Wells Without Water

“These are wells without water.” 2 Peter 2:17

It is one of the ever-working schemes and master strokes of the prince of darkness, and too successful is his exploit, to annihilate in the view of man the essential difference which God’s holy word draws between the mere external profession of Christianity, and its internal and vital possession. And yet, while we concede that in every true disciple of Jesus these two extremes meet, the possession and the profession of Christ at the same time we must remark that, existing apart and alone, Heaven and earth, midnight darkness and meridian light, life and death itself—are not more essentially distinct from each other than they. To break down this broad, unbending line of separation, and thus to reduce the life-possessing and life-imparting religion of Jesus, to a religion of mere sentiment, or of feeling, or of form—in other words, to the religion of death, is Satan’s grand and too successful scheme.

It would be, perhaps, difficult to say from which field he has reaped a more appalling harvest of souls: that of a nominal religious profession—or that of a profane and avowed ungodliness. We speak not lightly, but it is our solemn conviction, that more souls have gone down to the regions of despair reposing in their baptismal vows, and sacramental grace, and works of human righteousness—than those who made no profession of religion whatever, save the religion of the infidel, the atheist, or the world. It is to this large and solemn class the apostle applies the searching words selected as the basis of our present remarks, “These are wells without water.”

The passage suggests two distinct and important topics of consideration:

the character of the true believer—or what the real Christian possesses;

the character of the false Christian—or what the mere professor does not possess.

The figure of the text is not only one of frequent occurrence in the Word of God, but in its best interpretation it is highly expressive of the gracious character, and holy, dispensing influence of the true believer in the Lord Jesus. Reverse the awfully significant meaning in which it is used by the apostle, and you have the exact portrait of a truly Christian man. The well without water, supposes the existence of the well with water. And as the well without water is descriptive of the false Christian, so the well with water is descriptive of the true Christian and it is of him we are first to speak.

The real believer in Jesus is a gracious man. He is a living soul. He is the partaker of a new and a Divine nature, and is the depository of a heavenly and a precious treasure. In exhibiting him under the figure of the well with water, we are naturally led to trace the source of his supply. The well may contain, but it does not originate the supply. It holds the water, but it cannot create the water. It is dependent upon a foreign and a hidden source. From a depth which no line can fathom, and which no skill can explore—the precious fluid rushes forth, sparkling and bounding in the joyousness of its own independent and mysterious existence.

It is thus with Christianity and the genuine Christian. There is not a well of salvation in the gospel, nor a spring of life in the believer, which is not dependent for its supply upon a source extraneous from itself. The Lord Jesus Christ is that Source. He is the well-head of all salvation and of all grace!

The well with water is the well that has its source in him “of whose fullness all we have received, and grace upon grace.” God, the fountain of life, light, and grace—has ordained that the Lord Jesus Christ, his own beloved Son, should be the well-spring, the one source of supply from whence all the salvation of the sinner, all the sanctity of the saint, and all the grace and truth of the Church—collectively and individually, should be derived. It pleased the Father that in him should all fullness dwell.” What a glorious declaration is this! How should our hearts leap for joy, and our souls thrill with gladness at its very sound!

All the fullness of the Godhead bodily;

all the fullness of the Church graciously;

all the fullness of the sinner savingly;

all the fullness of the Christian sanctifyingly;

in a word, all that a poor, fallen, tried son of Adam needs, until he reaches Heaven itself, whence this fullness has come—is by God’s eternal love and wisdom, treasured up in the “Second Adam—the Lord from Heaven!” From him the well derives its water.

In the description which we have of the creation of the world, there is a distinction observed between the “waters which were under the firmament, and the waters which were above the firmament,” Genesis 1:7. In the new creation not less striking and observable is this difference. The water above, is the “pure river of the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God,” and gathered together in one mighty confluence in Jesus; and by him brought down to earth and deposited in all true believers, who thus become wells with water; and so, by the dispensing influence of their grace and holiness, “water the whole face of the ground.” Thus the “waters are divided from the waters” the water in the Fountain above, from the water in the well below. But this truth will be unfolded more fully in the consideration of:

The well itself. The Christian, figuratively speaking, is this well, deriving, as we have seen, his supply from that hidden Spring to whom he is closely united. There is, first, the interesting fact upon which a preceding chapter has fully expatiated, and therefore to which we need but simply now refer, the indwelling of Christ in the soul. Christ himself enunciates the truth: “I in them.”

