R.C. Chapman’s S.O.S. 1:14

By R.C. Chapman

“My Beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi.” Song of Solomon 1:14

In this wilderness, O my Lord! Thou hast planted Thy vineyard—the Church, for Thy name, and Thou hast fenced it and enclosed it; Thy glory is round about us. We have walls of salvation which all our enemies cannot overthrow.  O glorious security! Shining forth in the midst of the adversary’s fury and mischief and cunning!

What thanks worthy of the benefit canst thou render, O my soul! Because of thy safety, in the midst of manifold dangers, within the fence of thy Lord’s grace and power. Those above—dismissed from battle—do they boast any other keeper than Jesus, who is thy boast? If left by Him, they would unassaulted fall, and sink into destruction: now they stand in the Son of God, the Shepherd of Israel; and thou, my soul, dost stand in Him, and by Him prevail over thine enemies!

He not only maketh thee safe, but showeth thee aslo thy safety. Thank Him for faith—thank Him again for assurance of heart before Him! He has separated thee unto Himself, and would have thee dwell alone while in the midst of His enemies.  Seek, then, no rest nor abiding city here, but retreat the bosom of Jesus; there lodge and rest.  Lord! I know it is Thy will and joy that so I should do; and since Thou hast given my Thy Spirit, and taught me to walk I the Spirit, my soul counts all things but Thyself as the small dust of the balance.

Man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain: I marvel at the grave folly of the wise, and the childish strife of the great ones of the earth. My heart pities them, prays for them; for I know they are but as hewers of wood and drawers of water to the congregation of the Lord.  They sink into brutes, while they would be as gods.  O Lord, I leave them their portion in this world, and find rest and peace in Thee! O teach me to sit at Thy feet, and keep me there! Let me dread the proud look, and every high thought; ever let Thy mind be in me.

Thou didst humble Thyself out of love; and in Thy grace, being rich in Thy Godhead, Thou becamest poor. And shall not I sink with Thee? Lord, open to me Thine humiliation and poverty; Thy low estate, when Thou was a “worm and no man” –Psalm 22:6, and let me be fashioned after Thine image, as I behold Thy stoop of love; so shall my heart be contrite, my spirit meek and lowly, and Thou shalt be unto me daily a cluster of camphire, that revives the spirit of the humble and the heart of the contrite!

R.C. Chapman’s S.O.S. 1:13

“A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me: He shall lie all night betwixt my breast.” —Song of Solomon 1:13

My Soul! Is the night season wearisome! Art thou like a sick man, full of tossings to and fro, because of sin that dwelleth in thee, and because of longing to behold thy Lord face to face?

Thou art not of the night nor of darkness, but of the children of light and of the day; and made meet to be partaker of their inheritance. Be content awhile, my soul—let thy longing be tempered with patience—remember that wert thou this moment with Jesus thou wouldest still be longing for His glorious appearing and the gathering of the Church, His brethren and thine unto Him! The darkness of guilt would indeed be utterly removed from thee didst thou quit thou house of clay; but the mystery of God would not be finished—thou wouldest still be looking for the manifestation of the sons of God, their appearing with the Lord in glory.

He knoweth the thoughts of His heart towards thee, and means thee nothing but kindness—the kindness of eternal love and wisdom infinite! Trust Him, then—fight the good fight of faith, and count not thy life dear to thee, if only Thou mayest finish thy course with joy—be jealous of thy Lord’s good name—grieve not His Spirit—keep thy heart and conscience clean and pure by the blood of sprinkling, and as thou dost daily listen to the voice of thy beloved Lord, and do His will, He will surely make thy heart glad with His words.

He will abide in thee and cause thee to abide in His love; if He prove thee with manifold temptations for a season, as thou needest, He will cause thee to rejoice and glory in infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon thee. Nor shall thy joy be carnal, of thy boasting presumptuous! For thy shout of triumph shall proceed from a humble, contrite spirit, and the steadfastness of faith.  Thou shalt worship within the vail with Jesus, thy Forerunner and Royal High Priest; and, holding the balances of faith, shalt call afflictions light, because thou dost weigh them against things eternal and unseen: so shall thou cheer thy heart and beguile the night watches, thy Lord giving thee songs in the darkness.

And these things thou knowest, not by hearing of the ear alone; thou hast tasted and handled them; but count not thyself to have already attained anything, nor esteem thyself already perfect—it shall be thy wisdom and perfection, if forgetting the things that are behind, thou reach after things before thee, and press toward the mark for the prize; that thou mayest know thy Lord Jesus, whose love passeth knowledge and whose riches are unsearchable.

 

 

 

R.C. Chapman’s S.O.S. 1:12

By R.C. Chapman

“While the King sitteth at His table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.” —Song of Solomon 1:12

Happy Spirits! Ye who banquet above with Jesus, we give you joy!  Your joy is ours, and our sweet company when ye quit our company, departing to be with Christ; we also see our Lord’s chariot, sent to bear us home, as it were at our very door!  “Tis but an hour or two of waiting; if He come not to receive us to Himself He will compose our body of humiliation to sleep; and pleasant our bed in the grave, while our spirits mount aloft, to join the Lamb and ransomed above.

Thou, Lord, hast proved me by taking to thyself many a lover and friend; but Thou preparest for me a table in the wilderness, Thou anointest me head with oil, my cup runneth over.  In the presence of mine enemies, my Lord will have me sit down with Him at His table.  Many are they which rise up against me; they would cut me off from meeting with my Lord: in His presence, and at His table, I am more than conqueror.

While by the power of my Lord I keep me there, that evil one toucheth me not.  My foolishness and my guiltiness are as a quiver full of sharp arrows in the hand of mine enemy.  Pride, unbelief, ignorance, are his sword and spear: my faith cries out, “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth me from all sin” —1st John 1:7, and the victory is mine.  I deny not my debt, but flee to Thee—to Thee, my Lord and Surety! And behold the bond of the Law, the handwriting that was against me, nailed to the cross.  In Thee my great strength lies; and, as I hear Thy voice of invitation, of entreaty, Thy voice of power and love, the cords of mine enemies are as green withes—an host flees before me.

—before the presence of my Lord!  My apparel, I see, is meet for banqueting house and table—the robe of righteousness; the garments of salvation!  I am melted and self-abased as I enter and sit down.  Thou, Lord, dost gird Thyself and serve me! Thy flesh is meat indeed, Thy blood is drink indeed; and Thou fillest my soul with joy unspeakable and full of glory! Access to Thee, my Lord, emboldens me; for Thou hast all to give, and no heart to withhold aught that is good—and Thou art well pleased with my confidence.  Thou holdest forth the golden scepter, and sayest, What is Thy request? I answer, “Lord, that I may behold Thy beauty, sit at Thy feet, and banquet with Thee.”  So shall my lowly, contrite spirit be spikenard, fragrant and precious to my Lord.