Expositions of Holy Scripture: Isaiah and Jeremiah (2024)

Produced by Charles Franks, Michelle Shephard and the

Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

ALEXANDER MACLAREN, D. D., Litt. D.

ISAIAH AND JEREMIAH

EXPOSITIONS OF HOLY SCRIPTURE

ALEXANDER MACLAREN, D. D., Litt. D.

ISAIAH

Chaps. I to XLVIII

CONTENTS

THE GREAT SUIT: JEHOVAH versus JUDAH (Isaiah i. 1-9; 16-20)

THE STUPIDITY OF GODLESSNESS (Isaiah i. 3)

WHAT SIN DOES TO MEN (Isaiah i. 30-31)

THE PERPETUAL PILLAR OF CLOUD AND FIRE (Isaiah iv. 5)

A PROPHET'S WOES (Isaiah v. 8-30)

VISION AND SERVICE (Isaiah vi. 1-13)

THE EMPTY THRONE FILLED (Isaiah vi. 1)

A SERAPH'S WINGS (Isaiah vi. 2)

THE MAKING OF A PROPHET (Isaiah vi. 5)

SHILOAH AND EUPHRATES (Isaiah viii. 6, 7)

THE KINGDOM AND THE KING (Isaiah ix. 2-7)

LIGHT OR FIRE? (Isaiah x. 17)

THE SUCKER FROM THE FELLED OAK (Isaiah xi. 1-10)

THE WELL-SPRING OF SALVATION (Isaiah xii. 3)

THE HARVEST OF A GODLESS LIFE (Isaiah xvii. 10, 11)

'IN THIS MOUNTAIN' (Isaiah xxv. 6-8)

THE FEAST ON THE SACRIFICE (Isaiah xxv. 6)

THE VEIL OVER ALL NATIONS (Isaiah xxv. 7)

THE SONG OF TWO CITIES (Isaiah xxvi. 1-10)

OUR STRONG CITY (Isaiah xxvi. 1-2)

THE INHABITANT OF THE ROCK (Isaiah xxvi. 3-4)

THE GRASP THAT BRINGS PEACE (Isaiah xxvii. 5)

THE JUDGMENT OF DRUNKARDS AND MOCKERS (Isaiah xxviii. 1-13)

A CROWN OF PRIDE OR A CROWN OF GLORY (Isaiah xxviii 3-5)

MAN'S CROWN AND GOD'S (Isaiah lxii 3)

THE FOUNDATION OF GOD (Isaiah xxviii. 16)

GOD'S STRANGE WORK (Isaiah xxviii. 21)

THE HUSBANDMAN AND HIS OPERATIONS (Isaiah xxviii. 23-29)

'QUIETNESS AND CONFIDENCE' (Isaiah xxx. 15)

GOD'S WAITING AND MAN'S (Isaiah xxx. 18)

THREE PICTURES OF ONE REALITY (Isaiah xxxi. 5)

THE LORD'S FURNACE (Isaiah xxxi. 9)

THE HIDING-PLACE (Isaiah xxxii. 2)

HOW TO DWELL IN THE FIRE OF GOD (Isaiah xxxiii. 14, 15; I John iv. 16)

THE FORTRESS OF THE FAITHFUL (Isaiah xxxiii. 16)

THE RIVERS OF GOD (Isaiah xxxiii. 21)

JUDGE, LAWGIVER, KING (Isaiah xxxiii. 22)

MIRACLES OF HEALING (Isaiah xxxv. 5-6)

MIRAGE OR LAKE (Isaiah xxxv. 6-7)

THE KING'S HIGHWAY (Isaiah xxxv. 8-9)

WHAT LIFE'S JOURNEY MAY BE (Isaiah xxxv. 9-10)

THE TRIUMPH OF FAITH (Isaiah xxxvii 14-21; 33-38)

WHERE TO CARRY TROUBLES (Isaiah xxxvii. 14)

GREAT VOICES FROM HEAVEN (Isaiah xl. 1-10)

O THOU THAT BRINGEST GOOD TIDINGS (Isaiah xl. 9)

'HAVE YE NOT? HAST THOU NOT' (Isaiah xl. 2; 28)

UNFAILING STARS AND FAINTING MEN (Isaiah xl. 26; 29)

THE SECRET OF IMMORTAL YOUTH (Isaiah xl. 30, 31)

CHRIST THE ARRESTER OF INCIPIENT EVIL AND THE NOURISHER OF INCIPIENT
GOOD (Isaiah xlii. 3, 4)

THE BLIND MAN'S GUIDE (Isaiah xlii. 16)

THY NAME: MY NAME (Isaiah xliii, 1; 7)

JACOB—ISRAEL—JESHURUN (Isaiah xliv. 1, 2)

FEEDING ON ASHES (Isaiah xliv. 20)

WRITING BLOTTED OUT AND MIST MELTED (Isaiah xliv. 22)

HIDDEN AND REVEALED (Isaiah xlv. 15, 19)

A RIGHTEOUSNESS NEAR AND A SWIFT SALVATION (Isaiah xlv. 12, 13)

A RIVER OF PEACE AND WAVES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS (Isaiah xlviii. 18)

THE GREAT SUIT: JEHOVAH VERSUS JUDAH

'The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judahand Jerusalem, in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kingsof Judah. I Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hathspoken: I have nourished and brought up children, and they haverebelled against Me. 3. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass hismaster's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.4. Ah sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers,children that are corrupters: they have forsaken the Lord, they haveprovoked the Holy One of Israel unto anger, they are gone awaybackward. 5. Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will revolt moreand more: the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. 6. Fromthe sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it;but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not beenclosed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment. 7. Yourcountry is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land,strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrownby strangers. 8. And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in avineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city. 9.Except the Lord of hosts had left unto us a very small remnant, weshould have been as Sodom, and we should have been like untoGomorrah…. 16. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of yourdoings from before Mine eyes; cease to do evil; 17. Learn to do well;seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead forthe widow. 18. Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord:though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow: thoughthey be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. 19. If ye be willingand obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land. 20. But if ye refuseand rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of theLord hath spoken it.'—ISAIAH 1,1-9; 16-20.

The first bars of the great overture to Isaiah's great oratorio arehere sounded. These first chapters give out the themes which runthrough all the rest of his prophecies. Like most introductions, theywere probably written last, when the prophet collected and arranged hislife's labours. The text deals with the three great thoughts, theleit-motifs that are sounded over and over again in the prophet'smessage.

First comes the great indictment (vs. 2-4). A true prophet's words areof universal application, even when they are most specially addressedto a particular audience. Just because this indictment was so true ofJudah, is it true of all men, for it is not concerned with detailspeculiar to a long-past period and state of society, but with the broadgeneralities common to us all. As another great teacher in OldTestament times said, 'I will not reprove thee for thy sacrifices orthy burnt-offerings, to have been continually before me.' Isaiah hasnothing to say about ritual or ceremonial omissions, which to him werebut surface matters after all, but he sets in blazing light thefoundation facts of Judah's (and every man's) distorted relation toGod. And how lovingly, as well as sternly, God speaks through him! Thatdivine lament which heralds the searching indictment is not unworthy tobe the very words of the Almighty Lover of all men, sorrowing over Hisprodigal and fugitive sons. Nor is its deep truth less than itstenderness. For is not man's sin blackest when seen against the brightbackground of God's fatherly love? True, the fatherhood that Isaiahknew referred to God's relation to the nation rather than to theindividual, but the great truth which is perfectly revealed by thePerfect Son was in part shown to the prophet. The east was bright withthe unrisen sun, and the tinted clouds that hovered above the place ofits rising seemed as if yearning to open and let him through. Man'sneglect of God's benefits puts him below the animals that 'know' thehand that feeds and governs them. Some men think it a token of superior'culture' and advanced views to throw off allegiance to God. It is atoken that they have less intelligence than their dog.

There is something very beautiful and pathetic in the fact that Judahis not directly addressed, but that verses 2-4 are a divine soliloquy.They might rather be called a father's lament than an indictment. Theforsaken father is, as it were, sadly brooding over his erring child'ssins, which are his father's sorrows and his own miseries. In verse 4the black catalogue of the prodigal's doings begins on the surface withwhat we call 'moral' delinquencies, and then digs deeper to disclosethe root of these in what we call 'religious' relations perverted. Thetwo are inseparably united, for no man who is wrong with God can beright with duty or with men. Notice, too, how one word flashes intoclearness the sad truth of universal experience—that 'iniquity,'however it may delude us into fancying that by it we throw off theburden of conscience and duty, piles heavier weights on our backs. Thedoer of iniquity is 'laden with iniquity.' Notice, too, how the awfulentail of evil from parents to children is adduced—shall we say asaggravating, or as lessening, the guilt of each generation? Isaiah'scontemporaries are 'a seed of evil-doers,' spring from such, and intheir turn are 'children that are corrupters.' The fatal bias becomesstronger as it passes down. Heredity is a fact, whether you call itoriginal sin or not.

But the bitter fountain of all evil lies in distorted relations to God.'They have forsaken the Lord'; that is why they 'do corruptly.' Theyhave 'despised the Holy One of Israel'; that is why they are 'ladenwith iniquity.' Alienated hearts separate from Him. To forsake Him isto despise Him. To go from Him is to go 'away backward.' Whatever mayhave been our inheritance of evil, we each go further from Him. Andthis fatherly lament over Judah is indeed a wail over every child ofman. Does it not echo in the 'pearl of parables,' and may we notsuppose that it suggested that supreme revelation of man's misery andGod's love?

After the indictment comes the sentence (vs. 5-8). Perhaps 'sentence'is not altogether accurate, for these verses do not so much decree afuture as describe a present, and the deep tone of pitying wondersounds through them as they tell of the bitter harvest sown by sin. Thepenetrating question, 'Why will ye be still stricken, that ye revoltmore and more?' brings out the solemn truth that all which men gain byrebellion against God is chastisem*nt. The ox that 'kicks against thepricks' only makes its own hocks bleed. We aim at some imagined good,and we get—blows. No rational answer to that stern 'Why?' is possible.Every sin is an act of unreason, essentially an absurdity. Theconsequences of Judah's sin are first darkly drawn under the metaphorof a man desperately wounded in some fight, and far away fromphysicians or nurses, and then the metaphor is interpreted by the plainfacts of hostile invasion, flaming cities, devastated fields. Itdestroys the coherence of the verses to take the gruesome picture ofthe wounded man as a description of men's sins; it is plainly adescription of the consequences of their sins. In accordance with theOld Testament point of view, Isaiah deals with national calamities asthe punishment of national sins. He does not touch on the far worseresults of individual sins on individual character. But while we arenot to ignore his doctrine that nations are individual entities, andthat 'righteousness exalteth a nation' in our days as well as in his,the Christian form of his teaching is that men lay waste their ownlives and wound their own souls by every sin. The fugitive son comesdown to be a swine-herd, and cannot get enough even of the swine's foodto stay his hunger.

The note of pity sounds very clearly in the pathetic description of thedeserted 'daughter of Zion.' Jerusalem stands forlorn and defenceless,like a frail booth in a vineyard, hastily run up with boughs, and opento fierce sunshine or howling winds. Once 'beautiful for situation, thejoy of the whole earth,… the city of the great King'—and now!

Verse 9 breaks the solemn flow of the divine Voice, but breaks it as itdesires to be broken. For in it hearts made soft and penitent by theVoice, breathe out lowly acknowledgment of widespread sin, and seeGod's mercy in the continuance of 'a very small remnant' of stillfaithful ones. There is a little island not yet submerged by the sea ofiniquity, and it is to Him, not to themselves, that the 'holy seed' owetheir being kept from following the multitude to do evil. What asmiting comparison for the national pride that is—'as Sodom,' 'likeunto Gomorrah'!

After the sentence comes pardon. Verses 16 and 17 properly belong tothe paragraph omitted from the text, and close the stern special wordto the 'rulers' which, in its severe tone, contrasts so strongly withthe wounded love and grieved pity of the preceding verses. Moralamendment is demanded of these high-placed sinners and false guides. Itis John the Baptist's message in an earlier form, and it clears the wayfor the evangelical message. Repentance and cleansing of life comefirst.

But these stern requirements, if taken alone, kindle despair. 'Washyou, make you clean'—easy to say, plainly necessary, and as plainlyhopelessly above my reach. If that is all that a prophet has to say tome, he may as well say nothing. For what is the use of saying 'Ariseand walk' to the man who has been lame from his mother's womb? How cana foul body be washed clean by filthy hands? Ancient or modernpreachers of a self-wrought-out morality exhort to impossibilities, andunless they follow their preaching of an unattainable ideal as Isaiahfollowed his, they are doomed to waste their words. He cried, 'Make youclean,' but he immediately went on to point to One who could makeclean, could turn scarlet into snowy white, crimson into the lustrouspurity of the unstained fleeces of sheep in green pastures. Theassurance of God's forgiveness which deals with guilt, and of God'scleansing which deals with inclination and habit, must be thefoundation of our cleansing ourselves from filthiness of flesh andspirit. The call to repentance needs the promise of pardon and divinehelp to purifying in order to become a gospel. And the call to'repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ,' iswhat we all, who are 'laden with iniquity,' and have forsaken the Lord,need, if ever we are to cease to do evil and learn to do well.

As with one thunder-clap the prophecy closes, pealing forth the eternalalternative set before every soul of man. Willing obedience to ourFather God secures all good, the full satisfaction of our else hungryand ravenous desires. To refuse and rebel is to condemn ourselves todestruction. And no man can avert that consequence, or break thenecessary connection between goodness and blessedness, 'for the mouthof the Lord hath spoken it,' and what He speaks stands fast for everand ever.

THE STUPIDITY OF GODLESSNESS

'The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israeldoth not know, My people doth not consider.'—ISAIAH i. 3.

This is primarily an indictment against Israel, but it touches us all.'Doth not know' i.e. has no familiar acquaintance with; 'doth notconsider,' i.e. frivolously ignores, never meditates on.

I. This is a common attitude of mind towards God.

Blank indifference towards Him is far more frequent than conscioushostility. Take a hundred men at random as they hurry through thestreets, and how many of them would have to acknowledge that no thoughtof God had crossed their minds for days or months? So far as they areconcerned, either in regard to their thoughts or actions, He is 'asuperfluous hypothesis.' Most men are not conscious of rebellionagainst Him, and to charge them with it does not rouse conscience, butthey cannot but plead guilty to this indictment, 'God is not in alltheir thoughts.'

II. This attitude is strange and unnatural.

That a man should be able to forget God, and live as if there were nosuch Being, is strange. It is one instance of that awful power ofignoring the most important subjects, of which every life affords somany and tragic instances. It seems as if we had above us an opium skywhich rains down soporifics, go that we are fast asleep to all that itmost concerns us to wake to. But still stranger is it that, having thatpower of attending or not attending to subjects, we should so commonlyexercise it on this subject. For, as the ox that knows the hand thatfeeds him, and the ass that makes for his 'master's crib' where he issure of fodder and straw, might teach us, the stupidest brute has senseenough to recognise who is kind to him, or has authority over him, andwhere he can find what he needs. The godless man descends below theanimals' level. And to ignore Him is intensely stupid. But it is worsethan foolish, for

III. This attitude is voluntary and criminal.

Though there is not conscious hostility in it, the root of it is asub-conscious sense of discordance with God and of antagonism betweenHis will and the man's When we are quite sure that we love another, andthat hearts beat in accord and wills go out towards the same things, wedo not need to make efforts to think of that other, but our minds turntowards him or her as to a home, whenever released from theholding-back force of necessary occupations. If we love God, and haveour will set to do His will, our thoughts will fly to Him, 'as doves totheir windows.'

It is fed by preoccupation of thought with other things. We have but acertain limited amount of energy of thought or attention, and if wewaste it, as much as most of us do, on 'things seen and temporal,'there is none left for the unseen realities and the God who is'eternal, invisible.' It is often reinforced by theoreticaluncertainty, sometimes real, often largely unreal. But after all, thetrue basis of it is, what Paul gives as its cause, 'they did not liketo retain God in their knowledge.'

The criminality of this indifference! It is heartlessly ungrateful.Dogs lick the hand that feeds them; ox and ass in their dull wayrecognise something almost like obligation arising from benefits andcare. No ingratitude is meaner and baser than that of which we areguilty, if we do not requite Him 'in whose hands our breath is, andwhose are all our ways,' by even one thankful heart-throb or one wordshaped out of the breath that He gives.

IV. This attitude is fatal.

It separates us from God, and separation from Him is the verydefinition of Death. A God of whom we never think is all the same to usas a God who does not exist. Strike God out of a life, and you strikethe sun out of the system, and wrap all in darkness and welteringchaos. 'This is life eternal, to know Thee'; but if 'Israel doth notknow,' Israel has slain itself.

WHAT SIN DOES TO MEN

'Ye shall be as an oak whose leaf fadeth, and as a garden that hath nowater. 31. And the strong shall be as tow, and His work as a spark; andthey shall both burn together, and none shall quench them.'—ISAIAH i.30-31.

The original reference of these words is to the threatened retributionfor national idolatry, of which 'oaks' and 'gardens' were both seats.The nation was, as it were, dried up and made inflammable; the idol wasas the 'spark' or the occasion for destruction. But a widerapplication, which comes home to us all, is to the fatal results ofsin. These need to be very plainly stated, because of the deceitfulnessof sin, which goes on slaying men by thousands in silence.

'That grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace.'

I. Sin withers.

We see the picture of a blasted tree in the woods, while all around arein full leaf, with tiny leaves half developed and all brown at theedges. The prophet draws another picture, that of a garden notirrigated, and therefore, in the burning East, given over to barrenness.

Sin makes men fruitless and withered.

It involves separation from God, the source of all fruitfulness (Ps.i.).

Think of how many pure desires and innocent susceptibilities die out ofa sinful soul. Think of how many capacities for good disappear. Thinkof how dry and seared the heart becomes. Think of how conscience isstifled.

All sin—any sin—does this.

Not only gross, open transgressions, but any piece of godless livingwill do it.

Whatever a man does against his conscience—neglect of duty, habitualunveracity, idleness—in a word, his besetting sin withers him up.

And all the while the evil thing that is drawing his life-blood isgrowing like a poisonous, blotched fungus in a wine-cask.

II. Sin makes men inflammable.

'As tow' or tinder.

A subsidiary reference may be intended to the sinful man as easilycatching fire at temptation. But the main thought is that sin makes aman ready for destruction, 'whose end is to be burned.'

The materials for retribution are laid up in a man's nature bywrong-doing. The conspirators store the dynamite in a dark cellar.Conscience and memory are charged with explosives.

If tendencies, habits, and desires become tyrannous by long indulgenceand cannot be indulged, what a fierce fire would rage then!

We have only to suppose a man made to know what is the real moralcharacter of his actions, and to be unable to give them up, to havehell.

All this is confirmed by occasional glimpses which men get ofthemselves. Our own characters are the true Medusa-head which turns aman into stone when he sees it.

What, then, are we really doing by our sins? Piling together fuel forburning.

III. Sin burns up.

'Work as a spark.' The evil deeds brought into contact with the doerwork destruction. That is, if, in a future life or at any time, a manis brought face to face with his acts, then retribution begins. Weshake off the burden of our actions by want of remembrance. But thatpower of ignoring the past may be broken down at any time. Suppose ithappens that in another world it can no longer be exercised, what then?

Evil deeds are the occasion of the divine retribution. They are 'aspark.' It is they who light the pyre, not God. The prophet hereprotests in God's name against the notion that He is to be blamed forpunishing. Men are their own self-tormentors. The sinful man immolateshimself. Like Isaac, he carries the wood and lays the pile for his ownburning.

Christ severs the connection between us and our evil. He restoresbeauty and freshness to the blighted tree, planting it as 'by the riverof water,' so that it 'bringeth forth its fruit in its season,' and its'leaf also doth not wither.'

THE PERPETUAL PILLAR OF CLOUD AND FIRE

'And the Lord will create over the whole habitation of Mount Zion, andover her assemblies, a cloud and smoke by day, and the shining of aflaming fire by night.'—ISAIAH iv. 5.

The pillar of cloud and fire in the Exodus was one: there are to be asmany pillars as there are 'assemblies' in the new era. Is it strainingthe language too much to find significance in that difference? Insteadof the formal unity of the Old Covenant, there is a variety which yetis a more vital unity. Is there not a hint here of the same lesson thatis taught by the change of the one golden lamp-stand into the seven,which are a better unity because Jesus Christ walks among them?

The heart of this promise, thus cast into the form of ancientexperiences, but with significant variations, is that of true communionwith God.

That communion makes those who have it glorious.

That communion supplies unfailing guidance.

A man in close fellowship with God will have wonderful flashes ofsagacity, even about small practical matters. The gleam of the pillarwill illumine conscience, and shine on many difficult, dark places. The'simplicity' of a saintly soul will often see deeper into puzzlingcontingencies than the vulpine craftiness of the 'prudent.' The darkerthe night, the brighter the guidance.

That communion gives a defence.

The pillar came between Egypt and Israel, and kept the foe off thetimid crowd of slaves. Whatever forms our enemies take, fellowship withGod will invest us with a defence as protean as our perils. The samecloud is represented in the context as being 'a pavilion for a shadowin the heat, and for a refuge and for a covert from storm and fromrain.'

A PROPHET'S WOES

'Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay field to field, tillthere be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of theearth! 9. In mine ears said the Lord of hosts, Of a truth many housesshall be desolate, even great and fair, without inhabitant. 10. Yea,ten acres of vineyard shall yield one bath, and the seed of an homershall yield an ephah. 11. Woe unto them that rise up early in themorning, that they may follow strong drink; that continue until night,till wine inflame them! 12. And the harp, and the viol, the tabret, andpipe, and wine, are in their feasts: but they regard not the work ofthe Lord, neither consider the operation of His hands. 13. Therefore mypeople are gone into captivity, because they have no knowledge: andtheir honourable men are famished, and their multitude dried up withthirst. 14. Therefore hell hath enlarged herself, and opened her mouthwithout measure: and their glory and their multitude, and their pomp,and he that rejoiceth, shall descend into it. 15. And the mean manshall be brought down, and the mighty man shall be humbled, and theeyes of the lofty shall be humbled: 16. But the Lord of hosts shall beexalted in judgment, and God that is holy shall be sanctified inrighteousness. 17. Then shall the lambs feed after their manner, andthe waste places of the fat ones shall strangers eat. 18. Woe unto themthat draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a cartrope: 19. That say, Let Him make speed, and hasten His work, that wemay see it: and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel draw nigh andcome, that we may know it! 20. Woe unto them that call evil good, andgood evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; thatput bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! 21. Woe unto them that arewise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight! 22. Woe untothem that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to minglestrong drink: 23. Which justify the wicked for reward, and take awaythe righteousness of the righteous from him! 24. Therefore as the firedevoureth the stubble, and the flame consumeth the chaff, so their rootshall be as rottenness, and their blossom shall go up as dust: becausethey have cast away the law of the Lord of hosts, and despised the wordof the Holy One of Israel. 25. Therefore is the anger of the Lordkindled against His people, and He hath stretched forth His handagainst them, and hath smitten them: and the hills did tremble, andtheir carcases were torn in the midst of the streets. For all this Hisanger is not turned away, but His hand is stretched out still. 26. AndHe will lift up an ensign to the nations from far, and will hiss untothem from the end of the earth: and, behold, they shall come with speedswiftly: 17. None shall be weary nor stumble among them; none shallslumber nor sleep; neither shall the girdle of their loins be loosed,nor the latchet of their shoes be broken: 28. Whose arrows are sharp,and all their bows bent, their horses' hoofs shall be counted likeflint, and their wheels like a whirlwind: 29. Their roaring shall belike a lion, they shall roar like young lions: yea, they shall roar,and lay hold of the prey, and shall carry it away safe, and none shalldeliver it. 30. And in that day they shall roar against them like theroaring of the sea: and if one look unto the land, behold darkness andsorrow, and the light is darkened in the heavens thereof.'—ISAIAH v.8-30.

Drunkenness is, in this text, one of a ring of plague-spots on the bodypolitic of Judah. The prophet six times proclaims 'woe' as theinevitable end of these; such 'sickness' is 'unto death' unlessrepentance and another course of conduct bring healing. But drunkennessappears twice in this grim catalogue, and the longest paragraph ofdenunciation (vv, 11-17) is devoted to it. Its connection with theother vices attacked is loose, but it is worth noting that all thesehave an inner kinship, and tend to appear together. They are 'all in astring,' and where a community is cursed with one, the others will notbe far away. They are a knot of serpents intertwined. We touch butslightly on the other vices denounced by the prophet's burning words,but we must premise the general observation that the sameuncompromising plainness and boldness in speaking out as to social sinsought to characterise Christian teachers to-day. The prophet's officeis not extinct in the church.

The first plague-spot is the accumulation of wealth in few hands, andthe selfish withdrawal of its possessors from the life of thecommunity. In an agricultural society like that of Judah, that clottingof wealth took the shape of 'land-grabbing,' and of evicting the smallproprietors. We see it in more virulent forms in our great commercialcentres, where the big men often become big by crushing out the littleones, and denude themselves of responsibility to the community inproportion as they clothe themselves with wealth. Wherever wealth isthus congested, and its obligations ignored by selfish indulgence, theseeds are sown which will spring up one day in 'anarchism.' A man neednot be a prophet to have it whispered in his ear, as Isaiah had, thatthe end of selfish capitalism is a convulsion in which 'many housesshall be desolate,' and many fields barren. England needs the warningas much as Isaiah's Judah did.

Such selfish wealth leads, among other curses, to indolence anddrunkenness, as the next woe shows. The people described make drinkingthe business of their lives, beginning early and sitting late. Theyhave a varnish of art over their swinishness, and must have music aswell as wine. So, in many a drink-shop in England, a piano or a bandadds to the attractions, and gives a false air of aestheticism to pureanimalism. Isaiah feels the incongruity that music should be soprostituted, and expresses it by adding to his list of musicalinstruments 'and wine' as if he would underscore the degradation of thegreat art to be the cupbearer of sots. Such revellers are blind to themanifest tokens of God's working, and the 'operation of His hands'excites only the tipsy gaze which sees nothing. That is one of thecurses which dog the drunkard-that he takes no warning from the plainresults of his vice as seen in others. He knows that it means shatteredhealth, ruined prospects, broken hearts, but nothing rouses him fromhis fancy of impunity. High, serious thoughts of God and His governmentof the world and of each life are strange to him. His sin compels himto be godless, if he is not to go mad. But sometimes he wakes to amoment's sight of realities, and then he is miserable till his nextbout buys fatal forgetfulness.

The prophet forces the end of a drunken nation on the unwillingattention of the roisterers, in verses 13-17, which throb withvehemence of warning and gloomy eloquence. What can such a people cometo but destruction? Knowledge must languish, hunger and thirst mustfollow. Like some monster's gaping mouth, the pit yawns for them; and,drawn as by irresistible attraction, the pomp and the wicked, senselessjollity elide down into it. In the universal catastrophe, one thingalone stands upright, and is lifted higher, because all else has sunkso far,-the righteous judgment of the forgotten God. The grim pictureis as true for individuals and their deaths as for a nation and itsdecay. And modern nations cannot afford to have this ulcer ofdrunkenness draining away their strength any more than Judah could. 'Bythe soul only are the nations great and free,' and a people can beneither where the drink fiend has his way.

Three woes follow which are closely connected. That pronounced ondaring evil-doers, who not only let sin draw them to itself, but gomore than halfway to meet it, needing no temptation, but drawing it tothem eagerly, and scoffing at the merciful warnings of fatalconsequences, comes first. Next is a woe on those who play fast andloose with plain morality, sophisticating conscience, and sapping thefoundations of law. Such juggling follows sensual indulgence such asdrunkenness, when it becomes habitual and audacious, as in thepreceding woe. Loose or perverted codes of morality generally springfrom bad living, seeking to shelter itself. Vicious principles are anafterthought to screen vicious practices. The last subject of thetriple woes is self-conceit and pretence to superior illumination. Suchvery superior persons are emancipated from the rules which bind thecommon herd. They are so very clever that they have far outgrown thecreeping moralities, which may do for old women and children. Do we notknow the sort of people? Have we none of them surviving to-day?

Then Isaiah comes back to his theme of drunkenness, but in a newconnection. It poisons the fountain of justice. There is a world ofindignant contempt in the prophet's scathing picture of those who are'mighty' and 'men of strength,'-but how is their strength shown? Theycan stand any quantity of wine, and can 'mix their drinks,' and yetlook sober! What a noble use to put a good constitution to! Thesevaliant topers are in authority as judges, and they sell theirjudgments to get money for their debauches. We do not see much of suchscandals among us, but yet we have heard of leagues betweenliquor-sellers and municipal authorities, which certainly do not'make for righteousness.' When shall we learn and practise the lessonthat Isaiah was reading his countrymen,—that it is fatal to a nationwhen the private character of public men is regarded as of no accountin political and civic life? The prophet had no doubt as to what mustbe the end of a state of things in which the very courts of law werehoneycombed with corruption, and demoralised by the power of drink. Histremendous image of a fierce fire raging across a dry prairie, andburning the grass to its very roots, while the air is stifling with thethick 'dust' of the conflagration, proclaims the sure fate, sooner orlater, of every community and individual that 'rejects the law of theLord of Hosts, and despises the word of the Holy One of Israel.' Changethe name, and the tale is told of us; for it is 'righteousness thatexalteth a nation,' and no single vice drags after it more infalliblysuch a multitude of attendant demons as the vice of drunkenness, whichis a crying sin of England to-day.

VISION AND SERVICE

'In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon athrone, high and lifted up, and His train filled the temple. 2. Aboveit stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he coveredhis face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he didfly. 3. And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is theLord of Hosts: the whole earth is full of His glory. 4. And the postsof the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house wasfilled with smoke. 5. Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; becauseI am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people ofunclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts. 6.Then flew one of the seraphims onto me, having a live coal in his hand,which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar: 7. And he laid itupon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thineiniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged. 8. Also I heard the voiceof the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Thensaid I, Here am I; send me. 9. And he said, Go, and tell this people,Hear ye indeed, but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceivenot. 10. Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy,and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with theirears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed. 11.Then said I, Lord, how long? And he answered, Until the cities bewasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land beutterly desolate, 12. And the Lord have removed men far away, and therebe a great forsaking in the midst of the land. 13. But yet in it shallbe a tenth, and it shall return, and shall be eaten: as a tell tree,and as an oak, whose substance is in them, when they cast their leaves:so the holy seed shall be the substance thereof.'—ISAIAH vi. 1-13.

WE may deal with this text as falling into three parts: the vision, itseffect on the prophet, and his commission.

I. The Vision.—'In the year that King Uzziah died' is more than a datefor chronological accuracy. It tells not only when, but why, the visionwas given. The throne of David was empty.

God never empties places in our homes and hearts, or in the nation orthe Church, without being ready to fill them. He sometimes empties themthat He may fill them. Sorrow and loss are meant to prepare us for thevision of God, and their effect should be to purge the inward eye, thatit may see Him. When the leaves drop from the forest trees we can seethe blue sky which their dense abundance hid. Well for us if thepassing of all that can pass drives us to Him who cannot pass, if theunchanging God stands out more clear, more near, more dear, because ofchange.

As to the substance of this vision, we need not discuss whether, if wehad been there, we should have seen anything. It was doubtless relatedto Isaiah's thoughts, for God does not send visions which have no pointof contact in the recipient. However communicated, it was a divinecommunication, and a temporary unveiling of an eternal reality. Theform was transient, but Isaiah then saw for a moment 'the things whichare' and always are.

The essential point of the vision is the revelation of Jehovah as kingof Judah. That relation guaranteed defence and demanded obedience. Itwas a sure basis of hope, but also a stringent motive to loyalty, andit had its side of terror as well as of joyfulness. 'You only have Iknown of all the families of the earth: therefore I will punish you forall your iniquities.' The place of vision is the heavenly sanctuary ofwhich the temple was a prophecy. Eminently significant andcharacteristic of the whole genius of the Old Testament is the absenceof any description of the divine appearance. The prophet saw things'which it is not lawful for a man to utter,' and his silence is notonly reverent, but more eloquent than any attempt to put the Ineffableinto words. Even in this act of manifestation God was veiled, and'there was the hiding of His power.' The train of His robe can bespoken of, but not the form which it concealed even in revealing it.Nature is the robe of God. It hides while it discloses, and discloseswhile it hides.

The hovering seraphim were in the attitude of service. They areprobably represented as fiery forms, but are spoken of nowhere else inScripture. The significance of their attitude has been well given byJewish commentators, who say, 'with two he covered his face that hemight not see, and with two he covered his body that he might not beseen' and we may add, 'with two he stood ready for service, by flightwhithersoever the King would send.' Such awe-stricken reverence, suchhumble hiding of self, such alacrity for swift obedience, such flamingardours of love and devotion, should be ours. Their song celebrated theholiness and the glory of Jehovah of hosts. We must ever remember thatthe root-meaning of 'holiness' is separation, and that the popularmeaning of moral purity is secondary and derivative. What israpturously sung in the threefold invocation of the seraphs is theinfinite exaltation of Jehovah above all creatural conditions,limitations, and, we may add, conceptions. That separation, of course,includes purity, as may be seen from the immediate effect of the visionon the prophet, but the conception is much wider than that. Verybeautifully does the second line of the song re-knit the connectionbetween Jehovah and this world, so far beneath Him, which the burst ofpraise of His holiness seems to sever. The high heaven is a bendingarch; its inaccessible heights ray down sunshine and drop down rain,and, as in the physical world, every plant grows by Heaven's gift, soin the world of humanity all wisdom, goodness, and joy are from theFather of lights. God's 'glory' is the flashing lustre of Hismanifested holiness, which fills the earth as the train of the robefilled the temple. The vibrations of that mighty hymn shook the'foundations of the threshold' (Rev. Ver.) with its thunderousharmonies. 'The house was filled with smoke' which, since it was aneffect of the seraph's praise, is best explained as referring to thefragrant smoke of incense which, as we know, symbolised 'the prayers ofsaints.'

II. The effect of the vision on the prophet.—The vision kindled aswith a flash Isaiah's consciousness of sin. He expressed it in regardto his words rather than his works, partly because in one aspect speechis even more accurately than act a cast, as it were, of character, andpartly because he could not but feel the difference between the mightymusic that burst from these pure and burning lips and the words thatflowed from and soiled his own. Not only the consciousness of sin, butthe dread of personal evil consequences from the vision of the holyGod, oppressed his heart. We see ourselves when we see God. Once flashon a heart the thought of God's holiness, and, like an electricsearch-light, it discloses flaws which pass unnoticed in dimmer light.The easy-going Christianity, which is the apology for religion with somany of us, has no deep sense of sin, because it has no clear vision ofGod. 'I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eyeseeth Thee: wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.'

The next stage in Isaiah's experience is that sin recognised andconfessed is burned away. Cleansing rather than forgiveness is hereemphasised. The latter is, of course, included, but the main point isthe removal of impurity. It is mediated by one of the seraphim, who isthe messenger of God, which is just a symbolical way of saying that Godmakes penitents 'partakers of His holiness,' and that nothing less thana divine communication will make cleansing possible. It is effected bya live coal. Fire is purifying, and the New Testament has taught usthat the true cleansing fire is that of the Holy Spirit. But that livecoal was taken from the altar. The atoning sacrifice has been offeredthere, and our cleansing depends on the efficacy of that sacrificebeing applied to us.

The third stage in the prophet's experience is the readiness forservice which springs up in his purged heart. God seeks for volunteers.There are no pressed men in His army. The previous experiences madeIsaiah quick to hear God's call, and willing to respond to it bypersonal consecration. Take the motive-power of redemption from sin outof Christianity, and you break its mainspring, so that the clock willonly tick when it is shaken. It is the Christ who died for our sins towhom men say, 'Command what Thou wilt, and I obey.'

III. The prophet's commission.—He was not sent on his work with anyillusions as to its success, but, on the contrary, he had a clearpremonition that its effect would be to deepen the spiritual deafnessand blindness of the nation. We must remember that in Scripture thecertain effect of divine acts is uniformly regarded as a divine design.Israel was so sunk in spiritual deadness that the issue of theprophet's work would only be to immerse the mass of 'this people'farther in it. To some more susceptible souls his message would be atrue divine voice, rousing them like a trumpet, and that effect waswhat God desired; but to the greater number it would deepen theirtorpor and increase their condemnation. If men love darkness ratherthan light, the coming of the light works only judgment.

Isaiah recoils from the dreary prospect, and feels that this dreadfulhardening cannot be God's ultimate purpose for the nation. So he humblyand wistfully asks how long it is to last. The answer is twofold, heavywith a weight of apparently utter ruin in its first part, butdisclosing a faint, far-off gleam of hope on its second. Completedestruction, and the casting of Israel out from the land, are to come.But as, though a goodly tree is felled, a stump remains which has vitalforce (or substance) in it, so, even in the utmost apparentdesperateness of Israel's state, there will be in it 'the holy seed,'the 'remnant,' the true Israel, from which again the life shall spring,and stem and branches and waving foliage once more grow up.

THE EMPTY THRONE FILLED

'In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon athrone, high and lifted up, and His train filled the temple.'—ISAIAHvi. 1.

Uzziah had reigned for fifty-two years, during the greater part ofwhich he and his people had been brilliantly prosperous. Victorious inwar, he was also successful in the arts of peaceful industry. The lateryears of his life were clouded, but on the whole the reign had been atime of great well-being. His son and successor was a young man offive-and-twenty; and when he came to the throne ominous war-clouds weregathering in the North, and threatening to drift to Judah. No wonderthat the prophet, like other thoughtful patriots, was asking himselfwhat was to come in these anxious days, when the helm was in new hands,which, perhaps, were not strong enough to hold it. Like a wise man, hetook his thoughts into the sanctuary; and there he understood. As hebrooded, this great vision was disclosed to his inward eye. 'In theyear that King Uzziah died' is a great deal more than a date forchronological purposes. It tells us not only the when, but the why,of the vision. The earthly king was laid in the grave; but the prophetsaw that the true King of Israel was neither the dead Uzziah nor theyoung Jotham, but the Lord of hosts. And, seeing that, fears andforebodings and anxieties and the sense of loss, all vanished; and newstrength came to Isaiah. He went into the temple laden with anxiousthoughts; he came out of it with a springy step and a lightened heart,and the resolve 'Here am I; send me.' There are some lessons that seemto me of great importance for the conduct of our daily life which maybe gathered from this remarkable vision, with the remarkable note oftime that is appended to it.

