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Morning and Evening

September 24, Evening

C. H. Spurgeon · Modern retelling

"I sleep, but my heart waketh." — Song of Songs 5:2 · KJV

Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one: the spouse was asleep, and yet she was awake. Only he can read the believer's riddle who has plowed with the heifer of his own experience. The two points in this evening's text are a mournful sleepiness and a hopeful wakefulness. "I sleep." Through the sin that dwells in us, we may grow lax in holy duties, slothful in religious exercises, dull in spiritual joys, and altogether listless and careless. This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening Spirit dwells, and dangerous in the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bonds of sloth. It is to be feared that many believers lose their strength as Samson lost his locks, sleeping on the lap of carnal security. With a perishing world around us, to sleep is cruel; with eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet none of us is as much awake as we should be; a few thunderclaps would do us all good, and it may be that, unless we soon rouse ourselves, we shall have them — in the form of war, or pestilence, or personal losses and bereavements. Oh, that we might leave for ever the couch of fleshly ease, and go out with flaming torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! "My heart waketh." This is a happy sign: life is not extinct, though sadly smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for keeping a little vitality within this body of death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the wakeful heart is truly the voice of our Beloved, saying, "Open to Me." Holy zeal will surely unbar the door. Oh, lovely sight — He stands with melting heart and laden hands; my soul forsakes her every sin and lets the heavenly stranger in.