Songs 4:12 A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.… (with ver. 15): — Observe the contrast which the two verses present to us. There are two works of the Holy Spirit within us. The first is when He puts into us the living waters; the next is when He enables us to pour forth streams of the same living waters in our daily life. The Spirit of God first implants in us the new nature. This is His work — to regenerate us, to put into us the new principle, the life of God in Christ. Then next, He gives us power to send forth that life in gracious emanations of holiness of life, of devoutness of communion with God, of likeness to Christ, of conformity to His image. The streams are as much of the Holy Spirit as the fountain itself. He digs the well, and He afterwards with heavenly rain fills the pools. He first of all makes the stream in the desert to flow from the flinty rock, and afterwards out of His infinite supplies He feeds the stream and bids it follow us all our days. Now, we think the first verse, to a great extent, sets forth the secret and mysterious work of the Holy Spirit in the creation of the new man in the soul. Into this secret no eye of man can look. The inner life in the Christian may well be compared to an inclosed garden — to a spring shut up — to a fountain sealed. But the second verse sets forth the manifest effects of grace, for no sooner is that life given than it begins to show itself. No sooner is the mystery of righteousness in the heart, than, like the mystery of iniquity, it "doth already work." It cannot lie still; it cannot be idle; it must not rest; but, as God is ever active, so this God-like principle is active too; thus you have a picture of the outer life proceeding from the inner. "A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon." The first is what the Christian is before God; the next is what the Christian will become before men. The first is the blessedness which he receives in himself; the next is the blessedness which he diffuses to others. I. With regard to the first text, you will clearly perceive that in each of the three metaphors you have very plainly the idea of secrecy. There is a garden. A garden is a place where trees have been planted by a skilful hand; where they are nurtured with care, and where fruit is expected by its owner. Such is the Church; such is each renewed soul. But it is a garden inclosed, and so inclosed that one cannot see over its walls — so shut out from the world's wilderness, that the passer-by must not enter it — so protected from all intrusion that it is a guarded paradise — as secret as was that inner place, the holy of holies, within the tabernacle of old. The Church — and mark, when I say the Church, the same is true of each individual Christian — is set forth next as a spring. "A spring" — the mother of sweet draughts of refreshing water, reaching down into some impenetrable caverns, and bubbling up with perennial supplies from the great deeps. Not a mere cistern, which contains only, but a fresh spring, which through an inward principle within, begets, continues, overflows. But then, it is a spring shut up: just as there were springs in the East, over which an edifice was built, so that none could reach the springs save those who knew the secret entrance. So is the heart of a believer when it is renewed by grace; there is a mysterious life within which no human skill can touch. And then, it is said to be a fountain; but it is a fountain sealed. The outward stones may be discovered, but the door is sealed, so that no man can get into the hidden springs; they are altogether hidden, and hidden too by a royal will and decree of which the seal is the emblem. I say the idea is very much that of secrecy. Now, such is the inner life of the Christian. It is a secret which no other man knoweth, nay, which the very man who is the possessor of it cannot tell to his neighbour. A second thought is written upon the surface of the text. Here you see not only secrecy, but separation. That also runs through the three figures. It is a garden, but it is a garden inclosed — altogether shut out from the surrounding heaths and commons, inclosed with briars and hedged with thorns, which are impassable by the wild beasts. There is a gate through which the Great Husbandman Himself can come; but there is also a gate which shuts out all those who would only rob the keeper of the vineyard of His rightful fruit. There is separation in the spring also. It is not the common spring, of which every passer-by may drink; it is one so kept and preserved distinct from men, that no lip may touch, no eye may even see its secret. It is a something which the stranger intermeddleth not with; it is a life which the world cannot give and cannot take away. All through, you see, there is a separateness, a distinctness. If it be ranged with springs, still it is a spring specially shut up; if it be put with fountains, still it is a fountain bearing a particular mark — a king's royal seal, so that all can perceive that this is not a general fountain, but a fountain that has a proprietor, and stands specially by itself alone. So is it with the spiritual life. It is a separate thing. I would not give a farthing for that man's spiritual life who can live altogether with others; if you do not sometimes feel that you must be a garden inclosed, that you must enter into your closet, and shut-to the door; if you do not feel seasons when the society of your dearest friend is an impediment, and when the face of your sweetest relation would but be a cloud between you and Christ, I cannot understand you. Be ye, O ye children of Christ, as chaste virgins kept alone for Christ. In the third place, you have in the text the idea of sacredness. The garden inclosed is walled up that it may be sacred to its owner; the spring shut up is preserved for the use of some special person; and the fountain sealed more eminently still bears the mark of being sacred to some distinguished personage. Now such is the Christian's heart. It is a spring kept for Christ. Oh, I would that it were always so. Every Christian should feel that he is God's man — that he has God's stamp on him — and he should be able to say with Paul, "From henceforth let no man trouble me, for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." But I think there is another idea prominent, and it is that of security — security to the inner life. "A garden inclosed." "The wild boar out of the wood shall not break in there, neither shall the little foxes spoil the vines." "A fountain shut up." The bulls of Bashan