MIDNIGHT HARMONIES by Octavius Winslow

   "The Weaned Child"

        “Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a
        child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is
        even as a weaned child”—Psalm 131:2.

        There are few lessons taught in God’s school
        more difficult to learn, and yet, when really
        learned, more blessed and holy, than the lesson
        of weanedness. The heart resembles the vine,
        which as it grows, grasps and unites its feeble
        tendrils to every support within its reach. Or, it
        is like the ivy, which climbs and wraps itself
        around some beautiful but decayed and
        crumbling ruin. As our social affections develop
        and expand, they naturally seek a resting-place.
        Traveling, as it were, beyond themselves,
        breathing love and yearning for friendship, they
        go forth seeking some kindred spirit, some
        “second self,” upon which they may repose, and
        around which they may entwine. To detach from
        this inordinate, idolatrous clinging to the
        animate and the inanimate creatures and
        objects of sense, is one grand end of God’s
        disciplinary dealings with us in the present life.
        The discovery which we make, in the process of
        his dealings, of the insufficiency and insecurity of
        the things upon which we set our affections, is
        often acutely painful. Like that vine, we find that
        we grasped a support at the root of which the
        cankerworm was secretly feeding,—and
        presently it fell! Or, like that ivy, we discover
        that we have been spreading our affections
        around an object which, even while we clung to
        and adored it, was crumbling and falling into
        dust,—and presently it became a ruin! And what
        is the grand lesson which, by this process, God
        would teach us? The lesson of weanedness from
        all and everything of an earthly and a created
        nature. Thus was David instructed, and this was
        the result: “Surely I have behaved and quieted
        myself as a child that is weaned of his mother:
        my soul is even as a weaned child.” It may be
        profitable, tried and suffering reader, briefly to
        contemplate this holy state, and then the way
        by which the Lord frequently brings his people
        into its experience.

        Every true believer, whatever may be the
        degree of his grace, is an adopted child of God.
        It is not the amount of his faith, nor the
        closeness of his resemblance to the family, that
        constitutes his relationship; it is the act of
        adoption by which his heavenly Father has made
        him his own. If he can only lisp his Father’s
        name, or bears but a single feature of likeness
        to the Divine image, he is as much and as really
        a child of God as those in whose souls the
        lineaments are deeply and broadly drawn, and
        who, with an unfaltering faith, can cry, “Abba,
        Father!” Doubtless there were many of feeble
        faith, of limited experience and of defective
        knowledge—mere babes in Christ—in the church
        to which the apostle inscribed his letter; and
        yet, addressing them all, he says, “Behold, what
        manner of love that we should be called the
        sons of God.” But it is the character of the
        weaned child we are now to contemplate. All
        believers are children, but are all believers
        weaned children? From what is the child of God
        thus weaned?

        The first object from which our heavenly Father
        weans his child, is—himself. Of all idols, this he
        finds the hardest to abandon. When man in
        paradise aspired to be as God, God was
        dethroned from his soul, and the creature
        became as a deity to itself. From that moment,
        the idolatry of self has been the great and
        universal crime of our race, and will continue to
        be until Christ comes to restore all things. In the
        soul of the regenerate, divine grace has done
        much to dethrone this idol, and to reinstate God.
        The work, however, is but partially
        accomplished. The dishonored and rejected rival
        is loath to relinquish his throne, and yield to the
        supreme control and sway of another. There is
        much yet to be achieved before this still
        indwelling and unconquered foe lays down his
        weapons in entire subjection to the will and the
        authority of that Savior whose throne and
        rights he has usurped. Thus, much still lingers in
        the heart which the Spirit has renewed and
        inhabits, of self-esteem, self-confidence,
        self-seeking, and self-love. From all this, our
        Father seeks to wean us. From our own wisdom,
        which is but folly; from our own strength, which
        is but weakness; from our own wills, which are
        often as an uncurbed steed; from our own ways,
        which are crooked; from our own hearts, which
        are deceitful; from our own judgments, which
        are dark; from our own ends, which are narrow
        and selfish, he would wean and detach us, that
        our souls may get more and more back to their
        original center of repose—God himself. In view
        of this mournful exhibition of fallen and corrupt
        self, how necessary the discipline of our
        heavenly Father that extorts from us the
        Psalmist’s language: “Surely I have behaved
        and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of
        his mother.” Self did seem to be our
        mother—the fruitful parent of so much in our
        plans and aims and spirit that was dishonoring
        to our God. From this he would gently and
        tenderly, but effectually, wean us, that we may
        learn to rely upon his wisdom, to repose in his
        strength, to consult his honor, and to seek his
        glory and smile supremely and alone. And O
        how effectually is this blessed state attained
        when God, by setting us aside in the season of
        solitude and sorrow, teaches us that he can do
        without us. We, perhaps, thought that our rank,
        or our talents, or our influence, or our very
        presence were essential to the advancement of
        his cause, and that some parts of it could not
        proceed without us! The Lord knew otherwise.
        And so he laid his hand upon us, and withdrew
        us from the scene of our labors, and duties, and
        engagements, and ambition, that he might hide
        pride from our hearts—the pride of
        self-importance. And O, is it no mighty
        attainment in the Christian life to be thus
        weaned from ourselves? Beloved, it forms the
        root of all other blessings. The moment we learn
        to cease from ourselves—from our own wisdom,
        and power, and importance—the Lord appears
        and takes us up. Then his wisdom is displayed,
        and his power is put forth, and his glory is
        developed, and his great name gets to itself all
        the praise. It was not until God had placed
        Moses in the cleft of the rock that his glory
        passed by. Moses must be hid, that God might
        be all.

