purifying in their tendencies. They transform the gazer into their
earth (2 Pet. 3:13). It was here that John sat—"on a great and high mountain" (Rev. 21:10), beholding the glory of the heavenly city, and as he heard the well-known voice proclaim, "Surely I come quickly," with instant eagerness breathed out the response, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus" (Rev. 22:20).
True, we know but in part; "we see through a glass (in a mirror) darkly." But still what we do see and know is very glorious. The prospect, whatever may be the imperfection that hangs over it, is neither tame nor visionary. The mirror which reflects it to our eye is divine, and therefore faithful. It presents the scene to us with a warmth and a truth, such as no earthly mirror could have done. With our eye on that mirror, we ought surely to live in a very different way from what we too often do. God expects much of us.
1. He expects us to be holy.—The objects we are gazing on are purifying in their tendencies. They transform the gazer into their own likeness. "What manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness?" The ocean takes on the blue of the sky to which it looks up, and becomes itself as purely blue: so must we become assimilated to that holy heaven on which our affections are set.
2. He expects us to be steadfast and immovable.—Objects that shift and flit impart their instability to things around. Those that are stable give forth their tenacity and strength. We, looking on the great immovable landscape of this future, ought to find it transforming us into its own steadfastness,—gradually divesting us of caprice, and fickleness, and vanity, and infusing into us a vigorous consistency of character, along with calm solemnity of deportment, which would carry weight with it, and be of itself a witness to the reality of that heaven towards which we profess to be walking. Thus a feeble life becomes strong by gazing on that which is strong, and a poor life becomes great by gazing on what is great.