man of Sorrows, and weeps along from Bethlehem to Calvary. He who never learned could write. He was not brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, the fountain-head of Jewish literature, but in an obscure town of Galilee ; and yet in Him were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.

How wondrous and complex his nature ! At the same time the Son of Man on earth and the Son of Man in Heaven ! He wept, and angels wondered. He hungered— and all the resources of Immortality at his command ! The Fountain-head of Life Eternal begged for a drink of water, an infant in his manger cradle is to be the final Judge of quick and dead, seated on his great white Throne !

And when we refer to the catastrophe of his death — to the design of those sufferings, to the wonderful effects of his bloody immolation on the cross — we know that Fancy never pictured the scene. It is no human tale of woe. It is unlike the wails of earthly grief for the loss of kindred or friends. It was Divine procedure from first to last, culminating in the wonders of the cross — the mysterious blending of the two mttures. One was the unseen Altar; the other, the bleeding Sacrifice. The sun at middav was darkened, the earth trembled, the solid rocks were rent asunder. Many graves were opened when there were heard groans — dying groans — coming down from Calvary.

And how awfully mysterious the thought that Christ was deserted in the last hour — the beloved Son forsaken by the Father ! This seems to ha*re been concealed from His human nature and to have struck the dying Redeemer with astonishment. He cried out so piteously and wild the universe shuddered, and it rolled like a resurrection voice through all the -.chambers of the dead: " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ! " No death was ever attended with such wonders before. For three dreadful hours all nature mourned. It was the frown of insulted Heaven, and seemed to presage the l;:st great day of doom.

The cross and its tragic scenes was God's method of Redemption. The innocent must suffer for the guilty, the just for the unjust. The precious blood of Christ must be shed, who through the Eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot unto God. You map read about the Man of Sorrows, you may trace every page of the

Evangelic Story from the Manger of Bethlehem on to Calvary, and to the sacred spot where the angels said, " Come see the place where the Lord lay," and no such character had ever appeared before. His mission was love. He came to bind up the broken hearted and send the light of hope into our darkened homes. He broke the scepter of Death. The winds and the sea obeyed him. He preached his own gospel and proclaimed the year of jubilee for earth's anguished and dying millions. The universe sympathized with him when dying. Sleeping saints awoke unexpectedly long before the Resurrection morning. An angel unbarred His tomb. Twenty thousand shouted the triumphs of His coronation hour.

He left behind Him the impress of Divinity, and now ever liveth to make intercession, applying from the Throne what He purchased on the Cross. Angels sang His natal song and shouted when His work was done. It is the old, old story always new. It gives inspiration to the lullabys of childhood and is the prelibation of joys immortal in the chamber of dying age. Full of heavenly triumph, the last words of the dying Christ, "It is finished," roll down with the ages. But language fails and thought staggers, speechless. We bend and listen to the song ; we point to the glory of the place where Christ is all in all.

The Truth of Christianity is further exemplified, as affording an antidote for death, preparing us for the last painful sickness and the dying strife. Infidels most generally renounce their faith in a dying hour, as insufficient and unable to sustain them in the last conflict. But the Christian holds on to his with a firmer grasp. It is the only sure foundation amid the swellings of Jor* dan, th ' sheet anchor of the soul when flesh and 1 eart fail. The great Spanish navigator, Ponce De Leon, searched in vain among the swamps and lowlands of Florida to find the Immortal Fountain which tradition had said would restore the old back to youth again, but the search was fruitless. He experienced no state of blissful rejuvenescence. In all the wide waste of earth no such purling stream is found. Men of the learned professions, masters of the healing art, have never yet found a remedy — no matchless sanative, no universal panacea. But we have it in the Gospel. Here is the heavenly lotion, the Physician and the Balm of Gilead. Here bloom the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley. Here is the box of precious perfume, anointing us for the day of our death and burial. In the Gospel Life and Immortality have been brought to light. Here is the well of water springing up into Life Eternal.

Christ has said that he is the Resurrection and the Life, and that he that liveth and believeth in Him shall never die. The Christian may fall asleep. He may depart. But it is only going home. He may be absent from the body ; but he will be present with the Lord. Death has lost its sting, and the grave its victory. Bonaparte crossing the Alps, Wellington victorious on the field of Waterloo, or Alexander conquering the world — these victories all pale before the triumphs of the dying Christian.