shall not mud her streams with their furious feet; neither shall the wild beast of Lebanon come there to drink. "A fountain sealed." No putrid streams shall foul her springs; her water shall be kept clear and living; her fountains shall never be filled up with stones. Oh, how sure and safe is the inner life of the believer. Satan does not know where it is, for "our life is hid with Christ." The world cannot touch it; it seeks to overthrow it with troubles and trials and persecutions, but we are covered with the Eternal wings, and are safe from fear of evil. How can earthly trials reach the spirit? As well might a man try to strike a soul with a stone, as to destroy a spirit with afflictions. We are one with Christ, even as Christ is one with the Father; therefore as imperishable through Christ's life as Christ Himself. Truly may we rejoice in the fact that "because He lives we shall live also." Once more only. I think in looking at the text you receive the thought of unity. You notice, it is but one garden — "a garden inclosed." "A garden." It is but one spring, and that is shut up; it is but one fountain. So the inner life of the Christian is but one. If you could imagine two bodies quickened by the very same mind, what a close connection would that be! But here are hundreds of bodies, hundreds of souls, quickened by the self-same Spirit. Brethren, indeed not only ought we to love one another, but the love of Christ constraineth us, so that we cannot resist the impulse; we do love each other in Christ Jesus. II. I shall now try to open the second text, which presents a decided contrast, because it deals not so much with the inner life as with the active life which goes abroad into all the deeds of the Christian in the world, and is the natural outgoing of the life within. First, notice that in contradistinction to our first thought of secrecy you have in the text manifestation. "A fountain of gardens." Everybody can see a fountain which runs streaming through many gardens, making deserts fertile. "A well of living waters." Whatever the traveller does not see, when he is riding along on a thirsty day, he is sure to see the fountain; if there be one anywhere he is certain to observe that. "And streams from Lebanon." So that any passer-by in the valley, looking up the side of the mountain, will see by the clusters of trees which skirt the stream where the stream is; or, if it be a smaller brook, just as sometimes in Cumberland and Westmoreland, on a rainy day you see the mountain suddenly marked with streaks of silver all adown its brown sides, where the brooks are rippling, so the Christian becomes like the streams leaping adown Lebanon s steep sides, clearly perceived even from a distance, manifest to the most casual observer. Now, brethren, this is what you and I ought to be. No man ought to court publicity for his virtue, or notoriety for his zeal; but, at the same time, it is a sin to be always seeking to hide that which God has bestowed upon us for the good of others. The inner life is secret — mind that you have this inner mystery; but out of the secret emanates the manifest; the darkness becomes the mother of light; from the dark mines comes the blazing coal. Oh! see to it, that from all that is hidden and secret and mysterious there comes out the plain and the manifest that men may see the holiness, truthfulness and zeal of God in thy life. But clearly enough, again, we have in the second text, in opposition to the separation of the first, diffusiveness. The garden was inclosed before, now it is "a fountain of gardens"; the well was shut up, now it is a well of living waters; before we had the fountain sealed, now we have streams dashing adown the sides of Lebanon. So a Christian is to be separate in his inner life; but in the outer manifestations of that inner life, he is to mingle for good among his fellow-men. We must let the streams flow abroad; we must seek to give to others what Christ has given to us. Briefly we are obliged to speak on each of these points; but notice, thirdly, that in opposition to the sacredness of the first text we have in the second verse an unlimited freeness, especially in that last expression — "streams from Lebanon." What can be freer than the brook, which leaps along the mountain-side? There the bird wets its wings; there the red deer comes to drink; and even that wild beast of Lebanon, of which we read in the Book of the Kings, comes there, and without let or hindrance slakes its thirst. What can be finer than the rivulet singing with liquid notes adown the glen? It belongs to no one; it is free to all. Whosoever passeth by, be he peer or peasant, may stoop there and refresh himself from the mountain-stream. So be it with you, Christian. Carry about with you-a piety which you do not wish to keep for yourself. A light loses none of its own lustre when others are lit as its flame. We must be hidden springs within, but let us be sweetly flowing rivulets without, giving drink to every, passer-by. And notice that, while we had in the other text the idea of security, in connection with that we have here in this text the idea of approach. The garden was shut up — that was to keep it. There are no walls here, so that all may come to it. The streams were shut up before; here it is an open well. The fountain was sealed in the first verse; here it is a flowing stream, which is to teach us this — that the way God keeps His people in security is not by shutting out their enemies from attacking them, but while laying them open to temptation and attack, He yet sustains them. And last of all, in opposition to the unity of which I spake, we have in our second text great diversity. You have "a fountain," not of a garden, but "of gardens"; you have a well, but it is a well of living waters; you have not a stream, but streams — streams from Lebanon. So a Christian is to do good in all sorts of ways, and his fruits are to be of many kinds; he is to be like the trees of Paradise, which bear twelve manner of fruits. The Christian is to have all sorts of graces. Oh t if the fountain, the secret fountain, were better seen to, I think there would be more of these outward streams; and if the sealed well were better guarded, we should see more of these rapid streams from Lebanon, which would make glad the people of God, and the world at large. ( C. H. Spurgeon.) Parallel Verses KJV: A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.WEB: A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; a locked up spring, a sealed fountain. |
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