Now, before I pass on, let me remind you, in a word, of that apparentlyaudacious commentary upon this great vision, which the Evangelist Johngives us: 'These things said Esaias, when he had beheld His glory andspake of Him.' Then the Christ is the manifest Jehovah; is the Kingof Glory. Then the vision which was but a transitory revelation is therevelation of an eternal reality, and 'the vision splendid' does not'fade but brightens, into the light of common day'; when instead ofbeing flashed only on the inward eye of a prophet, it is made flesh andwalks amongst us, and lives our life, and dies our death. Our eyes haveseen the King in as true a reality, and in better fashion, than everIsaiah did amid the sanctities of the Temple. And the eyes that haveseen only the near foreground, the cultivated valleys, and the homes ofmen, are raised, and lo! the long line of glittering peaks, calm,silent, pure. Who will look at the valleys when the Himalayas standout, and the veil is drawn aside?

I. Let me say a word or two about the ministration of loss and sorrowin preparing for the vision.

It was when 'King Uzziah died' that the prophet 'saw the Lord sittingupon the throne.' If the Throne of Israel had not been empty, he wouldnot have seen the throned God in the heavens. And so it is with all ourlosses, with all our sorrows, with all our disappointments, with allour pains; they have a mission to reveal to us the throned God. Thepossession of the things that are taken away from us, the joys whichour sorrows smite into dust, have the same mission, and the highestpurpose of every good, of every blessing, of every possession, of everygladness, of all love—the highest mission is to lead us to Him. But,just as men will frost a window, so that the light may come in but thesight cannot go out, so by our own fault and misuse of the good thingswhich are meant to lead us up to, and to show us, God, we frost anddarken the window so that we cannot see what it is meant to show us.And then a mighty and merciful hand shivers the painted glass intofragments, because it has been dimming 'the white radiance ofEternity.' And though the casem*nt may look gaunt, and the edges of thebroken glass may cut and wound, yet the view is unimpeded. When thegifts that we have misused are withdrawn, we can see the heaven thatthey too often hide from us. When the leaves drop there is a widerprospect. When the great tree is fallen there is opened a view of theblue above. When the night falls the stars sparkle. When other propsare struck away we can lean our whole weight upon God. When Uzziah diesthe King becomes visible.

Is that what our sorrows, our pains, losses, disappointments do for us?Well for those to whom loss is gain, because it puts them in possessionof the enduring riches! Well for those to whom the passing of all thatcan pass is a means of revealing Him who 'is the same yesterday, andto-day, and for ever'! The message to us of all these our pains andgriefs is 'Come up hither.' In them all our Father is saying to us,'Seek ye My face.' Well for those who answer, 'Thy face, Lord, will Iseek. Hide not Thy face far from me.'

Let us take care that we do not waste our griefs and sorrows. Theyabsorb us sometimes with vain regrets. They jaundice and embitter ussometimes with rebellious thoughts. They often break the springs ofactivity and of interest in others, and of sympathy with others. Buttheir true intention is to draw back the thin curtain, and to show us'the things that are,' the realities of the throned God, the skirtsthat fill the Temple, the hovering seraphim, and the coal from thealtar that purges.

II. Let me suggest how our text shows us the compensation that is givenfor all losses.

As I have pointed out already, the thought conveyed to the prophet bythis vision was not only the general one, of God's sovereign rule, butthe special one of His rule over and for, and His protection of, theorphan kingdom which had lost its king. The vision took the specialshape that the moment required. It was because the earthly king wasdead that the living, heavenly King was revealed.

So there is just suggested by it this general thought, that theconsciousness of God's presence and work for us takes in each heart theprecise shape that its momentary necessities and circ*mstances require.That infinite fulness is of such a nature as that it will assume anyform for which the weakness and the need of the dependent creaturecall. Like the one force which scientists now are beginning to thinkunderlies all the various manifestations of energy in nature, whetherthey be named light, heat, motion, electricity, chemical action, orgravitation, the one same vision of the throned God, manifest in JesusChrist, is protean. Here it flames as light, there burns as heat, thereflashes as electricity; here as gravitation holds the atoms together,there as chemical energy separated and decomposes them; here results inmotion, there in rest; but is the one force. And so the one God willbecome everything and anything that every man, and each man, requires.He shapes himself according to our need. The water of life does notdisdain to take the form imposed upon it by the vessel into which it ispoured. The Jews used to say that the manna in the wilderness tasted toeach man as each man desired. And the God, who comes to us all, comesto us each in the shape that we need; just as He came to Isaiah in themanifestation of His kingly power, because the throne of Judah wasvacated.

So when our hearts are sore with loss, the New Testament Manifestationof the King, even Jesus Christ, comes to us and says, 'The same is mymother and sister and brother,' and His sweet love compensates for thelove that can die, and that has died. When losses come to us He drawsnear, as durable riches and righteousness. In all our pains He is ouranodyne, and in all our griefs He brings the comfort; He is all in all,and each withdrawn gift is compensated, or will be compensated, to eachin Him.

So, dear friends, let us learn God's purpose in emptying hearts andchairs and homes. He empties them that He may fill them with Himself.He takes us, if I might so say, into the darkness, as travellers to thesouth are to-day passing through Alpine tunnels, in order that He maybring us out into the land where 'God Himself is sun and moon,' andwhere there are ampler ether and brighter constellations than in theselands where we dwell. He means that, when Uzziah dies, our hearts shallsee the King. And for all mourners, for all tortured hearts, for allfrom whom stays have been stricken and resources withdrawn, the oldword is true: 'Lord shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us.'

Let me recall to you what I have already insisted on more than once,that the perfecting of this vision is in the historical fact of theIncarnate Son. Jesus Christ shows us God. Jesus Christ is the King ofGlory. If we will go to Him, and fix our eyes and hearts on Him, thenlosses may come, and we shall be none the poorer; death may unclasp ourhands from dear hands, but He will close a dearer one round the handthat is groping for a stay; and nothing can betaken away but He willmore than fill the gap it leaves by His own sweet presence. If our eyesbehold the King, if we are like John the Seer in his rocky Patmos, andsee the Christ in His glory and royalty, then He will lay His hands onus and say, 'Fear not! Weep not; I am the First and the Last,' andforebodings, and fears, and sense of loss will all be changed intotrustfulness and patient submission. 'Seeing Him, who is invisible,' weshall be able to endure and to toil, until the time when the vision ofearth is perfected by the beholding of heaven. Blessed are they whowith purged eyes see, and with yielding hearts obey, the heavenlyvision, and turn to the King and offer themselves for any service Hemay require, saying, 'Here am I; send me.'

A SERAPH'S WINGS

'With twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet,and with twain he did fly.'—ISAIAH vi. 2.

This is the only mention in Scripture of the seraphim. I do not need toenter upon the much-debated, and in some respects interesting, questionas to whether these are to be taken as identical with the cherubim, oras to whether they are altogether imaginary and symbolical beings, noras to whether they are identical with the angels, or part of theirhierarchy. All that may be left on one side. I would only notice,before I deal with the specific words of my text, the significance ofthe name. It means 'the flaming' or 'burning ones,' and so theattendants of the divine glory in the heavens, whether they be real orimaginary beings, are represented as flashing with splendour, as fullof swift energy, like a flame of fire, as glowing with fervid love, asblazing with enthusiasm. That is the type of the highest creaturalbeing, which stands closest to God. There is no ice in His presence,and the nearer we get to Him in truth, the more we shall glow and burn.Cold religion is a contradiction in terms, though, alas, it is areality in professors.

And so with that explanation, and putting aside all these otherquestions, let us gather up some, at least, of the lessons as to theessentials of worship, and try to grasp the prophecy of the heavenlystate, given us in these words.

I. The Wings of Reverence.

He covered his face, or they covered their faces, lest they shouldsee. As a man brought suddenly into the sunlight, especially if out ofa darkened chamber, by an instinctive action shades his eyes with hishand, so these burning creatures, confronted with the still more fervidand fiery light of the divine nature, fold one pair of their greatwhite pinions over their shining faces, even whilst they cry 'Holy!Holy! Holy! is the Lord God Almighty!'

And does not that teach us the incapacity of the highest creature, withthe purest vision, to gaze undazzled into the shining light of God? I,for my part, do not believe that any conceivable extension of creaturalfaculties, or any conceivable hallowing of creatural natures, can makethe creature able to gaze upon God. I know that it is often said thatthe joy of the future life for men is what the theologians call 'thebeatific vision,' in which there shall be direct sight of God, usingthat word in its highest sense, as applied to the perceptions of thespirit, and not of the sense. But I do not think the Bible teaches usthat. It does teach us 'We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him asHe is.' But who is the 'Him'? Jesus Christ. And, in my belief, JesusChrist will, to all eternity, be the medium of manifesting God, andthere will remain, to all eternity, the incapacity which clogscreatures in time—' No man hath seen God at any time, nor can seeHim.'

But my text, whilst it thus suggests solemn thoughts of a Light thatcannot be looked at with undazzled eyes, does also suggest to us bycontrast the possibility of far feebler-sighted and more sinfulcreatures than these symbolical seraphs coming into a Presence in whichGod shall be manifest to them; and they will need no veil drawn bythemselves across their eyes. God has veiled Himself, that 'we, withunveiled faces, beholding His glory, may be changed into the sameimage.' So the seraph, with his white wings folded before his eyes, mayat once stand to us as a parallel and a contrast to what the Christianmay expect. We, we can see Jesus, with no incapacity except such asmay be swept away by His grace and our will. And direct vision of thewhole Christ is the heaven of heaven, even as the partial vision of thepartially perceived Christ is the sweetest sweetness of a life on earth.

There is no need for us to draw any screen between our happy eyes andthe Face in which we 'behold the glory as of the only Begotten of theFather.' All the tempering that the divine lustre needed has been doneby Him who veils His glory with the veil of Christ's flesh, and thereindoes away the need for any veil that we can draw.

But, beyond that, there is another consideration that I should like tosuggest, as taught us by the use of this first pair of the six wings,and that is the absolute need for the lowliest reverence in our worshipof God. It is strange, but true, I am afraid, that the Christian dangeris to weaken the sense of the majesty and splendour and separation ofGod from His creatures. And all that is good in the Christianrevelation may be so abused as that there shall come, what I am suredoes in effect sometimes come, a terrible lack of due reverence in ourso-called worship. What does that lofty chorus of 'Holy! Holy! Holy!'that burst from those immortal lips mean but the declaration that Godis high above, and separate from, all limitations and imperfections ofcreatures? And we Christians, who hear it re-echoed in the very lastBook of Scripture by the four-and-twenty elders who represent redeemedhumanity, have need to take heed that we do not lose our reverence inour confidence, and that we do not part with godly fear in our filiallove. If one looks at a congregation of professing Christians engagedin their worship, does not one feel and see that there is often acarelessness and shallowness, a want of realisation of the majesty andsanctity and tremendousness of that Father to whom we draw near?Brethren, if a seraph hides his face, surely it becomes us to see to itthat, since we worship a God who is a consuming fire,' we serve Himwith far deeper 'reverence and godly fear' than ordinarily mark ourdevotions.

II. The Wings of Humility.

'With twain he covered his feet.' The less comely and inferior parts ofthat fiery corporeity were veiled lest they should be seen by the Eyesthat see all things. The wings made no screen that hid the seraph'sfeet from the eye of God, but it was the instinctive lowly sense ofunworthiness that folded them across the feet, even though they, too,burned as a furnace. The nearer we get to God, the more we shall beaware of our limitations and unworthiness, and it is because thatvision of the Lord sitting on 'His throne, high and lifted up,' withthe thrilling sense of His glory filling the holy temple of theuniverse, does not burn before us that we can conceit ourselves to haveanything worth pluming ourselves upon. Once lift the curtain, once letmy eye be flooded with the sight of God, and away goes all myself-conceit, and all my fancied superiority above others. One littlemolehill is pretty nearly the same height as another, if you measurethem both against the top of the Himalayas, that lie in the background,with their glittering peaks of snow. 'Star differeth from star inglory' in a winter's night, but when the great sun swims into the sky,they all vanish together. If you and I saw God burning before us, asIsaiah saw Him, we should veil ourselves, and lose all that which sooften veils Him from us—the fancy that we are anything when we arenothing. And the nearer we get to God, and the purer we are, the moreshall we be keenly conscious of our imperfections and our sins. 'If Isay I am perfect,' said Job in his wise way, 'this also should prove meperverse.' Consciousness of sin is the continual accompaniment ofgrowth in holiness. 'The heavens are not pure in His sight, and Hechargeth His angels with folly.' Everything looks black beside thatsovereign whiteness. Get God into your lives, and you will see that thefeet need to be washed, and you will cry, 'Lord! not my feet only, butmy hands and my head!'

III. Lastly-The Wings for Service.

'With twain he did fly.' That is the emblem of joyous, buoyant,unhindered motion. It is strongly, sadly contrary to the toilsomelimitations of us heavy creatures who have no wings, but can at bestrun on His service, and often find it hard to 'walk with patience inthe way that is set before us.' But—service with wings, or servicewith lame feet, it matters not. Whosoever, beholding God, has foundneed to hide his face from that Light even whilst he comes into theLight, and to veil his feet from the all-seeing Eye, will also feelimpulses to go forth in His service. For the perfection of worship isneither the consciousness of my own insufficiency, nor the humblerecognition of His glory, nor the great voice of praise that thrilledfrom those immortal lips, but it is the doing of His will in dailylife. Some people say the service of man is the service of God. Yes,when it is service of man, done for God's sake, it is so, and onlythen. The old motto, 'Work is worship,' may preach a great truth or amost dangerous error. But there is no possibility of error or danger inmaintaining this: that the climax and crown of all worship, whether forus footsore servants upon earth, or for these winged attendants on thethrone of the King in the heavens, is activity in obedience. And thatis what is set before us here.

Now, dear brethren, we, as Christians, have a far higher motive forservice than the seraphs had. We have been redeemed, and the spirit ofthe old Psalm should animate all our obedience: 'O Lord, truly I am Thyservant.' Why? The next clause tells us: 'Thou hast loosed my bonds.'The seraphs could not say that, and therefore our obedience, ouractivity in doing the will of the Father in heaven, should be morebuoyant, more joyful, more swift, more unrestricted than even theirs.

The seraphim were winged for service even while they stood above thethrone and pealed forth their thunderous praise which shook the Temple.May we not discern in that a hint of the blessed blending of two modesof worship which will be perfectly united in heaven, and which weshould aim at harmonising even on earth? 'His servants serve Him andsee His face.' There is possible, even on earth, some foretaste of theperfection of that heavenly state in which no worship in service shallinterfere with the worship in contemplation. Mary, sitting at Christ'sfeet, and Martha, busy in providing for His comfort, may be, to a largeextent, united in us even here, and will be perfectly so hereafter,when the practical and the contemplative, the worship of nobleaspiration, of heart-filling gazing, and that of active service shallbe indissolubly blended.

The seraphs sang 'Holy! Holy! Holy!' but they, and all the hosts ofheaven, learn a new song from the experience of earth, and redeemed menare the chorus-leaders of the perfected and eternal worship of theheavens. For we read that it is the four-and-twenty elders who beginthe song and sing to the Lamb that redeemed them by His blood, and thatthe living creatures and all the hosts of the angels to that song canbut say 'Amen!'

THE MAKING OF A PROPHET

'Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of uncleanlips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mineeyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.'—ISAIAH vi. 5.

In previous pages we have seen how Isaiah's vision of Jehovah thronedin the Temple, 'high and lifted up,' derived significance from the timeof its occurrence. It was 'in the year that' the earthly King 'died'that the heavenly King was revealed. The passing of the transientprepared the way for the revelation of the Eternal, and the revelationof the Eternal more than compensated for the passing of the transient.But strengthening and calming as these thoughts are, they by no meansexhaust the purpose of the vision, nor do they describe all its effectson the recipient. These were, first and immediately, the consciousnessof unworthiness and sin, expressed in the words that I have taken formy text. Then came the touch of the 'live coal from the altar,' laid onthe unclean lips by the seraph; and on that followed willing surrenderfor a perilous service.

These three stages flowing from the vision of God, recognition of sin,experience of purging, abandonment to obedience and service, must berepeated in us all, if we are to live worthy lives. There may be muchthat is beautiful and elevating and noble without these; but unless insome measure we pass through the prophet's experience, we shall fail toreach the highest possibilities of beauty and of service that openbefore us. So I wish to consider, very simply, these three stages in myremarks now.

I. If we see God we shall see our sin.

There came on the prophet, as in a flash, the two convictions, onewhich he learned from the song of the seraphs, ringing in music throughthe Temple, and one which rose up, like an answering note from thevoice of conscience within. They sang 'Holy! holy! holy! Lord GodAlmighty.' And what was the response to that, in the prophet'sheart?—'I am unclean.' Each major note has a corresponding minor, andthe triumphant doxology of the seraph wakes in the hearer's consciencethe lowly confession of personal unlikeness to the holiness of God. Itwas not joy that sprang in Isaiah's heart when he saw the throned King,and heard the proclamation of His name. It was not reverence merelythat bowed his head in the dust, but it was the awakened consciousness,'Thou art holy; and now that I understand, in some measure, what Thyholiness means, I look on myself and I say, "unclean! unclean!"'

The prophet's confession assumes a form which may strike us as somewhatsingular. Why is it that he speaks of 'unclean lips,' rather than of anunclean heart? I suppose partly because, in a very deep sense, a man'swords are more accurately a cast, as it were, from a man's characterthan even his actions, and partly because the immediate occasion of hisconfession was the words of the seraphim, and he could not but contrastwhat came burning from their pure lips with what had trickled from, andsoiled, his own.

But, however expressed, the consciousness of personal unlikeness to theholiness of God is the first result, and the instantaneous result, ofany real apprehension of that holiness, and of any true vision of Him.Like some search-light flung from a ship over the darkling waters,revealing the dark doings of the enemy away out yonder in the night,the thought of God and His holiness streaming in upon a man's soul, ifit does so in any adequate measure, is sure to disclose the heavingwaters and the skulking foes that are busy in the dark.

But it was not only the consciousness of sinfulness and antagonism thatwoke up instantaneously in response to that vision of the holy God. Itwas likewise a shrinking apprehension of personal evil from contact ofGod's light with Isaiah's darkness. 'Who shall ascend into the hill ofthe Lord? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart.' What is tobecome, then, of the man that has neither the one nor the other? Theexperience of all the world witnesses that whenever there comes, inreality, or in a man's conceptions or fancy, the contact of thesupernatural, as it is called, with the natural, there is a shrinking,a sense of eerieness, an apprehension of vague possibilities of evil.The sleeping snake that is coiled in every soul stirs and begins toheave in its bulk, and wake, when the thought of a holy God comes intothe heart. Now, I do not suppose that consciousness of sin is the wholeexplanation of that universal human feeling, but I am very sure it isan element in it, and I suspect that if there were no sin, there wouldbe no shrinking.

At all events, be that as it may, these are the two thoughts that,involuntarily and spontaneously and immediately, sprang in this man'sheart when his purged eyes saw the King on His throne. He did not leapup with gladness at the vision. Its consolatory and its strengtheningaspects were not the first that impinged upon his eye, or upon hisconsciousness, but the first thing was an instinctive recoil, 'Woe isme; I am undone.' Now, brethren, I venture to think that one maindifference between shallow religion and real is to be found here, thatthe dim, far-off vision, if we may venture to call it so, which servesthe most of us for a sight of God, leaves us quite complacent, and withvery slight and superficial conceptions of our own evil, and that ifonce we saw, in so far as it is possible for humanity to-day to see,God as He is, and heard in the depths of our hearts that 'Holy! holy!holy!' from the burning seraphim, the easy-going, self-satisfiedjudgment of ourselves which too many of us cherish would be utterlyimpossible; and would disappear, shrivelled up utterly in the light ofGod. 'I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear,' said Job, 'butnow mine eye seeth Thee; therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dustand ashes.' A hearsay God and a self-complacent beholder—a God reallyseen, and a man down in the dust before Him! Has that vision everblazed in on you? And if it has, has not the light shown you theseaminess of much in which a dimmer light detects no flaws or stains?Thank God if, having seen Him, you see yourselves. If you have notfelt, 'I am unclean and undone,' depend upon it, your knowledge of Godis faint and dim, and He is rather One heard of from the lips of othersthan realised in your own experience.

II. Again, note the second stage here, in the education of a soul forservice—the sin, recognised and repented, is burned away.

'Then flew one of the seraphim unto me, having a live coal in his hand,which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar; and he laid itupon my mouth, and said, Lo! this hath touched thy lips; and thineiniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.'

Now, I would notice as to this stage of the process, first, that Isaiahsingularly passes beyond all the old ritual in which he had beenbrought up, and recognises another kind of cleansing than that which itembodied. He had got beyond the ritual to what the ritual meant. Wehave passed beyond the ritual, too, by another process; and, though Iwould by no means read full, plain, articulate Christian thought intothe vision of Isaiah—which would be an anachronism, and unfaithful tothe gradual historical development of the idea and means ofredemption—yet I cannot help pointing to the fact that, even althoughthis vision is located as seen in the Temple, there is not a singlereference (except that passing allusion to the altar) to the ritual ofthe Temple, but the cleansing comes in another fashion altogether.

But far more important than that thought is the human condition that isrequired ere this cleansing can be realised. 'I am a man of uncleanlips.' 'I am undone!' It was because that conviction and confessionsprang in the prophet's consciousness that the seraph winged his waywith the purifying fire in his hands. Which being translated is justthis: faith alone will not bring cleansing. There must go with it whatwe call, in our Christian phraseology, repentance, which is but therecognition of my own antagonism to the holiness of God, and theresolve to turn my back on my own past self. Now, it seems to me that agreat deal of what is called, and in a sense is, Evangelical teaching,fails to represent the full counsel of God, in the matter of man'sredemption, because it puts a one-sided emphasis on faith, and slursover the accompanying idea of repentance. And I am here to say that atrust in Jesus Christ, which is unaccompanied by a profound penitentconsciousness and abhorrence of one's own sins, and a resolve to turnaway from them for the time to come, is not a faith which will bringeither pardon or cleansing. We do not need to have less said abouttrust; we need to have a great deal more said about repentance. Youhave to learn what it is to say, 'I abhor myself'; you have to learnwhat it is to say, 'I will turn right round, and leave all that pastbehind me; and go in the opposite direction'; or the faith which yousay you are exercising will neither save nor cleanse your souls noryour lives.

Again, note that we have here set forth most strikingly the other greattruth that, side by side, and as closely synchronous as the flash andthe peal, as soon as the consciousness of sin and the aversion from itspring in a man's heart, the seraph's wings are set in motion. Rememberthat beautiful old story in the historical books, of how the erringking, brought to sanity and repentance by Nathan's apologue, put allhis acknowledgments in these words, 'I have sinned against the Lord';and how the confession was not out of his lips, nor had died in itsvibration in the atmosphere, before the prophet, with divine authority,replied with equal brevity and completeness, and as if the two sayingswere parts of one sentence, 'And the Lord hath made to pass theiniquity of thy sin.' That is all. Simultaneous are the two things. Toconfess is to be forgiven, and the moment that the consciousness of sinrises in the heart, that moment does the heavenly messenger come tostill and soothe.

Still further, notice how the cleansing comes as a divine gift. It ispurifying, much more than pardon, that is set forth in the symbolicalincident before us. The seraph is the divine messenger, and he brings acoal from the altar, and lays that upon the prophet's lips, which isbut the symbolical way of saying that the man who is conscious of hisown evil will find in himself a blessed despair of being his ownhealer, and that he has to turn to the divine source, the vision ofwhich has kindled the consciousness, to find there that which will takeaway the evil. The Lord is 'He that healeth us.'

But, further, the cleansing is by fire. By which, as I suppose, in thepresent context, and at Isaiah's stage of religious knowledge andexperience, we are to understand that great thought that God burns awayour sins, as you put a piece of foul clay into the fire, and the stainmelts from the surface like a dissipating cloud as the heat finds itsway into the substance. 'He will baptize with the Holy Ghost and withfire'—a fire that quickens. A new impulse will be granted, which willbecome the life of the sinful man's life, and will emancipate him fromthe power of his own darkness and evil.

Now, let us remember that we have the fulness of all that wasshadowed to the prophet in this vision, and that the reality of everyone of these emblems is gathered together—if I may so say—not withconfusion, but with abundance and opulence in Jesus Christ Himself. IsHe not the seraph? Is He not Himself the burning coal? Is He not thealtar from which it is taken? All that is needed to make the foulestclean is given in Christ's great work. Brethren, we shall neverunderstand the deepest secret of Christ and of Christianity until welearn and hold fast by the conviction that the central work of Jesus isto deal with man's sin; and that whatever else Christianity is, it isfirst and foremost God's way of redeeming the world, and making itpossible for the unholy to dwell with His holy self.

III. Lastly, and only a word, the third stage here is—the purgedspirit is ready for service.

God did not bid the prophet go on His mission till the prophet hadvoluntarily accepted the mission. He said, 'Who will go for us?' Hewants no pressed men in His army. He does not work with reluctantservants. There is, first, the yielding of the will, and then there isthe enduement with the privilege of service. The prophet, having passedthrough the preceding experiences, had thereby received a quick ear tohear God's calling for volunteers. And we shall not hear Him asking'Who will go?' unless we have, in our measure, passed through similarexperiences. It will be a test of having done so, of our having beenpurged from our evil, if, when other people think that it is only Elispeaking, we know that it is the Lord that has called us, and say,'Here am I.'

For such experiences as I have been describing do influence the will,and mould the heart, and make it a delight to do God's commandments,and to execute His purpose, and to be the ministers of His great Word.Some of us are willing to say that we have learned God's holiness; thatwe have seen and confessed our sins; that we have received pardon andcleansing. Have these experiences made you ready for any service? Havethey made your will flexible—made you dethrone yourself, and enthronethe King whom the prophet saw? If they have, they are genuine; if theyhave not, they are not. Submission of will; glorying in being theinstrument of the divine purpose; ears sharpened to catch His lowestwhisper; eyes that, like those of a dog fixed on his master, watch forthe faintest indication from his guiding eye—these are the infallibletests and signs of having had lips and heart touched with the live coalthat burns away our uncleanness.

So, friends, would that I could flash upon every conscience thatvision! But you can do so for yourselves. Let me beseech you to bringyourselves honestly into that solemn light of the character of God, andto ask yourselves, 'How can two walk together except they be agreed?'Do not put away such thoughts with any shallow, easy-going talk abouthow God is good and will not be hard upon a poor fellow that has triedto do his best. God is good; God is love. But divine goodness and lovecannot find a way by which the unclean shall dwell with the clean. Whatthen? This then—Jesus Christ has come. We may be made clean if wetrust in Him, and forsake our sins. He will touch the heart and lipswith the fire of His own Spirit, and then it will be possible to dwellwith the everlasting burnings of that flaming fire which is a holy God.Blessed are they that have seen the vision; blessed they that have feltit disclosing their own sins; blessed they whose hearts have beenpurged. Blessed most of all they who, educated and trained throughthese experiences, have taken this as the motto of their lives, 'Heream I; send me.'

SHILOAH AND EUPHRATES

Forasmuch as this people refuseth the waters of Shiloah that go softly… the Lord bringeth up upon them the waters of the river, strong andmany.' ISAIAH viii. 6, 7.

The kingdom of Judah was threatened with a great danger in an alliancebetween Israel and Damascus. The cowardly King Ahaz, instead oflistening to Isaiah's strong assurances and relying on the help of God,made what he thought a master-stroke of policy in invoking the help ofthe formidable Assyrian power. That ambitious military monarchy waseager to find an excuse for meddling in the politics of Syria, andnothing loath, marched an army down on the backs of the invaders, whichvery soon compelled them to hasten to Judah in order to defend theirown land. But, as is always the case, the help invoked was his ruin.Like all conquering powers, once having got its foot inside the door,Assyria soon followed bodily. First Damascus and Israel were ravagedand subdued, and then Judah. That kingdom only purchased the privilegeof being devoured last. Like the Spaniards in Mexico, the Saxons inEngland, the English in a hundred Indian territories, the allies thatcame to help remained to conquer, and Judah fell, as we all know.

This is the simple original application of these words. They are adeclaration that in seeking for help from others Judah was forsakingGod, and that the helper would become ruler, and the ruler anoppressive tyrant.

The waters of Shiloah that go softly stand as an emblem of the Davidicmonarchy as God meant it to be, and, since that monarchy was itself aprophecy, they therefore represent the kingdom of God or the MessianicKing. The 'waters strong and many' are those of the Euphrates, whichswells and overflows and carries havoc, and are taken as the emblem ofthe wasting sweep of the Assyrian king, whose capital stood on itsbanks.

But while thus there is a plain piece of political history in thewords, they are also the statement of general principles which apply toevery individual soul and its relations to the kingdom, the gentlekingdom, of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

I. The Gentle Kingdom.

That little brooklet slipping quietly along; what a striking image ofthe Kingdom of Jesus Christ!

It suggests the character of the King, the 'meek and lowly in heart.'It suggests the manner of His rule as wielded in gentleness andexercising no compulsion but that of love. It suggests the blessedresults of His reign under the image of the fertility, freshness, andbeauty which spring up wherever 'the river cometh.' That kingdom we areall summoned to enter.

II. The Rejection of the Kingdom.

Strange and awful fact that men do turn away from it and Him.

In what does rejection consist?

In not trusting in His power to help and deliver.

In seeking help from other sources. This rejection is often unconsciouson the part of men who are guilty of it.

III. The Allies who are preferred to the gentle King.

The crowd of worldly things.

What is to be noticed is that at first the preference seems to answerand be all right.

IV. The Allies becoming Tyrants.

The swift Euphrates in spate. That is what the rejecters have chosenfor themselves. Better to have lived by Shiloah than to have builttheir houses by the side of such a raging stream. Mark how this is adivine retribution indeed, but a natural process too.

(a) If Christ does not rule us, a mob of tyrants will.

Our own passions. Our own evil habits. The fascinating sins around us.

(b) They soon cease to seem helpers, and become tyrants.

How quickly the pleasure of sin disappears—like some bird that losesits gay plumage as it grows old.

How stern becomes the necessity to obey; how great the difficulty ofbreaking off evil habits! So a man becomes the slave of his own lusts,of his indulged tastes, which rise above all restraints and carry awayall before them, like the Euphrates in flood. Fertility is turned tobarrenness; a foul deposit of mud overlays the soil; houses on the sandare washed away; corpses float on the tawny wave. The soul that rejectsChrist's gentle sway is harried and laid waste by a mob of base-borntyrants. We have to make our choice—either Christ or these; either aservice which is freedom, or an apparent freedom which is slavery;either a worship which exalts, or a worship which embrutes. 'If the Sonmake you free, ye shall be free indeed.'

'There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God.' Itis peaceful to pitch our tents beside its calm flow, whereon shall gono hostile fleets, and whence we shall but pass to the city above, inthe midst of the street whereof the 'river of water of life, clear ascrystal, proceeds out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.'

THE KINGDOM AND THE KING

'The people that walked in darkness hare seen a great light: they thatdwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the lightshined. 3. Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy:they joy before Thee according to the joy in harvest, and as menrejoice when they divide the spoil. 4. For Thou hast broken the yoke ofHis burden, and the staff of His shoulder, the rod of His oppressor, asin the day of Midian. 5. For every battle of the warrior is withconfused noise, and garments rolled in blood: but this shall be withburning and fuel of fire. 6. For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Sonis given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder: and His nameshall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlastingFather, The Prince of Peace. 7. Of the increase of His government andpeace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon Hiskingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and withjustice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the Lord of hostswill perform this.'—ISAIAH ix. 2-7.

The darker the cloud, the brighter is the rainbow. This prophecy hasfor its historical background the calamitous reign of the weak andwicked Ahaz, during which the heart of the nation was bowed, like aforest before the blast, by the dread of foreign invasion and conquest.The prophet predicts a day of gloom and anguish, and then, out of themidst of his threatenings, bursts this glorious vision, sudden assunrise. With consummate poetic art, the consequences of Messiah's ruleare set forth before He Himself is brought into view.

I. Image is heaped on image to tell the blessedness of that reign (vs.2-5). Each trait of the glowing description is appropriate to thecondition of Israel under Ahaz; but each has a meaning far beyond thatlimited application. Isaiah may, or may not, have been aware of 'what'or 'what time' his words portrayed in their deepest, that is, theirtrue meaning, but if we believe in supernatural prediction which,though it may have found its point of attachment in the circ*mstancesof the present, was none the less the voice of the Spirit of God, weshall not make, as is often done now, the prophet's construction of hiswords the rule for their interpretation. What the prophecy wasdiscerned to point to by its utterer or his contemporaries, is onething; quite another is what God meant by it.

First we have the picture of the nation groping in a darkness thatmight be felt, the emblem of ignorance, sin, and sorrow, and inhabitinga land over which, like a pall, death cast its shadow. On that dismalgloom shines all at once a 'great light,' the emblem of knowledge,purity, and joy. The daily mercy of the dawn has a gospel in it to aheart that believes in God; for it proclaims the divine will that allwho sit in darkness shall be enlightened, and that every night butprepares the way for the freshness and stir of a new morning. The greatprophecy of these verses in its indefiniteness goes far beyond itsimmediate occasion in the state of Judah under Ahaz. As surely as thedawn floods all lands, so surely shall all who walk in darkness see thegreat light; and wherever is a 'land of the shadow of death,' thereshall the light shine. It is 'the light of the world.'

Verse 3 gives another phase of blessing. Israel is conceived of asdwindled in number by deportation and war. But the process ofdepopulation is arrested and reversed, and numerical increase, which isalways a prominent feature in Messianic predictions, is predicted. Thatincrease follows the dawning of the light, for men will flock to the'brightness of its rising.' We know that the increase comes from theattractive power of the Cross, drawing men of many tongues to it; andwe have a right to bring the interpretation, which the world's historygives, into our understanding of the prophecy. That enlarged nation isto have abounding joy.

Undoubtedly, the rendering 'To it thou hast increased the joy' iscorrect, as that of the Authorized Version (based upon the Hebrew text)is clearly one of several cases in which the partial similarity inspelling and identity in sound of the Hebrew words for 'not' and 'toit,' have led to a mistaken reading. The joy is described in wordswhich dance and sing, like the gladness of which they tell. The mirthof the harvest-field, when labour is crowned with success, and thesterner joy of the victors as they part the booty, with which minglesthe consciousness of foes overcome and dangers averted, are blended inthis gladness. We have the joy of reaping a harvest of which we havenot sowed the seed. Christ has done that; we have but to enjoy theresults of His toil. We have to divide the spoil of a victory which wehave not won. He has bound the strong man, and we share the benefits ofHis overcoming the world.

That last image of conquerors dividing the spoil leads naturally to thepicture in verse 4 of emancipation from bondage, as the result of avictory like Gideon's with his handful. Who the Gideon of this newtriumph is, the prophet will not yet say. The 'yoke of his burden' and'the rod of his oppressor' recall Egypt and the taskmasters.

Verse 5 gives the reason for the deliverance of the slaves; namely, theutter destruction of the armour and weapons of their enemy. The RevisedVersion is right in its rendering, though it may be doubtful whetherits margin is not better than its text, since not only are 'boot' and'booted' as probable renderings of the doubtful words as 'armour' and'armed man,' but the picture of the warrior striding into battle withhis heavy boots is more graphic than the more generalised descriptionin the Revised Version's text. In any case, the whole accoutrements ofthe oppressor are heaped into a pile and set on fire; and, as theyblaze up, the freed slaves exult in their liberty. The blood-drenchedcloaks have been stripped from the corpses and tossed on the heap, and,saturated as they are, they burn. So complete is the victory that eventhe weapons of the conquered are destroyed. Our conquering King hasbeen manifested, that He might annihilate the powers by which evilholds us bound. His victory is not by halves. 'He taketh from him allhis armour wherein he trusted.'

II. Now we are ready to ask, And who is to do all this? The guaranteefor its accomplishment is the person of the conquering Messiah. Thehopes of Israel did not, and those of the world do not, rest ontendencies, principles, laws of progress, advance of civilisation, orthe like abstractions or impersonalities, but on a living Person, inwhom all principles which make for righteousness and blessedness forindividuals and communities are incarnated, and whose vital actionworks perpetually in mankind.

In this prophecy the prophet is plainly speaking greater things than heknew. We do not get to the meaning if we only ask ourselves what did heunderstand by his words, or what did his hearers gather from them? Theyand he would gather the certainty of the coming of Messiah withwondrous attributes of power and divine gifts, by whose reign light,gladness, liberty would belong to the oppressed nation. But the depthof the prophecy needed the history of the Incarnation for itsdisclosure. If this is not a God-given prediction of the entrance intohuman form of the divine, it is something very like miraculous that,somehow or other, words should have been spoken, without any suchreference, which fit so closely to the supernatural fact of Christ'sincarnation.

The many attempts to translate verse 6 so as to get rid of theapplication of 'Mighty God,' 'Everlasting Father,' to Messiah, cannothere be enumerated or adequately discussed. I must be content withpointing out the significance of the august fourfold name of the victorKing. It seems best to take the two first titles as a compound name,and so to recognise four such compounds.

