PART WE have seen how God is in heaven, for it is his dwelling place; how Christ is there, for He is at the right hand of the Father; how the redeemed saints are there; how our names are there; and now, if we are true Christians, we ought to have our treasure there. We are commanded to “Lay up for ourselves treasures in heaven.” “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven , where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.”

If our treasure were in heaven we should not have to be urging men to live for heaven, or pleading with them to lift their hearts heavenward. Their hearts would be there already; “where your treasure is there will your heart be also.”

It does not take long to find out where a man’s treasure is, you have only to watch where his heart is. The man who makes politics his God, see how his face lights up the moment you talk about it! Here is a man whose heart is set upon business; put him in the way of making a few thousands even at the risk of losing a few more, and you have done him the greatest favor in the world. Here is another whose God is pleasure; his eye sparkles when you even mention it. One would think from such men that there is nothing worth living for but politics, and business, and pleasure. But talk to a child of God whose treasures are in heaven; the world scarce interests him. He will tell you how he has here no continuing city, how he is but a stranger and a pilgrim, how heaven is his home. And as he talks of Christ, and the promises, and the hope beyond the grave, you see that he enjoys the heavenly calm which the world knows not of.

When I was on the Pacific Coast I spent my first Sunday in San Francisco.

I went to the Sunday school, but it was a very wet stormy day, and so few teachers or scholars made their appearance, that the superintendent was in doubt whether he should not send them home again. However, as they had come through the rain, it was decided to go on with the lesson, and I was asked to undertake the task. The subject happened to be, “Our Treasures in Heaven.” The blackboard was got ready, and being a poor writer myself, I handed the chalk to one of the teachers, and said to the children, “Now, I want you to tell me some earthly treasures; what do you suppose men think most of?” Someone cried, “Money.” “Put that down,” I said. “Anything else?” “Lands.” “Put that down.” Many strange things were said; one little boy said “Rum,” and perhaps he was nearer the truth than any of them, for many a man will sell soul and body, and business and family, and home and everything else for drink; and when the catalogue was finished, I asked them next to give me a list of heavenly treasures. The first answer was “Jesus;” and as we went on from one to another, we found that the treasures of heaven were far more numerous and very much more precious than all the treasures which the earth could give. The young man who was writing down the answers was an unconverted teacher. As he scanned the lists and compared the earthly with the heavenly, he stood transfixed with shame. “What a fool have I been!” he says to himself; “I have come to this Pacific Coast, and spent my substance for such things of earth!” And there at that blackboard he vowed to God that for the rest of his life his heart should be set alone upon the things which are above.

Think with me for a moment what earthly treasures are. Suppose we set our hearts on money; misfortune darts across our path; there is the short-lived resistance, the brief struggle soon over, which the world knows so well, and we are beggars! Try reputation. In an evil moment we may lose the little we have ever gained; or those who have never had any of their own may steal ours away with the tongue of slander. If to our children we are looking for our chiefest joys, alas for our hopes! for death may carry them away; or, worse than death, disgrace may count them with the living dead. Yes, and even grant us money, and our fill of it, or reputation, and the best the world has, or children, the loveliest and beloved of all; — is it not true that we have but provided for a few brief years, while the great eternity has been uncared for or forgotten? “Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth .” It looks a little stern, perhaps, but it must be right. After all, all that a man is really worth is what he has got in heaven. We bring nothing into this world, and it is certain we shall carry nothing out. Therefore God says, Lay not . The Christian who does, suffers. There is no gain in it. It is done at a terrible expense, the heart’s desire in exchange for the soul’s leanness. Here are two ships coming up a river. The first, full sail, cuts bravely through the water; the second creeps along, towed by another. She appears to be on the point of sinking, but still she floats. Why? Because she has a cargo of timber, and has become waterlogged. Lot was all right while he kept with his uncle Abraham, but when he left him, and got down into Sodom, he got a good deal of this world’s goods, and grew waterlogged. So it is with many Christians. They have got waterlogged. They have got so much money that they cannot get into the harbor themselves, and they require others to help them in. The religious life gets sluggish. The spiritual pulse begins to beat slow. “Why is it?” they say, “that we do not have more spiritual power, and more joy in the Lord?” The secret is easily found out.