Go into the chamber of that dying consumptive. It is an humble dwelling; there are no signs of luxury or wealth ; no odor of costly viands; the head is not pillowed upon down ; but one lone candle burns, and a few tearful friends are gathered around. It is night, and everything is solemn and impressive. The fajthful watch dog, as if conscious of a great sorrow, sets up a mournful howl. There are sobs of grief, but the patient sufferer tries to smile away their tears. She summons all her strength to sing a verse or two of some battle hymn of the Church. It is like the last sweet notes of the dying swan. She points to the angel convoy as they crowd upon the scene. To her friends she says : " Do not weep for me ; I am going home. Do not break my heart. Sing for me, as I cross over Jordan,

' Bright angels have from glory come ! '

Jesus beckons me away. Farewell to loved ones " — s sweet, short farewell — a word unknown in the dialect of Heaven. All hail, ye white-iobed millions gathering along eternal shores !

The fact of the Resurrection is a further proof of the Divinity of the Scriptures. The body — this heavy clog and incumbrance of the soul, which human reason consigns to dust, which sense locks up in the dark sepulchre and science scatters to the winds — its resurrection is a thought too wonderful for the human mind. The wise men of Athens mocked when Paul preached it from Mars Hill. It is peculiarly a Bible doctrine, a subject of Divine Revelation. We are told that when the Archangel's trumpet sounds, the countless dead from their graves and from the unfathomed depths of the ocean shall come forth to meet their final Judge. This is the wonder of wonders — the closing scene, tiie vast assembly of saints and angels and the uncounted millions of the lost, the day of grand assize, and the wild uproar of dissolving worlds! Draw aside the curtain, listen to the voice of the Archangel and the sound of the trump of God. See the sun blown out and the moou turn to blood, and stars, like untimely figs, fall from Heaven. The Tribunal Throne is seen, whiter than the driven snow, while ten thousand times ten thousand follow in His train. All who are in their graves shall come forth, those who have done good to the Resurrection of Life, and those who have done evil to the Resurrection of Damnation.

The dead in Christ shall have part in the first Resurrection. On such the second death shall have no power. Like Lot escaping out of Sodom, the universal conflagration will not begin till all his sleeping saints are safely housed. Not one shall be left behind. Ministering angels shall fly abroad to gather up the golden sheaves for heavenly barns. Countless graves, unmarked and unknown, will now burn, a light spot to the skies. They lived and died unknown to fame, but angels convoyed their happy spirits home. Now they return to gather up the body, and chime in their song with the triumphant acclaim: "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory ? "

The triumph of Christianity over death and the grave is grandly illustrative of its Divinity and Power. Religion ends well: "At eyening time it is light." Grace triumphs over every fear, and the good man's dying chamber is quite on the verge of Heaven. Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles and Martyrs of the Crucified One have all realized its power to save. They have gotten the victory, and, robed in white, they gather on the banks of the bright flowing river, beyond the reach of sorrow and the reign of death.

How precious to our bleeding hearts is the memory of the last words of dying friends ! They come floating Sack from the border land, like the chorus of angelic songs, to charm our grief and woo us on to their sunbright home.

Many of our jewels are buried out of sight. The graves of friendship thicken all about us. "There is no union here of hearts that has not here an end." Wherever we turn " Old Mother Earth is tying with her dead children in her arms." The golden lamp of Heavenly Truth relumes the night of death and shows us angelic forms in the dark sepulchre. Our dying friends, like the Redeemer, having loved us in life, they loved us to the end. Their only regrets were for the friends they were leaving behind. But we trace their wondrous flight, and Faith sees the pearly gates ajar and hears the hallelujah welcome of numbers without number.

My thoughts wander back over the tearful past. Hung up in the chamber of imagery many familiar faces beam down upon me. I cannot mention all, but their names are in the Book of Life — they are held in everlasting remembrance. They increase the cloud of witnesses in the Church Militant and will help to swell the mighty aggregate of the redeemed in Heaven. My beloved sister died praying for death, so as to be relieved from suffering. My brother, Rev. S. C. Quillian, literally preached himself to death. He fell a martyr at his post, but victorious was his fall. Among his last words were : "Tell my brethren of the Conference I die with a bright prospect of a glorious inheritance."

On a Sabbath evening I was called to the bedside of Mrs. Maggie Winn. She was a young wife and mother. Life had many endearments, but consumption had withered the bloom on her cheek and her wasted form was growing cold in Death's chilly waters. Never did I witness such a peaceful triumph. While we sang she clapped her icy hands, and we felt that Heaven and the angels were about us. A few years ago, in the city of Atlanta, Mrs. Ella Bookout bade her weeping friends farewell, and then with a shout of triumph left for her home in the skies. Her affections were so pure, she was so kind and devoted! To know her was to love her. Beautiful in her form and features, those who knew and loved her on earth will recognize her at once in Heaven — the sparkle of her black eye and the "smile which o'er each feature plays." The closing scene will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. It reminds us of Tabor or some vision of the Apocalypse. Could a thin veil have been drawn aside the Chariot of God would have been seen, and the Angel Postillion, ready to obey the summons and pass with the speed of light over the Everlasting Hills.