There is a certain connection between the first and second of thesewhich respectively lay stress on wisdom of plan and victorious energyof accomplishment, while the third and fourth are also connected, inthat the former gathers into one great and tender name what Messiah isto His people, and the latter points to the character of His dominionthroughout the whole earth. 'A wonder of a counsellor,' as the wordsmay be rendered, not only suggests His giving wholesome direction toHis people, but, still more, the mystery of the wisdom which guides Hisplans. Truly, Jesus purposes wonders in the depth of His redeemingdesign. He intends to do great things, and to reach them by a roadwhich none would have imagined. The counsel to save a world, and thatby dying for it, is the miracle of miracles. 'Who hath been Hiscounsellor in that overwhelming wonder?' He needs no teacher; He isHimself the teacher of all truth. All may have His direction, and theywho follow it will not walk in darkness.

'The mighty God.' Chapter x. 21 absolutely forbids taking this asanything lower than the divine name. The prophet conceives of Messiahas the earthly representative of divinity, as having God with and inHim as no other man has. We are not to force upon the prophet the fullnew Testament doctrine of the oneness of the incarnate Word with theFather, which would be an anachronism. But we are not to fall into theopposite error, and refuse to see in these words, so startling from thelips of a rigid monotheist, a real prophecy of a divine Messiah, dimlyas the utterer may have perceived the figure which he painted. Note,too, that the word 'mighty' implies victorious energy in battle. It isoften applied to human heroes, and here carries warlike connotations,kindred with the previous picture of conflict and victory. Thusstrength as of God, and, in some profound way, strength which isdivine, will be the hand obeying the brain that counsels wonder, andall His plans shall be effected by it.

But these are not all His qualities. He is 'the Father of Eternity'—aname in which tender care and immortal life are marvellously blended.This King will be in reality what, in old days, monarchs often calledthemselves and seldom were,—the Father of His people, with all theattributes of that sacred name, such as guidance, love, providing forHis children's wants. Nor can Christians forget that Jesus is thesource of life to them, and that the name has thus a deeper meaning.Further, He is possessed of eternity. If He is so closely related toGod as the former name implies, that predicate is not wonderful. Dyingmen need and have an undying Christ. He is 'the same yesterday, andto-day, and for ever.'

The whole series of names culminates in 'the Prince of Peace,' which Heis by virtue of the characteristics expressed in the foregoing names.The name pierces to the heart of Christ's work. For the individual Hebrings peace with God, peace in the else discordant inner nature, peaceamid storms of calamity—the peace of submission, of fellowship withGod, of self-control, of received forgiveness and sanctifying. Fornations and civic communities He brings peace which will one day hushthe tumult of war, and burn chariots and all warlike implements in thefire. The vision tarries, because Christ's followers have not been trueto their Master's mission, but it comes, though its march is slow. Wecan hasten its arrival.

Verses 7 and 8 declare the perpetuity of Messiah's kingdom, His Davidicdescent, and those characteristics of His reign, which guarantee itsperpetuity. 'Judgment' which He exercises, and 'righteousness' which Heboth exercises and bestows, are the pillars on which His throne stands;and these are eternal, and it never will totter nor sink, as earthlythrones must do. The very life-blood of prophecy, as of religion, isthe conviction that righteousness outlasts sin, and will survive 'thewreck of matter and the crash of worlds.'

The great guarantee for these glowing anticipations is that the 'zealof the Lord of hosts' will accomplish them. Zeal, or ratherjealousy, is love stirred to action by opposition. It tolerates nounfaithfulness in the object of its love, and flames up against allantagonism to the object. 'He that toucheth you, toucheth the apple ofMine eye.' So the subjects of that Messiah may be sure that a wall offire is round about them, which to foes without is terror anddestruction, and to dwellers within its circuit glows with lambentlight, and rays out beneficent warmth.

LIGHT OR FIRE?

'And the Light of Israel shall be for a fire, and his Holy One for aflame: and it shall burn and devour his thorns and his briers in oneday.'—ISAIAH x. 17.

With grand poetry the prophet pictures the Assyrian power as a forestconsumed like thistles and briers by the fire of God. The text suggestssolemn truths about the divine Nature and its manifestations.

I. The Essential Character of God.

Light and Holiness are substantially parallel. Light symbolises purity,but also knowledge and joy. Holiness is Separation from Creatures, butchiefly from their Evils.

II. The Different Attitudes which Men assume to that Character.

'Light of Israel': 'His Holy One.'

God becomes ours, and we have an interest in that radiant Personalityif we choose to claim it by faith, love, and obedience. We are free toaccept God as ours or to reject Him.

III. The Opposite Aspects which that Character accordingly assumes.

(a) The self-same divine Character has two effects according to thecharacter of the beholder.

To those who respond to God's love it is—heaven. To those who areindifferent or alienated it may be pain, and will harm them if they seeit and do not yield to it.

God's holiness is not retributive justice but moral perfectness, whichto a good man will be joy, and to a bad man, intolerable.

The light which is gladsome to a healthy eye is agony to a diseased one.

(b) All the manifestations and operations of that divine Character havea twofold aspect. Christ is either a stone of stumbling or a surefoundation. Men are either the better or the worse for Him. The Gospelis the savour of life unto life or of death unto death. The tremendous'either—or.' The Cross rejected harms the moral nature, hardensconscience, deepens condemnation.

All divine operations are necessarily on the side of God's lovers andagainst those who love Him not. They are contrary to Him, therefore Heis so to them. 'With the froward Thou wilt show Thyself froward.'

The final Judgment will be either rapture or despair, like the comingof a bridegroom, or the fiery rain that burnt up Sodom.

The very dew of Heavenly Bliss would be corroding poison to a godlessspirit.

THE SUCKER FROM THE FELLED OAK

'And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and aBranch shall grow out of his roots: 2. And the Spirit of the Lord shallrest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit ofcounsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord;3. And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord:and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reproveafter the hearing of his ears: 4. But with righteousness shall he judgethe poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth: and heshall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath ofhis lips shall he slay the wicked. 5. And righteousness shall be thegirdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins. 6. Thewolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie downwith the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together;and a little child shall lead them. 7. And the cow and the bear shallfeed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eatstraw like the ox. 8. And the sucking child shall play on the hole ofthe asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the co*ckatrice'sden. 9. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: forthe earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waterscover the sea. 10. And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse,which shall stand for an ensign of the people; to it shall the Gentilesseek: and his rest shall be glorious.'—ISAIAH xi. 1-10.

The hopeless fall of Assyria is magnificently pictured in the close ofchapter x., as the felling of the cedars of Lebanon by the axe swung byJehovah's own hand. A cedar once cut down puts out no new shoots; andso the Assyrian power, when it falls, will fall for ever. The metaphoris carried on with surpassing beauty in the first part of thisprophecy, which contrasts the indestructible vitality of the Davidicmonarchy with the irremediable destruction fated for its formidableantagonist. The one is a cedar, the stump of which rots slowly, butnever recovers. The other is an oak, which, every woodman knows, willput out new growth from the 'stool.' But instead of a crowd of littlesuckers, the prophet sees but one shoot, and that rising to more thanthe original height and fruitfulness of the tree. The prophecy isdistinctly that of One Person, in whom the Davidic monarchy isconcentrated, and all its decadence more than recovered.

Isaiah does not bring the rise of the Messiah into chronologicalconnection with the fall of Assyria; for he contemplates a period ofdecay for the Israelitish monarchy, and it was the very burden of hismessage as to Assyria that it should pass away without harming thatmonarchy. The contrast is not intended to suggest continuity in time.The period of fulfilment is entirely undetermined.

The first point in the prophecy is the descent of the Messiah from theroyal stock. That is more than Isaiah's previous Messianic prophecieshad told. He is to come at a time when the fortunes of David's housewere at their worst. There is to be nothing left but the stump of thetree, and out of it is to come a 'shoot,' slender and insignificant,and in strange contrast with the girth of the truncated bole, statelyeven in its mutilation. We do not talk of a growth from the stump asbeing a 'branch'; and 'sprout' would better convey Isaiah's meaning.From the top of the stump, a shoot; from the roots half buried in theground, an outgrowth,—these two images mean but one person, adescendant of David, coming at a time of humiliation and obscurity. Butthis lowly shoot will 'bear fruit,' which presupposes its growth.

The King-Messiah thus brought on the scene is then described in regardto His character (v. 2), the nature of His rule (vs. 3-5), theuniversal harmony and peace which He will diffuse through nature (vs.6-9), and the gathering of all mankind under His dominion. There ismuch in the prophetic ideal of the Messiah which finds no place in thisprophecy. The gentler aspects of His reign are not here, nor the deepercharacteristics of His 'spirit,' nor the chiefest blessings in Hisgift. The suffering Messiah is not yet the theme of the prophet.

The main point as to the character of the Messiah which this prophecysets forth is that, whatever He was to be, He was to be by reason ofthe resting on Him of the Spirit of Jehovah. The directness, fulness,and continuousness of His inspiration are emphatically proclaimed inthat word 'shall rest,' which can scarcely fail to recall John'switness, 'I have beheld the Spirit descending as a dove out of heaven;and it abode upon Him.' The humanity on which the Divine Spirituninterruptedly abides, ungrieved and unrestrained, must be free fromthe stains which so often drive that heavenly visitant from ourbreasts. The white-breasted Dove of God cannot brood over foulness.There has never been but one manhood capable of receiving and retainingthe whole fulness of the Spirit of God.

The gifts of that Spirit, which become qualities of the Messiah in whomHe dwells, are arranged (if we may use so cold a word) in three pairs;so that, if we include the introductory designation, we have asevenfold characterisation of the Spirit, recalling the seven lampsbefore the throne and the seven eyes of the Lamb in the Apocalypse, andsymbolising by the number the completeness and sacredness of thatinspiration. The resulting character of the Messiah is a fair pictureof one who realises the very ideal of a strong and righteous ruler ofmen. 'Wisdom and understanding' refer mainly to the clearness ofintellectual and moral insight; 'counsel and might,' to the qualitieswhich give sound practical direction and vigour to follow, and carrythrough, the decisions of practical wisdom; while 'the knowledge andfear of the Lord' define religion by its two parts of acquaintance withGod founded on love, and reverential awe which prompts to obedience.The fulfilment, and far more than fulfilment, of this ideal is inJesus, in whom were 'hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge,' towhom no circ*mstances of difficulty ever brought the shadow ofperplexity, who always saw clearly before Him the path to tread, andhad always 'might' to tread it, however rough, who lived all His daysin unbroken fellowship with the Father and in lowly obedience.

The prophet saw not all the wonders of perfect human character whichthat indwelling Spirit would bring to realisation in Him; but what hesaw was indispensable to a perfect King, and was, at all events, an arcof the mighty circle of perfection, which has now been revealed in thelife of Jesus. The possibilities of humanity under the influence of theDivine Spirit are revealed here no less than the actuality of theMessiah's character. What Jesus is, He gives it to His subjects tobecome by the dwelling in them of the spirit of life which was in Him.

The rule of the King is accordant with His character. It is describedin verses 3-5. The first characteristic named may be understood indifferent ways. Accord-to some commentators, who deserve respectfulconsideration, it means, 'He shall draw His breath in the fear ofJehovah'; that is, that that fear has become, as it were, His verylife-breath. But the meaning of 'breathing' is doubtful; and the phraseseems rather to express, as the Revised Version puts it, 'His delightshall be in the fear of the Lord.' That might mean that those who fearJehovah shall be His delight, and this would free the expression fromany shade of tautology, when compared with the previous clause, andwould afford a natural transition to the description of His rule. Itmight, on the other hand, continue the description of His personalcharacter, and describe the inward cheerfulness of His obedience, like'I delight to do Thy will.' In any case, the 'fear of the Lord' isrepresented as a sweet-smelling fragrance; and, if we adopt the formerexplanation, then it is almost a divine characteristic which is hereattributed to the Messiah; for it is God to whom the fear of Him inmen's hearts is 'an odour of a sweet smell.'

Then follow the features of His rule. His unerring judgment piercesthrough the seen and heard. That is the quality of a monarch after theantique pattern, when kings were judges. It does not appear that theprophet rose to the height of perceiving the divine nature of theMessiah; but we cannot but remember how far the reality transcends theprophecy, since He whose 'eyes are as a flame of fire' knows what is inman, and the earliest prayers of the Church were addressed to Jesus as'Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men.'

The relation of Messiah to two classes is next set forth. The oppressedand the meek shall have Him for their defender and avenger,—a strikingcontrast to the oppressive monarchs whom Isaiah had seen. We rememberwho said 'Blessed are the poor in spirit,' 'Blessed are the meek.' TheKing Himself has taught us to deepen the meaning of the words of theprophet, and to find in them the expression of the law of His kingdomby which its blessings belong to those who know their need and comewith humble hearts. But the same acts which are for the poor areagainst the oppressors. The emendation which reads 'tyrant' (arits)for 'earth' (erets) brings the two clauses descriptive of thepunitive acts into parallelism, and is probably to be preferred. Thesame pillar was light to Israel and darkness to the Egyptians. Christis the savour of life unto life and of death unto death. But what isHis instrument of destruction? 'The rod of His mouth' or 'the breath ofHis lips.' And who is He whose bare word thus has power to kill andmake alive? Is not this a divine prerogative? and does it not belong inthe fullest sense to Him whose voice rebuked fevers, storms, anddemons, and pierced the dull, cold ear of death? Further,righteousness, the absolute conformity of character and act to thestandard in the will of God, and faithfulness, the inflexibleconstancy, which makes a character consistent with itself, and soreliable, are represented by a striking figure as being twined togetherto make the girdle, which holds the vestments in place, and girds upthe whole frame for effort. This righteous King 'shall not fail nor bediscouraged.' He is to be reckoned on to the uttermost, or, as the NewTestament puts it, He is 'the faithful and true witness.' This is thestrong Son of God, who gathered all His powers together to run withpatience the race set before Him, and to whom all may turn with theconfidence that He is faithful 'as a Son over His own house,' and willinviolably keep the promise of His word and of His past acts.

We pass from the picture of the character and rule of the King over mento that fair vision of Paradise regained, which celebrates theuniversal restoration of peace between man and the animals. The pictureis not to be taken as a mere allegory, as if 'lions' and 'wolves' and'snakes' meant bad men; but it falls into line with other hints inScripture, which trace the hostility between man and the lowercreatures to sin, and shadow a future when 'the beasts of the fieldshall be at peace with thee.' The psalm which sings of man's dominionover the creatures is to be one day fulfilled; and the Epistle to theHebrews teaches that it is already fulfilled in Christ, who will raiseHis brethren, for whom He tasted death, to partake in His dominion. Thepresent order of things is transient; and if earth is to be, as someshadowy hints seem to suggest, the scene of the future glories ofredeemed humanity, it may be the theatre of a fulfilment of suchvisions as this. But we cannot dogmatise on a subject of which we knowso little, nor be sure of the extent to which symbolism enters intothis sweet picture. Enough that there surely comes a time when the Kingof men and Lord of nature shall bring back peace between both, andrestore 'the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord.'

Verse 10 begins an entirely new section, which describes the relationsof Messiah's kingdom to the surrounding peoples. The picture precedingclosed with the vision of the earth filled with the knowledge of theLord, and this verse proclaims the universality of Messiah's kingdom.By 'the root of Jesse' is meant, not the root from which Jesse sprang,but, in accordance with verse 1, the sprout from the house of Jesse.Just as in that verse the sprout was prophesied of as growing up to befruitbearing, so here the lowly sucker shoots to a height which makesit conspicuous from afar, and becomes, like some tall mast, a sign forthe nations. The contrast between the obscure beginning and theconspicuous destiny of Messiah is the point of the prophecy. 'I, if Ibe lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me.' Strangeelevation for a king is a cross! But it is because He has died for menthat He has the right to reign over them, and that they 'shall seek' toHim. 'His resting-place shall be glorious.'

The seat of His dominion is also the seat of His repose. The beneficentactivity just described is wielded from a calm, central palace, anddoes not break the King's tranquillity. That is a paradox, except tothose who know that Jesus Christ, sitting in undisturbed rest at theright hand of God, thence works with and for His servants. His reposeis full of active energy; His active energy is full of repose. And thatplace of calm abode is 'glorious' or, more emphatically and literally,'glory. He shall dwell in the blaze of the uncreated glory of God,—aprediction which is only fulfilled in its true meaning by Christ'sascension and session at the right hand of God, in the glory which Hehad with the Father before the world was, and into which He has bornethat lowly manhood which He drew from the cut-down stem of Jesse.

THE WELL-SPRING OF SALVATION

'Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.
ISAIAH xii. 3.

There are two events separated from each other by more than fifteenhundred years which have a bearing upon this prophecy: the one suppliedthe occasion for its utterance, the other claimed to be itsinterpretation and its fulfilment. The first of these is that scenefamiliar to us all, where the Israelites in the wilderness murmured forwant of water, and the law-giver, being at his wits' end what to dowith his troublesome charges, took his anxieties to God, and got for ananswer the command to take with him the elders of Israel and hismiracle-working rod, and to go to the rock, 'and the Lord shall standupon the rock before thee and them, and the water shall flow forth.' Itwas not the rock, nor the rod, nor Moses and the elders, but thepresence of God that brought the refreshing draught. And that thatincident was in Isaiah's mind when he wrote our text is very clear toanybody who will observe that it occurs in the middle of a song ofpraise, which corresponds to the Israelites' song at the Red Sea afterthe destruction of Pharaoh, and is part of a great prophecy in which hedescribes God's future blessings and mercies under images constantlydrawn from the Egyptian bondage and the Exodus in the desert. Now, thatinterpretation, or rather that application, of the words of my text,was very familiar to the Jews long, long before the New Testament wasthought about. For, as many of you will know, there came in the courseof time a number of ceremonies to be added to a feast established byMoses himself—the Feast of Tabernacles. That was a feast in which thewhole body of the Israelitish people dwelt for a week in leafy booths,in order to remind them of the time when they were wanderers in thewilderness; and as is usually the case, the ritual of the celebrationdeveloped a number of additional symbolical observances which weretacked on to it in the course of centuries. Amongst these there wasthis very memorable one: that on each of the days of the Feast ofTabernacles, at a given point in the ceremonial, the priests went fromthe temple, winding down the rocky path on the temple mountain, to thePool of Siloam in the valley below, and there in their golden vasesthey drew the cool sparkling water, which they bore up, and amidst theblare of trumpets and the clash of cymbals poured it on the altar,whilst the people chanted the words of my text, 'With joy shall ye drawwater out of the wells of salvation.'

That ceremonial had been going on for eight hundred years from Isaiah'stime; and once more the period came round when it was to be performed;and on the seven days of the feast, punctually at the appointed time,the procession wound down the rocky slopes, drew the water in thegolden vases, bore it up to the temple, and poured it upon the altar;and on the last great day of the feast, the same ceremonial went on upto a given point; and just as the last rites of the chant of our textwere dying on the ears, there was a little stir amidst the crowd, whichparted to make way for him, and a youngish man, of mean appearance andrustic dress, stepped forward, and there, before all the gatheredmultitudes and the priests standing with their empty urns, symbol ofthe impotence of their system, 'on the last day, that great day of thefeast, Jesus stood and cried, If any man thirst, let him come unto Meand drink.' Brethren, such a commentary, at such a time, from such acommentator, may well absolve me from the necessity of enforcing theevangelistic bearing of the words of my text. And so, then, with thatunderstanding of the deepest meaning of these words that we have tolook at, I ask you to take them in the simplest possible way, and toconsider three points: the Well of Salvation, the Act of Drawing theWater, the Gladness of those that draw. 'With joy shall ye drawwater out of the fountains of salvation.'

Now, with regard to the first point, let me remind you to begin with,that the idea of the word here is not that which we attach to a well,but that which we attach to a spring. It does not describe the sourceof salvation as being a mere reservoir, still less as being a createdor manufactured thing; but there lies in it the deep idea of a sourcefrom which the water wells up by its own inward energy. Then, when wehave got that explanation, and the deep, full, pregnant meaning of theword salvation as a thing past, a thing present, a thing future, athing which negatively delivers a man from all sin and sorrow, and athing which positively endows a man with beauty, happiness, andholiness—when we have got that, then the question next cries aloud foranswer—this well-spring of salvation, is—what? Who? And the firstanswer and the last answer is GOD—GOD HIMSELF. It is no mere bit ofdrapery of the prophet's imagery, this well-spring of salvation; it issomething much more substantial, much deeper than that. You rememberthe old psalm, 'With Thee is the fountain of life: in Thy light shallwe see light'; and what David and John after him called life, Isaiahand Paul after him calls salvation. And you remember too, no doubt, theindictment of another of the prophets, laying hold of the same metaphorin order to point to the folly and the suicide of all godless living:'My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken Me, thefountain of living waters, and they have hewn out for themselves brokencisterns.' They were manufactured articles, and because they were madethey could be cracked, but the fountain, because it rises by its owninherent energy, springing up into everlasting life, is all-sufficient.God Himself is the well-spring of salvation.

If I had time to enlarge upon this idea, I might remind you how noblyand blessedly that principle is confirmed when we think of this greatsalvation, past, present, and future, negative and positive,all-sufficient and complete, as having its origin in His deep nature,as having its process in His own finished work, and as being in itsessence the communication of Himself. That last thing I should like tosay a word or two about. If there is a man or a woman that thinks ofsalvation as if it were merely a shutting up of some material hell, orthe dodging round a corner so as to escape some external consequence oftransgression, let him and her hear this: the possession of God issalvation, that and nothing else. To have Him within me, that is to besaved; to have His life in His dear Son made the foundation of my life,to have my whole being penetrated and filled with God, that is theessence of the salvation that is in Jesus Christ. And because it comesunmotived, uncaused, self-originated, springing up from the depths ofHis own heart; because it is all effected by His own mighty work whohas trodden the winepress alone, and, single-handed, has wrought thesalvation of the race; and because its essence and heart is thecommunication of God Himself, and the bestowing upon us theparticipation in a divine nature, therefore the depth of the thought,God Himself is the well-fountain of salvation.

But there is still another step to take. If these things which I haveonly just been able to glance at in the most superficial, and perhaps,therefore, confused manner, in any measure commend themselves to yourjudgments and your consciences, let me ask you to go with me one stepfurther, and to figure to yourselves the significance and thestrangeness of that moment to which I have already referred, when a manstood up in the temple court, and, with distinct allusion to the wholeof the multitude of Old Testament sayings, in which God and thecommunication of God's own energy were represented as being thefountain of salvation and the salvation from the fountain, and said,'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me.' Why, what a thing—let usput it into plain, vulgar English—what a thing for a man to say—'Ifany man thirst.' Who art Thou that dost thus plant Thyself opposite therace, sure that Thou hast no needs like them, but, contrariwise, canstrefresh and satiate the thirsty lips of them all? Who art Thou thatdost proclaim Thyself as sufficient for the fruition of the mind thatyearns for truth and thirsts for certitude, of the parched heart thatwearies and cracks for want of love, of the will that longs to berightly and lovingly commanded? Oh, dear brethren, not only the Titanicpresumption of proposing oneself as enough for a single soul, but theinconceivable madness of proposing oneself as enough for all the racein all generations to the end of time, except on one hypothesis, marksthis utterance of Him who has also said, 'I am meek and lowly ofheart.' Strange lowliness! singular meekness! Who was He? Who is thisthat steps into the place that only a God can fill, and says, 'I can doit all. If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink'?

Dear brethren, some of us can, thank God, answer that question as Ipray that every one of you may be able to answer it, 'Thou art the Kingof Glory, O Christ; Thou art the everlasting son of the Father. WithThee is the fountain of life; Thou Thyself art the living water.'

But I think there is a still further step to be taken. It is not onlythat our Lord Jesus Christ, in His nature, in His person, is thecommunicator of the divine life to man, just as—if you will let metake such a metaphor—just as up in the hills sometimes you will findsome little tarn or loch all shut in; but having trickling from it athread of limpid life, and, wherever it flows, the water of the lochgoes; only, the one is lake and the other is river, and the latter isthe medium of communication of the former to the thirsty pastures ofthe wilderness. And not only so, but—if I might venture to build upona word of the context—there seems to be another consideration there.The words which precede my text are a quotation from a song of theIsraelites in their former Exodus: 'The Lord Jehovah is my strength andmy song; He also is become my salvation.' Now, if our Bible has beencorrect—and I do not enter upon that question—in emphasising thedifference between is and is become, mark where it takes us. Ittakes us to this, that there was some single, definite, historical actwherein God became in an eminent manner and in reality what He hadalways been in purpose, intent, and idea. Then that to which my textoriginally alludes, to which it looks back, is the great deliverancewrought by the banks of the Red Sea. It was because Pharaoh and hishosts were drowned in it that Miriam and her musical sisters, withtheir timbrel and dance, not only said, 'The Lord is my strength,' but'He has become my strength'—there where the corpses are floatingyet. What answers to that in the matter with which we are concerned?Brethren, it is not enough to say that God is the fountain ofsalvation, it is not enough to say that the Incarnate Christ is themedium of salvation. Will you take the other step with us, and say thatthe Cross of Christ is the realisation of the divine intention ofsalvation? Then He, who from everlasting was the strength and song ofall the strong and the songful, is become the salvation of all thelost, and the fountain is 'opened for sin and for uncleanness.' Adefinite, historical act, the manifestation of Jesus Christ, is thebringing to man of the salvation of God. So much, then, for that firstpoint to which I desired to ask your attention.

And now let me say a word or two as to the second. I wish to speakabout this process of drawing from the fountain. That metaphor, withoutany further explanation, might very naturally suggest more idea ofhuman effort than in reality belongs to it. Men have said: 'Yes; nodoubt God is the fountain of salvation; no doubt Christ is the river ofsalvation; no doubt His death is the opening of the fountain for sinand for uncleanness; but how am I to bring myself into contact andconnection with it?' And there have been all sorts of answers. Everykind of pump has been resorted to. Go up to the Agricultural Hall andyou will see no end of contrivances for bringing water to the surface.There are not so many there as men have found out for themselves tobring the water of salvation to their lips, and the effect has alwaysbeen the same. There has been something wrong with the valves; the pumphas not worked properly; there has been something wrong with the crank;the pipe has not gone down to the water; and there has been nothing buta great jingling of empty buckets, and aching and wearied elbows, andwhat the woman said to Christ has been true all round, 'Sir, thou hastnothing to draw with, and the well is deep.' Ay! thank God, it isdeep; and if we let our Lord be His own interpreter, we have only toput together three sayings of His in order to come to the true meaningof this metaphor. My text says, 'With joy ye shall draw water'; andChrist, sitting at the well of Samaria—what a strange combination ofthe weakness and the weariness of manhood and the strength andself-consciousness of Divinity was there!—wearied with His journey,said, 'If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith tothee, Give Me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of Him and He wouldhave given thee living water.' So, then, drawing is asking. That isstep number one.

Take another word of the Master's that I have already quoted for otherpurposes, 'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.' So,then, drawing, or asking, or coming are all equivalent. That is stepnumber two.

And, then, take another word. 'He that cometh unto Me shall neverhunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst.' So, then,drawing, asking, coming, all melt into the one simple word—believing.Trust in Him, and thou hast come, thou hast asked, thou hast drawn,thou dost possess.

But whilst I would lay the foundation thus broad, thus simple, do notforget, dear brethren, what I was saying about a definite historicalact. You will hear people say, 'Oh, I trust in Christ!' What do youtrust in Christ? You will hear people say, 'Oh, I look to the goodnessof God.' Be it so. God forbid I should say a word to prevent that; butwhat I would insist upon is that a mere vague regard to a vague Christis not the faith that is equivalent to drawing from the fountain ofsalvation. There must be a further object in a faith that saves. Itmust lay hold of the definite historical act in which Christ has becomethe salvation of the world.

Do not take it upon my words, take it upon His own. He once said to Hisfellow-countrymen in His lifetime, 'I am the living bread'; and many ofour modern teachers would go that length heartily. Was that whereChrist stopped? By no means. Was His Gospel a gospel of incarnationonly? Certainly not. 'I am the living bread that came down fromheaven.' Anything more? Yes; this more, 'and the bread which I willgive is My flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. He thateateth Me he shall live by Me.' 'Well,' say some people, 'that meansfollowing His example, accepting His teaching, being loyal to HisPerson, absorbing His Spirit.' Yes, it means all that; but is that allit means? Take His own commentary: 'He that eateth My flesh anddrinketh My blood, hath eternal life.' Yes, brethren, a Christincarnate, blessed be God! A Christ crucified, blessed be God! And notthe one but both must be the basis of our faith and our hope.

Now, will you let me say one thing about this matter of drawing thewater? It is an act of faith in a whole Jesus, and eminently in themighty act and sacrifice of His Cross. But to go back again to thecontext: 'He also is become my salvation. 'That is what I desire, Godhelping me, to lay on the hearts of all my hearers—that a definite actof faith in Christ crucified is not enough unless it is a personal act,unless it is what our old Puritan forefathers used to call'appropriating faith.' Never mind about the somewhat dry and technicalphraseology; the thing is what I insist upon—'my salvation.' Obrother! what does it matter though all Niagara were roaring past yourdoor; you might die of thirst all the same unless you put your own lipsto it. Down on your knees like Gideon's men; it is safest there; thatis the only attitude in which a man can drink of this fountain. Down onyour knees and put your lips to it—your very own lips—and drink foryour own soul's salvation. Christ died for the world. Yes; but theworld for which Christ died is made up of individuals who were in Hisheart. It is Paul's words that I would beseech you to make your own:'The Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.' Every oneof you is entitled to say that, if you will. You remember that versefilled with adoring contemplation that we sometimes sing, one word inwhich seems to me to be coloured by the too sombre doctrine of theepoch from which it came:—

'My soul looks back to see
The burden Thou didst bear,
When hanging on the accursed tree,
And knows her guilt was there.'

'He also is my strength and my song. He is become my salvation;therefore, in joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.'

Now, I have left myself no time to do more than say one word about thatlast point, the gladness of the water-drawers. It is a pretty picturein our text, full of the atmosphere and spirit of Eastern life: thecheery talk and the ringing laughter round the village well, where theshepherds with their flocks linger all day long, and the maidens fromtheir tents come—a kind of rude Exchange in the antique world; and,says our prophet, 'As the dwellers in the land at their villagesprings, so ye, the weary travellers at "the eye of the desert," willdraw with gladness.' So we have this joy.

Dear brethren, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is meant for something betterthan to make us glad, but it is meant to make us glad too, and he isbut a very poor Christian who has not found that it is the joy andrejoicing of his heart. We need not put too much emphasis and stressupon that side of the truth; but we need not either suppress it ordisregard it in our modern high-flown disinterestedness. There are joysworth calling so which only come from possessing this fountain ofsalvation. How shall I enumerate them? The best way, I think, will beto quote passages.

There is the gladness of forgiven sin and a quieted conscience: 'Makeme to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which Thou hast broken mayrejoice.' There is the joy of a conscious possession of God: 'Blessedare the people that know the joyful sound; they shall walk, O Lord, inthe light of Thy countenance. In Thy name shall they rejoice all theday.' There is the joy of fellowship and communion with Jesus Christand His full presence: 'I will see you again; and your hearts shallrejoice, and your joy no man taketh away from you.' There is the joy ofwilling obedience: 'I delight to do Thy will.' 'It is joy to the justto do judgment.' There is the joy of a bright hope of an inheritance'incorruptible,' 'wherein ye greatly rejoice,' and there is a joywhich, like that Greek fire they talk about, burns brighter underwater, and glows as the darkness deepens—a joy which is independent ofcirc*mstances, and can say, 'Although the fig-tree shall not blossom,neither shall fruit be in the vines, yet I will rejoice in the Lord.'

And all that, brother and friend, may be yours and mine; and then whatthis same prophet says may also be true: 'The ransomed of the Lordshall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon theirheads'—that is for the pilgrimage; 'They shall obtain joy andgladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away'—that is for thehome. There is another prophecy in this same book of Isaiah: 'Ho, everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters'; that was the voice of theChrist in prophecy. There is a saying spoken in the temple courts: 'Ifany man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink'; that was the voice ofthe Christ upon earth. There is a saying at the end ofScripture—almost the last words that the Seer in Patmos heard:'Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely'; that wasthe voice of the Christ from the throne. And the triple invitationcomes to every soul of man in the world, and to thee, and thee, andthee, my brother. Answer, answer as the Samaritan woman did: 'Sir, giveme this water that I thirst not, neither come hither' any more to drawof the broken cisterns.

THE HARVEST OF A GODLESS LIFE

'Because thou hast forgotten the God of thy salvation, and hast notbeen mindful of the Rock of thy strength, therefore shalt thou plantpleasant plants, and shalt set it with strange slips: In the day shaltthou make thy plant to grow, and in the morning shalt thou make thyseed to flourish: but the harvest shall be a heap in the day of griefand of desperate sorrow.'—ISAIAH xvii. 10, 11.

The original application of these words is to Judah's alliance withDamascus, which Isaiah was dead against. He saw that it would onlyprecipitate the Assyrian invasion, as in fact it did. Judah hadforsaken God, and because they had done so, they had gone to seek forthemselves delights—alliance with Damascus. The image of planting agarden of pleasures, and 'vine slips of a stranger' refers to sensuousidolatry as well as to the entangling alliance. Then follows acontemptuous description of the rapid growth of this alliance and ofthe care with which Israel cultivated it. 'In a day thou makest thyplant to grow' (or fencest it), and next morning it was in blossom, sosedulously had they nursed and fostered it. Then comes the smitingcontrast of what it was all for—'A harvest heap in the day of sicknessand incurable pain.'

Now we may take this in a more general way as containing large truthswhich affect the life of every one of us.

I. The Sin of a Godless Life.

(a) Notice the Sin charged. It is merely negative—forgettest. Thereis no charge of positive hostility or of any overt act. Thisforgetfulness is most natural and easy to be fallen into. The constantpressure of the world. It indicates alienation of heart from God.

It is most common among us, far more so than active infidelity, farmore so than gross sin, far more so than conscious hostility.

(b) The implied Criminality of it. He is the 'Rock of thy strength' andthe 'God of thy salvation.' Rock is the grand Old Testament name ofGod, expressing in a pregnant metaphor both what He is in Himself andwhat in relation to those who trust Him. It speaks of stability,elevation, massiveness, and of defence and security. The parallel titlesets Him forth as the Giver of salvation; and both names set in clearlight the sinful ingratitude of forgetting God, and force home thequestion: 'Do ye thus requite the Lord, oh foolish people and unwise?'

(c) The implied Absurdity of it. What a contrast between the safe'munitions of rocks' and the unsheltered security of these Damascenegardens! What fools to leave the heights and come down into the plain!Think of the contrast between the sufficiency of God and the emptinessof the substitutes. Forgetfulness of Him and preference of creaturescannot be put into language which does not convict it of absurdity.

II. The Busy Effort and Apparent Success of a Godless Life.

(a) If a man loses his hold on God and has not Him to stay himself on,he is driven to painful efforts to make up the loss. God is needed byevery soul. If the soul is not satisfied in Him, then there are hungrydesires. This is the explanation of the feverish activity of much ofour life.

(b) Such work is far harder than the work of serving God. It takes agreat deal of toil to make that garden grow. The world is a hardtaskmaster. God's service is easy. He sets us in Eden to till and dressit, but when we forget Him, the ground is cursed, and bears thorns andthistles, and sweat drips from our brows.

Men take more pains to damn themselves than to save themselves. Thereis nothing more wearying than the pursuit of pleasure. 'Pleasantplants'—that is a hopeless kind of gardening. There is nothing moredegrading.

'Ye lust and desire to have,'—what a contrast is in, Ask and have! Wemight live even as the lilies or the ravens, or with only thisdifference, that we laboured, but were as uncaring and as peaceful asthey.

God is given. The world has to be bought. Its terms are 'Nothingfor nothing.'

(c) Such work has sometimes quick, present success.

'In the day.' It is hard for men to labour towards far-off unseen good.We like to have what will grow up in a night, like Jonah's gourd. Sothese present satisfactions in a worldly life appeal to worldly,sensuous natures. And it is hard to set over against these a plantwhich grows slowly, and only bears fruit in the next world.

III. The End of it all.

'A harvest heap in the day of grief.' This clearly points on to asolemn ending—the day of judgment.

(a) How poor the fruit will be that a God-forgetting man will take outof life! There is but one heap from all the long struggle. He has'sowed much and brought home little.' What shall we take with us out ofour busy years as their net result? A very small sack will be largeenough to hold the harvest that many of us have reaped.

(b) All this God-forgetting life of pleasure-seeking and idolatry isbringing on a terrible, inevitable consummation.

'Put in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe.'

No doubt there is often a harvest of grief and desperate sorrowspringing, even in this life, from forgetting God. For it is only theywho set their hopes on Him that are never disappointed, and only theywho have chosen Him for their portion who can always say, 'I have agoodly heritage.' But the real harvest is not reaped till death hasseparated the time of sowing from that of ingathering. The sower shallreap; i.e. every man shall inherit the consequences of his deeds. 'Theythat have planted it shall eat it.'

(c) That harvest home will be a day of sadness to some. These areterrible words—'grief and desperate sorrow,' or 'pain and incurablesickness.' We dare not dilate on this. But if we trust in Christ andsow to the Spirit, we shall then 'rejoice before God as with the joy ofharvest,' and 'return with joy, bringing our sheaves with us.'

'IN THIS MOUNTAIN'

'In this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feastof fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full ofmarrow, of wines on the lees well refined. 7. And He will destroy inthis mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and theveil that is spread over all nations. 8. He will swallow up death invictory.'—ISAIAH xxv. 6-8.

A poet's imagination and a prophet's clear vision of the goal to whichGod will lead humanity are both at their highest in this great song ofthe future, whose winged words make music even in a translation. Nodoubt it starts from the comparatively small fact of the restoration ofthe exiled nation to its own land. But it soars far beyond that. Itsees all mankind associated with them in sharing their blessings. It isthe vision of God's ideal for humanity. That makes it the moreremarkable that the prophet, with this wide outlook, should insist withsuch emphasis on the fact that it has a local centre. That phrase 'inthis mountain' is three times repeated in the hymn; two of theinstances occurring in the verses of my text have lying side by sidewith them the expressions 'all people' and 'all nations,' as if tobring together the local origin, and the universal extent, of theblessings promised.

