"I SLEEP, BUT MY HEART WAKETH" - Robert Murray Mcchene

“I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night,” &c. Song of Solomon v. 2-16.

The passage I have read forms one of the dramatical songs of which this wonderful book is composed. The subject of it is a conversation between a forsaken and desolate wife and the daughters of Jerusalem. First of all, she relates to them how, through slothfulness, she had turned away her lord from the door. He had been absent on a journey from home, and did not return till night. Instead of anxiously sitting up for her husband, she had barred the door, and slothfully retired to rest: “I slept, but my heart was waking.” In this half-sleeping, half-waking frame, she heard the voice of her beloved husband: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” But sloth prevailed with her, and she would not open, but answered him with foolish excuses: “I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?”

2. She next tells them her grief and anxiety to find her lord. He tried the bolt of the door, but it was fastened. This wakened her thoroughly. She ran to the door and opened, but her beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. She listened – she sought about the door – she called – but he gave no answer. She followed him through the streets; but the watchmen found her, and smote her, and took away her veil; and now with the morning light she appears to the daughters of Jerusalem, and anxiously beseeches them to help her: “I charge you, if ye find him whom my soul loveth, that ye tell him that I am sick of love.”

3. The daughters of Jerusalem, astonished at her extreme anxiety, ask: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” This gives opportunity to the desolate bride to enlarge on the perfection of her lord, which she does in a strain of the richest descriptiveness – the heart filling fuller and fuller as she proceeds, till she says: “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem! “they seem to be entranced by the description, and are now as anxious as herself to join in the search after this altogether lovely one. “Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside, that we may seek him with thee?”

Such is the simple narrative before us. But you will see at once that there is a deeper meaning beneath – that the narrative is only a beautiful transparent veil, through which every intelligent child of God may trace some of the most common experiences in the life of the believer. (1) The desolate bride is the believing soul. (2) The daughters of Jerusalem are fellow-believers. (3) The watchmen are ministers. (4) And the altogether lovely one is our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

I. Believers often miss opportunities of communion with Christ through slothfulness.

1. Observe, Christ is seeking believers. It is true that Christ is seeking unconverted souls. He stretches out his hands all the clay to a gainsaying and disobedient people – he is the Shepherd that seeks the lost sheep; but it is as true that he is seeking his own people also – that he may make his abode with them – that their joy may be full. Christ is not done with a soul when he has brought it to the forgiveness of sins. It is only then that he begins his regular visits to the soul. In the daily reading of the Word, Christ pays daily visits to sanctify the believing soul. In daily prayer, Christ reveals himself to his own in another way than he doth to the world. In the house of God Christ comes to his own, and says: “Peace be unto you!” And in the sacrament he makes himself known to them in the breaking of bread, and they cry out: “It is the Lord!” These are all trysting times, when the Saviour comes to visit his own.

2. Observe, Christ also knocks at the door of believers. Even believers have got doors upon their hearts. You would think, perhaps, that when once Christ had found an entrance into a poor sinner’s heart, he never would find difficulty in getting in any more. You would think that as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza, bar and all, so Christ would carry away all the gates and bars from believing hearts; but no, there is still a door on the heart, and Christ stands and knocks. He would fain be in. It is not his pleasure that we should sit lonely and desolate. He would fain come into us, and sup with us, and we with him.

3. Observe, Christ speaks. “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled.” O what a meeting of tender words is here! – all applied to a poor sinner who has believed in Christ. (1) “My sister;” for you remember how Jesus stretched his hand toward his disciples, and said: “Behold my mother and my brethren; for whosoever shall do the will of my Father, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother.” (2) “My love;” for you know how he loved sinners – left heaven out of love – lived, died, rose again, out of love, for poor sinners; and when one believes on him he calls him “My love.” (3) “My dove;” for you know that when a sinner believes in Jesus, the holy dove – like Spirit is given him; so Jesus calls that soul “My dove.” (4) “My undefiled ” – strangest name of all to give to a poor defiled sinner. But you remember how Jesus was holy, harmless, and undefiled. He was that in our stead – when a poor sinner believes in him, he is looked on as undefiled. Christ says: “My undefiled.” Such are the winning words with which Christ desires to gain an entrance into the believer’s heart. Oh, how strange that any heart could stand out against all this love!