Observe, these are not the words of the apostle, whose ardent mind and glowing imagination might be supposed to exaggerate a truth beyond its proper limits; but they are words of Jesus himself—of him who is the Truth, and who therefore cannot lie. “I in them.” Christ dwelling in the soul forms the spiritual life of that soul. The experience of this blessing stands connected with the lowest degree of grace, and with the feeblest faith; the lamb of the flock, the soul that has but touched the hem of the Savior’s garment, prostrate as a penitent at the feet of the true Aaron, in each and in all Christ alike dwells. He has a throne in that heart, a temple in that body, a dwelling in that soul—and thus, as by a kind of second incarnation, God is manifest in the flesh, in Christ’s manifestation in the believer. Truly is he a well with water, who has “Christ in him the hope of glory.”

In addition to this is, the indwelling of God’s grace in the soul. Grace is a thing foreign to the natural state of man. His possession of grace is not contemporaneous with his birth, nor can it be his by right of hereditary law. No parent, however holy, can transmit a particle of that holiness to his posterity. The privilege of the birthright, is set aside in the kingdom of grace, whose subjects are “born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”

But see how this mystery is cleared up in the conversation which Jesus held with the Samaritan woman, as he sat wearied upon the mouth of Jacob’s well: “Jesus answered and said unto her: If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that says to you, Give me a drink, you would have asked of him, and he would have given you living water.” This is the grace of which we speak, and this the source from whence it flows into the hearts of all the truly regenerate. It is in you, Christian reader, “a well of water,” a springing well, mounting upward and ascending to the source from whence it rises. God looks upon you, not as a dry well, but as a springing well—his own renewing, adopting, sanctifying grace, flowing into your heart, and thus ascending to Him from whom it proceeds, in holy desires, and spiritual aspirations, and divine actings, the living water seeking its level, and rising to its source.

Blessed words, “Springing up into everlasting life!” As the first blush of morning is a part of the day, so the least dawn of grace in the soul is a portion of Heaven. The well below is the spring of grace; the well above is the fountain of glory. “The one incipient, the other consummate; the one preparatory, the other satisfactory; the former a taste, the latter a fruition.”

Yet a third blessing of the renewed state is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Thus says the apostle: “Don’t you know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” He would seem to say, “If you do not know it, you ought to know it as one professing godliness.” O what a celestial well—though in himself a poor earthen vessel, a broken cistern, is that regenerate man who has the Holy Spirit reigning in him, living in him, never to abdicate his throne, never to forsake his sanctuary, never to vacate his dwelling; never, by all the corruptions that are there, by all the slightings, and piercings, and woundings which he receives, forced to retire from the temple he has constructed, beautified, and made his own!

In view of these statements, who will then, deny that all believers in Jesus are wells with water? What an exalted character, and what an enviable man—is the true Christian! All the resources of the Triune God unite to replenish this earthen vessel. No angel in Heaven contains a treasure half so costly and so precious as that poor believing sinner—who, getting near to the Savior’s feet, and bathing them with tears of penitence and love, can look up and exclaim, “Whom have I in Heaven but you? There is none upon earth that I desire beside you!”

But we must not overlook an interesting thought suggested by the figure of the text. I allude to the dispersing influence of the well. What is the proper design of a well? Certainly it is not constructed for itself. It is designed to disperse abroad its fullness, and to distribute the blessing it contains. Unless the water of a well finds an outlet, it becomes of necessity stagnant and inert; and instead of being a well giving out and spreading abroad its sparkling streams—it is a still, lifeless reservoir, yielding nothing, and consequently receiving nothing.

Striking emblem of the Christian! The knowledge and the grace that God has given you—though for yourself primarily, are not for yourself exclusively. God, in making you a well of living water, in other words, a possessor of Divine grace—designed to disperse abroad the streams; so that through the consistency of your walk, the holiness of your life, and the personal activity of your grace in the cause of God and of truth—it might find an outlet for the benefit of others.