The sweet waters that are to pour through the world well up from aspring opened 'in this mountain.' The beams that are to lighten everyland stream out from a light blazing there. The world's hopes for thatgolden age which poets have sung, and towards which earnest socialreformers have worked, and of the coming of which this prophet wassure, rest on a definite fact, done in a definite place, at a definitetime. Isaiah knew the place, but what was to be done, or when it was tobe done, he knew not. You and I ought to be wiser. History has taughtus that Jesus Christ fulfils the visioned good that inspired theprophet's brilliant words. We might say, with allowable licence, that'this mountain,' in which the Lord does the great things that this songmagnifies, is not so much Zion as Calvary.

Brethren, in these days, when so many voices are proclaiming so manyshort cuts to the Millennium, this clear declaration of the source ofthe world's hope is worth pondering. For us all, individually, thislocalisation of the origin of the universal good of mankind is an offerof blessings to us if we will go thither, where the provision for theworld's good is stored—'In this mountain'; therefore, to seek itanywhere else is to seek it in vain.

Now, I wish, under the impression of that conviction, to put before youjust these three thoughts: where the world's food comes from; where theunveiling which gives light to the world comes from; and where the lifewhich destroys death for the world comes from—'In this mountain.'

I. Where does the world's food come from?

Physiologists can tell, by studying the dentition—the system of theteeth—and the digestive apparatus of an animal, what it is meant tolive upon, whether vegetables or flesh, or a mingled diet of both. Andyou can tell, if you will, by studying yourself, what, or whom, you aremeant to live upon. The poet said, 'We live by admiration, hope, andlove.' But he did not say on what these faculties, which truly nourishman's spirit, are to fix and fasten. He tells of the appetites; he doesnot tell of their food. My text does: 'In this mountain shall the Lordmake unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast of wines on theless well refined.' Friends, look at these hearts of yours with theiryearnings, with their passionate desires, with their clamant needs.Will any human love—the purest, the sweetest, the most unselfish, themost utter in its surrender—satisfy the heart-hunger of the poorest ofus? No! Look at the capacities of grasping thought and truth in ourspirits, which are ever seek, seek, seeking for absolutely certainfoundations on which we may build the whole structure of our beliefs.You have to go deeper down than the sand of man's thinkings andteachings before you can reach what will bear without shifting thefoundations of a life's credence and confidence. Look at thesetumultuous wills of ours that fancy they crave to be independent, andreally crave an absolute master whom it is blessedness to obey. Youwill find none such beneath the stars. The very elements of our being,our heart, will, mind, desires, passions, longings, all with one voiceproclaim that the only food for a man is God.

Jesus Christ brings the food that we need. Remember His own adaptationof this great vision of my text in more than one parable; such as thesupper that was provided, and to which all men were invited, and, 'withone consent,' declined the invitation. Remember His own utterance,' Iam the Bread of God which came down from heaven to give life to theworld.' Remembering such words, let me plead with you to listen to thevoice of warning as well as of invitation, which sounds from Cradle andCross and Throne. 'Why will ye spend your money for that which is notbread'—you know it is not—'and your labour for that which satisfiethnot?'—you know it does not. Turn to Him, 'eat, and your souls shalllive.' 'In this mountain is prepared a feast… for all nations.'

Notice that although it does not appear on the surface, and to Englishreaders, this world's festival, in which every want is met, and everyappetite satisfied, is a feast on a sacrifice. That touches the deepestneed, about which I shall have a word or two to say presently. But inthe meantime let me just press this upon you, that the Christ who diedon the Cross is to be lived on by us; and that it is His sacrifice thatis to be the nourishment of our spirits.

Would that the earnest men, who are trying to cure the world's evilsand to still the world's wants, and are leaving Jesus Christ and Hisreligion out of their programme, would take thought and ask themselveswhether there is not something more in the hunger of humanity thantheir ovens can ever bake bread for! They are spinning ropes of sand,if they are trying to lift the world clear of its miseries and of itshunger, and are not presenting Jesus Christ. I hope I am no bigot; Iknow that I sympathise earnestly with all these other schemes forhelping mankind, but this I am bound to say here—all of them puttogether will not reach the need of the case, unless they start from,and are subsidiary to, and develop out of, the presenting of the primalsupply for the universal want, Christ, who alone is able to still thehunger of men's hearts. Education will do much, but university degreesand the highest culture will not satisfy a hungry heart. Fittingenvironment, as it is fashionable to call it, will do a great deal, butnothing outside of a man will staunch his evils or still the hungerthat coils and grips in his heart. Competent wealth is a good-there 1sno need to say that in Manchester-but millionaires have been known tobe miserable. A heart at rest in the love of husband, wife, parent,child, is a blessing earnestly to be sought and thankfully to betreasured by us all; but there is more than that wanted. Put a man inthe most favourable circ*mstances; give him competent worldly means; doall that modern philosophers who leave religion out of the question aretrying to do; put in practice your most advanced Socialistic schemes,and you will still have a man with a hungry heart. He may not know whathe wants; very often he will entirely mistake what that is, but he willbe restless for want of an unknown good. Here is the only thing thatwill still his heart: 'The bread which I give is My flesh, which I willgive for the life of the world.'

Brother and sister, this is not a matter only for social reformers, andto be dealt with as bearing upon wide movements that influencemultitudes. It comes home to you and me. Some of you do not in theleast degree know what I am talking about when I speak of the hunger ofmen's hearts; for you have lost your appetites, as children that eattoo many sweets have no desire for their wholesome meals. You have lostyour appetite by feeding upon garbage, and you say you are quitecontent. Yes, at present; but deep down there lies in your hearts aneed which will awake and speak out some day; and you will find thatthe husks which the swine did eat are scarcely wholesome nutriment fora man. And there are some of you that turn away with disgust, and I amglad of it, from these low, gross, sensuous delights; and are trying tosatisfy yourselves with education, culture, refinement, art, science,domestic love, wealth, gratified ambition, or the like. There aretribes of degraded Indians that in times of famine eat clay. There is alittle nourishment in it, and it distends their stomachs, and givesthem the feeling of having had a meal. And that is like what some ofyou do. Dear friends, will you listen to this?—'Why do ye spend yourmoney for that which is not bread?' Will you listen to this?—'I am theBread of Life,' Will you listen to this?—'In this mountain will theLord make unto all people a feast of fat things.'

II. Where does the unveiling that gives light to the world come from?

My text, as I have already remarked, emphatically repeats 'in thismountain' in its next clause. 'He will destroy in this mountain theface of the covering cast over all people, and the veil that is spreadover all nations.'

Now, of course, the pathetic picture that is implied here, of a darkpall that lies over the whole world, suggests the idea of mourning, butstill more emphatically, I think, that of obscuration and gloom. Theveil prevents vision and shuts out light, and that is the picture ofhumanity as it presents itself before this prophet—a world of menentangled in the folds of a dark pall that lay over their heads, andswathed them round about, and prevented them from seeing; shut them upin darkness and entangled their feet, so that they stumbled in thegloom. It is a pathetic picture, but it does not go beyond therealities of the case. For, with all our light on other matters, withall our freedom of action, with all our frequent forgetfulness of thefact that we are thus encompassed, it remains true that, apart from theemancipation and illumination that are effected by Jesus Christ, thisis the picture of mankind as they are. And you are beneath that veil,and swathed, obstructively as regards light and liberty, by its heavyfolds, unless Christ has freed you.

But we must go a step further than that, I think; and although one doesnot wish to force too much meaning on to a poetic metaphor, still Icannot help supposing that that universal pall, as I called it, whichis cast over all nations, has a very definite and a very tragicmeaning. There is a universal fact of human experience which answers tothe figure, and that is sin. That is the black thing whose ebon foldshamper us, and darken us, and shut out the visions of God andblessedness, and all the glorious blue above us. The heavy, dark mistsettles down on the plains, though the sky above is undimmed by it, andthe sun is blazing in the zenith. Not one beam can penetrate throughthe wet, chill obstruction, and men stumble about in the fog with lampsand torches, and all the while a hundred feet up it is brightness andday. Or, if at some points the obstruction is thinned and the sun doescome through, it is shorn of all its gracious beams and power to warmand cheer, and looks but like a copper-coloured, livid, angry ball. Sothe 'veil that is spread over all nations, 'that awful fact ofuniversal sinfulness, shuts out God—who is our light and our joy—fromus, and no other lights or joys are more than twinkling tapers in themist. Or it makes us see Him as men in a fog see the sun—shorn of Hisgraciousness, threatening, wrathful, unlovely.

Brethren, the fact of universal sinfulness is the outstanding fact ofhumanity. Jesus Christ deals with it by His death, which is God'ssacrifice and the world's atonement. That Lamb of God has borne awaythe world's sins, and my sins and thy sins are there. By the fact ofHis death He has rent the veil from the top to the bottom, and thelight comes in, unhindered by the terrible solemn fact that all of ushave sinned and come short of the glory of God. By His life Hecommunicates to each of us, if we will trust our poor sinful souls toHim, a new power of living which is triumphant over temptation, andgives the victory over sin if we will be true to Him. And so the lastshreds of the veil, like the torn clouds of a spent thunderstorm, areparted into filmy rags and float away below the horizon, leaving theuntarnished heavens and the flaming sunshine; and 'we with unveiledfaces' can lift them up to be irradiated by the light. 'In thismountain will the Lord destroy the covering that is spread over allnations.'

The weak point of all these schemes and methods to which I have alreadyreferred for helping humanity out of the slough, and making menhappier, is that they underestimate the fact of sin. If a man comes tothem and says, 'I have broken God's law. What am I to do? I have apower within me that impels me now to evil. How am I to get rid of it?'they have no adequate answer. There is only one remedy that dealsradically with the fact of human transgression; only one power thatwill deliver each of us, if we will, from the penalty, the guilt, thepower of sin; and that is the sacrifice of Christ on Calvary, and itsresult, the inspiration of the spirit of life that was in Jesus Christ,breathed into us from the Throne itself. Thus, and thus only, is theveil done away in Christ.

III. Lastly, where does the life that destroys death come from?

'He will swallow up death in victory,' or, as probably the word morecorrectly means, 'He will swallow up death for ever.' None of theother panaceas for the world's evils that I have been speaking of evenattempt to deal with that 'Shadow feared of Man' that sits at the endof all our paths. Jesus Christ has dealt with it. Like the warrior ofJudah who went down into a pit and slew a lion, He has gone down intothe lair of the dreadful thing, and has come up leaving Death dead onthe threshold.

By His death Christ has so altered that grim fact, which awaits us all,that to those who will trust their souls to Him it ceases to be death,even though the physical fact remains unaltered. For what is death? Isit simply the separation of soul from body, the cessation of corporealexistence? Surely not. We have to add to that all the spiritualtremors, all the dreads of passing into the unknown, and leaving thisfamiliar order of things, and all the other reluctances andhalf-conscious feelings which make the difference between the death ofa man and the death of a dog. And all these are swept clean away, if webelieve that Jesus died, and died as our Redeemer and our Saviour. So,unconsciously and instinctively, the New Testament writers will seldomcondescend to call the physical fact by the ugly old name. It haschanged its character; it is 'a sleep' now; it is 'an exodus,' a 'goingout' from the land of Egypt into a land of peace. It is a plucking upof the tent-pegs, according to another of the words which the writersemploy for death, in preparation for entering, when the 'tabernacle isdissolved,' into 'a house not made with hands,' a statelier edifice,'eternal in the heavens.' To die in Christ is not to die, but becomes amere change of condition and of place, to be with Him, which is far'better.' So an Apostle who was coming within measurable distance ofhis own martyrdom, even whilst the headsman's block was all but in hissight, said: 'He hath abolished death,' the physical fact remainingstill.

By His resurrection Jesus Christ has established immortality as acertainty for men. I can understand a man, who has persuaded himselfthat when he dies he is done with, dressing his limbs to die withoutdread if without hope. But that is a poor victory over death, which,even in the act of getting rid of the fear of it, invests it withsupreme and ultimate power over humanity. Surely, surely, to believethat the grave is a blind alley, with no exit at the other end,—tobelieve that, however it may minister to a quiet departure, is novictory over the grave. But to die believing, on the other hand, thatit is only a short tunnel through which we pass, and come out intofairer lands on the other side of the mountains, is to conquer thatlast foe even while it seems to conquer us.

Jesus Christ, who died that we might never die, lives that we mayalways live. For His immortal life will give to each of us, if we joinourselves to Him by simple faith and lowly obedience, an immortal lifethat shall persist through, and be increased by, the article of bodilydeath. And when we pass into the higher realm of fulness of joy,then—as Paul quotes the words of my text—'shall be brought to passthe saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.'

Dear brethren, gather all these thoughts together. Do they not pleadwith you to cast yourselves on Jesus Christ, and to turn to Him alone?He will give you the food of your souls; if you will not sit at Histable you will starve. He will strip you of the covering that is castover you, as over us all; if you will not let Him unwind its folds fromyour limbs, then like the clothes of a drowning man, they will sinkyou. He will give you immortal life, which laughs at death, and youwill be able to take up the great song, 'O Death, where is thy sting; Ograve, where is thy victory?… Thanks be to God which giveth us thevictory.' 'In this mountain' and in this mountain only, are the food,the illumination, the life of the world. I beseech you, do not turnaway from them, lest you stumble on the dark mountains, where arestarvation and gloom and death, but rather join that happy company ofpilgrims who sing as they march, 'Come! let us go up to the mountain ofthe Lord. He will teach us His ways, and we will walk in His paths.'

THE FEAST ON THE SACRIFICE

And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people afeast.' ISAIAH xxv. 6.

There is here a reference to Sinai, where a feast followed the visionof God. It was the sign of covenant, harmony, and relationship, and wasfurnished by a sacrifice.

I. The General Ideas contained in this Image of a Feast.

We meet it all through Scripture; it culminates in Christ's parablesand in the 'Marriage Supper of the Lamb.'

In the image are suggested:—

Free familiarity of access, fellowship, and communion with Him.

Abundant Supply of all wants and desires.

Festal Joy.

Family Intercommunion.

II. The Feast follows on Sacrifice. We find that usage of a feastfollowing a sacrifice existing in many races and religions. It seems towitness to a widespread consciousness of sin as disturbing ourrelations with God. These could be set right only by sacrifice, whichtherefore must precede all joyful communion with Him.

The New Testament accepts that truth and clears it from the admixtureof heathenism.

God provides the Sacrifice.

It is not brought by man. There is no need for our efforts—noatonement to be found by us. The sacrifice is not meant to turn asideGod's wrath.

Communion is possible through Christ.

In Him God is revealed.

Objective hindrances are taken away.

Subjective ones are removed.

Dark fears—indifference—dislike of fellowship—Sin—these makecommunion with God impossible.

At Sinai the elders 'saw God, and did eat and drink' Here the end ofthe preceding chapter shows the 'elders' gazing on the glory ofJehovah's reign in Zion.

III. The Feast consists of a Sacrifice.

Christ is the food of our souls, He and His work are meant to nourishour whole being. He is the object for all our nature.

The Sacrifice must be incorporated with us. It is not enough that it beoffered, it must also be partaken of.

Now the Sacrifice is eaten by faith, and by occupation with it of eachpart of our being, according to its own proper action. Through love,obedience, hope, desire, we may all feed on Jesus.

The Lord's Supper presents the same thoughts, under similar symbols, as
Isaiah expressed in his prophecy.

Symbolically we feast on the sacrifice when we eat the Bread which isthe Body broken for us. But the true eating of the true sacrifice is byfaith. Crede et manducasti—Believe, and thou hast eaten.

THE VEIL OVER ALL NATIONS

'He will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast overall people, and the veil that is spread over all nations.'—ISAIAH xxv.7.

The previous chapter closes with a prediction of the reign of Jehovahin Mount Zion 'before His elders' in Glory. The allusion apparently isto the elders being summoned up to the Mount and seeing the Glory, 'asthe body of heaven in its clearness.' The veil in this verse isprobably a similar allusion to that which covered Moses' face. It willthen be an emblem of that which obscures for 'all nations the face ofGod.' And what is that but sin?

I. Sin veils God from men's sight.

It is not the necessary inadequacy of the finite mind to conceive ofthe Infinite that most tragically hides God from us. That inadequacy iscompatible with true and sufficient knowledge of Him. Nor is it 'theveils of flesh and sense,' as we often hear it said, that hide Him. Butit is our sinful moral nature that darkens His face and dulls our eyes.'Knowledge' of God, being knowledge of a Person, is not merely anintellectual process. It is much more truly acquaintance thancomprehension; and as such, requires, as all acquaintance does, somefoundation of sympathy and appreciation.

Every sin darkens the witness to God in ourselves, In a pure nature,conscience would perfectly reveal God; but we all know too sadly andintimately how it is gradually silenced, and fails to discriminatebetween what pleases and what displeases God. In a pure nature, theobedient Will would perfectly reveal God and the man's dependence onHim. We all know how sin weakens that.

Every sin diminishes our power of seeing Him in His externalRevelation. Every sin ruffles the surface of the soul, which is amirror reflecting the light that streams from Creation, fromProvidence, from History. A mass of black rock flung into a still lakeshatters the images of the girdling woods and the overarching sky.

Every sin bribes us to forget God. It becomes our interest, as wefancy, to shut Him out of our thoughts. Adam's impulse is to carry hisguilty secret with him into hiding among the trees of the garden. Wecannot shake off His presence, but we can—and when we have sinned, wehave but too good reason to exercise the power—we can dismiss thethought of Him. 'They did not like to retain God in their knowledge.'

Individual sins may seem of small moment, but an opaque veil can bewoven out of very fine thread.

II. To veil God from our sight is fatal.

We imagine that to forget Him leaves us undisturbed in following aimsdisapproved by Him, and we spend effort to secure that false peace byfierce absorption in other pursuits, and impatient shaking off of allthat might wake our sleeping consciousness of Him.

But what unconscious self-murder that is, which we take such pains toachieve! To know God is life eternal; to lose Him from our sight is tocondemn all that is best in our nature, all that is most conducive toblessedness, tranquillity, and strenuousness in our lives, to languishand die. Every creature separated from God is cut off from the fountainof life, and loses the life it drew from the fountain, of whatever kindthat life is. And that in man which is most of kin with God languishesmost when so cut off. And when we have blocked Him out from our fieldof vision, all that remains for us to look at suffers degradation, andbecomes phantasmal, poor, unworthy to detain, and impotent to satisfy,our hungry vision.

III. The Veil is done away in Christ.

He shows us God, instead of our own false conceptions of Him, which arebut distorted refractions of His true likeness. Only within the limitsof Christ's revelation is there knowledge of God, as distinguished fromguesses, doubtful inferences, partial glimpses. Elsewhere, the greatestcertitude as to Him is a 'peradventure'; Jesus alone says 'Verily,verily.'

Jesus makes us able to see God.

Jesus makes us delight in seeing Him.

All dread of the 'steady whole of the Judge's face' is changed to theloving heart's joy in seeing its Beloved.

IV. The Veil is wholly removed hereafter.

The prophecy from which the text is taken is obviously not yetfulfilled. It waits for the perfect condition of redeemed manhood inanother life. But even then, the chief reason why the Christian iswarranted in cherishing an unpresumptuous hope that he will know evenas he is known is not that then he will have dropped the veil of fleshand sense, but that he will have dropped the thicker, more stiflingcovering of sin, and, being perfectly like God, will be able perfectlyto gaze on Him, and, perfectly gazing on Him, will grow ever moreperfectly like Him.

The choice for each of us is whether the veil will thicken till itdarkens the Face altogether, and that is death; or whether it will thinaway till the last filmy remnant is gone, and 'we shall be like Him,for we shall see Him as He is.'

THE SONG OF TWO CITIES

'In that day shall this song be sung in the land of Judah; We have astrong city; salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks. 2. Openye the gates, that the righteous nation which keepeth the truth mayenter in. 3. Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayedon Thee; because he trusteth in Thee. A. Trust ye in the Lord for ever:for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength: 5. For He bringethdown them that dwell on high; the lofty city, He layeth it low; Helayeth it low, even to the ground He bringeth it even to the dust. 6.The foot shall tread it down, even the feet of the poor, and the stepsof the needy. 7. The way of the just is uprightness: Thou, mostupright, dost weigh the path of the Just. 8. Yea, in the way of Thyjudgments, O Lord, have we waited for Thee; the desire of our soul isto Thy name, and to the remembrance of Thee. 9. With my soul have Idesired Thee in the night; yea, with my spirit within me will I seekThee early: for when Thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants ofthe world will learn righteousness. 10. Let favour be shewed to thewicked, yet will he not learn righteousness: in the land of uprightnesswill he deal unjustly, and will not behold the majesty of theLord.'—ISAIAH xxvi. 1-10.'

'This song' is to be interpreted as a song, not with the cold-bloodedaccuracy proper to a scientific treatise. The logic of emotion is assound as that of cool intellect, but it has its own laws and links ofconnection. First, the song sets in sharp contrast the two cities,describing, in verses 1-4, the city of God, its strength defences,conditions of citizenship, and the peace which reigns within its walls;and in verses 5 and 6 the fall and utter ruin of the robber city, itsantagonist Jerusalem, on its rocky peninsula, supplies the form ofIsaiah's thought; but it is only a symbol of the true city of God, thestable, invisible, but most real, polity and order of things to whichmen, even while wandering lonely and pilgrims, do come, if they will.It is possible even here and now to have our citizenship in theheavens, and to feel that we belong to a great community beyond the seaof time, though our feet have never trodden its golden pavements, norour eyes seen its happy glories.

In one aspect, it is ideal, but in truth it is more real than theintrusive and false things of this fleeting present, which callthemselves realities. 'The things which are' are the things above. Thethings here are but shows and shadows.

The city's walls are salvation. There is no need to name the architectof these fortifications. One hand only can pile their strength. Godappoints salvation in lieu of all visible defences. Whom He purposes tosave are saved. Whom He wills to keep safe are kept safe. They who canshelter behind that strong defence need no other. Weak, sense-governedhearts may crave something more palpable, but they do not really needit. A parapet on an Alpine road gives no real security, but onlysatisfies imagination. The sky needs no pillars to hold it up.

Then an unknown voice breaks in upon the song, calling on unnamedattendants to fling wide the gates. The city is conceived of as empty;its destined inhabitants must have certain qualifications. They must berighteous, and must 'keep faithfulness' being true to the God who is'faithful and true' in all His relations. None but the righteous candwell in conscious citizenship with the Unseen while here, and none butthe righteous can enter through the gates into the city. Thatrequirement is founded in the very nature of the case, and is asemphatically proclaimed by the gospel as by the prophet. But the gospeltells more articulately than he was enlightened to do, howrighteousness is to be won. The last vision of the Apocalypse, which isso like this song in its central idea, tells us of the fall of Babylon,of the descent to earth of the New Jerusalem, and leaves as its lastmessage the great saying, 'Blessed are they that wash their robes thatthey may … enter in through the gate into the city.'

Our song gives some hint of similar thoughts by passing from thedescription of the qualifications for entrance to the celebration ofthe security which comes from trust. The safety which is realisedwithin the walls of the strong city is akin to the 'perfect peace' inwhich he who trusts is kept; and the juxtaposition of the tworepresentations is equivalent to the teaching that trust, which isprecisely the same as the New Testament faith, is the condition ofentrance. We know that faith makes righteous, because it opens theheart to receive God's gift of righteousness; but that effect of faithis implied rather than stated here, where security and peace are themain ideas. As some fugitives from the storm of war sit in securitybehind the battlements of a fortress, and scarcely hear the din ofconflict in the open field below, the heart, which has taken refuge bytrust in God, is kept in peace so deep that it passes description, andthe singer is fain to give a notion of its completeness by calling it'peace, peace.' The mind which trusts is steadied thereby, as lightthings lashed to a firm stay are kept steadfast, however the ship toss.The only way to get and keep fixedness of temper and spirit amid changeand earthquake is to hold on to God, and then we may be stable withstability derived from the foundations of His throne to which we cling.

Therefore the song breaks into triumphant fervour of summons to all whohear it, to 'trust in Jab Jehovah for ever,' Such settled, perpetualtrust is the only attitude corresponding to His mighty name, and to therealities found in His character. He is the 'Bock of Ages' the grandfigure which Moses learned beneath the cliffs of Sinai and wove intohis last song, and which tells us of the unchanging strength that makesa sure hiding-place for all generations, and the ample space which willhold all the souls of men, and be for a shadow from the heat, a covertfrom the tempest, a shelter from the foe, and a home for the homeless,with many a springing fountain in its clefts.

The great act of judgment which the song celebrates is now (vs. 5, 6)brought into contrast with the blessed picture of the city, and by theintroductory 'for' is stated as the reason for eternal trust. Thelanguage, as it were, leaps and dances in jubilation, heaping togetherbrief emotional and synonymous clauses. So low is the once proud citybrought, that the feet of the poor tread it down. These 'poor' and'needy' are the true Israel, the suffering saints, who had known howcruel the sway of the fallen robber city was; and now they march acrossits site; and its broken columns and ruined palaces strew the groundbelow their feet. 'The righteous nation' of the one picture are 'thepoor and needy' of the other. No doubt the prophecy has had partialaccomplishments more than once or twice, when the oppressed church hastriumphed, and some hoary iniquity been levelled at a blow, or toppledover by slow decay. But the complete accomplishment is yet future, andnot to be realised till that last act, when all antagonism shall beended, and the net result of the weary history of the world be found tobe just these two pictures of Isaiah's—the strong city of God with itshappy inhabitants, and the everlasting desolations of the fallen cityof confusion.

The triumphant hurry of the song pauses for a moment to gaze upon thecrash, and in verse 7 gathers its lessons into a kind of proverbialsaying, which is perhaps best translated 'The path of the just issmooth (or "plain"); Thou levellest smooth the path of the just.' Torender 'upright' instead of 'smooth' seems to make the statement almostan identical proposition, and is tame. What is meant is, that, in thelight of the end, the path which often seemed rough is vindicated. Thejudgment has showed that the righteous man's course had no unnecessarydifficulties. The goal explains the road. The good man's path issmooth, not because of its own nature, but because God makes it so. Weare to look for the clearing of our road, not to ourselves, nor tocirc*mstances, but to Him; and even when it is engineered through rocksand roughnesses, to believe that He will make the rough places plain,or give us shoes of iron and brass to encounter them. Trust that whenthe journey is over the road will be explained, and that thisreflection, which breaks the current of the swift song of the prophet,will be the abiding, happy conviction of heaven.

Lastly, the song looks back and tells how the poor and needy, in whosename the prophet speaks, had filled the dreary past, while the tyrannyof the fallen city lasted, with yearning for the judgment which has nowcome at last. Verses 8 and 9 breathe the very spirit of patient longingand meek hope. There is a certain tone of triumph in that 'Yea,' as ifthe singer would point to the great judgment now accomplished, asvindicating the long, weary hours of hope deferred. That for which 'thepoor and needy' wait is the coming 'in the path of Thy judgments.' Theattitude of expectance is as much the duty and support of Christians asof Israel. We have a greater future clearer before us than they had.The world needs God's coming in judgment more than ever; and it sayslittle for either the love to God or the benevolence towards man ofaverage Christians, that they should know so little of that yearning ofsoul which breathes through so much of the Old Testament. For the gloryof God and the good of men, we should have the desire of our soulsturned to His manifestation of Himself in His righteous judgments. Itwas no personal end which bred the prophet's yearning. True, the'night' round him was dreary enough, and sorrow lay black on his peopleand himself; but it was God's 'name' and 'memorial' that was uppermostin his desires. That is to say, the chief object of the devout soul'slongings should be the glory of God's revealed character. And thedeepest reason for wishing that He would flash forth from Hishiding-place in judgments, is because such an apocalypse is the onlyway by which wilfully blind eyes can be made to see, and wilfullyunrighteous hearts can be made to practise righteousness.

Isaiah believed in the wholesome effect of terror. His confidence inthe power of judgments to teach the obstinate corresponds to the OldTestament point of view, and contains a truth for all points of view;but it is not the whole truth. We know only too well that sorrows andjudgments do not work infallibly, and that men 'being often reproved,harden their necks.' We know, too, more clearly than any prophet of oldcould know, that the last arrow in God's quiver is not some unheard-ofawfulness of judgment, but an unspeakable gift of love, and that ifthat 'favour shown to the wicked' in the life and death of God's Sondoes not lead him to 'learn righteousness,' nothing else will.

But while this is true, the prophet's aspirations are founded on thefacts of human nature too, and judgments do sometimes startle thosewhom kindness had failed to touch. It is an awful thought that humannature may so steel itself against the whole armoury of divine weaponsas that favour and severity are equally blunted, and the heart remainsunpierced by either. It is an awful thought that there may be inducedsuch truculent obstinacy of love of evil that, even when in 'a land ofuprightness,' a man shall choose evil, and forcibly shut his eyes, thathe may not see the majesty of the Lord, which he does not wish to seebecause it condemns his choice, and threatens to burn up him and hiswork together. A blasted tree when all the woods are green, a fleecedry when all around is rejoicing in the dew, a window dark when thewhole city is illuminated, one black sheep amid the white flock, oranything else anomalous and alone in its evil, is less tragic than thesight, so common, of a man so sold to sin that the presence of goodonly makes him angry and restless. It is possible to dwell amidst thefull light of Christian truth, and in a society moulded by itsprecepts, and to be unblessed, unsoftened thereby. If not softened,then hardened; and the wicked who in the land of uprightness dealswrongfully is all the worse for the light which he hated because itshowed him the sinfulness of the sin which he obstinately loved andwould keep.

OUR STRONG CITY

'In that day shall this song be sung in the land of Judah; We have astrong city; salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks. Open yethe gates, that the righteous nation which keepeth the truth may enterin.'—ISAIAH xxvi 1-2.

What day is 'that day'? The answer carries us back a couple ofchapters, to the great picture drawn by the prophet of a world-widejudgment, which is followed by a burst of song from the ransomed peopleof Jehovah, like Miriam's chant by the shores of the Red Sea. The 'cityof confusion,' the centre of the power hostile to God and man, falls;and its fall is welcomed by a chorus of praises. The words of my textare the beginning of one of these songs. Whether or not there were anyhistorical event which floated before the prophet's mind is whollyuncertain. If there were a smaller judgment upon some city of theenemy, it passes in his view into a world-wide judgment; and my text ispurely ideal, imaginative, and apocalyptic. Its nearest ally is thesimilar vision of the Book of the Revelation, where, when Babylon sankwith a splash like a millstone in the stream, the ransomed peopleraised their praises.

So, then, whatever may have been the immediate horizon of the prophet,and though, there may have stood on it some historical event, the citywhich he sees falling is other than any material Babylon, and thestrong city in which he rejoices is other than the material Jerusalem,though it may have suggested the metaphor of my text. The song fits ourlips quite as closely as it did the lips from which it first sprang,thrilling with triumph: 'We have a strong city; salvation will Godappoint for walls and bulwarks. Open ye the gates, that the righteousnation which keepeth the truth may enter in.'

There are three things, then, here: the city, its defences, itscitizens.

I. The City.

Now, no doubt the prophet was thinking of the literal Jerusalem; butthe city is ideal, as is shown by the bulwarks which defend, and by thequalifications which permit entrance. And so we must pass beyond theliteralities of Palestine, and, as I think, must not apply the symbolto any visible institution or organisation if we are to come to thedepth and greatness of the meaning of these words. No church which isorganised amongst men can be the New Testament representation of thisstrong city. And if the explanation is to be looked for in thatdirection at all, it can only be the invisible aggregate of ransomedsouls which is regarded as being the Zion of the prophecy.

But perhaps even that is too definite and hard. And we are rather tothink of the unseen but existent order of things or polity to which menhere on earth may belong, and which will one day, after shocks andconvulsions that shatter all which is merely institutional and human,be manifested still more gloriously.

The central thought that was moving in the prophet's mind is that ofthe indestructible vitality of the true Israel, and the order which itrepresented, of which Jerusalem on its rock was but to him a symbol.And thus for us the lesson is that, apart altogether from the existingand visible order of things in which we dwell, there is a polity towhich we may belong, for 'ye are come unto Mount Zion, the city of theliving God,' and that that order is indestructible. Convulsions come,every Babylon falls, all human institutions change and pass. 'Thekingdoms old' are 'cast into another mould.' But persistent throughthem all, and at the last, high above them all, will stand the stablepolity of Heaven, 'the city which hath the foundations.'

There is a lesson for us, brethren, in times of fluctuation, ofchange of opinion, of shaking of institutions, and of new social,economical, and political questions, threatening day by day toreorganise society. 'We have a strong city'; and whatever may come—andmuch destructive will come, and much that is venerable and antique,rooted in men's prejudices, and having survived through and oppressedthe centuries, will have to go; but God's polity, His form of humansociety of which the perfect ideal and antitype, so to speak, liesconcealed in the heavens, is everlasting. Therefore, whatsoeverchanges, whatsoever ancient and venerable things come to be regarded asof no account, howsoever the nations, like clay in the hands of thepotter, may have to assume new forms, as certainly they will, yet thefoundation of God standeth sure. And for Christian men in revolutionaryepochs, whether these revolutions affect the forms in which truth isgrasped, or whether they affect the moulds into which society is run,the only worthy temper is the calm, triumphant expectation that throughall the dust, contradiction, and distraction, the fair city of God willbe brought nearer and made more manifest to man. Isaiah, or whoever wasthe writer of these great words of my text, stayed his own and hispeople's hearts in a time of confusion and distress, by the thoughtthat it was only Babylon that could fall, and that Jerusalem was thepossessor of a charmed, immortal life.

This strong city, the order of human society which God has appointed,and which exists, though it be hidden in the heavens, will bemanifested one day when, like the fair vision of the goddess risingfrom amidst the ocean's foam, and shedding peace and beauty over thecharmed waves, there will emerge from all the wild confusion andtossing billows of the sea of the peoples the fair form of the 'Bride,the Lamb's wife.' There shall be an apocalypse of the city, and whetherthe old words which catch up the spirit of my text, and speak of thatHoly City as 'descending from heaven' upon earth, at the close of thehistory of the world, are to be taken, as perhaps they are, asexpressive of the truth that a renewed earth is to be the dwelling ofthe ransomed or no, this at least is clear, that the city shall berevealed, and when Babylon is swept away, Zion shall stand.

To this city—existent, immortal, and waiting to be revealed—you and Imay belong to-day. 'We have a strong city.' You may lay hold of lifeeither by the side of it which is transient and trivial andcontemptible, or by the side of it which goes down through all themutable and is rooted in eternity. As in some seaweed, far out in thedepths of the ocean, the tiny frond that floats upon the billow goesdown and down and down, by filaments that bind it to the basal rock, sothe most insignificant act of our fleeting days has a hold uponeternity, and life in all its moments may be knit to the permanent. Wemay unite our lives with the surface of time or with the centre ofeternity. Though we dwell in tabernacles, we may still be 'come toMount Zion,' and all life be awful, noble, solemn, religions, becauseit is all connected with the unseen city across the seas. It is for usto determine to which of these orders—the perishable, noisy andintrusive and persistent in its appeals, or the calm, silent, mostreal, eternal order beyond the stars—our petty lives shall attachthemselves.

II. Now note, secondly, the defences.

'Salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks.' This 'evangelicalprophet,' as he has been called, is distinguished, not only by theclearness of his anticipations of Jesus Christ and His work, but by thefulness and depth which he attaches to that word 'salvation.' He allbut anticipates the New Testament completeness and fulness of meaning,and lifts it from all merely material associations of earthly ortransitory deliverance, into the sphere in which we are accustomed toregard it as especially moving. By 'salvation' he means and we mean,not only negative but positive blessings. Negatively it includes theremoval of every conceivable or endurable evil, 'all the ills thatflesh is heir to,' whether they be evils of sin or evils of sorrow;and, positively, the investiture with every possible good that humanityis capable of, whether it be good of goodness, or good of happiness.This is what the prophet tells us is the wall and bulwark of hisideal-real city.

Mark the eloquent omission of the name of the builder of the wall.'God' is a supplement. Salvation 'will He appoint for walls andbulwarks.' No need to say who it is that flings such a fortificationaround the city. There is only one hand that can trace the lines ofsuch walls; only one hand that can pile their stones; only one that canlay them, as the walls of Jericho were laid, in the blood of Hisfirst-born Son. 'Salvation will He appoint for walls and bulwarks.'That is to say in a highly imaginative and picturesque form, that thedefense of the City is God Himself; and it is substantially a parallelwith other words which speak about Him as being 'a wall of fire roundabout it and the glory in the midst of it.' The fact of salvation isthe wall and the bulwark. And the consciousness of the fact and thesense of possessing it, is for our poor hearts, one of our bestdefenses against both the evil of sin and the evil of sorrow. Fornothing so robs temptation of its power, so lightens the pressure ofcalamities, and draws the poison from the fangs of sin and sorrow, asthe assurance that the loving purpose of God to save grasps and keepsus. They who shelter behind that wall, feel that between them and sin,and them and sorrow, there rises the inexpugnable defense of anAlmighty purpose and power to save, lie safe whatever betides. There isno need of other defenses. Zion

'Needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep.'

God Himself is the shield and none other is required.

So, brethren, let us walk by the faith that is always confident, thoughit depends on an unseen hand. It is a grand thing to be able to stand,as it were, in the open, a mark for all 'the slings and arrows ofoutrageous fortune' and yet to feel that around us there are walls mostreal, though invisible, which permit no harm to come to us. Our feeblesense-bound souls much prefer a visible wall. We, like a handrail onthe stair. Though it does not at all guard the descent, it keeps ourheads from getting dizzy. It is hard for us, as some travellers mayhave to do, to walk with steady foot and unthrobbing heart along anarrow ledge of rock with beetling precipice above us and black depthsbeneath, and we would like a little bit of a wall of some sort, forimagination if not for reality, between us and the sheer descent. Butit is blessed to learn that naked we are clothed, solitary we have aCompanion, and unarmed we have our defenceless heads covered with theshadow of the great wing, which, though sense sees it not, faith knowsis there. A servant of God is never without a friend, and when mostunsheltered

'From marge to blue marge
The whole sky grows his targe,
With sun's self for visible boss,'

beneath which he lies safe.

'Salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks,' and if we realise,as we ought to do, His purpose to keep us safe, and His power to keepus safe, and the actual operation of His hand keeping us safe at everymoment, we shall not ask that these defences shall be supplemented bythe poor feeble earthworks that sense can throw up.

III. Lastly, note the citizens.

Our text is part of a 'song,' and is not to be interpreted in thecold-blooded fashion that might suit prose. A voice, coming from whomwe know not, breaks in upon the first strain with a command, addressedto whom we know not—'Open ye the gates'—the city thus far beingsupposed to be empty—'that the righteous nation which keepeth thetruth may enter in.' The central idea there is just this, 'Thy peopleshall be all righteous.' The one qualification for entrance into thecity is absolute purity.

Now, brethren, that is true in regard to our present imperfectdenizenship within the city; and it is true in regard to men's passinginto it in its perfect and final form. As to the former, there isnothing that you Christian people need more to have dinned into youthan this, that your continuance in the state of a redeemed man, withall the security and blessing that attach thereto, depends upon yourcontinuing to be righteous. Every sin, every flaw, every droppingbeneath our own standard in conscience of what we ought to be, has forits inevitable result that we are robbed for the time being ofconsciousness of the walls of the city being about us and of our beingcitizens thereof. 'Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? And whoshall stand in His holy place?' The New Testament, as emphatically asthe old psalm, answers,' He that hath clean hands and a pure heart.''Let no man deceive you. He that doeth righteousness is righteous.'There is no way by which Christian men here on earth can pass into andkeep within the city of the living God, except they possess personalpurity, righteousness of life, and cleanness of heart.

They used to say that Venice glass was so made that any poison pouredinto it shivered the vessel. Any drop of sin poured into your cup ofcommunion with God, shatters the cup and spills the wine. Whosoeverthinks himself a citizen of that great city, if he falls intotransgression, and soils the cleanness of his hands, and ruffles thecalm of his pure heart by self-willed sinfulness, will wake to findhimself not within the battlements, but lying wounded, robbed,solitary, in the pitiless desert. My brother, it is 'the righteousnation' that 'enters in,' even here on earth.

I do not need to remind you how, admittedly by us all, that is the casein regard to the final form of the city of our God, into which nothingshall enter 'that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination ormaketh a lie.' Heaven can only be entered into hereafter by, as hereand now it can only enter into, those who are pure of heart. All elsethere would shrivel as foul things born In the darkness do in thelight, and be consumed in the fire. None but the pure can enter and seeGod.

'The nation which keepeth the truth'—that does not mean adherence toany revelation, or true creed, or the like. The word which is employedmeans, not truth of thought, but truth of character; and might,perhaps, be better represented by the more familiar word in such aconnection, 'faithfulness.' A man who is true to God, keeping up afaithful relation to Him who is faithful to us, he, and only he, willpass into, and abide in, the city.

Now, brethren, so far our text carries us, but no further; unless,perhaps, there may be a hint of something yet deeper in the next clauseof this song. If any one asks, How does the nation become righteous?the answer may lie in the immediately following exhortation—'Trust yein the Lord for ever.' But whether that be so or not, if we want ananswer to the questions, How can my stained feet be cleansed so as tobe fit to tread the crystal pavements? how can my foul garments be sopurged as not to be a blot and an eyesore, beside the white, lustrousrobes that sweep along them and gather no defilement there? the onlyanswer that I know of is to be found by turning to the final visions ofthe New Testament, where the spirit of this whole section of ourprophet is reproduced. Again, Babylon falls amidst the songs of saints;and then, down upon all the dust and confusion of the crash of ruin,the seer beholds the Lamb's wife, the new Jerusalem, descending fromabove. To his happy eyes its glories are unveiled, its golden streets,its open gates, its walls of precious stones, its flashing river, itspeaceful inhabitants, its light streaming from the throne of God and ofthe Lamb. And when that vision passes, his last message to us is,'Blessed are they that wash their robes that they may enter through thegates into the city.' None but those who wash their garments, and makethem white in the blood of the Lamb, can, living, come unto the city ofthe living God, the heavenly Jerusalem; or, dying, can pass through theiron gate that opens to them of its own accord, and find themselves asday breaks in the street of the Jerusalem which is above.

THE INHABITANT OF THE ROCK

'Thou wilt keep him In perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee:because he trusteth in Thee. Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in theLord Jehovah is everlasting strength.'—ISAIAH xxvi. 3-4.

There is an obvious parallel between these verses and the two precedingones. The safety which was there set forth as the result of dwelling inthe strong city is here presented as the consequence of trust. Theemblem of the fortified place passes into that of the Rock of Ages.There is the further resemblance in form, that, just as in the twopreceding verses we had the triumphant declaration of security followedby a summons to some unknown persons to 'open the gates,' so here wehave the triumphant declaration of perfect peace, followed by a summonsto all to 'trust in the Lord for ever.' If we may suppose theinvocation of the preceding verses to be addressed to the watchers atthe gate of the strong city, it is perhaps not too fanciful to supposethat the invitation in my text is the watcher's answer, pointing theway by which men may pass into the city.

Whether that be so or no, at all events I take it as by no meansaccidental that, immediately upon the statement of the Old Testamentlaw that righteousness alone admits to the presence of God, therefollows so clear and emphatic an anticipation of the great NewTestament Gospel that faith is the condition of righteousness, and thatimmediately after hearing that only 'the righteous nation which keepeththe truth' can enter there, we hear the merciful call, 'Trust ye in theLord for ever.' So, then, I think we have in the words before us,though not formally yet really, very large teaching as to the nature,the object, the blessed effects, and the universal duty of that trustin the Lord which makes the very nexus between man and God, accordingto the teaching of the New Testament.

I. First, then, I desire to notice in a sentence the insight into thetrue nature of trust or faith given by the word employed here.

Now the literal meaning of the expression here rendered 'to trust' isto lean upon anything. As we say, trust is reliance. As a weak manmight stay his faltering, tottering steps upon some strong staff, ormight lean upon the outstretched arm of a friend, so we, conscious ofour weakness, aware of our faltering feet, and realising the roughnessof the road, and the smallness of our strength, may lay the wholeweight of ourselves upon the loving strength of Jehovah.

And that is the trust of the Old Testament, the faith of the New—thesimple act of reliance, going out of myself to find the basis of mybeing, forsaking myself to touch and rest upon the ground of mysecurity, passing from my own weakness and laying my trembling handinto the strong hand of God, like some weak-handed youth on a coach-boxwho turns to a stronger beside him and says: 'Take thou the reins, forI am feeble to direct or to restrain.' Trust is reliance, and relianceis always blessedness.

II. Notice, secondly, the steadfast peacefulness of trust.

Now there are difficulties about the rendering and precise significanceof the first verse of my text with which I do not need to trouble you.The Authorised Version, and still more perhaps the Revised Version,give substantially, as I take it, the prophet's meaning; and the marginof the Revised Version is still more literal and accurate than thetext, 'A steadfast mind Thou keepest in perfect peace, because ittrusteth in Thee.' If this, then, be the true meaning of the words, youobserve that it is the steadfast mind, steadfast because it trusts,which God keeps In the deep peace that is expressed by thereduplication of the word.

And if we break up that complex thought into its elements, it justcomes to this, first, that trust makes steadfastness. Most men's livesare blown about by winds of circ*mstance, directed by gusts of passion,shaped by accidents, and are fragmentary and jerky, like some ship atsea with nobody at the helm, heading here and there, as the force ofthe wind or the flow of the current may carry them. If my life is to besteadied, there must not only be a strong hand at the tiller, but someoutward object which shall be for me the point of aim and the point ofrest. No man can steady his life except by clinging to a holdfastwithout himself. Some of us look for that stay in the fluctuations andfleetingnesses of creatures; and some of us are wiser and saner, andlook for it in the steadfastness of the unchanging God. The men who dothe former are the sport of circ*mstances, and the slaves of their ownnatures, and there is no consistency in noble aim and effort throughouttheir lives, corresponding to their circ*mstances, relations, andnature. Only they who stay themselves upon God, and get down throughall the superficial shifting strata of drift and gravel, to thebase-rock, are steadfast and solid.

My brother, if you desire to govern yourself, you must let God governyou. If you desire to be firm, you must draw your firmness from theunchangingness of that divine nature which you grasp. How can a willowbe stiffened into an iron pillar? Only—if I might use such a violentmetaphor—when it receives into its substance the iron particles thatit draws from the soil in which it is rooted. How can a bit ofthistledown be kept motionless amidst the tempest? Only by being gluedto something that is fixed. What do men do with light things on deckwhen the ship is pitching? Lash them to a fixed point. Lash yourselvesto God by simple trust, and then you will partake of His sereneimmutability in such fashion as it is possible for the creature toparticipate in the attributes of the Creator.

And then, still further, the steadfast mind—steadfast because ittrusts—is rewarded in that it is kept by God. It is no mere mistake inthe order of his thought which leads this prophet to allege that it isthe steadfast mind which God keeps. For, though it is true, on the onehand, that the real fixity and solidity of a human character come moresurely and fully through trust in God than by any other means, on theother hand it is true that, in order to receive the full blessedeffects of trust into our characters and lives, we must persistentlyand doggedly keep on in the attitude of confidence. If a man holds outto God a tremulous hand with a shaking cup in it, which Le sometimespresents and sometimes twitches back, it is not to be expected that Godwill pour the treasure of His grace into such a vessel, with the riskof most of it being spilt upon the ground. There must be a steadfastwaiting if there is to be a continual flow.

It is the mind that cleaves to God which God keeps. I suppose thatthere was floating before Paul's thoughts some remembrance of thisgreat passage of the evangelical prophet when he uttered his words,which ring so strikingly with so many echoes of them, when he said,'The peace of God which passeth understanding shall keep your heartsand minds in Christ Jesus.' It is the steadfast mind that is kept inperfect peace. If we 'keep ourselves,' by that divine help which isalways waiting to be given,' in the' faith and 'love of God,' He willkeep us in the hour of temptation, will keep us from falling, and willgarrison our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

And then, still further, this faithful, steadfast heart and mind, keptby God, is a mind filled with deepest peace. There is something verybeautiful in the prophet's abandoning the attempt to find any adjectiveof quality which adequately characterises the peace of which he hasbeen speaking. He falls back upon the expedient which is the confessionof the impotence of human speech worthily to portray its subject whenhe simply says, 'Thou shalt keep in peace, peace … because hetrusteth in Thee.' The reduplication expresses the depth, thecompleteness of the tranquillity which flows into the heart, Suchcontinuity, wave after wave, or rather ripple after ripple, is possibleeven for us. For, dear brethren, the possession of this deep, unbrokenpeace does not depend on the absence of conflict, on distraction,trouble, or sorrow, but on the presence of God. If we are in touch withHim, then our troubled days may be calm, and beneath all the surfacetumult there may be a centre of rest. The garrison in some highhill-fortress looks down upon the open where the enemy's ranks arecrawling like insects across the grass, and scarcely hears the noise ofthe tumult, and no arrow can reach the lofty hold. So, up in God we maydwell at rest whate'er betide. Strange that we should prefer to livedown amongst the unwalled villages, which every spoiler can harry andburn, when we might climb, and by the might and the magic of trust inthe Lord bring round about ourselves a wall of fire which shall consumethe poison out of the evil, even whilst it permits the sorrow to do itsbeneficent work upon us!

III. Note again the worthiness of the divine Name to evoke, and thepower of the divine character to reward, the trust.

We pass to the last words of my text:—'In the Lord Jehovah iseverlasting strength.'

Now I suppose we all know that the words feebly rendered in theAuthorised Version 'everlasting strength' are literally 'the Rock ofa*ges'; and that this verse is the source of that hallowed figure which,by one of the greatest of our English hymns, is made familiar andimmortal to all English-speaking people.

But there is another peculiarity about the words on which I dwell for amoment, and that is, that here we have, for one of the only two timesin which the expression occurs in Scripture, the great name of Jehovahreduplicated. 'In Jab Jehovah is the Rock of Ages.' In the former versethe prophet had given up in despair the attempt to characterise thepeace which God gave, and fallen back upon the expedient of naming ittwice over. In this verse, with similar eloquence of reticence, heabandons the attempt to describe or characterise that great Name, andin adoration, contents himself with twice taking it upon his lips, inorder to impress what he cannot express, the majesty and thesufficiency of that name.

What, then, is the force of that name? We do not need, I suppose, to domore than simply remind you that there are two great thoughtscommunicated by that self-revelation of God which lies in it.Jehovah, in its literal grammatical signification, puts emphasis uponthe absolute, underived, and therefore unlimited, unconditioned,unchangeable, eternal being of God. 'I AM THAT I AM.' Men and creaturesare what they are made, are what they become, and some time or othercease to be what they were. But God is what He is, and is because Heis. He is the Source, the Motive, the Law, the Sustenance of His ownBeing; and changeless and eternal He is for ever. In that name is theRock of Ages.

That mighty name, by its place in the history of Revelation, conveys tous still further thoughts, for it is the name of the God who enteredinto covenant with His ancient people, and remains bound by Hiscovenant to bless us. That Is to say, He hath not left us in darknessas to the methods and purpose of His dealings with us, or as to theattitude of His heart towards us. He has bound Himself by solemn words,and by deeds as revealing as words. So we can reckon on God. To use avulgarism which is stripped of its vulgarity if employed reverently, asI would do it—we know where to have Him. He has given us the elementsto calculate His orbit; and we are sure that the calculation will comeright. So, because the name flashes upon men the thought of an absoluteBeing, eternal, and all-sufficient, and self-modified, and changeless,and because it reveals to us the very inmost heart of the mystery, andmakes it possible for us to forecast the movements of this great Sun ofour heavens, therefore in the name 'Jab Jehovah is the Bock of Ages.'

The metaphor needs no expansion. We understand that it conveys the ideaof unchangeable defence. As the cliffs tower above the river thatswirls at their base, and takes centuries to eat the faintest line upontheir shining surface, so the changeless God rises above the stream oftime, of which the brief breakers are human lives, 'sparkling,bursting, borne away.' They who fasten themselves to that Rock are safein its unchangeable strength, God the Unchangeable is the amuletagainst any change, that is not growth, in the lives of those who trustHim. Some of us may recall some great precipice rising above thefoliage, which stands to-day as it did when we were boys, unwasted inits silent strength, while generations of leaves have opened andwithered at its base, and we have passed from childhood to age. Thus,unaffected by the transiency that changes all beneath, God rises, theBock of Ages in whom we may trust. 'The conies are a feeble folk, butthey make their houses in the rocks.' So our weakness may house itselfthere and be at rest.

IV. Lastly, note the summons to trust.

We know not whose voice it is that is heard in the last words of mytext, but we know to whose ears it is addressed. It is to all. 'Trustye in the Lord for ever.'

Surely, surely the blessed effects of trust, of which we have beenspeaking, have a voice of merciful invitation summoning us to exerciseit. The promise of peace appeals to the deepest, though often neglectedand misunderstood, longings of the human heart. Inly we sigh for thatrepose.' O dear brethren, if it is true that into our agitated andstruggling lives there may steal, and in them there may abide, thispriceless blessing of a great tranquillity, surely nothing else shouldbe needed to woo us to accept the conditions and put forth the trust.It is strange that we should turn away, as we are all tempted to do,from that rest in God, and try to find repose in what was only meantfor stimulus, and is altogether incapable of imparting rest. Stormslive in the lower regions of the atmosphere; get up higher and there ispeace. Waves dash and break on the surface region of the ocean; getdown deeper, nearer the heart of things, and again there is peace.

Surely the name of the Bock of Ages is an invitation to us to put ourtrust in Him. If a man knew God as He is, he could not choose but trustHim. It is because we have blackened His face with our own doubts, anddarkened His character with the mists that rise from our own sinfulhearts, that we have made that bright Sun in the heavens, which oughtto fall upon our hearts with healing in its beams, into a lurid ball offire that shines threatening through the dim obscurity of our mistyhearts. But if we knew Him we should love Him, and if we would onlylisten to His own self-revelation, we should find that He draws us toHimself by the manifestation of Himself, as the sun binds all theplanets to his mass and his flame by the eradiation of his own mysticenergies.

The summons is a summons to a faith corresponding to that upon which itis built. 'Trust ye in the Lora for ever, for in the Lord is thestrength that endures for ever.' Our continual faith is the only fitresponse to His unchanging faithfulness. Build rock upon rock.

The summons is a summons addressed to us all. 'Trust ye'—whoever yeare—'in the Lord for ever.' You and I, dear friends, hear the summonsin a yet more beseeching and tender voice than was audible to theprophet, for our faith has a nobler object, and may have a mightieroperation, seeing that its object is 'the Lamb of God that taketh awaythe sin of the world'; and its operation, to bring to us peace with Godthrough our Lord Jesus Christ. When from the Cross there comes to allour hearts the merciful invitation, 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,and thou shalt be saved,' why should not we each answer,

'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee'?

THE GRASP THAT BRINGS PEACE

'Let him take hold of My strength, that he may make peace with Me; yea,let him make peace with Me.'—ISAIAH xxvii. 5.

Lyrical emotion makes the prophet's language obscure by reason of itsswift transitions from one mood of feeling to another. But the maindrift here is discernible. God is guarding Israel, His vineyard, andbefore Him its foes are weak as 'thorns and briers,' whose end is to beburned. With daring anthropomorphism, the prophet puts into God's moutha longing for the enemies to measure their strength against His, awarrior's eagerness for the fight. But at once this martial tone givesplace to the tender invitation of the text, and the infinite divinewillingness to be reconciled to the enemy speaks wooingly and offersconditions of peace. All this has universal application to ourrelations to God.

I. The Hostility.

That our relations with God are 'strained,' and that men are 'enemiesof God,' is often repelled as exaggeration, if not as directly false.And, no doubt, the Scripture representation has often been so handledas to become caricature rather than portraiture. Scripture does notdeny the lingering presence in men of goodness, partial and defective,nor does it assert that conscious antagonism to God is active ingodless men. But it does assert that 'God is not in all theirthoughts,' and that their wills are 'not subject to the law of God.'And in such a case as man's relations to God, indifference andforgetfulness cannot but rest upon divergence of will and contrast ofcharacter. Why do men 'not like to retain God in their knowledge, 'butbecause they feel that the thought of Him would spoil the feast, likethe skeleton in the banqueting chamber? Beneath the apparentindifference lie opposition of will, meeting God's 'Thou shalt' withman's 'I will not'; opposition of moral nature, impurity shrinking fromperfect purity; opposition of affection, the warmth of human love beingdiverted to other objects than God.

II. The entreating Love that is not turned aside by hostility.

The antagonism is wholly on man's part.

True, man's opposition necessarily turns certain sides of the divinecharacter to present a hostile front to him. Not only God's physicalattributes, if we may so call them, but the moral attributes whichguide the energies of these, namely, His holiness and Hisrighteousness, and the acts of His sovereignty which flow from these,must be in opposition to the man who has set himself in opposition toGod. 'The face of the Lord is against them that do evil.' If it werenot, He would not be God.

But still, God's love enfolds all men in its close and tender clasp. Asthe context says, in close connection with the threat to burn thebriers and thorns, 'Fury is not in Me.' Man's hostility does not rouseGod's. He wars against the sin because He still loves the sinner. Hislove 'must come with a rod,' but, at the same time, it comes 'with thespirit of meekness.' It gives its enemy all that it can; but it cannotgive all that it would.

He stoops to sue for our amity. It is the creditor who exhaustsbeseechings on His debtor, so much does He wish to 'agree with Hisadversary quickly.' The tender pleading of the Apostle was but a faintecho of the marvellous condescension of God, when he, 'in God's stead,besought: 'Be ye reconciled to God.'

III. The grasp which ends alienation.

The word for 'strength' here means a stronghold or fortified place,which serves as an asylum or refuge. There may be some mingling of anallusion to the fugitive's taking hold of the horns of the altar, andso being safe from the vengeance of his pursuers. If we may take thisdouble metaphor as implied in the text, it vividly illustrates theessence of the faith which brings us into peace with God. That faith isthe flight of the soul to God, and, in another aspect, it is theclinging of the soul to Him. How much more these two metaphors tell ofthe real nature of faith than many a theological treatise! They speakof the urgency of the peril from which it seeks deliverance. A fugitivewith the hot breath of the avenger of blood panting behind him, andalmost feeling the spear-point in his back, would not let the grassgrow under his feet. They speak of the energetic clutch of faith, asthat of the man gripping the horns of the altar. They suggest thatfaith is something much more vital than intellectual assent orcredence, namely, an act of the whole man realising his need andcasting himself on God.

And they set in clear light what is the connection between faith andsalvation. It is not the hand that grasps the altar that securessafety, but the altar itself. It is not the flight to the fortress, butthe massive walls themselves, which keeps those who hunt after thefugitive at bay. It is not my faith, but the God on whom my faithfastens, that brings peace to my conscience.

IV. The peace that this grasp brings.

In Christ God has 'put away all His wrath, and turned Himself from thefierceness of His anger.' And He was in Christ, reconciling the worldto Himself. It is a one-sided warfare that men wage with Him, and whenwe abandon our opposition to Him, the war is ended. We might say thatGod, clasped by faith and trusted in and loved, is the asylum from Godopposed and feared. His moral nature must be against evil, but faithunites us to Jesus, and, by union with Him, we receive the germ of anature which has no affinity with evil, and which God wholly delightsin and loves. To those who live by the life, and growingly bear theimage of His Son, the divine Nature turns a face all bright andfavouring, and His moral and physical attributes are all enlisted ontheir side. The fortress looks grim to outsiders gazing up at itsstrong walls and frowning battlements, but to dwellers within, thesegive security, and in its inmost centre is a garden, with flowers and aspringing fountain, whither the noise of fighting never penetrates. Wehave but to cease to be against Him, and to grasp the facts of His loveas revealed in the Cross of Christ, the sacrifice who taketh away thesin of the world, and we are at peace with God. Being at peace withHim, the discords of our natures warring against themselves are attunedinto harmony, and we are at peace within. And when God and we are atone, and we are at one with ourselves, then all things will be on ourside, and will work together for good. To such a man the ancientpromise will be fulfilled: 'Thou shalt be in league with the stones ofthe field, and the beasts of the field shall be at peace with thee.'

THE JUDGMENT OF DRUNKARDS AND MOCKERS

'Woe to the crown of pride, to the drunkards of Ephraim, whose gloriousbeauty is a fading flower, which are on the head of the fat valleys ofthem that are overcome with wine! 2. Behold, the Lord hath a mighty andstrong one, which, as a tempest of hail, and a destroying storm, as aflood of mighty waters overflowing, shall cast down to the earth withthe hand. 3. The crown of pride, the drunkards of Ephraim, shall betrodden under feet: 4. And the glorious beauty, which is on the head ofthe fat valley, shall be a fading flower, and as the hasty fruit beforethe summer; which when he that looketh upon it seeth, while it is yetin his hand he eateth it up. 5. In that day shall the Lord of hosts befor a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue ofHis people. 6. And for a spirit of judgment to him that sitteth injudgment, and for strength to them that turn the battle to the gate. 7.But they also have erred through wine, and through strong drink are outof the way: the priest and the prophet have erred through strong drink,they are swallowed up of wine, they are out of the way through strongdrink; they err in vision, they stumble in judgment. 8. For all tablesare full of vomit and filthiness, so that there is no place clean. 9.Whom shall He teach knowledge? and whom shall He make to understanddoctrine? them that are weaned from the milk, and drawn from thebreasts. 10. For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept;line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little: 11.For with stammering lips, and another tongue, will He speak to thispeople. 12. To whom He said, This is the rest wherewith ye may causethe weary to rest; and this is the refreshing: yet they would not hear.13. But the word of the Lord was unto them precept upon precept,precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little,and there a little; that they might go, and fall backward, and bebroken, and snared, and taken.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 1-13.

This prophecy probably falls in the first years of Hezekiah, whenSamaria still stood, and the storm of war was gathering black in thenorth. The portion included in the text predicts the fall of Samaria(verses 1-6) and then turns to Judah, which is guilty of the same sinsas the northern capital, and adds to them mockery of the prophet'smessage. Isaiah speaks with fiery indignation and sharp sarcasm. Hiswords are aflame with loathing of the moral corruption of bothkingdoms, and he fastens on the one common vice of drunkenness—not asif it were the only sin, but because it shows in the grossest form therottenness underlying the apparent beauty.

I. The woe on Samaria (verses 1-6). Travellers are unanimous in theirraptures over the fertility and beauty of the valley in which Samariastood, perched on its sunny, fruitful hill, amid its vineyards. Thesituation of the city naturally suggests the figure which regards it asa sparkling coronet or flowery wreath, twined round the brows of thehill; and that poetical metaphor is the more natural, since revellerswere wont to twist garlands in their hair, when they reclined at theirorgies. The city is 'the crown of pride'—that is, the object ofboasting and foolish confidence—and is also 'the fading flower of hissparkling ornament'; that is, the flower which is the ornament ofEphraim, but is destined to fade.

The picture of the city passes into that of the drunken debauch, wherethe chief men of Samaria sprawl, 'smitten down' by wine, and with theinnocent flowers on their hot temples drooping in the fumes of thefeast. But bright and sunny as the valley is, glittering in the lightas the city sits on her hill, careless and confident as the revellersare, a black cloud lies on the horizon, and one of the terrible suddenstorms which such lands know comes driving up the valley. 'The Lordhath a mighty and strong one'—the conqueror from the north, who isGod's instrument, though he knows it not.

The swift, sudden, irresistible onslaught of the Assyrian is described,in harmony with the figure of the flowery coronal, as a tempest whichbeats down the flowers and flings the sodden crown to the ground. Theword rendered 'tempest' is graphic, meaning literally a 'downpour.'First comes hail, which batters the flowers to shreds; then the effectof the storm is described as 'destruction,' and then the hurrying wordsturn back to paint the downpour of rain, 'mighty' from its force infalling, and 'overflowing' from its abundance, which soon sets all thefields swimming with flood water. What chance has a poor twist offlowers in such a storm? Its beauty will be marred, and all the petalsbeaten off, and nothing remains but that it should be trampled intomud. The rush of the prophet's denunciation is swift and irresistibleas the assault it describes, and it flashes from one metaphor toanother without pause. The fertility of the valley of Samaria shapesthe figures. As the picture of the flowery chaplet, so that whichfollows of the early fig, is full of local colour. A fig in June is adelicacy, which is sure to be plucked and eaten as soon as seen. Such adainty, desirable morsel will Samaria be, as sweet and as littlesatisfying to the all-devouring hunger of the Assyrian.

But storms sweep the air clear, and everything will not go down beforethis one. The flower fadeth, but there is a chaplet of beauty which menmay wreathe round their heads, which shall bloom for ever. All sensuousenjoyment has its limits in time, as well as in nobleness andexquisiteness; but when it is all done with, the beauty and festalornament which truly crowns humanity shall smell sweet and blossom. Theprophecy had regard simply to the issue of the historical disaster towhich it pointed, and it meant that, after the storm of Assyrianconquest, there would still be, for the servants of God, the residue ofthe people, both in Israel and in Judah, a fuller possession of theblessings which descend on the men who make God their portion. But theprinciple involved is for ever true. The sweeping away of theperishable does draw true hearts nearer to God.

So the two halves of this prophecy give us eternal truths as to thecertain destruction awaiting the joys of sense, and the permanence ofthe beauty and strength which belong to those who take God for theirportion.

Drunkenness seems to have been a national sin in Israel; for Micahrebukes it as vehemently as Isaiah, and it is a clear bit of Christianduty in England to-day to 'set the trumpet to thy mouth and show thepeople' this sin. But the lessons of the prophecy are wider than thespecific form of evil denounced. All setting of affection and seekingof satisfaction in that which, in all the pride of its beauty, is 'afading flower,' is madness and sin. Into every life thus turned to theperishable will come the crash of the destroying storm, the mutteringsof which might reach the ears of the feasters, if they were not drunkwith the fumes of their deceiving delights. Only one kind of life hasits roots in that which abides, and is safe from tempest and change.Amaranthine flowers bloom only in heaven, and must be brought thence,if they are to garland earthly foreheads. If we take God for ours, thenwhatever tempests may howl, and whatever fragile though fragrant joysmay be swept away, we shall find in Him all that the world 'fails togive to its votaries. He is 'a crown of glory' and 'a diadem ofbeauty.' Our humanity is never so fair as when it is made beautiful bythe possession of Him. All that sense vainly seeks in earth, faithfinds in God. Not only beauty, but 'a spirit of judgment,' in itsnarrower sense and in its widest, is breathed into those to whom God is'the master light of all their seeing'; and, yet more, He is strengthto all who have to fight. Thus the close union of trustful souls withGod, the actual inspiration of these, and the perfecting of theirnature from communion with God, are taught us in the great words, whichtell how beauty, justice, and strength are all given in the gift ofJehovah Himself to His people.

II. The prophet turns to Judah (vs. 7-13), and charges them with thesame disgusting debauchery. His language is vehement in its loathing,and describes the filthy orgies of those who should have been theguides of the people with almost painful realism. Note how the words'reel' and 'stagger' are repeated, and also the words 'wine' and'strong drink.' We see the priests' and prophets' unsteady gait, andthen they 'stumble' or fall. There they lie amid the filth, like hogsin a sty. It is very coarse language, but fine words are the Devil'sveils for coarse sins; and it is needful sometimes to call spadesspades, and not to be ashamed to tell men plainly how ugly are thevices which they are not ashamed to commit. No doubt some of thedrunken priests and false prophets in Jerusalem thought Isaiahextremely vulgar and indelicate, in talking about staggering teachersand tables swimming in 'vomit.' But he had to speak out. So deep wasthe corruption that the officials were tipsy even when engaged in theirofficial duties, the prophets reeled while they were seeing visions;the judges could not sit upright even when pronouncing judgment.

Verses 9 and 10 are generally taken as a sarcastic quotation of thedrunkards' scoffs at the prophet. They might be put in inverted commas.Their meaning is, 'Does he take us grave and reverend seigniors,priests and prophets, to be babies just weaned, that he pesters us withthese monotonous petty preachings, fit only for the nursery, which hecalls his "message"?' In verse 10, the original for 'precept uponprecept,' etc., is a series of short words, which may be taken asreproducing the 'babbling tones of the drunken mockers.'

The loose livers of all generations talk in the same fashion about thestern morality which rebukes their vice. They call it weak,commonplace, fit for children, and they pretend that they despise it.They are much too enlightened for such antiquated teaching. Old womenand children may take it in, but men of the world, who have seen life,and know what is what, are not to be fooled so. 'What will this babblersay?' was asked by the wise men of Athens, who were but repeating thescoffs of the prophets and priests of Jerusalem, and the same jeers arebitter in the mouth of many a profligate man to-day. It is the fate ofall strict morality to be accounted childish by the people whom itinconveniently condemns.

In verse 11 and onwards the prophet speaks. He catches up the mockers'words, and retorts them. They have scoffed at his message as if it werestammering speech. They shall hear another kind of stammerers when thefierce invaders' harsh and unintelligible language commands them. Thereason why these foreign voices would have authority, was the nationaldisregard of God's voice. 'Ye would not hear' Him when, by His prophet,He spoke gracious invitations to rest, and to give the nation rest, inobedience and trust. Therefore they shall hear the battle-cry of theconqueror, and have to obey orders spoken in a barbarous tongue.

Of course, the language meant is the Assyrian, which, though cognatewith Hebrew, is so unlike as to be unintelligible to the people. But isnot the threat the statement of a great truth always being fulfilledtowards the disobedient? If we will not listen to that loving Voicewhich calls us to rest, we shall be forced to listen to the harsh andstrident tones of conquering enemies who command us to slavish toil. Ifwe will not be guided by His eye and voice, we shall be governed bywhip and bridle. Our choice is either to hearken to the divine call,which is loving and gentle, and invites to deep repose springing fromfaith, or to have to hear the voice of the taskmasters. The monotony ofdespised moral and religious teaching shall give place to a moreterrible monotony, even that of continuous judgments.

'The mills of God grind slowly.' Bit by bit, with gradual steps, withdismal persistence, like the slow drops on the rock, the judgments ofGod trickle out on the mocking heart. It takes a long time for a childto learn a pageful when he gets his lesson a sentence at a time. Soslowly do His chastisem*nts fall on men who have despised thecontinuous messages of His love. The word of the Lord, which waslaughed at when it clothed itself in a prophet's speech, will be heardin more formidable shape, when it is wrapped in the long-drawn-outmiseries of years of bondage. The warning is as needful for us as forthese drunken priests and scornful rulers. The principle embodied istrue in this day as it was then, and we too have to choose betweenserving God in gladness, hearkening to the voice of His word, and sofinding rest to our souls, and serving the world, the flesh, and thedevil, and so experiencing the perpetual dropping of the fiery rain ofHis judgments.

A CROWN OP PRIDE OR A CROWN OF GLORY

'The crown of pride, the drunkards of Ephraim, shall be trodden underfeet; 4. And the glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fatvalley, shall be a fading flower, and as the hasty fruit before thesummer; which when he that looketh upon it seeth, while it is yet inhis hand he eateth it up. 5. In that day shall the Lord of hosts be fora crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue of hispeople.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 3-5.

The reference is probably to Samaria as a chief city of Israel. Theimage is suggested by the situation of Samaria, high on a hill-side,crowning the valley, and by the rich vegetation and bright flowerswhich makes it even now one of the few lovely scenes in Palestine; andby the luxurious riot and sensual excess that were alwayscharacteristic of the northern kingdom.

The destruction of Samaria and of the kingdom, then, is hereprophesied—the garland will fade, the hail will batter all itsdrooping flowerets, and it shall be trodden under foot. Look at thatwithered wreath that gleamed yesterday on some fair head, to-day flunginto the ashpit or kicked about the street. That is a modern renderingof the prophet's imagery. But the reference goes further than merely tothe city: the whole state of the nation is expressed by the symbol, asdoomed to quick decay, fading in itself, and further smitten down bydivine judgments.

There is a contrasted picture, that of 'the residue of the people' towhom there is an amaranthine crown, a festal diadem glorious andbeautiful, which can never fade, even God Himself. To them who love HimHe is an ornament, and His presence is the consecration of the truejoyful feast. They who are crowned by Him are crowned, not for idlerevelry, but for strenuous toil ('sit in judgment') and for bravepurpose ('turn the battle to the gate,') and their coronation day isever the day when earthly garlands are withered, whether it be thecrises and convulsions of nations and institutions, or times ofpersonal trial, or 'in the hour of death or in the day of judgment.'

Expanding then these thoughts, we have—

I. All godless joys are but fading chaplets.

Of course the first application of such words is to purely sensuousdelights.

Men who seek to make life a mere revel and banquet.

Nothing is so short-lived as gratification of appetite. It is notmerely that each act lasts but for a moment, but also that pastgratifications leave no sort of solace to the appetite behind them;whereas past acquirements or deeds of goodness are a perpetual joy aswell as the foundation of the present. There is something essentiallyisolated in each act of sensuous delight. No man can by so willingrecall the taste of eaten food, nor slake his thirst by remembrance offormer draughts, or cool himself by thinking of 'frosty Caucasus.' Buteach such gratification is done when it is done, and there is an end ofits power to gratify.

Further, the power of enjoyment wanes, though the lust for it waxes.
Hence each act has less and less power of satisfying.

One sees blase young men of twenty-five. It was a man of underthirty-five who wrote, 'Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither.' Itwas a used-up roue that was represented as saying, 'Vanity ofvanities, all is vanity.' It was of sensuous 'pleasures' that poorBurns wrote,—

'Like the snowfall in the river,
A moment white,—then melts for ever.'

When a people is given over to such excess, late or soon the fate ofSamaria comes upon them. Think of the French Revolution or of the fallof Rome, and learn that the prophet was announcing a law for allnations, in his fiery denunciation, and one which holds good to-day asever.

But we may generalise more widely. Every godless life is essentiallytransitory; of course, all life is so in one view. But suppose two men,working side by side at the same occupation, passing through the samecirc*mstances. So far as physical changes go, these men are the same.Both lose much. Both leave behind much. Both cease to be interested inmuch that was dear to them. Both die at last, and leave it all. Isthere any difference? The transitoriness is the same, and the eternalconsequences are eternal alike in both; and yet there is a very solemnsense in which the one man's life has utterly perished, and the other'sabides. Suppose a man, educated to be a first-rate man of business,dies. Which of his trained faculties will he have scope for in that neworder of things? Or a student, or a lawyer, or a statesman?

Oh, it is not our natural mortality that makes these thoughts so awful;but it is the thought that the man who is doing these things isimmortal. The head which wears the fading wreath will live for ever.'What will ye do in the end?'

II. Godly life brings unfading joys.

Communion with God yields abiding joys. The law of change remains thesame. The law of death remains the same. But the motives which directand impel the godly man are beyond the reach of change.

The habits which he contracts are for heaven as well as for earth. Thetreasures which he amasses will always be his.

His life in its essence and his work are one in all worlds. What agrand continuity, then, knits into one a godly life whether it is livedon earth or in heaven!

Communion with God gives beauty and ornament to the whole character. Itbrings the true refining and perfecting of the soul. No doubt manyChristian men, as we see them, are but poor specimens of this effect ofgodliness; still, it is an effect produced in proportion to the depthand continuity of their communion. We might dwell on the effect onWill, Affections, Understanding, produced by dwelling in God. It issimple fact that the highest conceivable type of beauty is only reachedthrough communion with God.