People who ask these questions have got their treasure here.

When men go up in balloons they take with them bags of sand for ballast, and when they want to rise higher they throw out some of the sand. Now there are some Christians who, before they rise higher, will have to throw out some ballast. It may be money, or any other worldly consideration, but if they wish to rise, they must get rid of it. If you have got overloaded, just throw out a little money, and you will mount up as on eagle’s wings.

Any minister will tell you what to do with it. I never saw any department of the Lord’s work that did not want some money.

A friend of mine called on a wealthy Illinois farmer, to get him interested in a soldiers’ mission. He took him up on the cupola of his house, and said, “Look yonder, over that beautiful rolling prairie, that is all mine, as far as the eye can reach.” He took him to another view, and pointing over the rich farms of the Mississippi Valley, showed him pasture land for thirty miles round, with large herds of cattle, and horses, and sheep feeding. “They are all mine,” he said; “I have made it all myself.” Then he pointed proudly towards the town, and showed him streets, and piles of buildings, and a great hall named after himself, and said once more, “They are all mine; I came here a poor man, but my own industry has done it all.”

My friend said nothing; but when he had seen all, raising his finger, and pointing solemnly to the sky, “What,” he said, “have you got up there?”

The rich man’s countenance fell. “Where?” he asked. “In heaven.” “I have got nothing there.” Alas! he had lived his threescore years and ten, and must soon enter eternity, yet he had no treasure there. “Is it not strange,” said my friend, “a man of your judgment and forethought, making such a wreck of life, living for the moment, on borrowed time, to die a beggar, and enter eternity a pauper!” But a few months after that he died as he had lived, and his property went to others.

Oh! my friends, if there are any of you living for this world done, remember that death will part you and your treasures forever. Ask yourself, I beseech you, what provision you have made for the other life?

Is it on that little boy that your heart is set; is he your God, the idol of your life? Or is it your money, or a name, or dress, or a position in society? Then are you disobeying the law of Him who will one day be your judge. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth.”

There is another thought I would like you to look at. Our rest is to be in heaven. In Hebrews 4:9, we read, “There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God.” That is another treasure we are to have in heaven. Let us not talk of rest down here, we have all eternity to rest in. What we want is to be faithful in the few months or years that we are here, and then we shall rest as eternal ages roll on. This is the place for work . “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, for they do rest from their labors, and their works do follow them.” Our works shall follow us. We shall leave a record behind us, if we are only faithful, ere the night comes. We can set streams running here in this dark world that shall flow on after we have gone to heaven.

Twenty-five hundred years have passed since Daniel lived, but he lives today. His light shines out, how brightly, all over Christendom! We love to read his life. How it fires and cheers us as we read of him standing up for God in Babylon. His works do follow him.

A good many people have made a sad mistake. They think the church is a sort of resting place. They unite with a church, and that is about the last we hear of them. They think that a good Christian has nothing more to do than get a good pew in a respectable place of worship, and all the work after that is to hear two sermons a week.

But, my friends, let us not think of rest and pleasure down here. We shall rest when Christ comes, but not until then. The time will come when the wicked shall cease from troubling, and the weary be at rest.

I heard of a Christian who did not succeed in his work so well as he used to, and he got Home-sick and wished himself dead. One night he dreamed that he had died, and was carried by the angels to the eternal city. As he went along the crystal pavement of heaven, he met a man he used to know, and they went walking down the golden streets together. All at once he noticed everyone looking in the same direction, and saw One coming up who was fairer than the sons of men. It was his blessed Redeemer. As the chariot came opposite, He came forth, and beckoning the one friend, placed him in His own chariot-seat, but himself He led aside, and pointing over the battlements of heaven, “Look over yonder,” He said, “what do you see?” “It seems as if I see the dark earth I have come from.” “What else?” “I see men as if they were blindfolded, going over a terrible precipice into a bottomless pit.” “Well,” said He, “will you remain up here, and enjoy those mansions that I have prepared, or go back to yon dark earth, and warn these men, and tell them about Me and my Kingdom, and the rest that remaineth for the people of God?” That man never wished himself dead again. He yearned to live as long as ever he could, to tell men of heaven and of Christ. And that is what God wants us to do.