What a well of spiritual knowledge is the true believer! To him it is given to know the mysteries of the kingdom, while from others they are hidden. Where may we look for an understanding of the revealed mind of God, but to him? Who knows the secret of the Lord, and to whom does he show his covenant, but to those who fear him? Having ‘an unction from the Holy One.’ He knows all things.

He knows something of that mystery, which no philosophy of man can teach him—the plague of his own heart.

He knows something, too, of the value of Christ—his person, his work, his glory, his fullness, his tenderness, his sympathy, his preciousness.

He knows something of the character and dealings of God, as a holy God, as a sin-forgiving God, as a just God—and yet who blots out sin and remembers it no more forever!

He knows, in some measure:

what the narrowness of the narrow path is;

what are the difficulties of walking with God;

what are the conflicts, the trials, the tribulations of the Christian life.

What a well of holiness is the true believer! The Spirit of holiness inhabiting him, despite the corrupt sediment of his fallen nature—he contains and dispenses abroad that stream of holy influence which carries with it a blessing wherever it flows. Where do we look for true holiness, but in the soul born again of the Spirit? A holy man is earth’s greatest blessing, is the world’s richest ornament and shield.

What a well of compassion is the real Christian! He it is who, taught the priceless value of his own eternal happiness, has affections of compassion for the souls of others involved in like ruin with himself. O that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears!” says Jeremiah. “Rivers of waters run down my eyes because they keep not your law!” exclaims David. These men were mourning wells, and God has distinguished such. “Set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and cry for all the abominations that are done,” Ezekiel 9:4.

The Lord Jesus, the great mourner, who wept, not for himself, but for others, has his bottle for the tears of these wells of pity and compassion; whose sympathies, and prayers, and exertions, flow forth for the conversion of sinners, for the salvation of souls.

Wells of charity, too, they are. Where shall we look for the Divine cement, the true bond which unites the heart of man to man—but in the one Church of God? Who is the true peace-maker, the diligent sower of peace, the zealous promoter of love, charity, and good-will among men—but he in whose heart the love of God finds a home?

Who has such sincere pity for the poor, whose hand is more ready to relieve their necessities—than he who himself is a conscious partaker of the benevolence of God? Such, reader, are some of the characteristics of true Christians—the wells with water—dispensing wells.

There is yet another essential feature of a gracious state suggested by the figure, which must not overlook.

These wells with water are perpetually receiving as well as dispensing. Indeed, they can only give to others, what is first given to them. We have intimated that believers are but wells. All their springs are in God. Listen to the acknowledgment: “As the hart pants after the water brooks, so pants my soul after you, O God! My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. O God, you are my God! Early will I seek you. My soul thirsts for you, my flesh longs for you in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.”

And then comes the Divine answer: “When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue fails for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys! I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water!” Isaiah 41:17, 18. And then follows the response of the soul thirsting after righteousness: “Lord, give me this water, that I thirst not!”

Thus does the gracious soul derive all its grace from Christ, “who of God is made unto him wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.” He stands by to replenish the well as its resources are exhausted. When the water is low—he raises it; as it gives out—he pours in; and the more liberally it imparts—the more bountifully it receives. “The liberal soul devises liberal things, and by liberal things shall he stand.” There is one who scatters, and yet increases.” Who has ever become poor for God? Who has given freely that has not in return received freely? Who has ever laid himself out for the Lord, consecrating his substance, his influence, his time, his talents—who has not experienced a welling up in his own soul of the hidden spring, more than replacing all that he has dispensed?

The grace that has been employed, the faith that has been exercised, the wealth that has been consecrated, the influence that has been exerted, the reproach that has been endured, the suffering that has been experienced, the health that has been expended, the loss that has been sustained for Christ—Christ has more than recompensed even in the present time-state.

“Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness” is the precept, “and all these things shall be added unto you” is the promise. He who commands the precept, will make good the promise.

Such, then, are some of the characteristics of true Christians.