Communion with God gives power as well as gladness. The life of abidingwith God is also one of strenuous effort and real warfare. In thecontext it is promised that God will be for strength to them that turnthe battle to the gate.

The luxurious life of self-indulgence ends, as all selfish life mustdo, in the vanishing of delights. The life of joy in God issues, as alltrue joy does, in power for work and in power for conflict.

'God doth anoint thee with His odorous oil, to wrestle, not to reign.'

III. There will be a coronation day.

'In that day,' the day when 'the crown of pride shall be trodden underfoot,' the people of God are crowned with the diadem of beauty which isGod Himself. That twofold work of that one day suggests—

The double aspect of trials and sorrows.

The double aspect of death.

The double aspect of final Judgment.

'Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the
Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.'

To be crowned or discrowned 'in that day' is the alternative set beforeeach of us. Which of the two do we choose?

MAN'S CROWN AND GOD'S

'In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory, and for adiadem of beauty.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 5.

'Thou shall also be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord.'—ISAIAHlxii 3.

Connection of first prophecy—destruction of Samaria. Its situation,crowning the hill with its walls and towers, its fertile 'fat valley,'the flagrant immorality and drunkenness of its inhabitants, and itsfinal ruin, are all presented in the highly imaginative picture of itsfall as being like the trampling under foot of a garland on areveller's head, the roses of which fade and droop amid the fumes ofthe banqueting hall, and are then flung out on the highway. Thecontrast presented is very striking and beautiful. When all that grossand tumultuous beauty has faded and died, then God Himself will be acrown of beauty to His people.

The second text comes into remarkable line with this. The verbalresemblance is not quite so strong in the original. The words fordiadem and crown are not the same; the word rendered glory in thesecond text is rendered beauty in the first, but the two texts areentirely one in meaning. The same metaphor, then, is used withreference to what God is to the Church and what the Church is to God.He is its crown, it is His.

I. The Possession of God is the Coronation of Man.

(a) Crowns were worn by guests at feasts. They who possess God sit at atable perpetually spread with all which the soul can wish or want.Contrast the perishable delights of sense and godless life with thecalm and immortal joys of communion with God; 'a crown that fadeth notaway' beside withered garlands.

(b) Crowns were worn by kings. They who serve God are thereby investedwith rule over selves, over circ*mstances, over all externals. He alonegives completeness to self-control.

(c) Crowns were worn by priests. The highest honour and dignity ofman's nature is thereby reached. To have God is like a beam of sunshineon a garden, which brings out the colours of all the flowers; contrastwith the same garden in the grey monotony of a cloudy twilight.

II. The Coronation of Man in God is the Coronation of God in Man.

That includes the following thoughts.

The true glory of God is in the communication of Himself. What awonderful light that throws on divine character! It is equivalent to'God is Love.'

He who is glorified by God glorifies God, as showing the most wonderfulworking of His power in making such a man out of such material, by analchemy that can convert base metal into fine gold; as showing the mostwonderful condescension of His love in taking to His heart man, intowhose flesh the rotting leprosy of sin has eaten.

Such a man will glorify God by becoming a conscious herald of Hispraise. He who has God in his heart will magnify Him by lip and life.Redeemed men are 'secretaries of His praise' to men, and 'toprincipalities and powers in heavenly places is made known by theChurch the manifold wisdom of God.'

He who thus glorifies God is held in God's hand.

'None shall pluck them out of My Father's hand.'

All this will be perfected in heaven. Redeemed men lead the universalchorus that thunders forth 'glory to Him that sitteth on the throne.'

'He shall come to be glorified in His saints.'

'Glorify Thy Son, that Thy Son also may glorify Thee.'

THE FOUNDATION OF GOD

'Therefore thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I lay in Zion for afoundation a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner stone, a surefoundation: he that believeth shall not make haste.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 16.

'Therefore thus saith the Lord.' Then these great words are God'sanswer to something. And that something is the scornful defiance by therulers of Israel of the prophet's threatenings. By their deeds, whetherby their words or no, they said that they had made friends of theirenemies, and that so they were sure that, whatsoever came, they weresafe. To this contemptuous and false reliance God answers, not as wemight expect, first of all, by a repetition of the threatenings, but bya majestic disclosure of the sure refuge which He has provided, set incontrast to the flimsy and false ones, on which these men built theirtruculent confidence; 'I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone.' Andthen, after the exhibition of the great mercy which has been evoked bythe very blasphemy of the rulers, and not till then, does He reiteratethe threatenings of judgment, against which this foundation is laid,that men may escape; God first declares the refuge, and then warns ofthe tempest.

Without entering at all upon the question, which for all believing andsimple souls is settled by the New Testament, of the Messianicapplication of the words before us, I take it for granted. There may nodoubt be an allusion here to the great solid blocks which travellerstell us may still be seen at the base of the encircling walls of theTemple hill. A stone so gigantic and so firm God has laid for man tobuild upon.

I. Note, then, first, the foundation, which is Christ.

There are many aspects of the great thought on which I cannot toucheven for a moment. For instance, let me remind you how, in a very deepsense, Jesus Christ is the foundation of the whole of the divinedealings with us; and how, in another aspect, historically, since theday on which He appeared on earth, He has more and more manifestly andcompletely been the foundation of the whole history of the world. Butpassing these aspects, let us rather fix upon those which are moreimmediately in the prophet's mind.

Jesus Christ is the foundation laid for all men's security againstevery tempest or assault. The context has portrayed the coming of atremendous storm and inundation, in view of which this foundation islaid. The building reared on it then is, therefore, to be a refuge andan asylum. Have not we all of us, like these scornful men in Jerusalem,built our refuges on vain hopes, on creatural affections, on earthlypossessions, on this, that, and the other false thing, all of which areto be swept away when the storm comes? And does there not come upon usall the blast of the ordinary calamities to which flesh is heir, andhave we not all more or less consciousness of our own evil andsinfulness; and does there not lie before every one of us at the end oflife that solemn last struggle, and beyond that, as we most of usbelieve, a judgment for all that we have done in the body? 'I lay inZion for a foundation a stone.' Build upon that, and neither thetempest of earthly calamities, changes, disappointments, sorrows,losses, nor the scourge that is wielded because of our sins, nor thelast wild tempest that sweeps a man on the wings of its strong blastfrom out of life into the dark region, nor the solemn final retributionand judgment, shall ever touch us. And when the hail sweeps away therefuge of lies, and the waters overflow the hiding-place, thisfoundation stands sure—

And lo! from sin and grief and shame
I hide me, Jesus, in Thy name.

Brethren, the one foundation on which building, we can build secure,and safe as well as secure, is that foundation which is laid in theincarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Son of God. Thefoundation of all our security is Jesus Christ.

We may look at the same thought under somewhat different aspects. He isthe foundation for all our thinking and opinions, for all our beliefand our knowledge. 'In Him are hid all the treasures of wisdom andknowledge,' and whatsoever of solid fact men can grasp in theirthinkings in regard to all the most important facts and truths withwhich they come into relation, is to be found in the life and death ofJesus Christ, and in the truths which these reveal. He is thefoundation of all our knowledge of God, and of all our true knowledgeof ourselves, of all our true knowledge of duty, and all our trueknowledge of the relations between the present and the future, betweenman and God.

And in His life, in the history of His death and resurrection, is theonly foundation for any real knowledge of the awful mysteries that liebeyond the grave. He is the Alpha from whom all truth must be deduced,the Omega to which it all leads up. Certitude is in Him. Apart from Himwe are but groping amid peradventures. If we know anything about Godit is due to Jesus Christ. If we know anything about ourselves it isdue to Him. If we know anything about what men ought to do, it isbecause He has done all human duty. And if, into the mist and darknessthat wraps the future, there has ever travelled one clear beam ofinsight, it is because He has died and risen again. If we have Him, andponder upon the principles that are involved in, and flow from, thefacts of His life and death, then we know; and 'the truth as it is inJesus' is the truth indeed. To possess Him is to hold the key to allmysteries, and knowledge without Him is but knowledge of the husk, thekernel being all unreached. That Stone is the foundation on which thewhole stately fabric of man's knowledge of the highest things must everbe reared.

He is the foundation of all restful love. A Czar of Russia, in the olddays, was mad enough to build a great palace upon the ice-blocks of theNeva. And when the spring came, and the foundations melted, the house,full of delights and luxury, sank beneath the river. We build uponfrozen water, and when the thaw comes, what we build sinks and is lostto sight. Instead of love that twines round the creature and trails,bleeding and bruised, along the ground when the prop is taken away, letus turn our hearts to the warm, close, pure, perfect changeless love ofthe undying Christ, and we shall build above the fear of change. Thedove's nest in the pine-tree falls in ruin when the axe is laid to theroot. Let us build our nests in the clefts of the rock and no hand willever reach them. Christ is the foundation on which we may build animmortal love.

He is the foundation for all noble and pure living. He is the fixedpattern to which it may be conformed. Otherwise man's notions of whatis virtuous and good are much at the mercy of conventional variationsof opinion. This class, that community, this generation, that school,all differ in their notions of what is true nobleness and goodness oflife. And we are left at the mercy of fluctuating standards unless wetake Christ in His recorded life as the one realised ideal of manhood,the pattern of what we ought to be. We cannot find a fixed andavailable model for conduct anywhere so useful, so complete, so capableof application to all varieties of human life and disposition as wefind in Him, who was not this man or that man, in whom the manly andthe feminine, the gentle and the strong, the public and the privategraces were equally developed. In Christ there is no limitation ortaint. In Christ there is nothing narrow or belonging to a school. Thiswater has no taste of any of the rocks through which it flowed. Youcannot say of Jesus Christ that He is a Jew or a Gentile, that He isman or woman, that He is of the ancient age or the modern type, that Heis cut after this pattern or that. All beauty and all grace are in Him,and every man finds there the example that he needs. So, as the perfectpattern, He is the foundation for all noble character.

As the one sufficient motive for holy and beauteous living, He is thefoundation. 'If ye love Me, keep My commandments.' That is a new thingin the world's morality, and that one motive, and that motive alone,has power, as the spring sunshine has, to draw beauty from out thelittle sheaths of green, and to tempt the radiance of the flowers tounfold their lustre. They that find the reason and the motive forgoodness and purity in Christ's love to them, and their answering loveto Christ, will build a far fairer fabric of a life than any others,let them toil at the building as they may. So, dear brethren, on thisfoundation God has built His mercy to all generations, and on thisfoundation you and I may build our safety, our love, our thinkings, ourobedience, and rest secure.

II. Note next the tried preciousness of the foundation.

The language of the text, 'a stone of proof,' as it reads in theoriginal, probably means a stone which has been tested and stood thetrial. And because it is thus a tested stone, it therefore is aprecious stone. There are two kinds of testing—the testing from theassaults of enemies, and the testing by the building upon it offriends. And both these methods of proof have been applied, and it hasstood the test.

Think of all the assaults that have been made from this side and theother against Christ and His gospel, and what has become of them all?Travellers tell us how they often see some wandering tribes of savageArabs trying to move the great stones, for instance, of Baalbec—thosewonders of unfinished architecture. But what can a crowd of suchpeople, with all their crowbars and levers, do to the great stonebedded there, where it has been for centuries? They cannot stir it onehair's-breadth. And so, against Jesus Christ and His gospel there hasstormed for eighteen hundred years an assaulting crowd, varying in itsindividuals and in its methods of attack, but the same in its purpose,and the same in the fruitlessness of its effort. Century after centurythey have said, as they are saying to-day, 'Now the final assault isgoing to be delivered; it can never stand this.' And when the smokehas cleared away there may be a little blackening upon the edge, butthere is not a chip off its bulk, and it stands in its bed where itdid; and of all the grand preparations for a shattering explosion,nothing is left but a sulphurous smell, and a wreath of smoke, and bothare floating away down into the distance. Generation after generationhas attacked the gospel; generation after generation has been foiled;and I do not need to be a prophet, or the son of a prophet, to be quitesure of this, that all who to-day are trying to destroy men's faith inthe Incarnate Son of God, who died for them and rose again, will meetthe same fate. I can see the ancient and discredited systems ofunbelief, that have gone down into oblivion, rising from their seats,as the prophet in his great vision saw the kings of the earth, to greetthe last comer who had fought against God and failed, with 'Art thoualso become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?' The stone willstand, whosoever tries to blow it up with his dynamite, or to pound itwith his hammers.

But there is the other kind of testing. One proves the foundation bybuilding upon it. If the stone be soft, if it be slender, if it beimperfectly bedded, it will crumble, it will shift, it will sink. Butthis stone has borne all the weight that the world has laid upon it,and borne it up. Did any man ever come to Jesus Christ with a sorrowthat He could not comfort, with a sin that He could not forgive, with asoul that He could not save? And we may trust Him to the end. He is a'tried stone.' 'This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and savedhim out of all his troubles,' has been the experience of nineteencenturies.

So, being tried, it is precious,—precious to God who laid it there ata great and real cost to Himself—having given up 'His only begottenSon'; precious, inasmuch as building upon it is the one safety from theraging tempest and flood that would else engulf and destroy us.

III. Note, next, the process of building.

The metaphor seems to be abandoned in the last words of our text, butit is only apparently so. 'He that believeth shall not make haste.' So,then, we build by believing. The act of building is simple faith inJesus Christ. We come to Him, as the Apostle Peter has it in hisquotation of this text—come to Him as unto a living stone, and thecoming and the building are both of them metaphors for the one simplething, trust in the Lord. The bond that unites men on earth with Christin Heaven, is the exercise of simple faith in Him. By it they come intocontact with Him, and receive from Him the security and the blessingthat He can bestow. Nothing else brings a man into living fellowshipwith Him. When we trust in the Lord we, as it were, are bedded intoHim; and resting upon Him with all our weight, then we are safe. Thatconfidence involves the abandonment of all the 'refuges of lies.' Theremust be utter self-distrust and forsaking and turning away from everydependence upon anything else, if we are to trust ourselves to JesusChrist. But the figure of a foundation which gives security andstability to the stones laid upon it, does not exhaust all theblessedness of this building upon Christ. For when we really rest uponHim, there comes from the foundation up through all the courses a vitalpower. Thus Peter puts it: 'To whom, coming as unto a living stone, yealso as living stones are built up.' We might illustrate this by thesupposition of some fortress perched upon a rock, and in the heart ofthe rock a clear fountain, which is guided by some pipe or other intothe innermost rooms of the citadel. Thus, builded upon Christ, 'ourdefence shall be the munitions of rocks, and our waters shall be sure.'From Him, the foundation, there will rise into all the stones, builtupon Him, the power of His own endless life, and they, too, becomeliving stones.

IV. So note, lastly, the quiet confidence of the builders.

'He that believeth shall not make haste.' The word is somewhatobscure, and the LXX., which is followed by the New Testament, readersit, 'Shall not be confounded or put to shame.' But the rendering of ourtext seems to be accurate enough. 'He shall not make haste.' Rememberthe picture of the context—a suddenly descending storm, a swiftlyrising and turbid flood, the lashing of the rain, the howling of thewind. The men in the clay-built hovels on the flat have to take toflight to some higher ground above the reach of the innundation, onsome sheltered rock out of the flashing of the rain and the force ofthe tempest. He who is built upon the true foundation knows that hishouse is above the water-level, and he does not need to be in a hurry.He can remain quietly there till the flood subsides, knowing that itwill not rise high enough to drown or even disturb him. When all theother buildings are gone, his stands. And he that thus dwells on highmay look out over the wild flood, washing and weltering to the horizon,and feel that he is safe. So shall he not have to make haste, but maywait calm and quiet, knowing that all is well.

Dear friends, there is only one refuge for any of us—only one from thelittle annoyances and from the great ones; from to-day's pettytroubles, and from the day of judgment; from the slight stings, if Imay so say, of little sorrows, cares, burdens, and from the poisoneddart of the great serpent. There is only one refuge for any of us, tobuild upon Jesus Christ, as we can do by simple faith.

And oh! remember, He must either be the foundation on which we build,or the stone of stumbling against which we stumble, and which one daywill fall upon us and grind us to powder. Do you make your choice; andwhen God says, as He says to each of us: 'Behold! I lay in Zion afoundation,' do you say, 'And, Lord, I build upon the foundation whichThou hast laid.'

GOD'S STRANGE WORK

'That He may do His work, His strange work; and bring to pass His act,
His strange act.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 21.

How the great events of one generation fall dead to another! There issomething very pathetic in the oblivion that swallows upworld-resounding deeds. Here the prophet selects two instances which tohim are solemn and singular examples of divine judgment, and we havedifficulty in finding out to what he refers. To him they seemed themost luminous illustrations he could find of the principle which he isproclaiming, and to us all the light is burned out of them. They arethe darkest portion of the verse. Several different events have beensuggested. But most probably the historical references here are toDavid's slaughter of the Philistines (2 Sam. v., and I Chron. xiv.).This is probable, but by no means certain. If so, the words are madestill more threatening by asserting that He will treat the Israelitesas if they were Philistines. But the point on which we shouldconcentrate attention is this remarkable expression, according to whichjudgment is God's strange work. And that is made more emphatic by theuse of a word translated 'act,' which means service, and is almostalways used for work that is hard and heavy—a toil or a task.

I. The work in which God delights.

It is here implied that the opposite kind of activity is congenial toHim. The text declares judgment to be an anomaly, out of His ordinarycourse of action and foreign to His nature.

We may pause for a moment on that great thought that God has a usualcourse of action, which is usual because it is the spontaneousexpression and true mirror of His character. What He thus does showsthat character to His creatures, who cannot see Him but in the glass ofHis works, and have to infer His nature, as they best may, from Hisworks. The Bible begins with His nature and thence interprets His work.

The work in which God delights is the utterance of His love in blessing.

The very essence of love is self-manifestation.

The very being of God is love, and all being delights in its ownself-manifestation, in its own activity.

How great the thought is that He is glad when we let Him satisfy Hisnature by making us glad!

The ordinary course of His government in the world is blessing.

II. The Task in which He does not delight, or His Strange Work.

The consequences of sin are God's work. The miseries consequent on sinare self-inflicted, but they are also God's judgments on sin. We maysay that sin automatically works out its results, but its resultsfollow by the will of God on account of sin.

That work is a necessity arising from the nature of God. It is foreignto His heart but not to His nature. God is both 'the light of Israel'for blessing, and 'a consuming fire.' The two opposite effects areequally the result of the contact of God and man. Light pains adiseased eye and gladdens a sound one. The sun seen through a mistbecomes like a ball of red-hot iron. The whole revelation of Godbecomes a pain to an unloving soul.

But God's very love compels Him to punish.

Some modern notions of the love of God seem to strike out righteousnessfrom His nature altogether, and substitute for it a mere good naturewhich is weakness, not love, and is cruelty, not kindness.

There is nothing in the facts of the world or in the teachings of thegospel which countenances the notion of a God whose fondness preventsHim from scourging.

What do you call it when a father spares the rod and spoils the child?

Even this world is a very serious place for a man who sets himselfa*gainst its laws. Its punishments come down surely and not alwaysslowly. There is nothing in it to encourage the idea of impunity.

That work is to Him an Unwelcome Necessity. Bold words. 'I have nopleasure in the death of a sinner.' 'He doth not willingly inflict.'The awful power of sin to divert the current of blessing. Christ'stears over Jerusalem. How unwelcome that work is to them is shown bythe slowness of His judgments, by multiplied warnings. 'Rising upearly,' He tells men that He will smite, in order that He may neverneed to smite.

That work is a certainty. However reluctantly He smites, the blowwill fall.

III. The Strange Work of Redemption.

The mightiest miracle. The revelation of God's deepest nature. Thewonder of the universe.

THE HUSBANDMAN AND HIS OPERATIONS

'Give ye ear, and hear my voice; hearken, and hear my speech. 24. Doththe plowman plow all day to sow? doth he open and break the clods ofhis ground! 25. When lie hath made plain the face thereof, doth he notcast abroad the fitches, and scatter the cummin, and cast in theprincipal wheat and the appointed barley and the rie in their place?26. For his God doth instruct him to discretion, and doth teach him.27. For the fitches are not threshed with a threshing instrument,neither is a cart wheel turned about upon the cummin; but the fitchesare beaten out with a staff, and the cummin with a rod. 28. Bread cornis bruised; because he will not ever be threshing it, nor break it withthe wheel of his cart, nor bruise it with his horsem*n. 29. This alsocometh forth from the Lord of Hosts, which is wonderful in counsel, andexcellent in working.'—ISAIAH xxviii. 23-29.

The prophet has been foretelling a destruction which he calls God'sstrange act. The Jews were incredulous, 'scornful men.' They did notbelieve him; and the main reason for their incredulity was that adivine destruction of the nation was so opposite to the divineconservation of it as to amount to an impossibility. God had raised upand watched over the people. He had planted it in the mountain of Hisinheritance, and now was it going to be thrown down by the same handwhich had built it up? Impossible.

The prophet's answer to that question is this parable of thehusbandman, who has to perform a great variety of operations. Heploughs, but that is not all. He lays aside the plough when it has doneits work, and takes up the seed-basket, and, in different ways, sowsdifferent seeds, scattering some broadcast, and dropping otherscarefully, grain by grain, into their place—'dibbling' it in, as weshould say. But seedtime too, passes, and then he cuts down what he hadso carefully sown, and pulls up what he had so sedulously planted, and,in different ways, breaks and bruises the grain. Is he inconsistentbecause he ploughs in winter and reaps in harvest? Does his carryingthe seed-basket at one time make it impossible that he shall come withflail and threshing-oxen at another? Are not all the various operationsco-operant to one end? Does not the end need them all? Is not onepurpose going steadily forward through ploughing, sowing, reaping,threshing? Is not that like the work of the great Husbandman, whochanges His methods and preserves His plan through them all, who hasHis 'time to sow' and His 'time to reap,' and who orders the affairs ofmen and kingdoms, for the one purpose that He may gather His wheat intoHis garner, and purge from it its chaff?

This parable sets forth a philosophy of the divine operations verybeautiful and true, and none the less impressive for the simple garb inwhich it is clothed.

I. All things come from one steady, divine purpose.

We may notice in passing how reverentially the prophet believes thatagriculture is taught by God. He would have said the same ofcotton-spinning or coal-mining. Think how striking a figure that is, ofall the world as God's farm, where He practises His husbandry to growthe crops which He desires.

What a picture the parable gives of sedulous and patient labour for afar-off result!

It insists on the thought of one steady divine purpose ever directingthe movements of the divine hand.

That is the negation of the godless theory that the affairs of men aremerely the work of men, or are merely the result of impersonal causes.The world is not a jungle where any or every plant springs of itself,but it is cultivated ground which has an Owner who looks after it.

It is the affirmation that God's action is regulated by a purpose whichis intelligent, unchanging, all-embracing to us because revealed.

II. That steady purpose is man's highest good.

The end of all the farmer's care is the ripening of the seed. God'spurpose is our moral, intellectual, and spiritual perfecting.

Neither His own 'glory' nor man's 'happiness,' which are taken bydifferent schools of thought to be the divine aim in creation andprovidence, is an object worthy of Him or adequate to explain the factsof every man's experience, unless both are regarded as needing man'sperfecting, for their attainment. God's glory is to make men godlike.Man's happiness cannot be secured without His holiness.

God has larger and nobler designs for us than merely to make us happy.

'This is the will of God concerning you, even your sanctification.'

Nothing short of that end would be worthy of God, or would explain Hismethods.

III. That purpose needs great variety of processes.

This is true about nations and about individuals.

Different stages of growth need different treatment.

The parable names three operations:—

Ploughing, which is preparation;

Sowing, or casting in germinating principles;

Threshing, which is effected by tribulation, a word which means drivinga 'tribulum' or threshing-sedge over ears of grain.

So sorrow is indispensable for our perfecting.

By it earthly affections are winnowed away, and our dependence on Godincreased. A certain refinement of spirit results, like the pallor onthe face of a chronic invalid, which has a delicate beauty unattaintedby ruddy health. A capacity for sympathy, too, is often the result ofone's own trials. Rightly borne, they tend to bend or break the will,and they teach how great it is to suffer and be strong.

But sorrow is not enough; joy is indispensable too. The crop isthreshed in tribulation, but is grown mostly in sunshine. Calm,uneventful hours, continuous possession of blessings, have a ministrynot less than afflictions have. The corn in the furrow, waving in thewestern wind, and with golden sunlight among its golden stems, ispreparing for the loaf no less than when bound in bundles and lying onthe threshing-floor, or cut and bruised by sharp teeth of dray or heavyhoofs of oxen, or blows of swinging flails.

So do not suppose that sorrow is the only instrument for perfectingcharacter, and see that you do not miss the sanctifying and ripeningeffect of your joyous hours.

Again, different types of character require different modes oftreatment. In the parable, 'the fitches' are sown in one fashion, and'the cummin' in another the 'wheat' and 'barley' in still another; andsimilar variety marks the methods of separating the grain from thehusk, one kind of crop being threshed another having a wheel turnedupon it. Thus each of us gets the kind of joys and pains that will havemost effect on us. God knows where is the tenderest spot, and makes nomistakes in His dealing. He sends us 'afflictions sorted, sorrows ofall sizes.'

Let us see that we trust to His loving and wise adaptation of ourtrials to our temperaments and needs. Let us see that we never letclouds obscure the clearness of our perception, or, failing perception,the serenity of our trust, that all things work together, and all workfor our highest good—our being made like our Lord. We should lessoften complain of the mysteries of Providence if we had learned themeaning of Isaiah's parable.

IV. All the processes end in garnering the grain.

There is a barn or storehouse for the ripened and threshed crops. Thefarmer's toil and careful processes would be absurd and unintelligibleif, after them all, the crop, so sedulously ripened and cultivated andcleansed, was left to rot where it fell. And no less certainly does thediscipline of this life cry aloud for heaven and a conscious personalfuture life, if it is not to be all set down as grim irony or utterlyabsurd. There must be a heaven if we are not to be put to intellectualbewilderment.

What was needed for growth here drops away there, as blossoms fall whentheir work is done. Sunshine and rain are no more necessary when thefields are cleared and the barn-yard is filled. Much in our nature, inour earthly condition, in God's varying processes, will drop away. Whenschool-time is done the rod is burned. But nothing will perish that cancontribute to our perfecting.

So let us ask Him to purge us with His fan in His hand now, lest weshould be found at last fruitless cumberers of the ground or chaffwhich is rootless, and fit only to be swept out of the threshing-floor.

'QUIETNESS AND CONFIDENCE'

'In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and confidenceshall be your strength.'—ISAIAH xxx. 15.

ISRAEL always felt the difficulty of sustaining itself on the height ofdependence on the unseen, spiritual power of God, and was everoscillating between alliances with the Northern and Southern powers,linking itself with Assyria against Egypt, or with Egypt againstAssyria. The effect was that whichever was victorious it suffered; itwas the battleground for both, it was the prize of each in turn. Theprophet's warnings were political wisdom as truly as religious.

Here Judah is exhorted to forsake the entangling dependence on Egypt,and to trust wholly to God. They had gone away from Him in their fears.They must come back by their faith. To them the great lesson was trustin God. Through them to us the same lesson is read. The principle isfar wider than this one case. It is the one rule of life for us all.

The two clauses of the text convey substantially the same idea. Theyare in inverted parallelism. 'Returning and rest' correspond to'quietness and confidence,' so as that 'rest' answers to 'quietness'and 'returning' to 'confidence.' In the former clause we have theaction towards God and then its consequence. In the latter we have theconsequence and then the action.

I. The returning.

Men depart from God by speculative thought or by anxious care, or bysin.

To 'return' is just to trust.

The parallel helps us here—'returning' is parallel with 'confidence.'This confidence is to be exercised especially in relation to one's ownpath in life and the outward trials and difficulties which we meet, butit* sphere extends far beyond these. It is a disposition of mind whichcovers all things. The attitude of trust, the sense of dependence, theassurance of God's help and love are in all life the secrets of peaceand power.

Am I sinful? then trust. Am I bewildered and ignorant? then trust. Am Ianxious and harassed? then trust.

Note the thought, that we come back to God by simple confidence, not bypreparing ourselves, not by our expiation, but only by trusting in Him.

Of course the temptations to the opposite attitude are many and great.

Note, too, that every want of confidence is a departure from God. We goaway from Him not only by open sin, not only by denial of Him, but byforget-fulness, by want of faith.

The ground of this confidence is laid in our knowledge of Him,especially in our knowledge of Jesus Christ.

The exercise of this confidence is treated as voluntary. Every man isresponsible for his faith.

The elements of this confidence are, as regards ourselves, our senseof want in all its various aspects; and, as regards Him, our assuranceof His love, of His nearness to help.

II. Confiding nearness to God brings quiet rest.

'Rest' and 'being quiet' are treated here partly as consequences offaith, partly as duties which we are bound to strive to achieve.

1. See how confidence in God stills and quiets the soul.

The very exercise of communion with Him brings peace and rest, inasmuchas all things are then possessed which we can desire. There is a stillfruition which nothing can equal and nothing destroy.

Trust in God brings rest from our own evil consciences.

It brings rest from our own plans and purposes.

Trust gives insight into the meaning of all this else unintelligibleworld.

It brings the calming and subduing of desires, which in their eagernesstorture, in their fruition trouble, and in their disappointment madden.

It brings the gathering in of ourselves from all the disturbingdiffusion of ourselves through earthly trifles.

2. Notice what this rest is not.

It does not mean the absence of causes of disturbance.

It does not mean the abnegation of forethought.

It does not mean an indolent passiveness.

3. Notice the duty of being thus quiet and resting.

How much we fail in this respect.

We have faith, but there seems some obstruction which stops it fromflowing refreshingly through our lives.

We are bound to seek for its increased continuity and power in ourhearts and lives.

III. Confidence and rest in God bring safety and strength.

That is true in the lowest sense of 'saved,' and not less true in thehighest. The condition of all our salvation from temporal as well asspiritual evils lies thus in the same thing—that we trust God.

No harm comes to us when we trust, because then God is with us, andworks for us, and cares for us. So all departments of life are boundtogether by the one law. Trust is the condition of being 'saved.'

And not only so, but also trust is strength. God works for us; yes,but better than that, God works in us and fits us to work.

What powers we might be in the world! Trust should make us strong. Tohave confidence in God should bring us power to which all other poweris as nothing. He who can feel that his foot is on the rock, how firmhe should stand!

Best gives strength. The rest of faith doubles our forces. To be freedfrom anxious care makes a man much more likely to act vigorously and tojudge wisely.

Stillness of soul, born of communion with God, makes us strong.

Stillness of soul, born of deliverance from our fears, makes us strong.

Here then is a golden chain—or shall we rather say a livewire?—whereof one end is bound to the Throne and the other encirclesour poor hearts. Trust, so shall we be at rest and safe. Being at restand safe, we shall be strong. If we link ourselves with God by faith,God will flash into us His mysterious energy, and His strength will bemade perfect in our weakness.

GOD'S WAITING AND MAN'S

'And therefore will the Lord wait, that He may be gracious unto you,and therefore will He be exalted, that He may have mercy upon you: forthe Lord is a God of judgment: blessed are they that wait forHim.'—ISAIAH xxx. 18.

God's waiting and man's—bold and beautiful, that He and we should berepresented as sharing the same attitude.

I. God's waiting,

1. The first thought is—why should He wait—why does He not act atonce? Because something in us hinders. We cannot enter into spiritualblessings till we are made capable of them by faith. It would not befor our good to receive some temporal blessings till sorrow has doneits work on us. The great thought here is that God has a right time forhelp. He is 'a God of judgment,' i.e.. discerns our moral conditionand shapes His dealings thereby. He never gives the wrong medicine.

2. His waiting is full of work to fit us to receive His grace. It isnot a mere passive standing by, till the fit conditions are seen in us;but He 'is exalted' while He waits, i.e.. lifted up in themanifestation of His might, and by His energy in preparing us for thegifts that He has prepared for us. 'He that hath wrought us for theself-same thing is God.' He who prepares a place for us is preparing usfor the place. He who has grace which He is ready to give us here, ismaking us ready for His grace. The meaning of all God's work on us isto form a character fit to possess His highest gifts.

3. His waiting is very patient. The divine husbandman 'waiteth for theprecious fruit of the earth, being patient over it.' How wonderful thatin a very real sense He attends on our pleasure, as it were, and letsus determine His time to work.

4. That waiting is full of divine desire to help. It is not the waitingof indifference, which says: 'If you will have it—well and good. Ifnot, it does not matter to Me.' But 'more than they that watch for themorning,' God waits 'that He may be gracious unto you.'

II. Man's waiting.

Our attitude is to be in some real sense analogous to His.

Its main elements are firm anticipation, patient expectation, steadfastdesire, self-discipline to fit us for the influx of God's grace.

We are not to prescribe 'times and seasons which the Father hath put inHis own power.' The clock of Eternity ticks more slowly than ourshort-pendulumed timepieces. 'If the vision tarry, wait for it.' We maywell wait for God when we know that He waits for us, and that, for themost part, when He sees that we are waiting, He knows that His time iscome.

But it is to be noted that the waiting desire to which He responds isdirected to something better and greater than any gifts from Him, evento Himself, for it is they who 'wait for Him,' not only for Hisbenefits apart from Himself, however precious these may be, who areblessed.

The blessedness of such waiting, how it calms the heart, brings intoconstant touch with God, detaches from the fever and the fret whichkill, opens our eyes to mark the meanings of our life's history, andmakes the divine gifts infinitely more precious when they do come.

After all, the time of waiting is at the longest very short. And whenthe perfect fruition is come, and we enter into the great spaces ofEternity, it will seem as an handbreadth.

'Take it on trust a little while,
Thou soon shalt read the mystery right
In the full sunshine of His smile.'

THREE PICTURES OF ONE REALITY

'As birds flying, so will the Lord of hosts defend Jerusalem; defendingalso He will deliver it; and passing over He will preserve it'—ISAIAHxxxi. 5.

The immediate occasion of this very remarkable promise is, of course,the peril in which Jerusalem was placed by Sennacherib's invasion; andthe fulfilment of the promise was the destruction of his army beforeits gates. But the promise here, like all God's promises, is eternal insubstance, and applies to a community only because it applies to eachmember of that community. Jerusalem was saved, and that meant thatevery house in Jerusalem was saved, and every man in it the separateobject of the divine protection So that all the histories of Scripture,and all the histories of men in the world, are but transitoryillustrations of perennial principles, and every atom of theconsolation and triumph of this verse comes to each of us, as truly asit did to the men that with tremulous heart began to take cheer, asthey listened to Isaiah. There is a wonderful saying in one of theother prophets which carries that lesson, where, bringing down thestory of Jacob's struggle with the angel of Peniel to the encouragementof the existing generation, he says,' He spake to us.' They werehundreds of years after the patriarch, and yet had fallen heirs to allthat God had ever said to him So, from that point of view, I am notspiritualising, or forcing the meaning of these words, when I bringthem direct into the lives of each one of ourselves.

I. And, first, I would note the very striking and beautiful picturesthat are given in these verses.

There are three of them, on each of which I must touch briefly. 'Asbirds flying, so will the Lord of hosts defend Jerusalem.' The form ofthe words in the original shows that it is the mother-bird that isthought about. And the picture rises at once of her fluttering over thenest, where the callow chickens are, unable to fly and to helpthemselves. It is a kind of echo of the grand metaphor in the song thatis attributed to Moses, which speaks of the eagle fluttering over hernest, and taking care of her young. Jerusalem was as a nest on which,for long centuries, that infinite divine love had brooded. It was but apoor brood that had been hatched out, but yet 'as birds flying' He hadwatched over the city. Can you not almost see the mother-bird, madebold by maternal love, swooping down upon the intruder that sought torob the nest, and spreading her broad pinion over the callow fledglingsthat lie below? That is what God does with us. As I said, it is a poorbrood that is hatched out. That does not matter; still the Love bendsdown and helps. Nobody but a prophet could have ventured on such ametaphor as that, and nobody but Jesus Christ would have ventured tomend it and say, 'As a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings,'when there are hawks in the sky. So He, in all the past ages, was theOne that 'as birds flying … defended' His people, and would havegathered them under His wings, only they would not.

Now, beautiful as this metaphor is, as it stands, it seems to me, likesome brilliant piece of colouring, to derive additional beauty from itsconnection with the background upon which it stands out. For just averse before the prophet has given another emblem of what God is anddoes, and if you will carry with you all those thoughts of tendernessand maternal care and solicitude, and then connect them with thatverse, I think the thought of His tenderness will start up into newbeauty. For here is what precedes the text: 'Like as a lion, and theyoung lion roaring on his prey when a multitude of shepherds is calledforth against him, he will not be afraid of their voice, nor bowhimself for the noise of them. So shall the Lord of hosts come down tofight for Mount Zion.' Look at these two pictures side by side, on theone hand the lion, with his paw on his prey, and the angry growl thatanswers when the shepherds vainly try to drag it away from him. That isGod. Ay! but that is only an aspect of God. 'As birds flying, so theLord will defend Jerusalem.' We have to take that into account too.This generation is very fond of talking about God's love; does itbelieve in God's wrath? It is very fond of speaking about thegentleness of Jesus; has it pondered that tremendous phrase, 'the wrathof the Lamb'? The lion that growls, and the mother-bird thathovers—God is like them both. That is the first picture that is here.

The second one is not so obvious to English readers, but it is equallystriking, though I do not mean to dwell upon it. The word that istranslated in our text twice, 'defend' and 'defending'—'So will theLord of hosts defend Jerusalem, and defending will deliver'—means,literally, 'shielding.' Thus we have the same general idea as that inthe previous metaphor of the mother-bird hovering above the nest: Godis like a shield held over us, and so flinging off front the broad andburnished surface of the Almighty buckler, all the darts that any foecan launch against as. 'Our God is a Sun and Shield.' I need notenlarge on this familiar metaphor.

