Oh that my head were waters.
Christian anguish over spiritual desolation
There is a solemn beauty in Jeremiah’s devotion to the welfare of his fellow countrymen. Blinded as they were by sin, they could not appreciate his anxiety, and when his loving devotion broke into the tenderest words of warning, they regarded him in the light of an enemy instead of a sincere friend. The depth of his feeling, the tenderness of his words, remind us strongly of another scene which took place more than five hundred years after these events: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets,” etc. The most beautiful sight on earth is unselfish devotion to the social, mental, moral and spiritual interests of humanity. While the less thoughtful may be dazzled by the great military achievements of conquering heroes, the more thoughtful are rather charmed by that self-sacrificing devotion which, losing sight of worldly applause and worldly honour, has thought of nothing but the opportunity of doing good. As the prodigal son, in his ingratitude, profligacy, and sinful wanderings, did not check the pulsations of his father’s heart, but rather intensified them and brought to light the richness of his father’s love, so the unbelief, idolatry, and sinful lives of the Jewish people only served to reveal the strength, the sweetness and richness of the prophet’s nature. The history of the Christian Church is history of men and women who have not counted their lives dear unto themselves, but who have bestowed their warmest affections and divinest endeavours upon those who seemed the least likely to respond to such manifestations of interest and of love. The history of Jewish backslidings, of vows solemnly taken and as readily broken, reminds us in a vivid manner of scenes which have transpired from time to time in the Christian dispensation. For the progress of the Christian Church toward a larger benevolence, a broader charity, a purer morality, and a more intelligent piety has neither been rapid nor uniform. Seasons of great revival have been followed by periods of marked decline. Into the midst of torrid heat comes a wave of arctic cold. A narrow denominationalism has often thrown its dark shadow across the pathway of Christian catholicity. Creeds, catechisms, formulas, confessions of faith have often outweighed sobriety, virtue, benevolence, and all the other graces which adorn the Christian character, while practical unbelief, clothed in the formulas of an accepted dogma, has passed for genuine Christianity without even the semblance of a challenge. As each period of Jewish history was favoured with some that were true and brave--whose words of instruction, reproof, and warning were spoken above the din of the busy multitudes--so each period of the Christian dispensation has been honoured with some John the Baptist, whose earnest words have resounded from valley to valley, from peak to peak, and from land to land, echoing the Gospel of the blessed Lord, and summoning men to self-sacrifice, to holiness, and to purity. Our interest in the human race will depend largely upon our faith in human possibilities. If we see in man simply the possibilities of an animal, possibilities, to be sure, greater than belong to any other earthly creature, but possibilities determined by material conditions, limited to threescore years and ten, possibilities that have no relation to a future world--if we see in man nothing but the ability to trace in the sands of time a few illegible characters, then our interest in his welfare and prosperity can neither be deep nor abiding. But if, on the other hand, we see in man a creature made in the Divine image, with feeling, with thought, with spirituality, with volition, with freedom, with immortal properties, created for a higher sphere and for a better world, capable of companionship with angels, capable of communion with the omnipotent Author of his existence, endowed with power to love and serve the mighty Ruler of the universe, with unlimited capacity for growth and development--if we see in him an intelligent, moral, responsible, and immortal being, then we have an object worthy of our broadest sympathies, our warmest affections and our divinest endeavours. (Ezra Tinker, B. D.)
Genuine philanthropy
I. Genuine philanthropy melting with earnestness.
1. Heart intensely earnest concerning the temporal condition of men. Chaldean army among them, etc. Weeps as patriot.
2. Heart intensely earnest concerning the moral condition of men. Their carnalities, idolatries, and crimes affect his pious spirit more than physical sufferings and political disasters. Think of the soul--
(1) In relation to its capacity of suffering and happiness.
(2) In relation to the influences for good or evil it is capable of exerting.
(3) In relation to its power of being a delight or a grief to the heart of infinite Love.
II. Genuine philanthropy sighing for isolation.
1. The sigh of a spiritually vexed soul.
2. The sigh of disappointed love. Nothing is more saddening to generous souls than the discovery of indifference, ingratitude, and growing vice in the very men they seek to bless.
Conclusion--
1. The vicariousness of genuine philanthropy. It inspires the possessor with the spirit that will prompt him to sacrifice his very being for the good of others.
2. The abuse of genuine philanthropy. The greatest sin in the universe is sin against love.
3. The imperfection of genuine philanthropy. Like the best of everything human, love is not perfect here. Disheartened, Jeremiah sought isolation. (Homilist.)
England’s sorrows
Sometimes tears are base things; the offspring of a cowardly spirit. Some men weep when they should knit their brows, and many a woman weepeth when she should resign herself to the will of God. But ofttimes tears are the noblest things in the world. The tears of penitents are precious: cup of them were worth a king’s ransom. He that loveth much, must weep much; much love and much sorrow must go together in this vale of tears. Jeremiah was not weak in his weeping; the strength of his mind and the strength of his love were the parents of his sorrow. It would seem as if some men had been sent into this world for the very purpose of being the world’s weepers. Men have their sorrows; they must have their weepers; they must have men of sorrows who have it for their avocation to be ever weeping, not so much for themselves as for the woes of others.