The reverse of all this we now proceed to consider, in an analysis of the character of the false Christian, the graceless professor, the self-deceived. These are wells “without water.”

Let it be distinctly observed that they are spoken of as wells; that is, they are professors of religion. They have the “form of godliness.” They have all the external appearance of real grace and sanctity. Judging of them by their church, or by their minister, or by their creed, or by their party zeal, or even by their knowledge—we would at once rank them, and perhaps rank them high, with the true possessors of grace. So strong are some of the features of resemblance, that it needs the most skillful eye to detect the difference. Looking, not at the external construction of the well—the beautiful and costly materials of which it is composed, but looking within the well—we soon discover that it is a well without water. Again we remark, that, forming our judgment of them by their church membership, their correct orthodoxy, their showy Christianity—many would be deceived as to their real state, beguiled into the belief that they were truly converted.

But when judged of by God’s Word, alas, how awful the lack! Thus far may you go, professors of religion—and yet rest short of the reality. You may be baptized, you may partake of the Lord’s Supper, you may be enrolled upon the records of the Church, you may be thought a Christian, you may be respected as a Christian, you may be confided in as a Christian—and yet His searching glance “whose eyes are as a flame of fire,” discovers in you nothing but a well without water, a soul without grace, religious profession without religious principle!

Thus have we shown that a godless professor, a false Christian, is but a dry well. There is . . .

no inhabitation of the Spirit,

no indwelling of Christ,

no possession of Divine grace,

no tears of repentance have ever moistened the eyes!

There are no wellings up from the heart of holy aspirations after God, of loving desires after Jesus.

There are no indications of the plague of sin known, of the burden of sin known felt, or of the conflict with sin known experienced.

There is no echoing of the apostle’s language, “O what a wretched man I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

There are . . .

no breathings after holiness,

no longings after Divine conformity,

no desires to depart and be with Christ,

no anointing of the Holy Spirit.

With all the light that is in his judgment, and his observance of days, and months, and seasons—he is but a dry well—a well without water! He possesses not the spiritual life.

Contemplate this affecting character in yet another point of light—the influence which a mere religious professor exerts. A well without water, what a miserable privation! The weary traveler after much endurance of thirst and suffering, sees in the distance the inviting well. Rejoicing in the discovery, he quickens his pace, and lo! he finds it indeed a well, but a dry well—a well without water! His expectation is turned into disappointment, his joy into sorrow; and like the Savior who came hungry to the fig-tree and found upon it no fruit, and retiring, breathed upon it his withering curse—so departs the traveler from the well which has so cruelly mocked his raging thirst.

Thus is it with a mere professor, an empty, graceless professor of religion. We go to him, hoping for a little lift in our journey homeward. We go, seeking for some sweet consolation in our deep trial, for counsel in our perplexity, for sympathy with our sorrow, for the communion of saints. But alas! there is no response, no echo, no vibrating chord, nothing in union with what we feel. The well is dry, and not one drop can we extract from it!

Oh, is it not one of the bitterest reflections that can fasten upon your mind, that, perhaps, many a poor thirsty soul has repaired to you for instruction, for sympathy, for strength—and finding you a stranger to the mysteries of the Divine life, to the trials, the conflicts, and the joys of the Christian—has turned away in bitter disappointment, even as the soul, parched with thirst, turns from the well without water.

It is a solemn thing to be mistaken for a real believer, to be looked up to as a true Christian—and yet to prove destitute of the saving knowledge and grace of Christ, to awaken hope, and to raise expectation, and to create an interest, and to inspire confidence; and when the test is made, when the trial comes—to prove but a graceless soul—deceived and deceiving!

And yet what numbers there are of such! We speak of Jesus—but there is no echo. We introduce the subject, of all subjects the most interesting and momentous, the subject of religion—but there is no response. We go into the details of Christian experience, the warfare, the sorrows, the joys, the trials, the burdens, the progress, the hopes of the Christian—but we speak a language that they understand not. “These are wells without water.”

No ingenuity can elicit, no possible effort can extract, one drop of the living water! “We pipe unto them, but they do not dance; we mourn to them, but they do not weep.”

