"For this God is our God forever and ever! He will be
our guide even unto death!" Psalm 48:14
Holy Scripture takes cognizance of the various
circumstances and stages of man's life, and we should do the like when
we use the pen for the consolation of Christ's suffering people. To the
young we often have to address ourselves in cautions fitted to rebuke
the expectant excesses of hope. But to the aged, our task is more in the
way of cheering, for which the gospel makes ample provision. If their
number is small, their demand upon our sympathy and love is not the less
imperative. Besides the claim which they make upon us as frequent
sufferers, they are repeatedly and earnestly commended to our reverence
in the word of God; and any volume of consolation would be strikingly
defective from which their case should be left out.
'Length of days' is a scriptural blessing, and was
eminently such under the Hebrew theocracy, where earthly benefits were
the perpetual type of spiritual favors. As death was a penalty, so the
shortening of man's days was a token of God's anger towards the race;
and under every dispensation the hoary head is a crown of glory to the
righteous.
Longevity, which in the case of the wicked only
aggravates sin, and its awful reckoning; affords to true believers a
longer term of useful service and holy example, increased proficiency in
gifts and graces, and a corresponding recompense. Old age has its
appropriate beauty, no less than youth. To the eye which can wisely
discern, there is a mature loveliness in the "shock of corn that comes
in its season." Thus we contemplate the kindly decline of the ancient
patriarchs with a filial veneration, and in our own circle turn with a
healthful delight from the gayeties of inexperienced youth, to the
father and the mother "whose ripe experience does attain to somewhat of
prophetic strain;" so that I envy not him who does not often love to
draw near the sequestered corner that is honored by the chair of
reverend wisdom and graceful piety, where the wearied ancient or the
cherished matron sits enthroned in the affections of an observant filial
group. Yet while this period of life has its deserved honors, it has its
TRIALS likewise.
First among the ills of old age is infirmity of
body. "Our lives last seventy years or, if we are strong, eighty
years. Even the best of them are struggle and sorrow; indeed, they pass
quickly and we fly away." Even if previous life has been exempt from
bodily pain and weakness, the season of decline is usually visited with
manifold diseases, some of which are peculiar to old age. Burdens which
were scarcely felt in the mid-day pilgrimage, are apt to become
intolerable torments towards the evening shadows. Scattered over the
church and the world, there are thousands of people in their respective
nooks of seclusion, as much lost to society as if they were in dens and
caves of the earth. Their place in the house of God has been filled by
others, and the church has long ceased to observe the vacancy caused by
their absence, except so far as some pastor or pious friend seeks them
out, to smooth their crude descent into the grave. But each has his
sorrows, and needs consolation.
The weakness and lassitude of old age are
familiar, yet these often take men by surprise. So reluctant are most to
admit the mortifying approach of these closing languors, that they need
more than the "three warnings" of the poet. The steps by which age
advances are often stealthy and imperceptible. Gray hairs are scattered
here and there, and they know it not. The beauty of the countenance is
consumed, and gives places to wrinkles, sunken features, a stooping
frame and tottering limbs. The dainties of the feast invite—but no
longer gratify. The senses become dull, and the sufferer enters into the
experience of Barzillai—"How many years of my life are left that I
should go up to Jerusalem with the king? I'm now 80 years old. Can I
discern what is pleasant and what is not? Can your servant taste what he
eats or drinks? Can I still hear the voice of male and female singers?
Why should your servant be an added burden to my lord the king?" To such
a one the grasshopper is a burden, no he is a burden unto himself. It is
a condition in which he manifestly needs support.
The absence of former companions belongs to
"the time of old age." Amidst their troops of friends, the young think
little of this; but the longer a man lives, the more does he outlive the
associates of his early days. And though Dr. Johnson wisely advises men
who advance in years to "keep their friendships in repair," it is
unquestionably true, that the susceptibility for such attachments grows
less with the decline of life. The tree which has outlived the forest
stands in mournful solitude, and is lopped of its branches, and exposed
to storms. If these pages fall under the notice of an aged reader, he
will readily assent to the truth of what is said, being able with ease
to number up all that remain of those who shared his early joys.
Childhood seems far back in the distance; parents have been long
removed; brothers, sisters, friends have died; perhaps, we must add
poverty, widowhood, and childless desolation.
The solitary condition of aged people is aggravated
by the reluctance of the young to seek their company; so that we often
find them constrained to pass days of weariness, and evenings of
solitary gloom. Except where there is eager expectancy of some wealth to
be divided, the old man is left to sit alone, which naturally leads to
another trial.