        Our heavenly Father would also wean us from
        this poor, perishing world. In a preceding
        chapter we touched upon the great snare which
        the world presented to the child of God. It is
        true Christ has taken him out of, and separated
        him from, the world; assailed by all its evils,
        and exposed to all its corrupting influences. The
        intercessory prayer of our Lord seems to imply
        this: “They are not of the world, even as I am
        not of the world. I pray not that you should
        take them out of the world, but that you
        should keep them from the evil.” And O what
        an evil does the Christian find this world to be!
        In consequence of the earthward tendency of his
        affections, and the deep carnality with which the
        mind is imbued, things which God designed as
        blessings to soothe and soften and cheer,
        become, by their absorbing and idolatrous
        influence, powerful snares. Rank is a snare,
        wealth is a snare, talent is a snare, friendship is
        a snare. Rank may foster pride and ambition;
        wealth may increase the thirst for worldly show;
        talent may inspire a love of human applause;
        and friendship may wean the heart from Christ,
        and betray us into a base and unholy
        compromise of Christian profession. Now from
        this endangering world our heavenly Father
        would shield, by withdrawing us. It is not our
        rest, and he agitates it; it is not our portion, and
        he embitters it; it is not our friend, and he
        sometimes arms it with a sword. It changes, it
        disappoints, it wounds; and then, thankful to
        expand our wings, we take another and a bolder
        flight above it. Ah! beloved, how truly may the
        Lord be now sickening your heart to the world,
        to which that heart has too long and too closely
        clung. It has been your peculiar snare; your Father
        saw it, and wisely and graciously laid his loving,
        gentle hand upon you, and led you away from
        it, that from a bed of sickness, or from a
        chamber of grief, or from some position of
        painful vicissitude, you might see its
        sinfulness, learn its hollowness, and return as a
        wanderer to your Father’s bosom, exclaiming
        with David, “My soul is even as a weaned child.”