Turning now to the true Christian, in view of this affecting character we have been attempting to portray—let me remark upon the deep humility which ought to distinguish him as a real professor of the grace of Christ Jesus. What are you in yourself but the mere well? The grace you possess is a grace which God has first given to you. We have this precious treasure in earthen vessels. All that is really holy and gracious in us, springs not from our fallen nature—but, like every good and perfect gift, grace comes down from the Father of Lights to us. It is the spontaneous outflowing of the heart of God—the free, unmerited bestowment of his sovereign mercy.

Then what meekness of heart, what profound humility of mind, ought to mark you! What a prostration of every form of SELF—self-confidence, self-seeking, self-boasting, that prideful view of our attainments and doings, which mars the life of so many Christians. Does this befit those who have nothing but what they have received, and whom free and sovereign grace alone has distinguished from others!

How precious ought Jesus to be to us, who has condescended to pour this heavenly treasure into our hearts, and to undertake its constant supply! In what way can we best prove our sense of his goodness, but by drawing largely from the Fountain, and by glorifying him in what we receive? Truly “the well is deep” from whence we draw this living water! Our resources are inexhaustible, because they are infinite. Nor can we come too frequently, nor draw too largely. “Spring up, O well of grace and love, into our hearts! Let not our waters be shallow nor sluggish.

O for more depth of indwelling grace!

O for more fervor of holy love! O for richer supplies from the fullness of Christ!

O for a gracious revival in our souls!

‘Come down,’ blessed Jesus, as ‘rain upon the mown grass!’ Breathe, O south wind of the Spirit, upon the garden of our souls, that the spices may flow out!

Truly the well is deep, from whence we have this living water; but faith can reach it, and in proportion to the strength of our faith, and the directness and simplicity with which it deals with Christ—will be the plenitude of our supply. “Drink, yes, drink abundantly, O beloved,” is our Lord’s gracious invitation to his Church.

Nor let us fail to learn the secret of receiving much from Christ—even the free dispensing abroad of what we have already received. Be assured of this, that he will receive the most from God—who does the most for God. The diligent soul shall be made fat. He becomes poor, who deals with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent makes rich. “There is one who scatters, and yet increases.” This is God’s law, and he will never repeal it. This is his promise, and he will ever, and in all cases, make it good.

Go forth, believer in Christ, and let your beams of light irradiate; let your streams of grace be dispersed abroad. Live for God, suffer for Christ, witness for the truth, and labor for man. Be such a depositary of this living and life-giving treasure, that others, less favored than yourself, instructed, guided, and strengthened by your wisdom, experience, and grace—may proceed on their way, glorifying God for the grace given to you. O to have the Word of God dwelling in us so richly, and our hearts so intensely glowing with the love of Christ—as to be ever ready to open our lips for God—a well always full, and running over.

This, then, is the secret of augmenting our stores—even by scattering them. This is the secret of replenishing our resources—even by exhausting them. Who, we repeat the question, has ever become impoverished by giving and laboring for God?

Where is the Christian steward whose fidelity to his Master’s interests, has compromised the welfare of his own?

Where is the Christian man who, with cheerful munificence, has consecrated his intellectual wealth or his temporal wealth to advance the truth and kingdom of Jesus—whom Christ has not reimbursed a thousand-fold?

Where is the believer in Jesus who has endured reproach and suffering, patiently and silently, for conscience sake, for truth’s sake, for Christ’s sake—who has not infinitely gained in the rest which he has found in God?

Where is the active Christian, who, zealously laboring to dispense abroad the life-giving waters, has not felt in the solemn retirement and calm repose of his closet, when pouring out his sorrow into the bosom of his Savior, or in holding close and holy communion with his God—the springing up into his soul of a hidden well of peace, and joy, and love, which has more than restored the energies he has exhausted, and recompensed him for the sacrifice which he has made?

God meets his people in all their works of faith and labors of love. They are never alone. He meets them in the path of duty and of trial—both in doing and in suffering his will.

He meets them when hindered, with counsel.

He meets them when assailed, with protection.

He meets them when exhausted, with strength.

He meets them when faint, with cordials.