The lack of society is keenly felt in "the
time of old age." We are fond of saying, that old age is honorable; but
the writer has lived long enough to observe that in point of fact it
receives little honor, except for certain adventitious accompaniments.
Boys soon become men; men soon grow old; old men are soon forgotten.
Venerable people are sometimes honored for their wealth—such is our
trafficking, mammon-serving, ignoble view of things—or for their place
or power—but how seldom for their years! The stripling, with his "gold
ring and goodly apparel," shall have more to show respect to his
"mirthful clothing," and to say, "sit here in a good place," than the
poor man of hoary hairs. It is a serious question whether neglect of the
aged in general, is not a national sin. Carrying to extravagance our
notions of equality, we can brook no superior, and will own no master.
Hence we have come to hear lads manifesting their spirit by giving to
father or mother, whom they should reverence next to God, appellations
of jesting or disrespect. Now he who does not honor his parents will
honor no one else, except to eat of his morsel.
The world's neglect is an ingredient in many a
cup of old age. The rich may not know it; but the rich are not all the
world, nor, taken as a class, the best part of it; and if all their
claims to honor are founded on revenue, they are poor indeed. There is
many a good man, far gone in the valley of years, who feels the
saddening change from the days when all hastened to do him respect.
Decay of natural spirits belongs to "the time of
old age." The outworn traveler says of these days, "I have no pleasure
in them." "The daughters of music are brought low." This period of life
is proverbially one of caution; and caution easily lapses into timidity.
The old man pauses at the leap which twenty years ago he would have
taken at a bound. It is the habit of his life to forecast the future,
and many anticipate gloom. Experience has taught him to see dangers on
every hand. But besides this, weakness of body brings with it depression
and sadness. The aged are solitary even in the thronged assembly. They
muse and pine. There is much in the past to make them thoughtful—great
experience has opened to them many sources of sorrow, all unknown to the
mirthful circle around them; and what can they realistically expect for
the future? Shut out from active employment, or slow to learn that their
competency is lessened, they feel their isolation. If an irritable frame
and sensitive temperament superadd to these things irascibility, and
peevishness, how greatly are the ills increased!
All this makes it the more rare and signal, when we
behold a contented and cheerful old age; and, through God's infinite
grace, and the influence of his Holy Spirit, we are sometimes called to
this edifying and delightful spectacle.
The approach of eternity confers solemnity on
"the time of old age." This single consideration insufficient to
overshadow the soul with a solemnity unknown before; and though we
sometimes find foolish triflers who are advanced in life—the best and
wisest are made serious and considerate. Yet facts do not justify the
assertion, that the bare increase of years does anything towards the
conversion of the sinner. The youthful reader should take warning, when
he sees the aged dying on every side, and others with hoary hairs
standing around their graves unconcerned about their own eternal state.
Nevertheless some truly lay this to heart, and to these it is a trial.
It is the dreadful case of some to be given up to despairing thoughts on
the approach of death.
But it is unnecessary to enumerate all the
particulars which go to make up the burden of old age—we turn with more
alacrity to the CONSOLATIONS which are afforded by the word of God.
There is a sentence of the Psalmist which points out
the direction in which he who is laden with years may look for cheering.
It is that exclamation in the seventy-first Psalm, "Cast me not off in
the time of old age, forsake me not when my strength fails." Though a
prayer, it is also a promise. For when God himself dictates a petition,
and so to speak puts it into our mouths, it assures us that what he thus
prompts us to ask, he is ready to bestow. These words may therefore be
considered as revealing the basis of comfort and support offered to an
aged Christian. It is as though he said, "Man may cast me off; society
may cast me off; friends, helpers, even children may abandon me; but O
my God, cast not me off, in the time of old age!" It is a lawful, an
urgent, a comprehensive prayer, and may be studied in its several
meanings, with edification.
The prayer implies, "Leave me not to helpless
imbecility!" It is permitted to deprecate extreme poverty. We are taught
to pray, "Give us this day our daily bread." The old disciple is not
forbidden to ask under submission to God's holy will, that he may be
exempted from wasting languors and decrepitude. But submission has here
a large part to perform. As we resign to the decision of our faithful
Creator, the time and manner of our death, so must we leave ourselves
implicitly in his hands, as to the whole color of our latter days.
Competence and poverty are at his disposal. Nevertheless it is thus
recorded by one who knew, "I have been young and now am old, yet have I
not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." And if any
may appropriate the cheering words, the aged may surely so do—"Be
content with such things as you have, for He has said, I will never
leave you nor forsake you;" words which seem written to be a heavenly
answer to this very petition of the Psalmist. The whole connection,
however, shows, that the servant of God may be sometimes reduced to
straits and apprehensions, in which his faith is sorely tried, and in
which he can look to none but God. Yet we have reason to encourage every
believer, whose old age is encompassed with cares about worldly
subsistence, to support himself on the Lord his Preserver.