4. Observe, Christ waits: “My head is filled with dew, and locks with the drops of the night.” Christ’s patience with unconverted souls is very wonderful. Day after day he pleads with them. – “Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?” Never did beggar stand longer at a rich man’s gate, than Jesus, the almighty Saviour, stands at the gate of sinful worms. But his patience with his own is still more wonderful. They know his preciousness, and yet will not let him in. Their sin is all the greater, and yet he waits to be gracious.

5. Believers are often slothful at these trysting times, and put the Saviour away with vain excuses. (1) The hour of daily devotion is a trysting hour with Christ, in which he seeks, and knocks, and speaks, and waits; and yet, dear believers, how often are you slothful, and make vain excuses! You have something else to attend to, or you are set upon some worldly comfort, and you do not let the Saviour in. (2) The Lord’s table is the most famous trysting – place with Christ. It is then that believers hear him knocking – saying: “Open to me.” How often is this opportunity lost through slothfulness – through want of stirring up the gift that is in us – through want of attention – through thoughts about worldly things – through unwillingness to take trouble about it!

“I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?
I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?”

Doubtless, there are some children of God here, who did not find Christ last Sabbath-day at his table – who went away unrefreshed and uncomforted. See here the cause – it was your own slothfulness. Christ was knocking; but you would not let him in. Do not go about to blame God for it. Search your own heart, and you will find the true cause. Perhaps you came without deliberation – without self-examination and prayer – without duly stirring up faith. Perhaps you were thinking about your worldly gains and losses, and you missed the Saviour. Remember, then, the fault is yours, not Christ’s. He was knocking – you would not let him in.

II. Believers in darkness cannot rest without Christ.

In the parable we find that, when the bride found her husband was gone, she did not return to her rest. Oh, no! her soul failed for his word. She listens – she seeks – she calls. She receives no answer. She ask the watchmen, but they wound her, and take away, her veil; still she is not broken off from seeking. She sets the daughters of Jerusalem to seek along with her.

So is it with the believer. When the slothful believer is really awakened to feel that Christ has withdrawn himself, and is gone, he is slothful no longer. Believers remain at ease only so long as they flatter themselves that all is well; but if they are made sensible, by a fall into sin, or by a fresh discovery of the wickedness of their heart, that Christ is away from them, they cannot rest. The world can rest quite well, even while they know that they are not in Christ. Satan lulls them into fatal repose. Not so the believer – he cannot rest. 1. He does all he can do himself. He listens – he seeks – he calls. The Bible is searched with fresh  nxiety. The soul seeks and calls by prayer; yet often all in vain. He gets no answer – no sense of Christ’s presence. 2. He comes to ministers – God’s watchmen on the walls of Zion. They deal plainly and faithfully with the backslidden soul – take away the veil and show him his sin. The soul is thus smitten and wounded, and without a covering; and yet it does not give over its search for Christ. A mere natural heart would fall away under this – not so the believer in darkness. 3. He applies to Christian friends and companions – bids them help him, and pray for him: “I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find him whom my soul loveth, tell him that I am sick of love.

Is there any of you, then, a believer in darkness, thus anxiously seeking Christ? You thought that you had really been a believer in Jesus; but you have fallen into sin and darkness, and all your evidences are overclouded. You are now anxiously seeking Christ. Your soul fails for his Word. You seek, you call, even though you get no answer. You do search the Bible, even though it is without comfort to you. You do pray, though you have no comfort in prayer – no confidence that you are heard. You ask counsel of his ministers; and when they deal plainly with you, you are not offended. They wound you, and take away the veil from you. They tell you not to rely on any past experiences – that they may have been delusive – they only increase your anxiety; still you follow hard after Christ. You seek the daughter of Jerusalem – them that are the people of Christ – and you tell them to pray for you.

Is this your case? As face answers to face, so do you see your own image here? Do you feel that you cannot rest out of Christ?  then do not be too much cast down. This is no mark that you are not a believer, but the very reverse. Say:

“Why art thou cast down, O my soul?
Why art thou disquieted in me?
Still trust in God; for I shall yet praise him,
Who is the health of my countenance, and my God.”

Is there any of you awakened, since last Sabbath-day, by some fall into sin, to feel that Christ is away from you? Doubtless, there must be some who, within this little week, have found out that, though they ate bread with Christ, they have lifted up the heel against him. And are you sitting down contented – without anxiety? Have you fallen, and do you not get up and run, that, if possible, you may find Christ again? Ah, then ! I stand in doubt of you; or rather, there is no need of doubt – you have never known the Saviour – you are none of his.