If we take up Christ’s cross upon our shoulder—then Christ will take both us and our cross up in his arms. If we bow down our neck to his yoke and bend low our back to his burden—then we shall find our rest in both. “You meet him that rejoices and works righteousness, those that remember you in your ways.”

“How may I know that I am a well with water?” This may be the anxious inquiry of many as they come to the conclusion of this subject. “O that I were quite sure that I was more than a mere professor!” But why ask the question? Why be in doubt? Never was so momentous a matter more easily and speedily settled. “He who believes in the Son of God has the witness in himself.” Thus, from yourself you need not travel in order to ascertain your true spiritual condition.

No one can be a substitute in this great matter for yourself. It is a thing which has too close and personal a relation to you as an individual, to admit of a transfer of its obligations to another. You must feel for yourself, you must experience for yourself, you must have the witness for yourself, and you must decide for yourself alone. I repeat the solemn words, “He who believes in the Son of God, has the witness in himself.” “Let every man prove his own work, and then shall he rejoice in himself alone, and not in another,” Galatians 6:4. Thus may you come to a right and safe decision in a question involving interests as solemn and as deathless as eternity!

Seek this inward witness. Witnessing to what?

That your heart has been convinced of sin,

that you have renounced your own righteousness,

that you have fled to the Lord Jesus Christ, and

that your soul is breathing after personal holiness!

Do not, I beseech you, rest short of this.

All your reasonings, and objections, and cavilings, and hair-splittings, and subtleties, and sophistries—are but sparks of your own kindling, in the midst of which you will lie down and die, and die the horrors of the second death, if you are not wide awake to your real condition before God. Give them all up, I implore you.

Be not concerned about others; let your first and chief concern be about yourself. You have no time, just now, to analyze the motives, or sift the principles, or search into the character, or mark the foibles, and detect the inconsistencies of Christian professors. Every moment to you is more priceless and precious than all the gems of India! Once you shoot across the dark gulf and land in eternity without the spiritual life—you may then trifle with your existence, and sport with your soul, and laugh at death and Hell, and recriminate and reproach others, and brave your doubts, and invent your objections, and frame your excuses, and speculate, and refine, and analyze theology, and play the fool, as you like—for “there remains no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for (an eternal anticipation) of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries!”

But you cannot afford to act so now.

Your precious soul is in danger,

your future happiness is in peril,

you are in the hands of an angry God,

you are, in fact, fast coming to the close of your probation.

O come, then, to Christ! I bid you, invite you, implore you—to come to Christ! He will answer all your questions, resolve all your doubts, remove all your difficulties, meet all your objections, and quiet all your fears. Only come to Christ.

To this one alternative, to this last resort, I would shut you up. From this I cannot release you. You must come to Christ—or you are eternally lost. He is all, and he has all, and he will freely give you all that you need. One drop of his blood falling upon your conscience, one beam of his love darting in upon your soul, one stream of his grace flowing into your heart—will make all right within; and the morning, when the sun rises in splendor, will not look more radiant, and the lark when it mounts heavenward bathed in its beams, will not sing more sweetly—than you when Jesus thus enters your soul, filling it with sunshine and music! Accept the invitation “He who comes unto me I will never cast out!” and you are saved.

“Just as I am, without one plea,

But that your blood was shed for me,

And that you bidd’st me come to Thee

O Lamb of God, I come!

“Just as I am, and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot,

To you, whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come!

“Just as I am, though tossed about

With many a conflict, many a doubt,

With fears within, and wars without,

O Lamb of God I come!”

We may anticipate another anxious inquiry, “What course am I to adopt when the water is low, when the well is dry, when no effort avails to bring the living fluid to the surface? In other words, when I find a spiritual drought and deadness in my soul, and cannot feel, nor weep, nor sigh, nor desire? When to read and meditate, to hear and pray, seems an irksome task? When I cannot see the Savior’s beauty, nor feel him precious, nor labor as zealously, nor suffer as patiently for him, as I would?” The answer is at hand, Look again to Jesus! This is the only remedy that can meet your case.