She sings now with the angels, and sometimes wanders along the flowery borders, thinking of those she loves, while now and then she looks down the starry way to see if they are coming. Gentle one, farewell. With your Ministering Spirit we make an assignation to meet you amid the rosy bowers of the heavenly Paradise !

Mrs. Louisa C Jones, wife of Col. Seaborn Jones, died at Rockmart, Ga., in August, 1874. She was the daughter of Col. Charles S. and Mrs. Elmira Guyton, who is now the widow of Rev. L. T. Mizelle. The counsel and example of such a mother had much to do in the formation of her religious character. It has been truly said that Death loves a shining mark. Intelligent and accomplished ; surrounded with wealth and many kind friends; young, and the future bright with hope and promise, but consumption marked her for its vietira. She tried the balmy air of Florida and the medicinal springs of Northern Georgia ; but all to no purpose. In the quiet of her own home she lay down to die. Patient and resigned to her Heavenly Father's will, she waited till her change should come ; and when the pale messenger arrived she exclaimed in glad surprise, " If this be death, what a glorious thing to die ! "

Some weeks before, she was favored with a vision ot the closing scene and the life after death. To her pastor she said :

" What I tell you now is as sacred to me as my own soul . Just the other day, when lying on my bed, I threw my handkerchief over my face and was thinking of Heaven, when a scene as natural as life presented itself. I was sitting on the moss-covered banks of a beautiful river; sweet flowers were exhaling their fragrance all around ; the clear sparkling waters were rolling quietly past. Noiselessly a beautiful boat ran its prow out on the bank near my feet and the cherubic oarsman invited me aboard. As I stepped into the boat I saw on the other bank a place of heavenly grandeur, and as I neared it the Rose of Sharon met my raptured vision, and we disembarked amid the sound of angels' harps and heavenly music. Conducted further through the golden street, the pearly gates of the Palace stood ajar, and I was given a place on the right hand\ of the King, whom I recognized immediately as my precious Saviour, the world's Redeemer."

How many have passed away in peace and holy triumph"! They live now the Life Eternal, in the bright Forever, where there is no To-morrow. Suffering, tears and death are all behind.

" O ye who are persecuted now, your enemies will get off the track after awhile, and all will speak well of you among the Thrones. Ho ye who are sick now ! No medicine to take there. One breath of the eternal hills will thrill you with immortal vigor. And ye who are lonesome now, there will be a million spirits to welcome you into their companionship. O ye bereft souls, there will be no grave-digger's spade that will cleave the side of that hill, and there will be no dirge wailing from that Temple. The River of God, deep as the Joy of Heaven, will roll on between banks odorous with balm and over depths bright witli jewels and under skies roseate with gladness — argosies of light going down the stream to the stroke of glittering oar and the song of angels! not one sigh in the wind, not one tear mingling with the watexfc-

Chapter II. Looking For The City Of God

For he looked for a City, which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. — Heb. 11 : 10.

0 City so fair of pearl and gold,

Beyond the silent sea !

My soul cries out from its prison house

For the home that waits for me.

Sacred history is richly embellished with the name and virtues of the Patriarch, Abraham. He holds a distinguished place as the founder of the Jewish Church and nation — venerable for his piety, for the strength of his faith, his constant and unwearied devotion and the manifestations of God and goodness which he so often received. In Abraham's history we have the commencement of a new dispensation in religion, adumbrations of a glory that should follow, of the coming fullness of times and the universal brotherhood of the nations.

It was necessary that a Church should be formed, a separate society, some outward distinction to serve as a wall of partition. Before this the pious and believing ones had been too much mixed up with the world. It was this that brought on the flood and the idolatry ot postdiluvian times. In Abraham's day it was universal. On hill tops and groves of the feathery palm their altars flamed as orisons to the rising sun ; their vespers made the night more hideous as the starry host rode out upon the sky, with the Great Bear circling the Pole, with Arcturus and his suns, and the glittering belt of Orion. That was the dark period of the world's history, which gave birth to astrological science. Then the angel Hope looked sad as orphanage, Superstition raved, and the fair heavens blushed. Crime was everywhere ; piety was almost unknown. To save Religion from complete extinction God interposed. He did not direct Abram to build another ark, to erect a tower, to wall in a city. There were no wondrous exhibitions of Divine Power. He selected a particular person to be the founder of a Church and nation, that should be the asylum of Religion, the depository of divine doctrines, of types and prophecies relating to the Messiah, which gradually trained them up for his advent.