May 22 PM

I die daily. 1 Cor. 15:31.

St. Paul in a peculiar sense could say so. He was daily in danger of suffering martyrdom for Christ. He puts the most solemn oath to it. “I protest, by our (not your) rejoicing, which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily.” It is like swearing by the Holy Ghost, the author of this joy. Happy Paul! the joy of the Lord was in his heart; the prospect of enjoying the Lord, in his eye; the world under his feet; and he, daily expecting his Lord’s messenger to call him home. This was living indeed in the very suburbs of glory. And pray what should hinder you and I from living as he did? St. Paul was the subject of the same corrupt nature, in which dwelt no good thing, as we are. We have the same Lord to look to and rejoice in, the same faith and hope to animate us, the same Holy Ghost to strengthen and comfort us, and the same place prepared by Christ for us, as he had. Why should not we also die daily? Why should not we live a dying life? All do in reality. But why should not we in sweet practice and happy experience? Plainly, we do not believe enough, what our Lord hath done for us, is to us, and has promised to bestow on us: therefore, do not look and pray enough to our Lord. My dear fellow Christians, I will be bold to enter this protest, from the experience of my own soul, that we cannot live comfortably, unless we die daily: as considering ourselves daily subject to the stroke of death. This hour, this moment, may put a period to my existence. Why then, all my busy cares, anxious thoughts, corroding fears, and ardent desires, after the objects of time and sense? Death will soon make me quit my hold of them. But I will be beforehand with him. I will die in heart, hope, and affection to them. Take, ye sons of earth, the riches, honours, and pleasures, of a perishing world. Grasp them in your hand: clasp them to your heart, if you can: but lo, instead of substance, you will find shadow. All are but airy bubbles, that will elude your hope. I have tried them all. I die to them all. For I have found that above which kills my desires, hopes, and affections of all below. I find a once crucified, now risen and ascended Saviour, has got possession of my heart. He dwells there by faith. Christ is in me the hope of glory. The glorious rays of my Sun of righteousness extinguish all the faint light of earthly glow-worms. My Lord lives in me: that is a death to all without me. Death I daily familiarize: I entertain him as my friend, converse freely and daily with him, lodge him in my breast; he has my daily thoughts. Why? because my Lord introduces him to my heart, not with a sting to wound and kill me; but with the voice of a messenger of peace, to call me from pains and trials, to peace and rest in the full enjoyment of Jesus above, who is my chief glory and my life below. Col. 3:4.

“He that form’d me from the womb,

He shall guide me to the tomb:

All my time shall ever be

Ordered by his wise decree.”