But the third picture I wish to point to in more detail: 'Passing over,He will deliver.' Now, the word that is there rendered 'passing over,'is almost a technical word in the Old Testament, because it is thatemployed in reference to the Passover. And so you see the swiftness ofgenius with which the prophet changes his whole scene. We had the nestand the mother-bird, we had the battlefield and the shield; now we areswept away back to that night when the Destroying Angel stalked throughthe land, and 'passed over' the doors on which the blood had beensprinkled. And thus this God, who in one aspect may be likened to themother-bird hovering with her little breast full of tenderness, andmade brave by maternal love conquering natural timidity, and in anotheraspect may be likened to the broad shield behind which a man standssafe, may also be likened to that Destroying Angel that went throughEgypt, and smote wherever there were not the tokens of the blood on thelintels, and 'passed over' wherever there were. Of course, the originalfulfilment of this third picture is the historical case of the army ofSennacherib; outside the walls, widespread desolation; inside thewalls, an untroubled night of peace. That night in Egypt is paralleled,in the old Jewish hymn that is still sung at the Passover, with theother night when Sennacherib's men were slain; and the parallel isbased on our text. So, then, here is another illustration of what Istarted with saying, that the past events of Scripture are transientexpressions of perennial principles and tendencies. For the Passovernight was not to be to the contemporaries of the prophet an eventreceding ever further into the dim distance, but it was a presentevent, and to be reproduced in that catastrophe when 'in the morningwhen they arose, they were all dead corpses.' And the event is beingrepeated to-day, and will be for each of us, if we will.

So, then, there are these three pictures—the Nest and the Mother-bird,the Battlefield and the Shield, Egypt and the Destroying Angel.

II. We note the reality meant by these pictures.

They mean the absolute promise from God of protection for His peoplefrom every evil. We are not to cut it down, not to say that itapplies absolutely in regard to the spiritual world, but that it doesnot apply in regard to temporal things. Yes, it does entirely, only youhave to rise to the height of God's conception of what is good and whatis evil in regard to outward things, before you understand howcompletely, and without qualification or deduction, this promise isfulfilled to every man that puts his trust in Him. Of course, I do notneed to remind you, for your own lives will do so sufficiently, thatthis hovering protector, this strong Shield, this Destroying Angel thatpasses by our houses if the blood is on the threshold, does notguarantee us any exemption from the common 'ills that flesh is heirto.' We all know that well enough. But what does it guarantee? That allthe poison shall be wiped off the arrow, that all the evil shall betaken out of the evil, that it will change its character, that if weobserve the conditions, the sharpest sorrow will come to us with thiswritten on it by the Father's hand, 'With My love to My child'; thatpain will be discipline, and discipline will be blessed. Ah! dearfriends! I am sure there are many of us that can set to our seals thatGod is true in this matter, and that we have found that His rod doesblossom, and that our sorest sorrows have been our greatest mercies,drawing us nearer to Him; 'Defending He will deliver, and passing overHe will preserve.'

III. And now let me remind you of the way by which we can make thereality of these pictures ours.

You know that all the promises and prophecies of the Old Testament areconditional, and that there are many of them that were never fulfilled,and were spoken in order that they might not be fulfilled, if only thepeople took warning. I wish folk would carry a little more consciouslyin their minds that principle in interpreting them all, and in askingabout their fulfilment. Not only in regard to these ancient events, butin regard to our individual experience, God's promises and threateningsare conditional.

Take that first metaphor of the hovering mother-bird. Listen to thisexpansion of it in one of the psalms: 'He shall cover thee with Hisfeathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust.' The word for trusthere means to 'fly into a refuge.' Can you not see the picture? Alittle brood round the parent bird, frightened by some beast of prey,or hovering hawk in the sky, and fluttering under its wings, and allsafe and huddled together there close against the warm breast, and inamongst the downy feathers. 'Under His wings shalt thou trust.' Putthou thy trust in God, and God is to thee the hovering bird, the broadshield, the Angel that 'passes over.'

Take the other picture of the Passover night. Only by our individualfaith in Jesus Christ as our individual Saviour can we put the blood onour door-posts so that the Destroying Angel shall pass by. So, if wewould have the sweetness of such words as these fulfilled in our dailylives, however disturbed and troubled and sorrowful and solitary theymay be, the first condition is that under His wings shall we flee forrefuge, and we do so by trust in Him.

But having thus fled thither, we must continue there, if we wouldcontinue under His protection. Such continuance of safety because ofcontinuous faith is possible only by continued communion. Remember ourLord's expansion of the metaphor in His lament: 'How often would I havegathered thy children together as a hen gathereth her chickens underher wings, and ye would not.' We can resist the drawing. We can getaway from the shelter of the wing. We can lift up our wills againstHim. And what becomes of the chicken that does not run to themother's pinions when the hawk is hovering? That is what becomes of theman that stops outside the refuge in Christ, or that by failure of hisfaith departs from that refuge. 'Ye would not; therefore your house isleft unto you desolate.' That house, in the Jerusalem which God'defends,' is not defended.

Another condition of divine protection is obedience. We need not expectthat God will take care of us, and preserve us, when we did not ask Hisleave to get into the dangerous place that we find ourselves in. Manyof us do the converse of what the Apostle condemns, we begin 'in theflesh,' and think we shall end 'in the Spirit'; which being translatedis, we do not ask God's leave to do certain things, to enter intocertain engagements or arrangements with other people, and the like,and then we expect God to come and help us in or out of them. That isby no means an uncommon form of delusion. You remember what JesusChrist said when the Devil tried to entice Him to do a thing of thatsort, by quoting Scripture to Him—'He shall give His angels chargeconcerning Thee, to keep Thee in all Thy ways. Cast Thyself down. Trustto the promise as a kind of parachute to keep Thee from falling bruisedon the stones of the Temple-court.' Christ's answer was: 'Thou shaltnot tempt the Lord thy God.' You will not get God's protection in waysof your own choosing.

And so, brethren, 'all things work together for good to them thatlove,' to them that trust, to them that keep close, to them that obey.And for such the old faithful promise will be faithful and new oncemore, 'Because He hath set His love upon Me, therefore will I deliverHim'—that will be the summing up of our lives; 'and I will set Him onhigh because He hath known My Name,' that will be the meaning of ourdeaths.

THE LORD'S FURNACE

'The Lord, whose fire is in Zion, and His furnace in
Jerusalem.'—ISAIAH xxxi. 9.

This very remarkable characterisation of God stands here as a kind ofseal, set upon the preceding prophecy. It is the reason why that willcertainly be fulfilled. And what precedes is mainly a promise of adeliverance for Israel, which was to be a destruction for Israel'senemies. It is put in very graphic and remarkable metaphors: 'Like as alion roareth on his prey when a multitude of shepherds is called forthagainst him, he will not be afraid of their voice, nor abase himselffor the noise of them: so shall the Lord of hosts come down to fightfor Mount Zion.' The enemies of Israel are picturesquely and poeticallyrepresented as a crowd of shepherds vainly trying to scare a lion bytheir shouts. He stands undaunted, with his strong paw on his prey, andthe boldest of them durst not venture to drag it from beneath hisclaws. So, says Isaiah, with singularly daring imagery, God will putall His strength into keeping fast hold of Israel, and no one can pluckHis people from His hands.

Then, with a sudden and striking change of metaphor, the prophet passesfrom a picture of the extreme of fierceness to one of the extreme oftenderness. 'As birds flying'—mother birds fluttering over theirnests—'so will the Lord of hosts defend Jerusalem,' hovering over itand going from side to side to defend with His broad pinions, 'passingover, He will preserve it.' These figures are next translated into theplain promise of utter discomfiture and destruction, panic and flightas the portion of the enemies of Israel, and the whole has this broadseal set to it, that He who promises is 'the Lord, whose fire is inZion, and His furnace in Jerusalem.'

We shall not understand these great words if we regard them as only arevelation of destructive and terrible power. They are that indeed, butthey are far more than that. It is the very beauty and completeness ofthis emblem that has a double aspect, and is no less rich in joy andblessing than pregnant with warning and terror. As Isaiah says inanother place, Jerusalem is 'Ariel,' which probably means 'the hearthof God.' His presence in the city is as a fire for the comfort anddefence of the happy inhabitants, and at the same time for thedestruction of all evil and enemies. Far more truly than He dwelt inthe city of David does God dwell in the Church, and His presence is itssecurity. What, then, of instruction and hope may we gather from thiswonderful emblem?

I. In the Church, God is present as a great reservoir of fervid love.

Every language has taken fire as the symbol of love and emotion. Wespeak so naturally of warm love, fervent feeling, glowing earnestness,ardent enthusiasm and the like, that we are scarcely aware of usingfigurative language. We do not usually ascribe emotion to God, butsurely the deepest and most sacred of the senses in which it is truethat fire is His emblem, is that He is love. His fire is in Zion. Hedwells in His Church, a storehouse of blazing love, heated seventytimes seven hotter than any creatural love, and pouring out its ardoursfor the quickening and gladdening of all who walk in the light of thatfire, and thaw their coldness at its blaze.

Then, if so, how comes it that so many Christian Churches areice-houses instead of furnaces? How comes it that they who profess tolive in the Zion where this fire flames are themselves so cold? IfGod's blazing furnace is in Jerusalem, it should send the thermometerup in all the houses of the city. But what a strange contradiction itis for men to be in God's Church, the very focus and centre of Hisburning love, and themselves to be almost down below zero in theirtemperature! The Christian Church ought to be all aflame in all itsmembers, with the fire of love kindled and alight from God Himself.Every community of Christian people ought to radiate warmth and lightwhich it has absorbed from its present God. Our love ought to answerHis, and, being caught and kindled from that mighty fire, should throwback to its source some of the heat received, in fervours of reflectedlove, and should pour the rest beneficently on all around. Love to Godand love to man are regarded in Christian morals as beams of the samefire, only travelling in different directions. But what a miserablecontrast to such an ideal the reality in so many of our churches is! Afiery furnace with its doors hung with icicles is no greater acontradiction and anomaly than a Christian Church or a single soul,which professes to have been touched by the infinite loving kindness ofGod, and yet lives as cold and unmoved as we do. The 'Lord's fire is inZion.' Are there any tokens of that fire amongst us, in our own heartsand in our collective temperature as Christian Churches?

There is no religion worth calling so which has not warmth in it. Wehear a great deal from people against whom I do not wish to say a word,about the danger of an 'emotional Christianity.' Agreed, if by thatthey mean a Christianity which has no foundation for its emotion inprinciple and intelligence; but not agreed if they mean to recommend aChristianity which professes to accept truths that might kindle a soulbeneath the ribs of death and make the dumb sing, and yet is nevermoved one hair's-breadth from its quiet phlegmaticism. There is noreligion without emotion. Of course it must be intelligent emotion,built upon the acceptance of divine truth, and regulated and guided bythat, and so consolidated into principle, and it must be emotion whichworks for its living, and impels to Christian conduct. These twoprovisoes being attended to, then we can safely say that warmth is thetest of life, and the readings of the thermometer, which measure thefervour, measure also the reality of our religion. A cold Christian isa contradiction in terms. If the adjective is certainly applicable, Iam afraid the applicability of the noun is extremely doubtful. If thereis no fire, what is there? Cold is death.

We want no flimsy, transitory, noisy, ignorant, hysterical agitation.Smoke is not fire. If the temperature were higher, and the fire morewisely fed, there would not be any. But we do want a more obvious andpowerful effect of their solemn, glorious, and heart-melting beliefs onthe affections and emotions of professing Christians, and that they maybe more mightily moved by love, to all heroisms and service andenthusiasms and to consecration which shall in some measure answer tothe glowing heart of that fire of God which flames in Zion.

II. God's revelation of Himself, and presence in His Church, are aninstrument of cleansing.

Fire purifies. In our great cities now there are 'disinfecting ovens,'where infected articles are taken, and exposed to a high temperaturewhich kills the germs of disease, so that tainted things come out sweetand clean. That is what God's furnace in Zion is meant to do for us.The true way of purifying is by fire. To purify by water, as John theBaptist saw and said, is but a poor, cold way of getting outwardcleanliness. Water cleanses the surface, and becomes dirty in theprocess. Fire cleanses within and throughout, and is not taintedthereby. You plunge some foul thing into the flame, and, as you look,the specks and spots melt out of it. Raise the temperature, and youkill the poison germs. That is the way that God cleanses His people;not by external application, but by getting up the heat. The fire ofHis love, the fire of His spirit, is, as St. Bernard says, a blessedfire, which 'consumes indeed, but does not hurt; which sweetly burnsand blessedly lays waste, and so puts forth the force and fire againstour vices, as to display the operation of the anointing oil upon oursouls.' The Hebrew captives were flung into the fiery furnace. What didit burn? Only their bonds. They themselves lived and rejoiced in theintense heat. So, if we have any real possession of the divine flame,it will burn off our wrists the bands and chains of our old vices, andwe shall stand pure and clean, emancipated by the fire which willconsume only our sins, and be for our true selves as our native home,where we walk at liberty and expatiate in the genial warmth. That isthe blessed and effectual way of purifying, which slays only the deaththat we carry about with us in our sin, and makes us the more trulyliving for its death. Cleansing is only possible if we are immersed inthe Holy Ghost and in fire, as some piece of foul clay, plunged intothe furnace, has all the stains melted out of it. For all sinful soulsseeking after cleansing, and finding that the 'damned spot' will not'out' for all their washing, it is surely good news and tidings ofgreat joy that the Lord has His fire in Zion, and that its purifyingpower will burn out all their sin.

III. Further, there is suggested another thought: that God, in Hisgreat revelation of Himself, by which He dwells in His Church, is apower of transformation.

Fire turns all which it seizes into fire. 'Behold how much wood iskindled by how small a fire' (R.V.). The heap of green wood with thesap in it needs but a tiny light pushed into the middle, and soon it isall ablaze, transformed into ruddy brightness, and leaping heavenwards.However heavy, wet, and obstinate may be the fuel, the fire can changeit into aspiring and brilliant flame.

And so God, coming to us in His 'Spirit of burning,' turns us into Hisown likeness, and makes us possessors of some spark of Himself.Therefore it is a great promise, 'He shall baptize you in the HolyGhost, and in fire.' He shall plunge you into the life-giving furnace,and so 'make His ministers like a flame of fire,' like the Lord whomthey serve. The seraphim who stand round the throne are 'burning'spirits, and the purity which shines, the love which glows, the swiftlife which flames in them, are all derived from that unkindled andall-animating Fire who is their and our God. The transformation of allthe dwellers in Zion into miniature likenesses of this fire is the veryhighest hope that springs from the solemn and blessed truth that theLord has His fire in Zion, and His furnace in Jerusalem.

IV. But, further, this figure teaches that the same divine fire maybecome destructive.

The emblem of fire suggests a double operation, and the very felicityof it as an emblem is that it has these two sides, and with equalnaturalness may stand for a power which quickens, and for one whichdestroys. The difference in the effects springs not from differences inthe cause, but in the objects with which the fire plays. The same Godis the fire of life, the fire of love, of purifying and transformationand glad energy to whosoever will put his trust in Him, and a fire ofdestruction and anger unto whosoever resists Him. The alternativestands before every soul of man, to be quickened by fire or consumed byit. We may make the furnace of God our blessedness and the reservoir ofa far more joyful and noble life than ever we could have lived in ourcoldness; or we may make it terror and destruction. There lie the twopossibilities before every one of us. We cannot stand apart from Him;we have relations with Him, whether we will or no; He is something tous. He is, and must be for all, a flaming fire. We can settle whetherit shall be a fire which is life-giving unto life, or a fire which isdeath-giving unto death.

Here are two buildings: the one the life of the man that lives apartfrom God, and therefore has built only with wood, hay, and stubble; theother the life of the man that lives with God and for Him, and so hasbuilt with gold, silver, and precious stones. The day and the firecome; and the fates of these two are opposite effects of the samecause. The licking tongues surround the wretched hut, built ofcombustibles, and up go wood and hay and stubble, in a smoking flare,and disappear. The flames play round the gold and silver and preciousstones, and every leap of their light is answered by some facet of thegems that flash in their brilliancy, and give back the radiance.

You can settle which of these two is to be your fate. 'The Lord's fireis in Zion, and His furnace in Jerusalem.' To those who, by faith inthat dear Lord who came to cast fire on earth,' have opened theirhearts, to the entrance of that searching, cleansing flame, and whotherefore burn with kindred and answering fervours, it is joy to knowthat their 'God is a consuming fire,' for therein lies their hope ofdaily purifying and ultimate assimilation. To those, on the other hand,who have closed their hearts to the warmth of His redeeming love inChrist, and the quickening of His baptism by fire, what can theknowledge be but terror, what can contact with God in judgment be butdestruction? 'The day cometh, it burneth as a furnace; and all theproud, and all that work wickedness, shall be as stubble, and the daythat cometh shall burn them up.' What will that day do for you?

THE HIDING-PLACE

'And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert fromthe tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of agreat rock in a weary land.'—ISAIAH xxxii. 2.

We may well say, Of whom speaketh the prophet this? Here are distinctlyattributed to one of ourselves, if we take the words in theirsimplicity and fulness, functions and powers which universal experiencehas taught us not to look for in humanity. And there have been a greatmany attempts—as it seems to me, altogether futile and baselessones—to break the force of these words as a distinct prophecy of JesusChrist. Surely the language is far too wide to have application to anyreal or ideal Jewish monarch, except one whose kingdom is aneverlasting kingdom? Surely the experience of a hundred centuries mightteach men that there is one man, and one alone, who is the refugefrom all dangers, the fruition of all desires, the rest and refreshmentin all toils.

And I, for my part, have no hesitation in saying that the onlyreference of these words which gives full value to their wealth ofblessing, is to regard them as a prophecy of the man—Christ Jesus;hiding in whom we are safe, 'coming' to whom we 'never thirst,' guardedand blest by whom no weariness can befall us, and dwelling in whom thisweary world shall be full of refreshment and peace!

I do not need to point out the exquisite beauty of the imagery or thepathos and peace that breathe in the majestic rhythm of the words.There is something more than poetical beauty or rhetoricalamplification of a single thought in those three clauses. The'hiding-place' and 'covert' refer to one class of wants; the 'rivers ofwater in a dry place' to yet another; and 'the shadow of a great rockin a weary land' to yet a third. And, though they are tinged and dyedin Eastern imagery, the realities of life in Western lands, and in allages, give them a deeper beauty than that of lovely imagery, and arethe true keys to understanding their meaning. We shall, perhaps, bestgrasp the whole depth of that meaning according to the Messianicreference which we give to the text, if we consider the sad and solemnconception of man's life that underlies it; the enigmatical andobstinate hope which it holds out in the teeth of all experience—'Aman shall be a refuge'; and the solution of the riddle in the manChrist Jesus.

I. First, there underlies this prophecy a very sad but a very trueconception of human life.

The three classes of promises have correlative with them three phasesof man's condition, three diverse aspects of his need and misery. The'covert' and the 'hiding-place' imply tempest, storm, and danger; the'river of water' implies drought and thirst; 'the shadow of a greatrock' implies lassitude and languor, fatigue and weariness. The view oflife that arises from the combination of these three bears upon itsfront the signature of truth in the very fact that it is a sad view.

For, I suppose, notwithstanding all that we may say concerning thebeauty and the blessedness scattered broadcast round about us;notwithstanding that we believe, and hold as for our lives the happy'faith that all which we behold is full of blessing,' it needs but avery short experience of this life, and but a superficial examinationof our own histories and our own hearts, in order to come to theconclusion that the world is full of strange and terrible sadness, thatevery life has dark tracts and long stretches of sombre tint, and thatno representation is true to fact which dips its pencil only in lightand flings no shadows on the canvas. There is no depth in a Chinesepicture, because there is no shade. It is the wrinkles and marks oftear and wear that make the expression in a man's portrait. 'Life'ssternest painter "is" its best.' The gloomy thoughts which are chargedagainst Scripture are the true thoughts about man and the world as manhas made it. Not, indeed, that life needs to be so, but that by reasonof our own evil and departure from God there have come in as adisturbing element the retributive consequences of our own godlessness,and these have made danger where else were safety, thirst where elsewere rivers of water, and weariness and lassitude where else werestrength and bounding hope.

So then, look for a moment at these three points that come out of mytext, in order to lay the foundation for subsequent considerations.

We live a life defenceless and exposed to many a storm and tempest. Ineed but remind you of the adverse circ*mstances—the wild winds thatgo sweeping across the flat level, the biting blasts that come downfrom the snow-clad mountains of destiny that lie round the low plainupon which we live. I need but remind you of the dangers that arelodged for our spiritual life in the temptations to evil that are roundus. I need but remind you of that creeping and clinging consciousnessof being exposed to a divinely commissioned retribution and punishment,which perverts the Name that ought to be the basis of all ourblessedness into a Name unwelcome and terrible, because threateningjudgment. I need but remind you how men's sins have made it needfulthat when the mighty God, even the Lord, appears before them, 'it shallbe very tempestuous round about him.' Men fear and ought to fear 'theblast of the breath of His nostrils,' which must burn up all that isevil. And I need but remind you of that last wild wind of Death thatwhirls the sin-faded leaves into dark corners where they lie and rot.

My brother, you have not lived thus long without learning howdefenceless you are against the storm of adverse circ*mstances. Youhave not lived thus long without learning that though, blessed be God!there do come in all our lives long periods of halcyon rest, when'birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave,' and the heavens aboveare clear as sapphire, and the sea around is transparent as opal—yetthe little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, may rise on the horizon,and may thicken and blacken and grow greater and nearer till all thesky is dark, and burst in lightning and rain and fierceness of wind,till 'through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming,' and thewhite crests of the waves are like the mane of Death's pale horseleaping upon the broken ship. We have all learnt in how profound asense, by reason of outward adverse circ*mstances and inwardtemptations, by reason of the fears of a Justice which we know isthroned at the centre of the creation, by reason of a death which to usis a terror, and by reason of that universal fear of 'after death thejudgment,' storm and tempest swoop upon our paths. God made thesunshine, and we have made it a storm. God made life blessed and fullof safety and peace, and we have wrenched ourselves from Him and standdefenceless amidst its dangers.

Then, there is another aspect and conception of life which underliesthese words of my text. The image of the desert was before theprophet's rapt vision. He saw the sand whirled into mad dancing columnsbefore the blast which swept across the unsheltered flat, with nothing,for a day's march, to check its force. But the wilderness is not onlyshelterless, it is waterless too—a place in which wild and raveningthirst finds no refreshing draughts, and the tongue cleaves to theblackening gums.

'Rivers of water in a dry place'; and what is the prose fact of that?That you and I live in the midst of a world which has no correspondencewith, nor power of satisfying, our truest and deepest selves—that webear about with us a whole set of longings and needs and weaknesses andstrengths and capacities, all of which, like the climbing tendrils ofsome creeping plant, go feeling and putting out their green fingers tolay hold of some prop and stay—that man is so made that for his restand blessedness he must have an external object round which his spiritmay cling, on which his desires may fasten and rest, by which his heartmay be blessed, which shall be authority for his will, peace for hisfears, sprinkling and cleansing for his conscience, light for hisunderstanding, shall be in complete correspondence with his inwardnature—be water for his thirst, and bread for his hunger.

And as thus, on the very nature which each of us carries, there isstamped the signature of dependence, and the necessity of finding anexternal object on which to rest; and as, further, men will not betutored even by their own miseries or by the voice of their own wants,and ever confound their wishes with their wants and their whims withtheir needs, therefore it comes to pass that the appetite which wasonly meant to direct us to God, and to be as a wholesome hunger inorder to secure our partaking with relish and delight of the divinefood that is provided for it, becomes unsatisfied, a torture, andunslaked, a ravening madness; and men's needs become men's misery; andmen's hunger becomes men's famine; and men's thirst becomes men'sdeath. We do dwell in a dry land where no water is.

All about us there are these creatures of God, bright and blessed andbeautiful, fit for their functions and meant to minister to ourgladness. They are meant to be held in subordination. It is not meantthat we should find in them the food for our souls. Wealth and honourand wisdom and love and gratified ambition and successful purpose, andwhatsoever other good things a man may gather about him and achieve—hemay have them all, and yet in spite of them all there will be a greataching, longing vacuity in his soul. His true and inmost being will begroping through the darkness, like a plant growing in a cellar, for thelight which alone can tinge its pale petals and swell its shrivellingblossoms to ripeness and fruit.

A dry place, as well as a dangerous place—have not you found it so? Ibelieve that every soul of man has, if he will be honest with himself,and that there is not one among us who would not, if he were to lookinto the deepest facts and real governing experience of his life,confess—I thirst: 'my soul thirsteth.' And oh, brethren, why not go onwith the quotation, and make that which is else a pain, a condition ofblessedness? Why not recognise the meaning of all this restlessdisquiet, and say 'My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God'?

And then there is the other idea also underlying these words, yetanother phase of this sad life of ours—not only danger and drought,but also weariness and languor. The desert stretches before us again,where there is no shelter from the blast and no trickling stream amidthe yellowing sand; where the fierce ball above beats down cruelly, andits hot rays are flung up cruelly into our faces, and the glare blindsus, and the stifling heat wearies us, and work is a torture and motionis misery, and we long for nothing so much as to be quiet and to hideour heads in some shade.

I was reading recently one of our last books of travel in thewilderness of the Exodus, in which the writer told how, after toilingfor hours under a scorching sun, over the hot, white, marly flat,seeing nothing but a beetle or two on the way, and finding no shelteranywhere from the pitiless beating of the sunshine, the wearytravellers came at last to a little Retem bush only a few feet high,and flung themselves down and tried to hide, at least, their heads,from those 'sunbeams like swords,' even beneath its ragged shade. Andmy text tells of a great rock, with blue dimness in its shadow, withhaply a fern or two in the moist places of its crevices, where there isrest, and a man can lie down and be cool, while all outside is burningsun, and burning sand, and dancing mirage.

Oh! the weariness felt by us all, of plod, plod, plodding across thesand! That fatal monotony into which every man's life stiffens, as faras outward circ*mstances, outward joys and pleasures go! the depressinginfluence of custom which takes the edge off all gladness and adds aburden to every duty! the weariness of all that tugging up the hill, ofall that collar-work which we have to do! Who is there that has not hismood, and that by no means the least worthy and man-like of his moods,wherein he feels not, perhaps, that all is vanity, but—'how infinitelywearisome it all is.'

And so every race of man that ever has lived has managed out of twomiseries to make a kind of shadowy gladness; and, knowing the wearinessof life and the blackness of death, has somewhat lightened the latterby throwing upon it the thought of the former, and has said, 'Well, atany rate, if the grave be narrow and dark, and if outside "the warmprecincts of the cheerful day" there be that ambiguous night, at leastit is the place for sleep; and, if we cannot be sure of anything more,we shall rest then, at any rate.' So the hope of 'long disquiet mergedin rest' becomes almost bright, and man's weariness finds most patheticexpression in his thinking of the grave as a bed where he can stretchhimself and be still. Life is hard, life is dry, life is dangerous.

II. But another thought suggested by these words is—The Mysterious
Hope which shines through them.

One of ourselves shall deliver us from all this evil in life. 'A manshall be a refuge, rivers of water, the shadow of a great rock.' Suchan expectation seems to be right in the teeth of all experience and fartoo high-pitched ever to be fulfilled. It appears to demand in him whoshould bring it to pass powers which are more than human, and whichmust in some inexplicable way be wide as the range of humanity andenduring as the succession of the ages.

It is worth while to realise to ourselves these two points which seemto make such words as these of our text a blank impossibility.Experience contradicts them, and common-sense demands for theirfulfilment an apparently impossible human character.

All experience seems to teach—does it not?—that no human arm or heartcan be to another soul what these words promise, and what we need. Andyet the men who have been disappointed and disenchanted a thousandtimes do still look among their fellows for what their fellows, too,are looking for, and none have ever found. Have we found what we seekamong men? Have we ever known amongst the dearest that we have clungto, one arm that was strong enough to keep us in all danger? Has thereever been a human love to which we can run with the security thatthere is a strong tower where no evil can touch us? There have beenmany delights in all our lives mediated and ministered to us by thosethat we loved. They have taught us, and helped us, and strengthened usin a thousand ways. We have received from them draughts of wisdom, oflove, of joy, of guidance, of impulse, of comfort, which have been, aswater in the desert is, more precious than gold. Our fellow-travellershave shared their store with us, 'letting down their pitchers upontheir hand,' and giving us drink; but has the draught ever slaked thethirst? They carry but a pitcher, and a pitcher is not a fountain. Havethere been any in all the round of those that we have loved andtrusted, to whom we have trusted absolutely, without having beendisappointed? They, like us, are hemmed in by human limitations. Theyeach bear a burdened and thirsty spirit, itself needing such supplies.And to the truest, happiest, most soul-sufficing companionship, therecomes at last that dread hour which ends all sweet commerce of givingand receiving, and makes the rest of life, for some of us, onemonotonous ashen-grey wilderness where no water is. These things makeit impossible for us to find anywhere amongst men our refuge and ourfruition.

And yet how strange, how pathetic, is the fact that after alldisappointments, men still obstinately continue to look among theirfellows for guidance and for light, for consolation, for defence, andfor strength! After a thousand failures they still hope. Does not thesearch at once confess that hitherto they have not found, else why beseeking still?—and that they yet believe they will yet find, else whynot cease the vain quest? And surely He who made us, made us not invain, nor cursed us with immortal hopes which are only persistent lies.Surely there is some living Person who will vindicate theseunquenchable hopes of humanity, and receive and requite our love andtrust, and satisfy our longings, and explain the riddle of our lives.If there be not, nor ever has been, nor ever can be a man who shallsatisfy us with his love, and defend us with his power, and be ourall-sufficient satisfaction and our rest in weariness, then much ofman's noblest nature is a mistake, and many of his purest andprofoundest hopes are an illusion, a mockery, and a snare. Theobstinate hope that, within the limits of humanity, we shall find whatwe need is a mystery, except on one hypothesis, that it, too, belongsto 'the unconscious prophecies' that God has lodged in all men's hearts.

Nor need I remind you, I suppose, how such functions as those of whichmy text speaks not only seem to be contradicted by all experience, butmanifestly and obviously to transcend the possibilities of humannature. A man to defend me; and he himself—does he need nodefence? A man to supply my wants; and is his spirit, then, other thanmine, that it can become the all-sufficient fulness for my emptiness?He that can do this for one spirit must be greater than the spirit forwhich he doeth it. He that can do it for the whole race of man, throughall ages, in all circ*mstances, down to the end of time, in everylatitude, under every condition of civilisation—who must he be who,for the whole world, evermore and always, is their defence, theirgladness, their shelter, and their rest?

The function requires a divine power, and the application of the powerrequires a human hand. It is not enough that I should be pointed to afar-off heaven, where there dwells an infinite loving God—I believethat we need more than that. We need both of the truths: 'God is myrefuge and my strength,' and 'A man shall be a hiding-place from thewind, and a covert from the tempest.'

III. That brings me to the last point to be noticed, namely:—Thesolution of the mystery in the person of Jesus Christ.

That which seemed impossible is real. The forebodings of humanity havenot fathomed the powers of Divine Love. There is a man, our brother,bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, who can be to single soulsthe adequate object of their perfect trust, the abiding home of theirdeepest love, the unfailing supply for their profoundest wants. Thereis one man to whom it is wise and blessed to look as the exclusivesource of all our peace, the absolute ruler of all our lives. Thereis a man in whom we find all that we have vainly sought in men. Thereis a man, who can be to all ages and to the whole race their refuge,their satisfaction, their rest. 'It behoved Him to be made in allpoints like unto His brethren,' that His succour might be ever near,and His sympathy sure. The man Christ Jesus who, being man, is Godmanifest in the flesh, exercises in one and the same act the offices ofdivine pity and human compassion, of divine and human guardianship, ofdivine and human love.

'And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thought.'

The dreams of weary hearts that have longed for an impossibleperfection are all below the reality. The fact surpasses allexpectation. It is more than all prophecies, it is more than all hopes,it is more than all praise. It is God's unspeakable gift. Well might anangel voice proclaim the mystery of love, 'Unto you is born aSaviour, which is Christ the Lord.' The ancient promise of our text ishistory now. A man has been and is all these things for us.

A refuge and a hiding-place from every storm—adverse circ*mstancessweep upon us, and His mighty hand is put down there as a buckler,behind which we may hide and be safe. Temptations to evil storm uponus, but if we are enclosed within Him they never touch us. The fears ofour own hearts swirl like a river in flood against the walls of ourfortress home, and we can laugh at them, for it is founded upon a rock!The day of judgment rises before us solemn and certain, and we canawait it without fear, and approach it with calm joy. I call upon nomountains and hills to cover me.

'Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.'

'Rivers of water in a dry place,'—hungry and thirsty, my soul faintedwithin me. I longed for light, and behold darkness. I longed for help,and there was none that could come close to my spirit to succour and togive me drink in the desert. My conscience cried in all its wounds forcleansing and stanching, and no comforter nor any balm was there. Myheart, weary of limited loves and mortal affections, howsoever sweetand precious, yearned and bled for one to rest upon all-sufficient andeternal. I thirsted with a thirst that was more than desire, that waspain, and was coming to be death, and I heard a voice which said, 'Ifany man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.'

'The shadow of a great rock in a weary land,'—and my heart was wearyby reason of the greatness of the way, and duties and tasks seemedtoils and burdens, and I was ready to say, 'Wherefore has Thou made meand all men in vain? Surely all this is vanity and vexation of spirit,'and I heard One that laid His hand upon me and said, 'Come unto Me, andI will give thee rest.' I come to Thee, O Christ, faint and perishing,defenceless and needy, with many a sin and many a fear; to Thee I turnfor Thou hast died for me, and for me thou dost live. Be Thou myshelter and strong tower. Give me to drink of living water. Let me restin Thee while in this weary land, and let Thy sweet love, my Brotherand my Lord, be mine all on earth and the heaven of my heaven!

HOW TO DWELL IN THE FIRE OF GOD

'Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shalldwell with everlasting burnings? 15. He that walketh righteously, andspeaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of oppressions, thatshaketh his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears fromhearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes from seeing evil.'—ISAIAHxxxiii. 14, 15.

'He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God'—1 JOHN iv. 16.

I have put these two verses together because, striking as is at firstsight the contrast in their tone, they refer to the same subject, andthey substantially preach the same truth. A hasty reader, who is moreinfluenced by sound than by sense, is apt to suppose that the solemnexpressions in my first text, 'the devouring fire' and' everlastingburnings,' mean hell. They mean God, as is quite obvious from thecontext. The man who is to 'dwell in the devouring fire' is the goodman. He that is able to abide 'the everlasting burnings' is 'the manthat walketh righteously and speaketh uprightly,' that 'despiseth thegain of oppression, that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes, thatstoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes fromseeing evil.' The prophet has been calling all men, far and near, tobehold a great act of divine judgment in which God has been manifestedin flaming glory, consuming evil; now he represents the 'sinners inZion,' the unworthy members of the nation, as seized with suddenterror, and anxiously asking this question, which in effect means: 'Whoamong us can abide peacefully, joyfully, fed and brightened, notconsumed and annihilated, by that flashing brightness and purity?' Theprophet's answer is the answer of common-sense—like draws to like. Aholy God must have holy companions.

But that is not all. The fire of God is the fire of love as well as thefire of purity; a fire that blesses and quickens, as well as a firethat destroys and consumes. So the Apostle John comes with his answer,not contradicting the other one, but deepening it, expanding it,letting us see the foundations of it, and proclaiming that as a holyGod must be surrounded by holy hearts, which will open themselves tothe flame as flowers to the sunshine, so a loving God must be clusteredabout by loving hearts, who alone can enter into deep and truefriendship with Him.

The two answers, then, of these texts are one at bottom; and whenIsaiah asks, 'Who shall dwell with the everlasting fire?'—theperpetual fire, burning and unconsumed, of that divinerighteousness—the deepest answer, which is no stern requirement but amerciful promise, is John's answer, 'He that dwelleth in love dwellethin God.'

The simplest way, I think, of bringing out the force of the wordsbefore us will be just to take these three points which I have alreadysuggested: the world's question, the partial answer of the prophet, thecomplete answer of the Apostle.

I. The World's Question.

I need only remind you how frequently in the Old Testament the emblemof fire is employed to express the divine nature. In many places,though by no means in all, the prominent idea in the emblem is that ofthe purity of the divine nature, which flashes and flames as againstall which is evil and sinful. So we read in one grand passage in thisbook of Isaiah, 'the Light of Israel shall become a fire'; as if thelambent beauty of the highest manifestation of God gathered itselftogether, intensified itself, was forced back upon itself, and frommerciful, illuminating light turned itself into destructive andconsuming fire. And we read, you may remember, too, in the descriptionof the symbolical manifestation of the divine nature which accompaniedthe giving of the Law on Sinai, that 'the glory of the Lord was likedevouring fire on the top of the mountain,' and yet into that blaze andbrightness the Lawgiver went, and lived and moved in it.

There is, then, in the divine nature a side of antagonism andopposition to evil, which flames against it, and labours to consume it.I would speak with all respect for the motives of many men in this daywho dread to entertain the idea of the divine wrath against evil, lestthey should in any manner trench upon the purity and perfectness of thedivine love. I respect and sympathise with the motive altogether; and Ineither respect nor sympathise with the many ferocious pictures of thatwhich is called the wrath of God against sin, which much so-calledorthodox teaching has indulged in. But if you will only remove fromthat word 'anger' the mere human associations which cleave to it, ofpassion on the one hand, and of a wish to hurt its object on the other,then you cannot, I think, deny to the divine nature the possession ofsuch passionless and unmalignant wrath, without striking a fatal blowat the perfect purity of God. A God that does not hate evil, that doesnot flame out against it, using all the energies of His being todestroy it, is a God to whose character there cleaves a fatal suspicionof indifference to good, of moral apathy. If I have not a God to trustin that hates evil because He loveth righteousness, then 'the pillaredfirmament itself were rottenness, and earth's base built on stubble';nor were there any hope that this damnable thing that is killing andsucking the life-blood out of our spirits should ever be destroyed andcast aside. Oh! it is short-sighted wisdom, and it is cruel kindness,to tamper with the thought of the wrath of God, the 'everlastingburnings' of that eternally pure nature wherewith it wages war againstall sin.