We shall rest by-and-by; we shall have all eternity to rest in. But the Church is the place for work, and as soon as our work is done there will be the voice calling us, “Come up hither.”

And then — for there is something else in heaven — we shall get our crown . In second Timothy fourth and eighth, “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge shall give me at that day.” There is a crown laid up for every one of His children. God has promised it. “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” What did Paul run for? Salvation? Ten thousand times no; he got that at the cross. That was settled long ago, Paul ran for a crown. There will be a great many who will get into heaven, but they will have no crown — crownless Christians. I never touch that life of Paul, and I never hear his name mentioned, but it makes me feel ashamed of myself.

If I may be allowed the expression, Satan got hold of his match when he got hold of Paul. He never got him off the right track. He kept his eye right on Christ, and now he wears his crown. Paul! what are you so ambitious for — to make a name? Why are you so desperately in earnest? “I am for my crown,” says Paul. Do you hear what they say about you, “A mere babbler attempting to turn the world upside down?” They have made up their minds to kill you. The Jews say all manner of things against you. “I know it,” says Paul, “but none of these things move me.”

Take your stand by his side again. He has received thirty nine stripes; four times has he been beaten, and now he is to be beaten again. “Now, if you get out of this difficulty, what will you do, Paul?” “Do,” says Paul, “I do but one thing — press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling.”

What did he care for stripes? “You don’t think,” he says, “that these light afflictions are going to stop me?” Why, if we received one stripe on our backs, what a whining! I do not know how many volumes of books would be written about it. We would be called martyrs. Yet Paul calls them “these light afflictions.”

Take your stand there again. This time they have stoned him. He is all bruised and bleeding. But the great warrior rises up and buckles on his armor again. What is he going to do? “You have got out of this, Paul, what are you going to do next?” “Do!” he cries once more; “I do but one thing — press towards the mark for the prize. I do not want to lose my crown.”

Therefore he never turns to the right hand or to the left. He fixes his eye right on the crown. “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown which cannot fade.”

Look at him again. He goes to Macedonia, and the first thing he gets in Philippi is the jail. If that happened to any Christian in the nineteenth century what an outcry there would be! What lamentation there would be inside the prison! What scheming to get out, what claims for damages! But that is not the way this old warrior looks at it. “Silas!” he says at midnight; “it is time to have our evening worship.” And there, in that prison cell, with bleeding backs and feet fast in the stocks, they sing their psalm of praise. It would be about the last place we should think of singing praises in, and if we did sing it would be some melancholy hymn!

But not so Paul. “If God wants me to go to heaven by way of the Philippian prison,” he says, “it is all the same to me; rejoice and be exceeding glad, Silas. I thank God that I am accounted worthy to suffer for Jesus’ sake.” And as they sang their praises to God, the other prisoners heard them; but, what has far more important, the Lord heard them, and the old prison shook, their chains fell off, and they were free men! Talk about Alexander the Great making the world tremble with his armies. Here is a little tent-maker who makes the world tremble without any army!

And then look at the end of his glorious life. He was in Rome and about to be executed. He takes up his pen and writes to Timothy, “The time of my departure is at hand, I have fought a good fight, I have kept the faith.”

Thank God he kept the faith! He did not break away and teach false doctrine. He believed in the good old gospel that Christ died, and that men must believe on the Lord Jesus Christ if they would be saved. “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown.” I should like to have been in Rome when Paul was there, there was something there worth seeing then. I should like to have seen him walking down those streets. Rome never saw such a conqueror as that man. “Paul! you are going to execution; are you not sorry you gave your life to the Lord Jesus? You have had to suffer so much, stoned, persecuted, beaten with many stripes, in many dangers in the wilderness, in perils by sea and land — are you not sorry? Would you give your life to Christ if you had it to live over again?” “Yes,” he replies, “if I had ten thousand lives I would willingly give them all for His dear sake.” He has nothing to regret, nothing to be sorry for. “Sorry!” he cries; “I thank God a thousand times a day that I ever gave myself to Him!”