        This weanedness, of which we speak, often
        involves the surrender of some endeared object
        of creature affection. The human heart is
        naturally idolatrous. Its affections, as we have
        previously remarked, once supremely centered
        in God. But now, disjoined from him, they go in
        quest of other objects of attachment, and we
        love and worship the creature rather than the
        Creator. The circle which our affections traverse
        may not indeed be a large one; there are
        perchance but few to whom we fully surrender
        our heart; no, so circumscribed may the circle
        be, that one object alone shall attract, absorb,
        and concentrate in itself our entire and
        undivided love—that one object to us as a
        universe of beings, and all others comparatively
        indifferent and insipid. Who cannot see that in a
        case like this, the danger is imminent of
        transforming the heart—Christ’s own
        sanctuary—into an idol’s temple, where the
        creature is loved and reverenced and served
        lucre than he who gave it? But from all idolatry
        our God will cleanse us, and from all our idols
        Christ will wean us. The Lord is jealous, with a
        holy jealousy, of our love. Poor as our affection
        is, he asks its supreme surrender. That he
        requires our love at the expense of all creature
        attachment, the Bible nowhere intimates. He
        created our affections, and he it is who provides
        for their proper and pleasant indulgence. There
        is not a single precept or command in the
        Scriptures that forbids their exercise, or that
        discourages their intensity. Husbands are
        exhorted to “love their wives, even as Christ
        loved his church.” Parents are to cherish a like
        affection towards their children, and children are
        bound to render back a filial love not less
        intense to their parents. And we are to “love our
        neighbors as ourselves.” Nor does the word of
        God furnish examples of Christian friendship less
        interested and devoted. One of the choicest and
        tenderest blessings with which God can enrich
        us, next to himself, is such a friend as Paul had
        in Epaphroditus, a “brother and companion in
        labor, and fellow-soldier;” and such an
        affectionate friendship as John, the loving
        disciple, cherished for his well beloved Gaius,
        whom he loved in the truth, and to whom, in the
        season of his sickness, he thus touchingly
        poured out his heart’s affectionate sympathy:
        “Beloved I wish above all things that you
        may prosper and he in health, even as your
        soul prospers.” Count such a friend, and such
        friendship among God’s sweetest and holiest
        bestowments. The blessings of which it may be
        to you the sanctifying channel, are immense.
        The tender sympathy—the jealous
        watchfulness—the confidential repose—the
        faithful admonition—above all, the intercessory
        prayer, connected with Christian friendship, may
        be placed in the inventory of our most
        inestimable and precious blessings. It is not
        therefore the use, but the abuse, of our
        affections—not their legitimate exercise, but
        their idolatrous tendency—over which we have
        need to exercise the greatest vigilance. It is not
        our love to the creature against which God
        contends, but it is in not allowing our love to
        himself to subordinate all other love. We may
        love the creature, but we may not love the
        creature more than the Creator. When the Giver
        is lost sight of and forgotten in the gift, then
        comes the painful process of weaning! When the
        heart burns its incense before some human
        shrine, and the cloud as it ascends veils from the
        eye the beauty and the excellence of
        Jesus,—then comes the painful process of
        weaning! When the absorbing claims and the
        engrossing attentions of some loved one are
        placed in competition and are allowed to clash
        with the claims of God, and the attentions due
        from us personally to his cause and truth,—then
        comes the painful process of weaning! When
        creature devotion deadens our heart to the
        Lord, lessens our interest in his cause, congeals
        our zeal and love and liberality, detaches us
        from the public means of grace, withdraws from
        the closet, and from the Bible, and from the
        communion of the saints, thus superinducing
        leanness of soul, and robbing God of his
        glory,—then comes the painful process of
        weaning! Christ will be the first in our
        affections—God will be supreme in our
        service—and his kingdom and righteousness
        must take precedence of all other things. In this
        light, beloved, read the present mournful page
        in your history. The noble oak that stood so firm
        and stately at your side, is smitten,—the tender
        and beautiful vine that wound itself around you,
        is fallen,—the lowly and delicate flower that lay
        upon your bosom, is withered—the olive branches
        that clustered around your table, are
        removed—and the “strong staff is broken and
        the beautiful rod;” not because your God did not
        love you, but because he desired your heart.
        He saw that heart ensnared and enslaved by a
        too fond and idolatrous affection,—he saw his
        beauty eclipsed and himself rivaled by a faint
        and imperfect copy of his own image, and he
        breathed upon it, and it withered away! “The
        day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon all . . .
        pleasant pictures.” When an eminent artist, who
        had concentrated all the powers of his genius
        upon a painting of our Lord celebrating the last
        supper, observed that the holy vessels arranged
        in the foreground were admired to the exclusion
        of the chief object of the picture, he seized his
        brush and dashed them from the canvass, and
        left the image of Jesus standing in its own
        solitary and unrivaled beauty. Thus deals our
        God oftentimes with us. O solemn words! “The
        day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon all . . . .
        Pleasant Pictures,”—all pictures that veil and
        eclipse the beauties of him who is the
        “brightness of the Father’s glory, and the
        express image of his person,” God will
        obliterate.

        Filial submission to God’s will, is, perhaps, one
        of the most essential features in this holy state
        of weanedness of which we speak. “Surely I
        have behaved and quieted myself as a child that
        is weaned of his mother.” There are some
        beautiful examples of this in God’s word. “And
        Aaron held his peace.” Since God was “sanctified
        and glorified,” terrible as was the judgment, the
        holy priest mourned not at the way, nor
        complained of its severity, patient and resigned
        to the will of God. He “behaved and quieted
        himself as a child that is weaned of his mother.”
        Thus, too, was it with Eli, when passing under
        the heavy hand of God: “It is the Lord; let him
        do what seems him good.” He bowed in deep
        submission to the will of his God. Job could
        exclaim, as the last sad tidings brimmed his cup
        of woe, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken
        away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” And
        David was “dumb and opened not his mouth,
        because God did it.” But how do all these
        instances of filial and holy submission to the
        Divine will—beautiful and touching as they
        are—fade before the illustrious example of our
        adorable and blessed Lord: “O my Father, if this
        cup may not pass away from me, except I drink
        it, your will be done.” Ah! how did Jesus, in the
        deepest depth of his unutterable sorrow,
        “behave and quiet himself as a child that is
        weaned of his mother? his soul was even as a
        weaned child.” Such, beloved, be the posture of
        your soul at this moment. “Be still.” Rest in your
        Father’s hands, calm and tranquil, quiet and
        submissive, weaned from all but himself. O the
        blessedness of so reposing!

                “Sweet to lie passive in his
                hands,
                And know no will but his.”

