Heavenly Promises

William Spurstowe, The Wells of Salvation Opened, p. 71, quoted by Peter Lewis, The Genius of Puritanism, p. 116:

I have sometimes thought that a believer's looking on a promise, is not unlike a man's beholding of the heavens in a still and serene evening, who, when he first casts up his eye, sees haply a star or two only to peep, and with difficulty to put forth a feeble and disappearing light. By and by, he looks up again, and both their number and lustre are increased. A while after, he views the heavens again, and then the whole firmament, from every quarter, with a numberless multitude of stars, is richly enamelled as with so many golden studs.

So, when a Christian first turns his thoughts toward the promises, the appearances of light and comfort which shine from them, do oft times seem to be as weak and imperfect rays, which neither scatter fears nor darkness. When again he sets himself to ripen and improve his thoughts upon them, then the evidence and comfort which they yield to the soul is both clear and distinct: but when the heart and the affections are fully fixed in the meditation of a promise, Oh... what legions of beauties do then appear from every part of it which both ravish and fill the soul of the believer with delight!

Upon A Lamp and A Star

William Spurstowe, The Spiritual Chymist: or, Six Decades of Divine Meditations on several Subjects, Meditation XVI, pp. 24-26:

Upon a Lamp and a Star

Such is the disparity between a Lamp and a Star, as that happily it may not a little be wondered at, as to why I should make a joint meditation of them which are so greatly distant in respect of place, and far more in respect of quality, the one being an earthly, and the other a heavenly body.

What is a Lamp to a Star in regard of influence, duration, or beauty? Hath it any quickening rays flowing from it? Or is its light immortal, so as not to become despised by expiring? Can it dazzle the beholder with its serene luster, and leave such impressions of itself upon the eye, as may render it for a time blind to any other objects?

Alas! These are too high and noble effects for such a feeble and uncertain light to produce, and proper only to those glorious bodies that shine in the firmament.

But yet this great inequality between the one and the other serves to make them both more meet emblems of the differing estate of believers in this and the other life, who in Scripture, while they are on this side heaven, are compared to wife virgins with Lamps burning, and when they come to heaven, to Stars shining, which endure forever and ever.

Grace in the best of saints is not perfect, but must, like a lamp, be fed with new supplies that it go not out, and be often trimmed that it be not dim. Ordinances are as necessary to Christians in this life as manna to the Israelites in the wilderness though in Canaan it ceased.

And therefore, God hath appointed His Word and Sacraments to drop continually upon the hearts of His children, as the two olive trees upon the golden candlestick.

What mean then those fond conceits of perfectionists, who dream of living above all subsidiary helps, and judge ordinances as useless to them, as oil for a Star, or a snuffing of the Sun to make it shine more bright?

It is true, when we come to heaven such things will be of no more use to our souls,than meat or drink will be to our bodies; but yet while we are on the earth,the body cannot live without the one, nor the soul without the other.

Do thou therefore, holy God, preserve in me a due sense of my impotency and wants, whose light is fading, as well as borrowed, that so I may daily suck supplies from Thee, and acknowledge that I live not only by grace received, but by grace renewed, and while I am in this life, have light only as a Lamp in the Temple, which must be fed and trimmed, and not as a Star in heaven.

When I Consider Thy Heavens

George Eliot, Daniel Deronda, Chap. 3:

The best introduction to astronomy is to think of the nightly heavens as a little lot of stars belonging to one's own homestead.