Look at him as he marches along to execution like a conqueror. If you had taken your stand by his side you might have heard him whisper, “I shall be absent from the body and present with the Lord tonight.” He has no worldly wealth to trouble him — perhaps a few tools that he used in tent-making — but in heaven he has treasures untold, and he makes ready to go for his crown. You can see a smile on his face as he lays his head on the guillotine, and his soul leaps into the chariot of fire that stands by its side. I can imagine them watching for him from the battlements of heaven, and there is a cry “Hallelujah!” as he sweeps away up to the throne. And I can hear the shout of the Master as he enters the pearly gates, “Well done, Paul; you have fought a good fight, you have kept the faith, you have finished the work that was given you to do; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!” And the Master rises and plants the crown upon his brow, but he takes it and casts it at the feet of his Lord.

Paul got his reward at last. Down here it was tribulation, but I have an idea that he thanks God more today for his afflictions than for his prosperity.

John Bunyan thanked God more for Bedford Jail than for anything that ever happened to him. And Paul, in prison, takes out his pen and writes these epistles which have come down as a blessing through the ages. The streams of grace that Paul set running are running still. Eighteen hundred years have passed since he wrote these epistles to the churches, but their fruits are still going up from every clime and nation. And so if things go against us, let us thank God. Our reward is yonder. I do not believe a man will be much used of God until he is above the thought of receiving reward from men. “Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven. ” If God calls it “great,” it must be something worth having, therefore let us not spoil it by seeking the world’s honors.

Not long ago there lived an old bedridden saint, and a Christian lady who visited her found her always very cheerful. This visitor had a lady friend of wealth who constantly looked on the dark side of things, and was always cast down although she was a professed Christian. She thought it would do this lady good to see the bedridden saint, so she took her down to the house. She lived up in the garret, five stories up, and when they had got to the first story the lady drew up her dress and said, “How dark and filthy it is!” “It is better higher up,” said her friend. They got to the next story, and it was no better; the lady complained again, but her friend replied, “It’s better higher up.” At the third floor it seemed still worse, and the lady kept complaining, but her friend kept saying, “It’s better higher up.” At last they got to the fifth story, and when they went into the sickroom, there was a nice carpet on the floor, there were flowering plants in the window, and little birds singing. And there they found this bedridden saint — one of those saints whom God is polishing for His own temple — just beaming with joy. The lady said to her “It must be very hard for you to lie here.” She smiled and said, “It’s better higher up .” Yes!

And if things go against us, my friends, let us remember that “it’s better higher up.”

I was going to New Orleans from Chicago a few years ago, and there were two ladies in the carriage with me. They got well acquainted with one another by the time they reached Cairo, where one lived, the other was going on to New Orleans. The one who had to get out at Cairo, said to the other, “I wish you would stay here with me for a few days, I like your company so much.” “I should like to stay,” replied the other, “but my things are all packed up and have gone on before; I have no clothes but those I am wearing. They are good enough to travel in , but I would not like to be seen in company with them.” Now that is the way with the Christian. He is away from home here, his treasure has gone on before, and anything is good enough to travel in . If things don’t go on smoothly down here we need not be too particular, they’re good enough travel in . If our treasures are in heaven our hearts will be there, and we shall be living as pilgrims and strangers on the earth One thought more. What occasions joy in heaven? The events which stir this world I believe are hardly noticed in heaven. If this government should be destroyed, what a commotion it would create all over the universe, but it would hardly cause a ripple in that country. If there was one little boy down here converted today, it would be noticed in heaven. Jesus Christ said, “There is joy in heaven over one sinner repenteth.”

My little boy, don’t you want to become a lamb, for the Shepherd to watch over and care for? My little girl, don’t you want to become a daughter of heaven, a follower of Christ?

It may be that at this moment every battlement of heaven is alive with the redeemed. There is a sainted mother watching for her daughter. Daughter! can you not see her? She is beckoning you now to the better land. Have you no response to that long-hushed voice which has prayed for you so often? And for you, young man, are there no voices there which prayed for you ? and are there none whom you promised once to meet again, if not on earth, in heaven? And which of you, fathers and mothers, but can hear in the angels’ chorus the music of the little ones you loved, and who have winged their way to be in glory forever with the Lord? Oh! shall we not all just turn our backs upon the world, and fall on our knees and ask God for Christ’s sake to write down our name in the Lamb’s Book of Life, that we and those we love may live forever with the Lord!