I. To begin, then, with actual murder and real bloodshed.
II. But I have now a greater reason for your sorrow--a more disregarded, and yet more dreadful, source of woe. “Oh, that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night,” for the morally slain of the daughter of my people. The old adage is still true, One half of the world knows nothing about how the other half lives. Oh, how many of our sons and daughters, of our friends and relatives, are slain by sin! Ye weep over battlefields, ye shed tears on me plains of Balaklava; there are worse battlefields than there, and worse deaths than those inflicted by the sword. Ah, weep ye for the drunkenness of this land! How many thousands of our race reel from our gin palaces into perdition! But there are other crimes too. Alas, for that crime of debauchery! What scenes hath the moon seen every night! Are these the only demons that are devouring our people? Ah, would to God it were so. Behold, throughout this land, how are men falling by every sin, disguised as it is under the shape of pleasure. O members of churches, ye may well take up the wary of Jeremiah when ye remember what multitudes of these you have in your midst men who have a name to live and are dead: and others, who though they profess not to be Christians, are almost persuaded to obey their Lord and Master, but are yea not partakers of the Divine life of God. But now I want, I can, to press this pathetic subject a little further upon our minds. In the day when Jeremiah wept this lamentation with an exceeding loud and bitter cry, Jerusalem was in all her mirth and merriment. Jeremiah was a sad man in the midst of a multitude of merry makers; he told them that Jerusalem should be destroyed, that their temple should become a heap, and Nebuchadnezzar should lay it with the ground. They laughed him to scorn; they mocked him. Still the viol and dance were only to be seen. And now, today, here are many of you merry makers in this ball of life; ye are here merry and glad today, and ye marvel that I should talk of you as persons for whom we ought to weep. “Weep ye for No!” you say; “I am in health, I am in riches, I am enjoying life; why weep me? I need none of your sentimental weeping!” Ah, but we weep because foresee the future. Oh, if today some strong archangel could unbolt the gates hell, and for a solitary second permit the voice of wailing and weeping to come to our ears: oh, how should we grieve! Remember, again, O Christian, that those for whom we ask you to weep this day are persons who have had great; privileges, and consequently, if lost, must expect greater punishment. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Why the righteous should weep for the wicked
I. Because they are infinite blessings.
1. There are many present blessings men lose by rebellion against God. There is a “peace that passeth all understanding,” and a “joy” unspeakable and full of glory, attending belief in, and devotion to, His service. The having one’s passions in subjection gives serenity of mind. But enjoying of God’s favour, and the light of His countenance, is the source of richest blessings mortals possess on earth. But what peace is there for the cursed?
2. But the eternal blessings they lose are beyond imagination.
3. And not these things matters of just lamentation? How must we pity him who, when there is a rest prepared, and a supper spread for him, in heaven, provokes God to swear that he “shall not enter in,” nor even taste of that supper.
II. Because of the influence woes they entail on themselves.
1. How inexpressibly dreadful are the torments which the wicked will endure in hell.
2. And can we view sinners hastening to that place of torment and not weep over them?
III. Because of the aggravated guilt under which they perish. Every offer of salvation aggravates the guilt of those who reject it; and every increase of guilt is followed by increase of misery. Infer--
1. How little true charity is there in the world. Charity to the soul is the soul of charity.
2. How earnest should men be in seeking the salvation of their own souls. (Evangelical Preacher.)
Grief for sinners
There is an anecdote told of a careless Sabbath breaker who stumbled into Mr. Sherman’s chapel one Sunday evening when he was engaged in prayer. He took his stand in the aisle, and, seeing the tears rolling down the minister’s cheeks and falling on the book as he was pleading for the conversion of sinners, he was aroused, and said to himself: “This man is evidently in earnest; there must be something in the condition of sinners that I do not understand.” He remained, was instructed and converted, and became a useful and steady member of the congregation.
Painful solicitude for the souls of others
This concern was incessant with the apostle. “I have continual sorrow in my heart.” The pain was unceasing. His interest in sinners was not spasmodic; it had become blessedly chronic. There are some of us who every now and then get a passing qualm of conscience and a consequent spurt in the matter, but how long does it last? It is a mere emotion, a transient feeling, a spasm that scarcely suffices to stir us for so much as a single Sabbath. Oh, that there were in the pastor’s heart, and in the hearts of all his people, a breaking, a yearning that cannot be satisfied, for the salvation of London, and of all who know not Jesus! I find myself weeping, but I weep because I weep so little. I confess myself this morning grieving, but I fear my greatest grief is that I do not grieve as I should. Well, that is a hopeful beginning. Let us all get to this at least, and we shall reach the other by and by. (Thomas Spurgeon.)