"Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee." So testified the psalmist in Psalm 119:11, and in that single confession we are handed a weapon forged in heaven for the warfare of holy living. Mark well where he laid up the Word — not upon his shelf, not merely upon his lips, but deep within the heart. He did not say he had hidden it in his memory that he might recite it, nor in his understanding that he might debate it, but in his heart that he might not sin. The Word was buried in the very seat of his affections and his will, where temptation comes knocking and where the battle for the soul is truly fought. This is no leisurely meditation; it is an armory stocked against the day of trial.
Beloved, sin does not assault us in the study; it ambushes us in the dark, in the unguarded hour, in the heat of provocation. And in that hour the soul that has only a borrowed, surface acquaintance with Scripture stands defenseless. But the saint who has hidden the Word deep finds it rising up unbidden, a flaming sword set against the tempter, even as our Lord answered the devil thrice in the wilderness, "It is written." The blood of Jesus that washes away the guilt of sin must be joined to the indwelling Word that guards against its return. He who treasures the commandments of God in his inmost being carries a fortress within, and the enemy cannot breach a wall that the Spirit Himself has built upon the engrafted Word, which is able to save the soul.
Yet hear this and let it search you: the carnal heart cannot hold the holy Word. You cannot bury heaven's pure seed in soil choked with the weeds of the old nature and expect a harvest of righteousness. This is why God has provided sanctification as a second definite work of grace — the cleansing of the carnal mind, the eradication of that inbred sin which wars against the Word and quenches it. Regeneration gives us a new life; sanctification purifies the heart wherein the Word is to dwell richly. "Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you," said Jesus. A purged heart becomes a fit vessel, swept and garnished, where the Scriptures abide undefiled and unmingled with the world's corruption.
And the Holy Ghost is the keeper of this hidden treasure. The same Spirit who baptizes the yielded believer with fire, with His mighty power and the evidence of speaking in other tongues, is He who brings the buried Word to remembrance in the hour of need. Jesus promised, "He shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you." Without Him the Word lies dormant; with Him it leaps forth as a quickening force, convicting, separating us from the world, and arming us against every device of the devil. The Spirit-filled saint walks in the fear of God, hating the very garment spotted by the flesh, kept by power divine and by the Word lodged deep within.
Will you not come, then, and let God do this deep work? Surface religion will not carry you through the perilous days that hasten upon us. Come to the altar and repent of every secret sin; consecrate your whole heart, holding back nothing, and ask Him to purify the depths where no man can see. Tarry there until the Holy Ghost falls and fills you with His power, until the Word is no longer ink upon a page but fire shut up in your bones. Empty out the world and let the Scriptures be buried deep, that you might not sin against Him.
For the Lord is coming, and coming soon. He shall descend with a shout, and only those whose hearts have been made pure and kept by the Word shall stand unashamed before Him. Let not that day overtake you with an empty armory and a divided heart. Hide the Word deep now, while it is called today; let it cleanse you, keep you, and crown you, until faith is turned to sight and you behold the King in His beauty. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
"Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee."
— Psalm 119:11