Search the Bible through, inquire of all the ministers who have ever lived, and still the answer would be, Look again to Jesus. Go directly to Christ—he is the Fountain-head, he is the living Well. True, the well is deep, for its fullness is infinite; and faith, be it of the smallest capacity, can with joy draw sufficient to quench your thirst, and make your soul as a garden which the streams have refreshed, and made to “rejoice and blossom as the rose.” The Infinite and Eternal Well is near to you! Like Hagar you are within its reach.

May the Holy Spirit open your eyes to see that while all emptiness exists in you—all fullness dwells in Jesus! However low may be the living waters in the well of your heart—there is a fathomless depth in the heart of Christ . . .

of love unchangeable,

of grace all-sufficient,

of truth immutable,

of salvation from all sin, and trial, and sorrow; commensurate with your need, and as vast as his own infinity!

Never can your grace be too low,

nor your frame too depressed,

nor your path too perplexing,

nor your sorrow too keen,

nor your sin too great,

nor your condition too extreme—

for Christ, because he is both Divine and human; thus uniting the nature that can relieve, with the nature that can sympathize. “Son of God! Son of man! how wondrous and glorious are You!”

Weeping in lonely sorrow, and pining in sickening poverty—you may, like the banished wife of Abraham, be looking wistfully around you for support and relief. Look! That relief and support are near! rise, that relief is at hand! Christ is with you, Christ is near you, Christ is in you a Fountain of living water. Cease your sadness, dry your tears, arise! and “with joy draw water out of this Well of salvation.”

Be very honest and diligent in ascertaining the cause of your soul’s dryness. The correct knowledge of this is necessary to its removal; and its removal is essential to the effectual recovery of the spiritual life from its sad relapse.

Is it indulged sin?

Is it the neglect of private prayer?

Is it the forsaking of the means of grace?

Is it worldliness, carnality, or unwatchfulness?

Any one of these would so grieve the Spirit of God within you, as to dry up the spirituality of your soul. Be not beguiled with the belief that the real recovery has taken place, simply because that, conscious of your state, in common-place, meaningless regrets, you acknowledge and deplore.

“The sluggard desires, and has nothing.” Observe, he has his desires, but nothing more, because with them he is satisfied. There is no effectual rousing from his sleep. There are no earnest attempts are made to shake off the spirit of slumber. There is no resolute putting away of the narcotic which produced and which protracts it. There is . . .

no drawing near to God,

no looking to Christ,

no seeking of the Spirit,

no thorough mortification of sin,

no coming out of the world,

no pressing forward.

It is the mere desire of the sluggard, and nothing more! Let not this be your state!

Receive with gladness any awakening to a consciousness of your spiritual relapse, and cherish with prayer any real desire for a better state; but do not rest here. Seek earnestly, importunately, believingly—until you possess more abundantly life from Christ. Seek a gracious revival of the spiritual life—the life of God in your soul. Seek . . .

a clearer manifestation of Christ,

a renewed filling of the Spirit,

a more undoubted evidence of your conversion,

a surer, brighter hope of Heaven.

Thus seeking—you will find it; and finding it—your “peace will flow like a river, and your righteousness as the waves of the sea.”

O the joy of a revived state of the spiritual life of God! It is the joy of the sunlight, after a cloudy and dark day. Jesus, walking in the midst of the grace which his own Spirit has thus revived, gently addresses the soul: “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away! See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.”

Give all diligence in the use of the means of grace, if you desire a flourishing state of soul. They are the Divinely appointed channels of conveyance from the Fountain. They are the tributary streams from the Great Ocean. You cannot possibly maintain a healthy, vigorous state of the spiritual life, without them. You cannot neglect, with impunity, private prayer, meditation, and self-examination; or public ordinances, the ministry of the Word, the services of the sanctuary, the assemblies of the saints. Slighting these must entail a severe loss to your soul.

Some mere professors can go from Sabbath to Sabbath, plunged in worldliness, or eager in the pursuit of gain—in total neglect of the social prayer meeting, or of the weekly lecture—those needed rests and hallowed pauses along the way—as if there were no such appointments. These are among the things which weaken the hands, and discourage the heart, and hinder the usefulness of the faithful pastor.