The prayer further implies, "Be a friend to me under
the loss of friends." There is a wide scope of application in those
words—"When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me
up." The degree of comfort which this consideration brings to any
individual, will be in proportion to the reality of his previous
communion with God. He who has made God his friend, and has humbly and
lovingly walked with him during a lifetime, is prepared to endure with
equanimity the loss of friends. In days of prosperity, when his children
were around him, and his table was encircled with guests, he already
looked to God as his covenant friend and supporter; how much more when
his windows are darkened, and the coals have died out upon his hearth.
He has learned before this great trial came, to turn to God as the
enlightener of his solitary way, and the portion of his soul. Like
Abraham, he has, early in his pilgrimage, heard a voice saying, "Fear
not; I am your shield, and your exceeding great reward."
Now, therefore, when he begins to find himself alone
in the world, he is beyond expression thankful that he has not this
divine acquaintanceship to begin to seek. He is sure that the Lord has
not brought him thus far to make him a laughing-stock to his soul's
enemies. God will help him, and that right early. Many are the aged
saints who can join in the exultation, "So that we may boldly say, The
Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me."
Suppose the worst case, even that of desolating
bereavement and complete isolation—an aged believer left without
partner, child, or relative on earth; if he has made God his friend, he
can still say, "My soul waits only upon God, for my expectation is from
him." And God is accustomed to answer the prayer of the desolate, by
stirring up the tender mercies of man. Friends are raised up for the
forlorn and sinking one. This is a consideration which ought to lead
pious and charitable people in our churches to turn their attention to
the aged. Very often, it is not so much temporal aid which they require,
as the smile of recognition, the light of a friendly countenance, the
voice of cheering, the hand that lifts the latch of the solitary
chamber, the Christian conference, and the fellowship of prayer. Let the
reader ask himself whether this duty has not been neglected, and whether
there is not, even within his own communion and neighborhood, some
ancient servant of God to whom he might render the offices of a son or a
Christian brother. But by whatever means it may be accomplished, the
Lord will not allow his aged servants to sink under their bereavements.
He who prays, "Cast me not off," furthermore asks
thus, "Cheer me by your presence, under the neglects of men." None have
greater need than the aged to concentrate their regards on the honor
which comes from God; for the attentions and complimentary tributes of
society are usually seen to decrease as age advances. The world casts
off its old servants—but God does not cast them off. A man who has set
great value on the caresses and adulation of the people during his
middle life, is in a fair way to see the matter in its true light when
he falls into decay. Then it is that he finds his flatterers vanishing,
like birds of passage which seek more sunny climates. In such
circumstances it is an invaluable blessing to have the heart fixed on
God. His approval and praise have a heavenly quality about them which
fills and satisfies the soul.
The prayer of the aged imports, moreover, this,
"Sustain my sinking spirits by the hopes of your gospel and the supports
of your grace." This is possible, though it is against nature. We have
seen such trophies of grace. Especially could I name an aged disciple,
whose latter days were by far his best, even in regard to this point. As
years advanced, he became less restless and susceptible under the
vexations of life; his temper was more even, his spirits more cheerful,
and his kind smile more abiding. If the reader will give himself the
pains to make a survey, he will find numerous instances of this kind
among the churches. And such a one is more lovely then, in the sight of
God—than ever amidst the florid exuberance of youthful promise; more
wise, more pure, more holy, more tranquil, more graciously humble. Let
the young be invited to seek the company of such; the Isaacs, Israels,
and Johns of our church. Let them be sought, as for as hidden treasure,
though the quest may take us among the humblest of society.
Those of us who exercise the ministerial profession
have been taught that some of the most instructive and most lovely
objects to a Christian eye are concealed in garrets, cellars, and beds
of suffering. A vain, frivolous, time-serving, mercenary, contemptible
world, judges otherwise; but when their money perishes with them, true
holiness and happiness shall survive the shock of death, and go into
eternity. The sun shines on nothing more glorious than a truly ripe
believer waiting to be gathered into the garner of the Lord. To
comprehend the greatness of such godliness, we must know its hindrances.
There are many people who maintain their consistency well during seasons
of prosperity—but which would be sadly shaken by the stormy weather of
old age.
The aged man's prayer includes, finally, "Cast me not
off on the approach of death." Does the reader, perhaps, feel in his
members the signs of declining years? Then let him consider that old
age is the beginning of death. It is true, that death may come well
before old age; but he that is old is assuredly on the brink of death.