        “God’s love!” It is written upon your dark
        cloud—it breathes from the lips of your bleeding
        wound—it is reflected in every fragment of your
        ruined treasure—it is pencilled upon every leaf
        of your blighted flower—“God is Love.” Adversity
        may have impoverished you—bereavement
        may have saddened you—calamity may have
        crushed you—sickness may have laid you
        low—but, “God is Love.” Gently falls the rod in
        its heaviest stroke—tenderly pierces the sword
        in its deepest thrust—smilingly bends the cloud
        in its darkest hues—for, “God is Love.” Does the
        infant, weaned from its wonted and pleasant
        fount, cease from its restlessness and sorrow
        reposing calmly and meekly upon its mother’s
        arms?—so let your soul calmly, submissively rest
        in God. How sweet the music which then will
        breathe from your lips in the midnight of grief:
        “Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a
        child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is
        even as a weaned child.”

        And who can bring you into this holy position?
        The Holy Spirit alone can. It is his office to lead
        you to Jesus—to reveal to you Jesus—to exhibit
        to your eye the cross of Jesus—to pour into your
        heart the grace and love and sympathy of
        Jesus—to bend your will and bow your heart to
        the government of Jesus, and thus make you as
        a weaned child. The work infinitely transcends a
        power merely human. It is the office and the
        prerogative of the Divine Spirit—the “Spirit of
        holiness”—who only can sever between flesh
        and spirit, to bring you into the condition of one
        whose will in all things is completely merged in
        God’s. And what is his grand instrument of
        effecting this? The cross of Christ! Ah! this is it.
        The Cross of Christ! Not the cross as it appeared
        to the imagination of the Mohammedan Chief,
        leading the imperial army to battle and to
        conquest; not the cross pictured—the cross
        engraved—the cross carved—the cross
        embroidered—the cross embossed upon the
        prayer-book, pendant from the maiden’s neck,
        glittering on the cathedral’s spire, and springing
        from its altar: not the cross as blended with a
        religion of Gothic architecture, and painted
        windows, and flaming candles, and waving
        incense, and gorgeous pictures, and melting
        music, and fluttering surplices: O no! but the
        cross—the naked, rugged cross—which Calvary
        reared, which Paul preached, and of which he
        wrote, “God forbid that I should glory save in
        the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which* the
        world is crucified unto me, and I unto the
        world.” Faith, picturing to its view this cross, the
        Holy Spirit engraving it on the heart in spiritual
        regeneration, the whole soul receiving him
        whom it lifts up, as its “wisdom, and
        righteousness, and sanctification, and
        redemption,” gently and effectually transforms
        the spirit, that was chafened and restless, into
        the “meekness and gentleness of Christ.” O
        what calmness steals over his ruffled soul! O
        what peace flows into his troubled heart! O what
        sunshine bathes in its bright beams, his dark
        spirit, who from the scenes of his conflict and his
        sorrow, flees beneath the shadow and the
        shelter of the cross. The storm ceases—the
        deluge of his grief subsides—the Spirit,
        dove-like, brings the message of hope and
        love—the soul, tempest-tossed, rests on the
        green mount, and one unbounded spring clothes
        and encircles the landscape with its verdure and
        its beauty. Child, chastened by the Father’s
        love, look to the cross of your crucified Savior.
        And as you fix upon it your believing, ardent,
        adoring gaze, exclaim—

                “Wearily for me you
                sought,
                On the cross my soul you
                bought;
                Lose not all for which you
                wrought.”

        What is your sorrow compared with Christ’s?
        What is your grief gauged by the Lord’s? Your
        Master has passed before you, flinging the
        curse and the sin from your path, paving it with
        promises, carpeting it with love, and fencing it
        around with the hedge of his divine perfections.
        Press onward, then, resisting your foe resolutely,
        bearing your cross patiently, drinking your cup
        submissively, and learning, while sitting at the
        Savior’s feet, or leaning upon his bosom, to be
        like him, “meek and lowly in heart.” Then,
        indeed, shall “I have behaved and quieted
        myself as a child that is weaned of his mother:
        my soul is even as a weaned child.”

                “Quiet, Lord, my froward heart,
                Make me teachable and mild,
                Upright, simple, free from are;
                Make me as a weaned child.
                From distrust and envy free,
                Pleased with all that pleases You.
                “What You shall today provide,
                Let me as a child receive;
                What tomorrow may betide,
                Calmly to Your wisdom leave.
                ’It is enough that You will care,
                Why should I the burden heart.
                “As a little child relies
                On a care beyond its own;
                Knows he’s neither strong nor wise—
                Fears to stir a step alone—
                Let me thus with You abide,
                As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
                “Thus preserved from Satan’s wiles,
                Safe from dangers, free from fears,
                May I live upon your smiles
                Until the promised hour appears;
                When the sons of God shall prove
                All their Father’s boundless love.”