bear two meanings: either, we shall be like Him, because in order to see Him as He is, we must be like Him; or, we shall be like Him, because the sight of Him as He is will change us into His perfect likeness. For, our present purpose, or indeed for any purpose, it matters little which of these meanings we take. At any rate, we have gained this knowledge from St. John’s words, that the sight of the Blessed Lord which will be enjoyed by the Christian’s spirit on its release from the body, will be accompanied by being also perfectly like Him.

Now, here, my brethren, are the elements of an immediate change, blessed and joyous beyond our conception. Let us spend the rest of our time to-day in dwelling upon it.

And I will not now insist on the deliverance of the spirit from the infirmity, or pain, or decay of the body; because this is not so in all cases. Many a Christian’s spirit is set free from a body in perfect vigour and health. Let us take nothing but what is common to all who believe in and serve the Lord. Now what is our present state with reference to Him whom all Christians love? It is, absence. And it is absence aggravated in a way that earthly absence never is. For not only have we never seen Him, which is a case perfectly imaginable in earthly relations, but also, which hardly is, we have no absolute proof of His existence, nor of His mind towards us. Even as far as this, is matter of faith and not of appearance. We have no token, no communication, from Him. I suppose there hardly ever was a Christian yet, living under the present dispensation, entirely dependent upon his faith, who has not at some time or other had the dreadful thought cross his mind—overborne by his faith, but still not wholly extinguished, “What if it should not be true after all?” And much and successfully as we may contend with these misgivings of unbelief, yet that frame of mind which is represented by them, that wavering, fitful, unsteady faith, ever accompanies us. The distress arising from it is known to every one who has the Christian life in him. Only those never doubt who have never believed: for doubt is of the very essence of belief. But some poor souls are utterly cast down by the fact of its existence—shrink from these half-doubting fits as of themselves deadly sin, and are in continual terror about their soul’s safety on this account: others, of stronger minds, regard them truly as inevitable accompaniments of present human weakness, but of course struggle with them, and evermore yearn to be rid of them.

Now if what we have been saying be true,—and I have endeavoured not to go beyond the soberest inferences from the plain language of Scripture,—if so much be true, then the moment of departure from the body puts an end for ever to this imperfect, struggling, fitful state of faith and doubt. The spirit that is but a moment gone, that has left that well-known, familiar tabernacle of the body a sudden wreck of inanimate matter, that spirit is with the Lord. All doubt, all misgiving, is at an end. Every wave raised by this world’s storms, this world’s currents of interest, this world’s rocks and shallows, is suddenly laid, and there is a great calm. Certainty, for doubt—the sight of the Lord, for the conflict of assurance and misgiving—the face of Christ, for the mere faith in Christ—these have succeeded, because the departed spirit is “with the Lord”—companying with Him.

Before we follow this out farther, let us carefully draw one great distinction. We must not make the too common mistake of confusing this sight of the Lord which immediately follows on the act of death, with that complete state of the glorified Christian man, of which we shall have to speak in a subsequent sermon. Though greater than our thoughts can now conceive, the bliss of which we are speaking to-day is incomplete. The spirit which has been set free from the body is alone, and without a body. This is not the complete state of man. It is a state to us full of mystery—inconceivable in detail, though easily apprehended as a whole. We must take care, in what we have further to say, that this is fully borne in mind. And, bearing it in mind, let us proceed.

This sight of Christ, this calm of full unbroken assurance of His nearness and presence, what does it further imply? As far as we can at present see, certainly as much as this. First, the entire absence of evil from the spirit. It would be impossible to be with Christ in any such sense, unless there were entire agreement in will and desire with Him. It would be impossible thus to see Him as He is, without being like Him.

Let us imagine, if we can, the effect of the total extinction of evil in any one of our minds. How many energies, now tied and bound with the chain of sin, would spring upward into action! How many imprisoned yearnings would burst their bonds, and carry us onward to higher degrees of good! And all these energies, all these yearnings, can exist in the disembodied spirit. It is in a waiting, a hoping state: the greater the upward yearnings, the greater the accumulated energies for God and His work, the higher will be the measure of glory to be attained after the redemption of the body, and the completion of the entire man.

Well—as another consequence, following close on the last, all conflict, from that same moment, is at an end. Conflict is ordained for us, is good for us, now. If it were to cease here below, we should fall back. We have not entered into rest, it would not be good for us to enter into rest, in our present state. Here, this little platform, so to speak, of our personality, is drawn two ways, downward and upward: and it is for us who stand thereon, to keep watch and ward that the downward prevail not; but from that moment, the dark links of the downward chain will have been for ever severed, and the golden cord that is let down from the Throne will bear us upward and onward, unopposed. So that as to conflict, there will be perfect rest.

And let us remember another matter. If the departed spirit were during this time dwelling on its own unworthiness, casting back looks of self-reproach, weighing accurately God’s mercies and its own requitals during life past, there would of necessity be conflict: there would be bitter self-loathing, there would be pangs of repentance. It would seem, then, that during the incomplete and disembodied state, this is not so; but that all of this kind is reserved for a day when account is to be given in the body of things done in the body: and we shall see, when we come to treat of that day specially, how its account will be, for the blessed dead, itself made a blessing.

Again, as all evil will be at an end, and all conflict,—so will all labour, “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours.” Now labour here is a blessing, it is true: but it is also a weariness. It leads ever on to a greater blessing, the blessing of rest. Christ has entered into His rest; and the departed spirit shall be with Christ: faring as He fares, and a partaker of His condition. Any who have lived the ordinary term of human life in God’s service (for it is only of such that we are now speaking) can testify how sweet it is to anticipate a cessation of the toil and the harassing of life: to be looking on to keep the great Sabbath of the rest reserved for the people of God. What more may be reserved for us in the glorious perfect state which shall follow the resurrection, is another consideration altogether: but it clearly appears that the intermediate disembodied state is one of rest.

And let none cavil at the thought, that thus Adam may have rested his thousands of years, and the last taken of Adam’s children only a few moments. Time is only a relative term, even to us. A dream of years long may pass during the sound that awakens a man; and a sleep of hours