But a more painful calamity even than this, is the dryness, deadness, and barrenness which this neglect brings into their own souls. It would seem as if this were the punishment of their sin. They turn their backs upon God—and God turns his back upon them! They neglect to make the well, and he withholds the rain that fills it. But, Christian professor, this must not be! The wells must be dug, the water must be searched for. We are told that “Isaac’s servants dug in the valley, and found a well of springing water” or, as the margin renders it, “a well of living water.” And he is pronounced a blessed man “who, passing through the valley of Baca, makes it a well; the rain also fills the pools.”

It is in this way of diligent, prayerful waiting upon the means, that “he goes from strength to strength, until he appears before God.” O, dig for this precious water! Search, O search, for this living grace! Make the well, and trust the faithfulness and loving-kindness of God to fill it with “the early and the latter rain.” No man shall wait upon the Lord in vain. “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” Those who plough deeply the fallow ground, and in its furrows sow the precious seed—shall not lack the Holy Spirit’s descending influence, in silent dew by night, and in copious showers by day—to quicken and to fructify it. Only honor the God of grace in all the means of grace, and God will honor you by imparting to you all grace through the means.

“The diligent soul shall be made fat.” Return, O return to the forsaken Christ, to the neglected sanctuary, to the despised means—and you shall then no longer have reason to exclaim, “My leanness! my leanness!”

What a truly appalling character, it has been the endeavor of these pages to portray—an empty, graceless professor of Christ! Reader, is this your state? Examine yourself, prove your own self, and ascertain truly if you have “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Satisfy not yourself with external ceremonies, with the observance of days, of matins, and vespers, and frequent communions, with almsgiving and charities.

Are you a well with water? This, this is the great and momentous question which, in the near prospect of death, and of the judgment that follows death—it behooves you to decide. Is Christ dwelling in your heart by his Spirit? Is your religion more than a mere outward profession? O, it is an awful thing to go into eternity with your Bible, and your Psalm-book, or your Prayer-book in your hand—but without Christ living in your soul; with the elements of the Savior’s love melting upon your lips, but without the experience of the Savior’s love glowing in your heart; to go reposing in false dependence upon Church privileges, and to have come short of the only true foundation upon which the sinner can build his hope of Heaven—the shifting sand substituted for the Eternal Rock.

How exactly has the Lord Jesus met such a case! In one of his striking parables, he has furnished us with a description of certain persons who in the day of judgment will be found to have put in the plea of Church union, and Church ordinances, and Church privileges—as justifying their claim to admission into Heaven; but who will be rejected on that very ground, to their shame and everlasting contempt! Listen to his description: “Once the owner of the house gets up and closes the door, you will stand outside knocking and pleading, ‘Sir, open the door for us.’ “But he will answer, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ “Then you will say, ‘We ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets.’ “But he will reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!'” Luke 13:25-27.

And who, my reader, are these? Be not deceived! They are not the profane, and the profligate, and the neglecter of means, and the despiser of ordinances. Far otherwise! They are professors of religion, nominal Christians, “almost Christians,” individuals who had been baptized, who frequented the house of God, who were regular in their attendance upon ordinances, and who believed that, by their zealous labors, and their amiable qualities, and their charities and good will to men—they would at last be saved.

But, alas! they are deceived. With all this outward profession, they were unregenerated by the Spirit, were uncircumcised in heart, were unjustified by Christ, and had never given themselves up “a habitation of God through the Spirit.”

Baptism could not regenerate them,

the Lord’s Supper could not sanctify them,

their own works could not justify them;

and when with confidence they went up to the very gate of Heaven, and knocked for admission, lo! they were met with the stern rebuke, “I don’t know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!”

O beware, we beseech you, of those ministers and teachers who tell you that you were regenerated in baptism, and that the Lord’s Supper is the instrument of maintaining you in that state of salvation into which, as they teach, baptism introduced you! Give not place to such false instructors, such blind guides, such perverters of the truth, such soul-destroyers—no, not for one moment. Let not their eloquence entice you, let not their reasoning ensnare you, let not their show of sanctity beguile you. You have interests at stake too dear and precious to peril on such terms as these!