Natural fears hover about the most careless in regard to this impending
catastrophe. The relief which most aged sinners have is by the method of
'diversion'—or the turning away of the mind from the revolting object.
But this is a miserable resort, and a few spasms or pangs are sufficient
to shake a sturdy and impenitent soul out of this refuge of lies. Let
the truth be told; there is no real consolation under fears of death—but
in God. "The peace of God which passes all understanding" can make an
infirm and threatened old man go down firmly into the valley. Suppose
God should, after all, cast off his servant in the time of old age! It
is a surmise which sometimes darts across the soul. But no, he will not.
"Even to old age am I he, and to hoary hairs will I carry you." The
dictation of such a prayer is equal to a promise that it shall be
answered.
We have looked with wonder and delight on an aged
disciple thus waiting until his change comes. He is not exempt from the
infirmities and pains which beset this season of life; but his mind is
drawn away from them, to fix itself on the "exceeding and eternal weight
of glory." He knows not at what moment his summons may come—but he knows
whom he has believed, and is persuaded that he is able to keep the great
deposit until that day. Christian hope does not allow him to give way
under the disquietudes of life. It is his endeavor to show, by the
uniformity of his cheerfulness, that religion can despoil even old age
of its terrors. Among younger Christians he sits as a patriarch who has
experienced all the diversities of the disciple's lot. He has discovered
the emptiness of the world, and has made what remains of the present
life—a meditation of the life to come. His great business, therefore, is
to prepare for eternity. But this he does without perturbation or
servile dread. Long ago he has cast his burden on the Lord, and ventured
his everlasting hopes on the promise of mercy in Christ Jesus; and
having been sealed with that blessed Spirit of promise, he looks into
the future with a confidence founded on divine authority; having a
desire to depart and be with Christ. Such a condition as this, is among
the happiest on earth; and it throws a radiance of commendation over the
gospel which produces it. The Lord does not forsake his people. In those
emergencies of life in which their strength is most tried, he may be
supposed to regard them with peculiar tenderness. And at length he
abolishes death, and admits them to the glories of the eternal state!
Where Christian graces are vigorous, the aged
disciple will be much in meditation of that eternal world which he is
approaching. There the majority of the brethren whom he has known here
have entered before him. Every bodily pang and weakness suggests to him
by contrast, the blessed exemptions and perfect delights of a state
where God shall wipe all tears from the eyes. At the resurrection, the
soul and body shall be reunited; and the body which shall be raised will
have no frailties or susceptibilities of distress. It is comfort for the
aged saint, aching with the weariness of a hard pilgrimage, to muse on
the day when his body shall be newly fitted for the service of the soul,
and when he shall emerge into the balmy springtide of perpetual youth.
He knows that he shall exchange the solitude and neglect of a world
where he has long felt himself a stranger, for the associations of that
communion to which the wise, and holy, and blessed of all nations,
churches, and times have been adding themselves for ages. Groaning under
the consciousness of imperfection in his best services, he lights up
with rapture at the thought of a world where he shall glorify God
without weariness, intermission, or defect. Remembering the clouds and
darkness of his sad journey, he longs for the perfect light in which he
shall see face to face, and know even as also he is known. This hope of
eternal glory, which brightens as graces become mature, may be
considered the prime consolation of old age. Where it is possessed in
large measure, it is a full restitution for losses, and an antidote to
the poisonous influences of this mortal condition.
Consolation in old age is much promoted by a thankful
review of God's providence as to the past. This appears to be included
in that remarkable promise, Isaiah 46:4; "I will be the same until
your old age, and I will bear you up when you turn gray. I
have made you, and I will carry you; I will bear and save
you." He who made us and preserves us, will continue to care for
us. God will not allow those on whom he has expended so much, to fail at
the last. The fact, that the believer has already passed through so many
toils and dangers unhurt, affords good reason to hope that he shall be
carried through all, even the last and worst.
The eye of the aged pilgrim takes in, from his
eminence of observation and retrospect—a great extent of way which he
has traversed. In this he recalls many a spot signalized by its
Ebenezer, and testifying to the faithfulness of God. This principle of
consolation is the very one which leads the sacred writers to such
frequent recapitulations of Israel's way through the wilderness; Moses
also recounts the whole of the journey, just on the verge of the
promised land. This is our assurance that God will not cast off in the
time of old age, that he has clung to his people as their support, in
all preceding times.