III. Believers in darkness are sick of love, and fun of the commendation of Christ – than ever.

In the parable, the bride told the daughters of Jerusalem that she was sick of love. This was the message she bade them carry; and when they asked her about her beloved, she gave them a rich and glowing description of his perfect beauty, ending by saying: “He is altogether lovely.”

So it is with the believer in time of darkness: “He is sick of love When Christ is present to the soul, there is no feeling of sickness. Christ is the health of the countenance. When I have him full in my faith as a complete surety, a calm tranquility is spread over the whole inner man – the pulse of the soul has a calm and easy flow – the heart rests in a present Saviour with a healthy, placid affection. The soul is contented – with him – at rest in him: “Return unto thy rest, O my soul.” There is no feeling of sickness. It is health to the bones; it is the very health of the soul to look upon him, and to love him. But when the object of affection is away, the heart turns sick. When the heart searches here and there, and cannot find the beloved object, it turns faint with longing: “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” When the ring-dove has lost its mate, it sits lone and cheerless, and will not be comforted. When the bird that hath been robbed of its young, comes back again and again, and hovers with reluctant wing over the spot where her nest was built, she fills the grove with her plaintive melodies – she is “sick of love.” These are the yearnings of nature. Such also are the yearnings of grace. When Jesus is away from the believing soul it will not be comforted. When the soul reads and prays, and seeks, yet Jesus is not found, the heart yearns and sickens – he is “sick of love.” Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.”

Did you ever feel this sickness? Did you ever feel that Christ was precious, but not present – that you could not lay hold on Christ as you used to do, and yet your soul yearned after him, and would not be comforted without him? If you have – 1. Remember it is a happy sickness – it is a sickness not of nature at all, but of grace. All the struggles of nature would never make you “sick of love.” Never may you be cured of it, except it be in the revealing of Jesus!

2. Remember it is not best to be “sick of love” – it is better to be in health – to have Christ revealed to the soul, and to love him with a free, healthy love. In heaven, the inhabitants never say they are sick. Do not rest in this sickness; press near to Jesus to be healed.

3. Most, I fear, never felt this sickness – know nothing of what it means. Oh! dear souls, remember this one thing: If you never felt the sickness of grace, it is too likely you never felt the life of grace. If you were told of a man, that he never felt any pain or uneasiness of any kind all his days, you would conclude that he must have been dead – that he never had any life; so you, if you know nothing of the sick yearnings of the believer’s heart, it is too plain that you are dead – that you never had any fife.

Last of all, the believer in darkness commends the Saviour. There is no more distinguishing mark of a true believer than this. To the unawakened there is no form nor comeliness in Christ – no beauty that they should desire him. Even awakened souls have no true sense of Christ’s perfect comeliness. If they saw how Christ answers their need, they could not be anxious. But to believers in darkness there is all comeliness in Christ – he is fairer than ever he was before. And when the sneering world, or cold-hearted brethren, ask: “What is thy beloved more than another beloved?” he delights to enumerate his perfections, his person, his offices, his everything: he delights to tell that “he is the chiefest among ten thousand his mouth is most sweet” – yea, “he is altogether lovely.”

A word to believers in darkness. There may be some who are walking in darkness, not having any light. Be persuaded to do as the bride did – not only to seek your beloved, but to commend him, by going over his perfections.

1. Because this is the best of all ways to find him. One of the chief reasons of your darkness is your want of considering Christ. Satan urges you to think of a hundred things before he will let you think about Christ. If the eye of your faith be fully turned upon a full Christ, your darkness will be gone in the instant. “Look unto me, and be ye saved.” Now, nothing so much engages your eye to look at Christ as going over his perfections to others.

2. Because you will lead others to seek him with you. Oh! dear brethren, the great reason of our having so many dark Christians now a-days is, that we have so many selfish Christians. Men live for themselves. If you would live for others, then your darkness would soon flee away. Commend Christ to others, and they will go with you. Parents, commend him to your children; children, commend him to your parents, and who knows but God may bless the word, even of a believer walking in darkness, that they shall cry out:

Whither is thy beloved gone,
O thou fairest among women?

Whither is thy beloved turned aside,
that we may seek him with thee?

St. Peter’s, 1837.