Like David who considered the heavens, "the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained," (Ps. 8.3), Puritans engaged often in occasional meditation, taking inspiration from the book of nature, that is, the creation around them, to raise their thoughts towards heavenly matters. Who can look at the clear night sky, beholding the countless stars above, and not be humbled by one's insignifance before the mighty expanse of the universe and God's omnipotent power in the creation and superintendence of it

Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?
Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?
Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth? (Job 38.31-33)

and at the same time blessed to consider how our Creator made us for himself and cares for us more than the sparrows that fly overhead (Matt. 10.31) leading our hearts to cry out "What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" (Ps. 8.4)

Joseph Hall, Occasional Meditations, pp. 46, 108-109:

39. On the small Stars in the Galaxy, or Milky Circle, in the Firmament.

What a clear lightsomeness there is, in yonder circle of heaven, above the rest! What can we suppose the reason of it, but that the light of many smaller stars is united there, and causes that constant brightness? And yet those small stars are not discerned; while the splendor, which ariseth from them, is so notably remarkable.

In this lower heaven of ours, many a man is made conspicuous, by his good qualities and deserts: but I most admire the humility and grace of those, whose virtues and merits are usefullly visible, while their persons are obscure. It is secretly glorious, for a man to shine unseen. Doubtless, it is the height, that makes those stars so small and invisible: were they lower, they would be seen more. There is no true greatness, without a self-humiliation. We shall have made an ill use of our advancement, if, by how much higher we are, we do not appear less: if our light be seen, it matters not for our hiding.

96. On Sight of a bright Sky full of Stars.

I cannot blame Empedocles, if he professed a desire to live upon earth, only that he might behold the face of the heavens: surely, if there were no other, this were a sufficient errand, for a man's being here below, to see and observe these goodly spangles of light above our heads; their places, their qualities, their motions.

But the employment of a Christian is far more noble and excellent. Heaven is open to him; and he can look beyond the veil; and see further above those stars, than it is thither; and there discern those glories, that may answer so rich a pavement: upon the clear sight whereof, I cannot wonder, if the Chosen Vessel desired to leave the earth, in so happy an exchange.

O God, I bless thine infiniteness for what I see with these bodily eyes: but, if thou shalt but draw the curtain, and let me by the eye of faith see the inside of that thy glorious frame, I shall need no other happiness here. My soul cannot be capable of more favour, than sight here, and fruition hereafter.

William Spurstowe, The Spiritual Chymist: or, Six Decades of Divine Meditations on several Subjects, Meditation III, pp. 3-5:

Upon the Galaxia or milky-Way.

The milkie way, according to Aristotle, is a shine or Brightness caused by the joint rays of a multitude of imperceptible Stars, and not a Meteor; But it is not my purpose so much to find out, or determine what it is, as to meditate a little upon the place where it is. The Milkie way is in Heaven, the true Canaan and Land of Promise, in which Rivers of pleasure and sweetness do everlastingly overflow; and while we are absent from it, we are like Israel in the Desert, apt to complain of daily wants, and to be discouraged with daily fears. How greatly therefore is it becoming us who profess to seek such a Country to long earnestly after it in our desires, and to travel towards it in patience; not fearing the difficulty of the way, but animating ourselves with the perfection of the end, in which rest and glory, which are here divided, shall both meet, and forever dwell together? If Mare rubrum, the Red Sea of Affliction, be the passage; Via lactea, the milkie way of life, and bliss will be the end. And is it not better to wade through a Sea of blood to a Throne of glory, than to glide alone the smooth stream of pleasure unto an Abyss of endless misery? A good end gives an amiableness to the means, though never so unpleasing; The bitter Potion which brings health is gladly taken down by the Patient: But Poison in a golden Cup, when made as pleasing as Art and Skill can temper it, can never be welcome to any who understand the sweetness of life, or dread the terrors of death. The way is good (saith Chrysostom) if it be to a Feast, though through a blind Lane; if to an Execution not good, though through the fairest Street of the City; himself was bidden to a Marriage Dinner, as was to go through divers Lanes and Allies, crossing the high street he met with one led through it to be Executed, he told his Auditors, Non qua, sed quo, not the way, but the term whither it led, was to be thought upon. Lord then let not me be anxious what the path is that I tread, whether it be plain or thorny, pleasant or difficult, bloody or milky, so it lead to thee, who are Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending of blessedness, but to walk cheerfully in it till I come to thee my everlasting rest.