If now, as can scarcely be denied, there are
professing Christians, advanced in years, and, of course, approaching
their eternal abode, who have none of this peace; who feel the burdens
of life more keenly with every new step into their final valley, who
repine at their lot, indulge the petulance of continual complaint, and
shudder at their inevitable and impending death; what shall we say—but
that they have failed to take the blessings which are made over in the
covenant gift? They have not from the heart uttered that prayer of the
Psalmist which we have been considering. From which we learn this
momentous lesson—that to be happy in old age, we must regard true
religion as the one thing needful; not merely as important—but as
all-important; that "principal thing," without which all else is vanity
and vexation of spirit.
For in what other direction can the aged look for
comfort? What can this world offer them? They have tasted every cup, and
having drunk each to the dregs, have found it first foam—and then
bitterness. They have but a few days, possibly not a single day, to
live. Time is hurrying them with dreadful rapidity into the presence of
their Judge! Unless they have sought his kingdom and righteousness
first, and above all; unless they have laid up their treasure and their
hearts in heaven—they are absolutely cut off from every source of
rational enjoyment. The hand upon the 'solemn dial-plate of life' points
at midnight, and in a moment comes the fatal stroke! Let none suppose
that a mere nominal standing in Christ's church, or a name among
professing Christians, affords a basis for hope amidst the despondencies
of age. Generally, those who possess the serene enjoyments of which we
have spoken, are such as began to make God's service their great concern
many years ago, and now, in the autumn of their days, are reaping the
golden fruit, agreeably to the sowing of an earlier experience. And if
these lines should meet the eye of any to whom such a preparation is all
unknown—he should lay down the book and prepare to meet his God!
One of the greatest consolations of old age is to
spend what remains of life, in honoring God. David connects this with
one of his pathetic prayers—"Even when I am old and gray, God, do not
abandon me. Then I will proclaim Your power to another
generation, Your strength to all who are to come." How remarkably this
was accomplished in his latter days we know very well. Ecclesiastical
history relates of the apostle John, that when for very age he was
unable any longer to preach the word, he used to be carried into the
Christian assembly, where the most he could utter was, "Little children,
love one another!" The modern church affords numerous instances of aged
believers, who "still bring forth fruit in old age." Younger disciples
properly look up to them as advisers, and endeavor to profit by their
long experience. Their very patience and tranquility, while they wait
for their Lord, is edifying to the church. Their words fall on the ear
with peculiar weight from the authority of mature wisdom; and it is an
evil day, in church or state, when any forsake "the counsel of the old
men." For these reasons, aged Christians are not lightly to suppose that
their work is done, because they are shut out from public service. It
may be that God is more glorified by the quiet graces of their eventide,
than by their most strenuous exertions while bearing the burden and heat
of the day.
In the wonderful ordering of the dispensation of
grace, it is observed, that although the susceptibility of new
impressions from objects of sense, and the pleasure taken in passing
events of a worldly nature, are very much abated by the progress of
years—it is not so in regard to spiritual enjoyments—the feeble
and departing servant of God is still alive to the things of the
kingdom. Memory, imagination, even the perceptive powers may be
seriously impaired—but sensibility to the truths of the gospel remains
in vigor; the name of Jesus is still delightful, and the coming glory of
the kingdom still cheers the soul. For such a blessed experience,
however, there must have been a long preparation, by daily communion
with God, which affords an inducement at once to 'early piety', and
consistent walking with Christ, throughout the years of strength. We
cannot err in supposing that the Lord of such a servant looks down upon
him with peculiar delight in these days of bodily weakness—but
'spiritual ripening'. He may be likened to the just and devout Simeon,
who took the infant Jesus up in his arms, and said, "Lord, now let you
your servant depart in peace." He knows that his salvation is nearer
than when he first believed.
As one long in bondage looks out pensively for
deliverance, so he lifts up his head, because his redemption draws near.
Weaned in some good measure from the world, and dead to its appetites
and pleasures, he has his citizenship in heaven, from whence also he
looks for the Lord Jesus, who will change his vile body, that it may be
fashioned like unto his glorious body. Hearkening for the footsteps of
his beloved Master, who is coming to transport him to himself, he
patiently waits until his change comes. These are blessed fruits of
grace, enjoyed at a period when the world has nothing to offer to its
outworn devotees. It is the privilege of aged Christians to expect these
comforts, which are the more satisfying, as being altogether independent
of all outward circumstances. They may he possessed, and have been ten
thousand times possessed, by the poor, the infirm, the diseased, the
deaf, the blind; the united voice of hope and exultation, which rises
from the tabernacles of aged pilgrims is, "For this God is our God
forever and ever! He will be our guide even unto death!"