But then, let us remember that, on the other side, the fire which isthe destructive fire of perfect purity is also the fire that quickensand blesses. God is love, says John, and love is fire, too. We speak of'the flame of love,' of 'warm affections,' and the like. The symbol offire does not mean destructive energy only. And these two are one.God's wrath is a form of God's love; God hates because He loves.

And the 'wrath' and the 'love' differ much more in the difference ofthe eyes that look, than they do in themselves. Here are two bits ofglass; one of them sifts out and shows all the fiery-red rays, theother all the yellow. It is the one same pure, white beam that passesthrough them both, but one is only capable of receiving the fiery-redbeams of the wrath, and the other is capable of receiving the goldenlight of the love. Let us take heed lest, by destroying the wrath, wemaim the love; and let us take heed lest, by exaggerating the wrath, weempty the love of its sweetness and its preciousness; and let us acceptthe teaching that these are one, and that the deepest of all the thingsthat the world can know about God lies in that double saying, whichdoes not contradict its second half by its first, but completes itsfirst by its second—God is Righteousness, God is Love.

Well, then, that being so, the question rises to every mind of ordinarythoughtfulness: 'Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? whoamong us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?' A God fighting againstevil; can you and I hope to hold familiar fellowship with Him? A Godfighting against evil; if He rises up to exercise His judging and Hispunishing energies, can we meet Him? 'Can thy heart endure and thyhands be strong, in the day that I shall deal with thee?' is thequestion that comes to each of us if we are reasonable people. I do notdwell upon it; but I ask you to take it, and answer it for yourselves.

To 'dwell with everlasting burnings' means two things. First, it meansto hold familiar intercourse and communion with God. The question whichpresents itself to thoughtful minds is—What sort of man must I be if Iam to dwell near God? The lowliest bush may be lit by the divine fireand not be consumed by it; and the poorest heart may be all aflame withan indwelling God, if only it yield itself to Him, and long for Hislikeness. Electricity only flames into consuming fire when its swiftpassage is resisted. The question for us all is—How can I receive thisholy fire into my bosom, and not be burned? Is any communion possible,and if it is, on what conditions? These are the questions which theheart of man is really asking, though it knows not the meaning of itsown unrest.

'To dwell with everlasting burnings' means, secondly, to bear theaction of the fire—the judgment of the present and the judgment of thefuture. The question for each of us is—How can we face that judicialand punitive action of that Divine Providence which works even here,and how can we face the judicial and punitive action in the future?

I suppose you all believe, or at least say that you believe, that thereis such a future judgment. Have you ever asked yourselves the question,and rested not until you got a reasonable answer to it, on which, likea man leaning on a pillar, you can lean the whole weight of yourexpectations—How am I to come into the presence of that devouringfire? Have you any fireproof dress that will enable you to go into thefurnace like the Hebrew youths, and walk up and down in the midst ofit, well and at liberty? Have you? 'Who shall dwell amidst theeverlasting fires?'

That question has stirred sometimes, I know, in the consciences ofevery man and woman that is listening to me. Some of you have tamperedwith it and tried to throttle it, or laughed at it and shuffled it outof your mind by the engrossments of business, and tried to get rid ofit in all sorts of ways: and here it has met you again to-day. Let ushave it settled, in the name of common-sense (to invoke nothinghigher), once for all, upon reasonable principles that will stand; anddo you see that you settle it to-day.

II. And now, look next at the prophet's answer.

It is simple. He says that if a man is to hold fellowship with, or toface the judgment of, the pure and righteous God, the plainest dictateof reason and common-sense is that he himself must be pure andrighteous to match. The details into which hid answer to the questionruns out are all very homely, prosaic, pedestrian kind of virtues,nothing at all out of the way, nothing that people would call splendidor heroic. Here they are:—'He that walks righteously,'—a shortinjunction, easily spoken, but how hard!—'and speaketh uprightly, hethat despiseth the gain of oppression, that shaketh his hands fromholding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, thatshutteth his eyes from seeing evil.' Righteous action, righteousspeech, inward hatred of possessions gotten at my neighbour's cost, anda vehement resistance to all the seductions of sense, shutting one'shands, stopping one's ears, fastening one's eyes up tight so that hemay not handle, nor hear, nor see the evil—there is the outline of atrite, everyday sort of morality which is to mark the man who, asIsaiah says, can 'dwell amongst the everlasting fires.'

Now, if at your leisure you will turn to Psalms xv. and xxiv., you willfind there two other versions of the same questions and the sameanswer, both of which were obviously in our prophet's mind when hespoke. In the one you have the question put: 'Who shall abide in Thytabernacle?' In the other you have the same question put: 'Who shallascend into the hill of the Lord?' And both these two psalms answer thequestion and sketch the outline (and it is only an outline) of arighteous man, from the Old Testament point of view, substantially inthe same fashion that Isaiah does here.

I do not need to remark upon the altogether unscientific andnon-exhaustive nature of the description of righteousness that is setforth here. There are a great many virtues, plain and obvious, that areleft out of the picture. But I ask you to notice one very specialdefect, as it might seem. There is not the slightest reference toanything that we call religion. It is all purely pedestrian, worldlymorality; do righteous things; do not tell lies; do not cheat yourneighbour; stop your ears if people say foul things in your hearing;shut your eyes if evil comes before you. These are the kind of dutiesenjoined, and these only. The answer of my text moves altogether on thesurface, dealing only with conduct, not with character, and dealingwith conduct only in reference to this world. There is not a word aboutthe inner nature, not a word about the inner relation of a man to God.It is the minimum of possible qualifications for dwelling with God.

Well, now, do you achieve that minimum? Suppose we waive for the momentall reference to God; suppose we waive for the moment all reference tomotive and inward nature; suppose we keep ourselves only on the outsideof things, and ask what sort of conduct a man must have that is ableto walk with God? We have heard the answer.

Now, then, is that me? Is this sketch here, admittedly imperfect, amere black-and-white swift outline, not intended to be shaded orcoloured, or brought up to the round; is this mere outline of what agood man ought to be, at all like me? Yes or no? I think we must allsay No to the question, and acknowledge our failure to attain to thishomely ideal of conduct. The requirement pared down to its lowestpossible degree, and kept as superficial as ever you can keep it, isstill miles above me, and all I have to say when I listen to such wordsis, 'God be merciful to me a sinner.'

My dear friends, take this one thought away with you:—the requirementsof the most moderate conscience are such as no man among us is able tocomply with. And what then? Am I to be shut up to despair? am I to say:Then nobody can dwell within that bright flame? Am I to say: Then whenGod meets man, man must crumble away into nothing and disappear? Am Ito say, for myself: Then, alas for me! when I stand at His judgment bar?

III. Let us take the Apostle's answer.

God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God.' Now, tobegin with, let us distinctly understand that the New Testament answer,represented by John's great words, entirely endorses Isaiah's; and thatthe difference between the two is not that the Old Testament, asrepresented by psalmist and prophet, said, 'You must be righteous inorder to dwell with God,' and that the New Testament says, 'You neednot be.' Not at all! John is just as vehement in saying that nothingbut purity can bind a man in thoroughly friendly and familiarconjunction with God as David or Isaiah was. He insists as much asanybody can insist upon this great principle, that if we are to dwellwith God we must be like God, and that we are like God when we are likeHim in righteousness and love.

'He that saith he hath fellowship with Him, and walketh in darkness, isa liar!' That is John's short way of gathering it all up. Righteousnessis as essential in the gospel scheme for all communion and fellowshipwith God as ever it was declared to be by the most rigid of legalists;and if any of you have the notion that Christianity has any other termsto lay down than the old terms—that righteousness is essential tocommunion—you do not understand Christianity. If any of you arebuilding upon the notion that a man can come into loving and familiarfriendship with God as long as he loves and cleaves to any sin, youhave got hold of a delusion that will wreck your souls yet,—is,indeed, harming, wrecking them now, and will finally destroy them ifyou do not got rid of it. Let us always remember that the declarationof my first text lies at the very foundation of the declaration of mysecond.

What, then, is the difference between them? Why, for one thing it isthis—ISAIAH tells us that we must be righteous, John tells us how wemay be. The one says, 'There are the conditions,' the other says, 'Hereare the means by which you can have the conditions.' Love is theproductive germ of all righteousness; it is the fulfilling of the law.Get that into your hearts, and all these relative and personal dutieswill come. If the deepest, inmost life is right, all the surface oflife will come right. Conduct will follow character, character willfollow love.

The efforts of men to make themselves pure, and so to come into theposition of holding fellowship with God, are like the wise efforts ofchildren in their gardens. They stick in their little bits of rootlessflowers, and they water them; but, being rootless, the flowers are allwithered to-morrow and flung over the hedge the day after. But if wehave the love of God in our hearts, we have not rootless flowers, butthe seed which will spring up and bear fruit of holiness.

But that is not all. Isaiah says 'Righteousness,' John says 'Love,'which makes righteousness. And then he tells us how we may get love,having first told us how we may get righteousness: 'We love Him becauseHe first loved us.' It is just as impossible for a man to work himselfinto loving God as it is for a man to work himself into righteousactions. There is no difference in the degree of impossibility in thetwo cases. But what we can do is, we can go and gaze at the thing thatkindles the love; we can contemplate the Cross on which the great Loverof our souls died, and thereby we can come to love Him. John's answergoes down to the depths, for his notion of love is the response of thebelieving soul to the love of God which was manifested on the Cross ofCalvary. To have righteousness we must have love; to have love we mustlook to the love that God has to us; to look rightly to the love thatGod has to us we must have faith. Now you have gone down to the verybottom of the matter. Faith is the first step of the ladder, and thesecond step is love and the third step is righteousness.

And so the New Testament, in its highest and most blessed declarations,rests itself firmly upon these rigid requirements of the old law. Youand I, dear brethren, have but one way by which we can walk in themidst of that fire, rejoicing and unconsumed, namely that we shall knowand believe the love which God hath to us, love Him back again 'withpure hearts fervently,' and in the might of that receptive faith andproductive love, become like Him in holiness, and ourselves be'baptized with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' Thus, fire-born andfiery, we shall dwell as in our native home, in God Himself.

THE FORTRESS OF THE FAITHFUL

'He shall dwell on high: his place of defence shall be the munitions ofrocks; bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure.'—ISAIAHxxxiii. 16.

This glowing promise becomes even more striking if we mark itsconnection with the solemn question in the previous context. 'Who amongus shall dwell with the devouring fire?' is the prophet's question;'who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?' That questionreally means, Who is capable 'of communion with God'? The prophetsketches the outline of the character in the subsequent verses, andthen recurring to his metaphor of a habitation, and yet with a mostlovely and significant modification, he says, 'he'—the man that he hasbeen sketching—'shall dwell,' not 'with the everlasting burnings,' but'on high; his place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks,' likesome little hill, fort, or city, perched upon a mountain, and havingwithin it ample provision and an unfailing spring of water. 'His breadshall, be given him, his water shall be sure.' To dwell with 'thedevouring fire' is to 'dwell on high,' to be safe and satisfied. Sothen, whilst the words before us have, of course, direct and immediatereference to the Assyrian invasion, and promise, in a literal sense,security and exemption from its evils to the righteous in Israel, theywiden and deepen into a picturesque, but not less real, statement ofwhat comes into the religious life, by communion with God. There arethree things: elevation, security, satisfaction.

'He shall dwell on high.'

In the East, and in all unsettled countries, you will find that thesites of the cities are on the hilltops, for a very plain reason, andthat is the fact that underlies the prophet's representation. To holdfellowship with God, to live in union with Him, to have His thoughtsfor my thoughts, and His love wrapping my heart, and His will enshrinedin my will; to carry Him about with me into all the pettinesses ofdaily life, and, amidst the whirlpool of duties and changingcirc*mstances, to sit in the centre, as it were the eye of thewhirlpool where there is a dead calm, that lifts a man on high.Communion with God secures elevation of spirit, raising us clean abovethe flat that lies beneath. There are many ways by which men seek forlofty thoughts, and a general elevation above the carking cares andmultiplied minutenesses of this poor, mortal, transient life; but whilebooks and great thoughts, and the converse of the wise, and art, andmusic, and all these other elevating influences have a real place and ablessed efficiency in ennobling life, there is not one of them, nor allof them put together, that will give to the human spirit that strangeand beautiful elevation above the world and the flesh and the devil,which simple communion with God will give. I have seen many a poor manwho knew nothing about the lofty visions that shape and lift humanity,who had no side of him responsive to aesthetics or art or music, whowas no thinker, no student, who never had spoken to anybody above therank of a poor labouring man, and to whom all the wisdom of the nationswas a closed chamber, who yet in his life, ay! and on his face, boremarks of a spirit elevated into a serene region where there was notumult, and where nothing unclean or vicious could live. A few of theselect spirits of the race may painfully climb on high by thought andeffort. Get God into your hearts, and it will be like filling the roundof a silken balloon with light air; you will soar instead of climbing,and 'dwell on high.' When you are up there, the things below that looklargest will dwindle and 'show,' as Shakespeare has it, 'scarce sogross as beetles,' looked at from the height, and the noises will sinkto a scarcely audible murmur, and you will be able to see the lie ofthe country, and, as it says in the context, 'your eyes shall beholdthe land that is very far off.' Yes! the hilltop is the place for wideviews, and for understanding the course of the serpentine river, and itis the place to discover how small are the mightiest things at thefoot, and how little a way towards the sun the noises of human praiseor censure can ever travel. 'He shall dwell on high,' and he will see along way off, and understand the relative magnitude of things, and thestrife of tongues will have ceased for him.

And more than that is implied in the promise. If we dwell on high, weshall come down with all the more force on what lies below. There is nogreater caricature and misconception of Christianity than that whichtalks as if the spirit that lived in daily communion with God, highabove the world, was remote from the world. Why, how do they makeelectricity nowadays? By the fall of water from a height, and thehigher the level from which it descends, the mightier the force whichit generates in the descent. So nobody will tell on the world like theman who lives above it. The height from which a weight rushes downmeasures the force of its dint where it falls, and of the energy withwhich it comes. 'He shall dwell on high'; and only the man that standsabove the world is able to influence it.

Again, here is another blessing of the Christian life, put in apicturesque form: 'His defence shall be munitions of rocks.' That is apromise of security from assailants, which in its essence is truealways, though its truth may seem doubtful to the superficial estimateof sense. The experience of the South African war showed howimpregnable 'the munitions of rocks' were. The Boers lay safe behindthem, and our soldiers might fire lyddite at them all day and nevertouch them. So, the man who lives in communion with God has between himand all evil the Rock of Ages, and he lies at the back of it, quiet andsafe, whatever foe may rage on the other side of it.

Now, of course, the prophet meant to tell his countrymen that, in thetheocracy of which they were parts, righteousness and nothing else wasthe national security, and if a man or a nation lived in communion withGod, it bore a charmed life. That is a great deal more true, in regardto externals, in the miraculous 'dispensation,' as it is called, of theOld Testament than it is now, and we are not to take over thesepromises in their gross literal form into the Christian era, as if theywere unconditional and absolutely to be fulfilled. But at the sametime, if you reflect how many of our troubles do come to us mainlybecause we break our communion with God, I think we shall see that thisold word has still an application to our daily lives and outwardcirc*mstances. Deduct from any man's life all the discomfort andtrouble and calamity which have come down upon him because he was notin touch with God, and there will not be very much left. Yet there willbe some, and the deepest and sorest of all our sorrows are not to beinterpreted as occasioned by defects in our dwelling in God. Then hasmy text no application to them? Yes, because what still remains ofearthly cares and sorrows and evils would, in communion with God,change its character. The rind is the same; but all the interiorcontents have been, as children will do with a fruit, scooped out, andanother kind of thing has been put inside, so that though the outwardappearance is the same, what is at the heart of it is utterlydifferent. It is no longer some coarse, palate-biting, commonvegetable, but a sweet confection, made by God's own hands, and putinto the gourd, which has been hollowed out and emptied of its evil.That is, perhaps, a very violent figure, but take a plain case asillustration. Suppose two men, each of them going to his wife'sfuneral. The two hearses pass inside the cemetery gates, one after theother. Outwardly the two afflictions are the same, but the one mansays, 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away'; the other man says,'They have taken away my gods, and what shall I do more?' Are the twothings the same? 'He shall dwell on high, his place of defence shall bethe munitions of rocks,' and if we do hide ourselves in the cleft, thenno evil shall befall us, nor any plague come nigh our dwelling.

But there is another truth contained in this great promise, viz., thatin regard to all the real evils which beset men, and these are allsummed up in the one, the temptation to do wrong, their arrows will beblunted, and their force be broken, if we keep our minds in touch withGod through humble communion and lowly obedience. Dear brethren, theway by which we can conquer temptations around, and silenceinclinations within which riotously seek to yield to the temptationsis, I believe, far more by cultivating a consciousness of communionwith God, than by specific efforts directed to the overcoming of agiven and particular temptation. Keep inside the fortress, and nobullet will come near you. Array yourselves in the most elaborateprecautions and step out from its shadow, and every bullet will strikeand wound. Let me keep up my fellowship with God, and I may laugh attemptation. Security depends on continual communion with God by faith,love, aspiration, and obedience.

Now, I need not say more than a word about the last element in thesepromises, the satisfaction of desires. 'His bread shall be given him,and his water shall be sure.' In ancient warfare sieges were usuallyblockades; and strong fortresses were reduced by famine much morefrequently than by assault. Mafeking and Ladysmith and Port Arthur werein most danger from that cause. The promise here assures us that weshall have all supplies in our abode, if God is our abode. Wherever hewho dwells in God goes, he carries with him his provisions, and he doesnot need elaborate arrangements of pipes or reservoirs, because thereis a fountain in the courtyard that the enemy cannot get at. They maystop the springs throughout the land, they may cut off all watersupplies, so that 'there shall be no fruit in the vine, and the labourof the olive shall fail,' but they cannot touch the fountain. 'Hiswater shall be sure,' and he can say, 'In the days of famine I shall besatisfied.'

God is and gives all that we need for sustenance, for growth, forrefreshment, for satisfaction of our desires. Keep near Him, and youwill find in the heart of the devouring fire a shelter, and you willhave all that you want for life here. My text will be true about us, inthe measure in which we do thus dwell, and if we thus dwell here, andso dwell on high, with the munitions of rocks for our fortress, and'the bread of God that came down from heaven' for our food, and thewater of life for our refreshment, then, when there is no longer anyneed of places for defence, the other saying will be true, 'They shallhunger no more, neither thirst any more, for the Lamb which is in themidst of the throne shall feed them … and shall lead them to livingfountains of waters, and God, the Lord, shall wipe away all tears fromtheir eyes.'

THE RIVERS OF GOD

'But there the glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad riversand streams; wherein shall go no galley with oars, neither shallgallant ship pass thereby.'—ISAIAH xxxiii. 21.

One great peculiarity of Jerusalem, which distinguishes it from almostall other historical cities, is that it has no river. Babylon was onthe Euphrates, Nineveh on the Tigris, Thebes on the Nile, Rome on theTiber; but Jerusalem had nothing but a fountain or two, and a well ortwo, and a little trickle and an intermittent stream. The water supplyto-day is, and always has been, a great difficulty, and an insuperablebarrier to the city's ever having a great population.

That deficiency throws a great deal of beautiful light on more than onepassage in the Old Testament. For instance, this same prophet contraststhe living stream, the waters of Siloam, as an emblem of the gentlesway of the divine King of Israel, with 'the river, strong and mighty,'which was the symbol of Assyria; and a psalm that we all know well,sings, 'There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city ofGod,'—a triumphant exclamation which is robbed of half its force,unless we remember that the literal Jerusalem had no river at all. Thevision of living waters flowing from the Temple which Ezekiel saw is avariation of the same theme, and suggests that in the Messianic daysthe deficiency shall be made good, and a mysterious stream shall springup from behind, and flow out from beneath, the temple doors, and thenwith rapid increase and depth and width, but with no tributaries cominginto it, shall run fertilising and life-giving everywhere, till itpours itself into the noisome waters of the sullen sea of death andheals even them.

The same general representation is contained in the words before us.Isaiah's great vision is not, as I take it, of a future, but of whatthe Jerusalem of his day might be to the Israelite if he would live byfaith. The mighty Lord, 'the glorious Lord,' shall Himself 'be a placeof broad rivers and streams.'

I. First, then, this remarkable promise suggests to me how in God thereis the supply of all deficiencies.

The city was perched on its barren, hot rock, with scarcely a drop ofwater, and its inhabitants must often have been tempted to wish thatthere had been running down the sun-bleached bed of the Kedron aflashing stream, such as laved the rock-cut temples and tombs ofThebes. Isaiah says, in effect, 'You cannot see it, but if you willtrust yourselves to God, there will be such a river.'

In like manner every defect in our circ*mstances, everything lacking inour lives—and we all have something which does not correspond with, orwhich falls beneath, our wishes and apparent needs—everything whichseems to hamper us in some aspects, and to sadden us in others, may becompensated and made up if we will hold fast by God; and although tooutward sense we dwell 'in a dry and barren land where no water is,'the eye of faith will see, flashing and flowing all around, therejoicing waters of the divine presence, and they will mirror the sky,and the reflections will teach us that there is a heaven above us.

If there is in any life a gap, that is a prophecy that God will fillit. If there is anything in your circ*mstances in regard to which youoften feel sadly, and are sometimes tempted to feel bitterly, how muchstronger and more fully equipped you would be, if it were otherwise, besure that in God there is that which can supply the want, and that theconsciousness of the want is a merciful summons to seek its supply fromand in Him. If there is a breach in the encircling wall of yourdefences, God has made it in order that He Himself, and not an enemy,may enter your lives and hearts. 'In the year that King Uzziah died, Isaw the Lord sitting on a throne,' and it did not matter though thatmortal king was dead, for the true King was thereby revealed as livingfor ever, just as when the summer foliage, fluttering and green, dropsfrom the tree, the sturdy stem and the strong branches are made themore visible. Our felt deficiencies are doors by which God may come in.Do you sometimes feel as if you would be better if you had easierworldly circ*mstances? Is your health precarious and feeble? Have youto walk a solitary path through this world, and does your heart oftenache for companionship? You can have all your heart's desire fulfilledin deepest reality in God, in the same way that that riverless city hadJehovah for 'a place of broad rivers and streams.'

II. Take another side of the same thought. Here is a revelation of Godand His sweet presence as our true defence.

The river that lay between some strong city and the advancing enemy wasits strongest fortification when the bridge of boats was taken away.One of the ancient cities to which I have referred is described by oneof the prophets as being held as within the coils of a serpent, bywhich he means the various bendings and twistings of the Euphrates,which encompassed Babylon, and made it so hard to be conquered. Theprimitive city of Paris owed its safety in the wild old times when itwas founded, to its being on an island. Venice has lived through manycenturies, because it is girded about by its lagoons. England is whatit is, largely because of 'the streak of silver sea.' So God's city hasa broad moat all round it. The prophet goes on to explain the force ofhis bold figure in regard to the safety promised by it, when he says:'Wherein shall go no galley with oars, neither shall gallant ship passthereby.' Not a keel of the enemy shall dare to cut its waters, norbreak their surface with the wet plash of invading oars. And so, if wewill only knit ourselves with God by simple trust and continualcommunion, it is the plainest prose fact that nothing will harm us, andno foe will ever get near enough to us to shoot his arrows against us.

That is a truth for faith, and not for sense. Many a man, trulycompassed about by God, has to go through fiery trial and sorrow andaffliction. But I venture to appeal to every heart that has known griefmost acutely, protractedly, and frequently, and has borne it in thefaith of God, and with submission to Him; and I know that they who arethe 'experts,' and who alone have the right to speak with authority onthe subject, will confirm the statement that I make, that sorrowsrecognised as sent from God are the truest blessings of our lives. Noreal evil befalls us, because, according to the old superstition thatmoney bewitched was cleansed if it was handed across running water, oursorrows only reach us across the river that defends.

Isaiah is full of symbols of various kinds for the impregnability ofZion. Sometimes, as in my text, he falls back upon the thought of thebright waters of the moat on which no enemy can venture to sail.Sometimes he draws his metaphor from the element opposed to water, andspeaks of a wall of fire round about us. But the simple reality thatlies below all the poetry is, that trust in God brings His presencearound me, and that makes it impossible that any evil should befall me,and certain that whatever does befall me is His messenger, His lovingmessenger, for my good. If we believed that, and lived on the belief,the whole world would be different.

III. Take, again, another aspect of this same thought, which suggeststo us God's presence as our true refreshment and satisfaction.

The waterless city depended on cisterns, and they were often broken,and were always more or less foul, and sometimes the water fell verylow in them. Isaiah says to us: Even when you are living in externalcirc*mstances like that:

'When all created streams are dry,
Thy fulness is the same.'

The fountain of living waters—if we may slightly vary the metaphor ofmy text—never sinks one hair's-breadth in its crystal basin, howevermany thirsty lips may be glued to its edge, and however large may betheir draughts from it. This metaphor, turned to the purpose ofsuggesting how in God every part of our nature finds its appropriatenourishment and refreshment which it does not find anywhere besides,has become one of the commonplaces of the pulpit. Would it were thecommonplace of our lives! It is easy to talk about Him as being thefountain of living waters; it is easy to quote and to admire the wordswhich the Master spoke to the Samaritan woman when He said, 'I wouldhave given thee living water,' and 'the water which I give will be afountain springing up into everlasting life.' We repeat or learn suchsayings, and then what do we do? We go away and try to slake our thirstat broken cisterns, and every draught which we take is like the saltwater from which a shipwrecked-boat's crew in its madness willsometimes not be able to refrain, each drop increasing the ragingthirst and hastening the impending death.

If we believed that God was the broad river from which we could drawand draw, and drink and drink, for ever and ever, should we be clingingwith such desperate tenacity, as most of us exhibit, to earthly goods?Should we whimper with such childish regrets, as most of us nourish,when these goods are diminished or withdrawn? Should we live as weconstantly do, day in and day out, seldom applying ourselves to the onesource of strength and peace and refreshment, and trying, like fools,to find what apart from Him the world can never give? The rivers innorthern Tartary all lose themselves in the sand. Not one of them hasvolume or force enough to get to the sea. And the rivers from which wetry to drink are sand-choked long before our thirst is slaked. So, ifwe are wise, we shall take Isaiah's hint, and go where the water flowsabundantly, and flows for ever.

IV. There is a last point that I would also suggest, namely, themanifold variety in the results of God's presence.

It shapes itself into many forms, according to our different needs.'The glorious Lord shall be a place of broad rivers.' Yes; but noticethe next words—'and streams.' Now, the word which is there translated'streams' means little channels for irrigation and other purposes, bywhich the water of some great river is led off into the melon patches,and gardens, and plantations, and houses of the inhabitants. So we havenot only the picture of the broad river in its unity, but also that ofthe thousand little rivulets in their multiplicity, and in theirdirection to each man's plot of ground. It is the same idea that is inthe psalm which I have already quoted: 'There is a river, the streamswhereof make glad the city of our God.' You can divide the river upinto very tiny trickles, according to the moment's small wants. If youmake but a narrow channel, you will get but a shallow streamlet; and ifyou make your channel broad and deep, you will get much of Him.

It is of no profit that we live on the river's bank if we let itswaters go rolling and flashing past our door, or our gardens, or ourlips. Unless you have a sluice, by which you can take them off intoyour own territory, and keep the shining blessing to be the source offertility in your own garden, and of coolness and refreshment to yourown thirst, your garden will be parched, and your lips will crack.There is a 'broad river,' and there are also 'streams'; which, beingbrought down to its simplest expression, just comes to this—that wemay and must make God our very own property. It is useless to say'our God,' 'the God of Israel,' 'the God of the Church,' 'the GreatCreator,' 'the Universal Father,' and so on, unless we say 'my Godand my Saviour,' 'my Refuge and my Strength.' How much of theriver have you dipped up in your own vessel? How much of it have youtaken with which to water your own vineyard and refresh your own souls?

The time comes when Isaiah's prophecy shall be perfectly fulfilled,according to the great words in the closing hook of Scripture, aboutthe river of the water of life proceeding out of the Throne of God andof the Lamb. But, till that time comes, we do not need to wanderthirsty in a desert; but all round us we may hear the mighty watersrolling everywhere, and drink deep draughts of delight and supply forall our needs, from the very presence of God Himself.

JUDGE, LAWGIVER, KING

'For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our
King; He will save us.'—ISAIAH xxxiii. 22.

There is reference here to the three forms of government in Israel: byMoses, by Judges, by Kings. In all, Israel was a Theocracy. Isaiahlooks beyond the human representative to the true divine Reality.

I. A truth for us, in both its more specific and its more general forms.

(a) Specific. Christ is all these three for us—Authority; His willlaw; Defender.

(b) More general. Everything that human beings are to us, they are byderivation from Him—and He sums in Himself all forms of good andblessing. Every name among men for any kind of helper belongs to Him.All tender, helpful relationships are but 'broken lights of Thee.'

II. A lesson hard to learn and to remember.

One knows not whether it is harder for faith to look beyond the visiblehelpers or delights to the Unseen Real One, or to look through tears,when these are gone, and to see Him clearly filling an otherwise emptyfield of vision. When we have a palpable prop to lean on, it isdifficult to be clearly aware that, unless the palpable support wereheld up by the Unseen, it could not be a prop, and to lean on it wouldbe like resting one's weight on a staff stuck in yielding mud. But itis no less difficult to tell our hearts that we have all that we everhad, when what we had leaned on for many happy days and found to holdus up is stricken from beneath us. Present, the seen lawgiver, judge,or king stays the eyes that should travel past him to God Himself;removed, his absence makes a great emptiness, in whose vacuity it isdifficult for faith to discern the real presence of Him who is all thatthe departed seemed to be. The painted glass stays the eye; shattered,it lets in only the sight of a void and far-off sky.

Israel could not breathe freely in the rarefied air on the heights of atheocracy, and demanded a visible king. It had its desire, and as aconsequence, 'leanness in its soul.' Christendom has found it asdifficult to do without visible embodiments of authority, law, defence,and hence many evils and corruptions in the institutions and practicesof organised Christianity.

III. A conviction which makes strong and blessed.

To have dominant in our minds, and operative through our lives, thesettled conviction that God in Christ is for us judge, lawgiver, andking, and that the purpose of all these offices or relationships isthat 'He will save us' is the secret of tranquillity, the fountain ofcourage, the talisman which makes life all different and us who live init different. Fear cannot survive where that conviction rules andfortifies a heart. We shall not be slavish adherents of men if we areaccustomed to take our orders from our Lawgiver. Earthly prizes ordignities will not dazzle eyes that have seen the King in His beauty.We shall pay little heed to men's judgments if there flames ever beforeconscience the thought, 'He that judgeth me is the Lord.' 'He will saveus'; who can destroy what His hand is stretched out to preserve? 'IfGod is for us, who is against us? It is God that justifieth; who is Hethat condemneth?'

MIRACLES OF HEALING

'Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deafshall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and thetongue of the dumb sing.'—ISAIAH xxxv. 5,6.

'Then'—when? The previous verse answers, 'Behold, your God will come,He will come and save you.' And what or when is that 'coming'? A glanceat the place which this grand hymn occupies in the series of Isaiah'sprophecies answers that question. It stands at the close of the firstpart of these, and is the limit of the prophet's vision. He has beensetting forth the Lord's judgments upon all heathen, and Hisdeliverance of Israel from its oppressors; and the 'coming' is Hismanifestation for that double purpose. Before its flashing brightness,barrenness is changed into verdure, diseases that lame men's powersvanish, the dry and thirsty land gleams with the shining light ofsudden streams. Across the wilderness stretches a broad path, raisedhigh above the bewildering monotony of pathless sand, too plain to bemissed, too lofty for wild beasts' suppleness to spring upon it: alongit troop with song and gladness the returning exiles, with hope intheir hearts as they journey to Zion, where they find a joyful homeundimmed by sorrow, and in which sighing and sorrow are heard and feltno more.

Now this is poetry, no doubt; the golden light of imagination suffusesit all, but it is poetry with a solid meaning in it. It is not a mereplay of fancy exalting the 'coming of the Lord' by heaping together allimages that suggest the vanishing of evil and the coming of good. Ifthere is a basis of facts in it, what are they? What is the period ofthat emphatic 'then' at the beginning of our text? The return of theJews from exile? Yes, certainly; but some greater event shines throughthe words. Some future restoration of that undying race to their ownland? Yes, possibly, again we answer, but that does not exhaust theprophecy. The great coming of God to save in the gift of His Son? Yes,that in an eminent degree. The second coming of Christ? Yes, that too.All the events in which God has come for men's deliverance are shadowedhere; for in them all, the same principles are at work, and in all,similar effects have followed. But mainly the mission and work of JesusChrist is pointed at here—whether in its first stage of Incarnationand Passion, or in its second stage of Coming in glory, 'the secondtime without sin, unto salvation.'

And the bodily diseases here enumerated are symbols, just as Christ'smiracles were symbolical, just as every language has used the body as aparable of the soul, and has felt that there is such a harmony betweenthem that the outward and visible does correspond to and shadow theinward and spiritual.

I think, then, that we may fairly take these four promises as bringingout very distinctly the main characteristics of the blessed effects ofChrist's work in the world. The great subject of these words is thepower of Christ in restoring to men the spiritual capacities which areall but destroyed. We have here three classes of bodily infirmitiesrepresented as cured at the date of that blessed 'Then.' Blindness anddeafness are defects in perception, and stand for incapacitiesaffecting the powers of knowledge. Lameness affects powers of motion,and stands for incapacity of activity. Dumbness prevents speech, andstands for incapacity of utterance.

I. Christ as the restorer of the powers of knowing.

Bodily diseases are taken to symbolise spiritual infirmities.

Mark the peculiarities of Scripture anthropology as brought out in thisview of humanity:—-

Its gloomy views of man's actual condition.

Its emphatic declaration that that condition is abnormal.

Its confidence of effecting a cure.

Its transcendentally glorious conception of what man may become.

Men are blind and deaf; that is to say, their powers of perception aredestroyed by reason of disease. What a picture! The great spiritualrealities are all unseen, as Elisha's young servant was blind to thefiery chariots that girdled the prophet. Men are blind to the starrytruths that shine as silver in the firmament. They are deaf to theVoice which is gone out to the ends of the earth, and yet they haveeyes and ears, conscience, intuitions. They possess organs, but theseare powerless.

And while the blindness is primarily in regard to spiritual andreligious truths, it is not confined to these, but wherever spiritualblindness has fallen, the whole of a man's knowledge will suffer. Therewill be blindness to the highest philosophy, to the true basis andmotive of morals, to true psychology, to the noblest poetry. All willbe of the earth, earthy. You cannot strike religion out of men'sthoughts, as you might take a stone out of a wall and leave the wallstanding; you take out foundation and mortar, and make a ruinous heap.

I know, of course, that there may be much mental activity without anyperception of spiritual realities, but all knowledge which is notpurely mathematical or physical suffers by the absence of suchperception. All this blindness is caused by sin.

Christ is the giver of spiritual sight. He restores the faculty bytaking away the hindrance to its exercise. Further, He gives sightbecause He gives light.

But turn to facts of experience, and consider the mental apathy ofheathenism as contrasted with the energy of mind within the limits ofChristendom. Greece, of course, is a brilliant exception, but eventhere (1) what of the conceptions of God? (2) what of the effect of thewise on the mass of the nation? Think of the languid intellectual lifeof the East. Think of the energy of thought which has been workingwithin the limits of Christianity. Think of Christian theology comparedwith the mythologies of idolatry. And the contrast holds not only inthe religious field but all over the field of thought.

There is no such sure way of diffusing a culture which will refine andstrengthen all the powers of mind as to diffuse the knowledge of Jesus,and to make men love Him. In His light they will see light.

To know Him and to keep company with Him is 'a liberal education,' asis seen in many a lowly life, all uninfluenced by what is calledlearning, but enriched with the finest flowers of 'culture,' and havinggathered them all in Christ's garden.

Christ is the true light; in Him do we see. Without Him, what is allother knowledge? He is central to all, like genial heat about the rootsof a plant. There is other knowledge than that of sense; and for thehighest of all our knowledge we depend on Him who is the Word. In thatregion we can neither observe nor experiment. In that region facts mustbe brought by some other means than we can command, and we can but drawmore or less accurate deductions from them. Logic without revelation islike a spinning-machine without any cotton, busy drawing out nothing.Here we have to listen. 'The entrance of Thy words giveth light.' YourGod shall come and save you; then, by that divine coming and saving,'the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shallbe unstopped.'

II. Christ as the Restorer of the Powers of Action.

Again turn to heathenism, see the apathetic indolence, theunprogressive torpor, 'Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle ofCathay.' Sin lames for service of God; it leaves the lower nature freeto act, and that freedom paralyses all noble activity.

Christianity brings the Energising of the Soul—

(a) By its reference of everything to God—our powers and ourcirc*mstances and our activities.

(b) By its prominence given to Retribution. It speaks not merely ofvita brevis—but of vita brevis and an Eternity which grows out ofit.

(c) By its great motive for work—love.

(d) By the freedom It brings from the weight that paralysed.

It takes away sin. Lifting that dreary load from our backs, it makes usjoyful, strong, and agile.

The true view of Christianity is not, as some of its friends, and someof its foes, mistakenly concur in supposing, that it weakens interestin, and energy on, the Present, but that it heightens the power ofaction. A life plunged in that jar of oxygen will glow with redoubledbrilliance.

III. Christ as the Restorer of Powers of Utterance.

The silence that broods over the world. It is dumb for all holy,thankful words; with no voice to sing, no utterance of joyful praise.

Think of the effect of Christianity on human speech, giving it newthemes, refining words and crowding them with new meanings. Translatethe Bible into any language, and that language is elevated and enriched.

Think of the effect on human praise. That great treasure of Christianpoetry.

Think of the effect on human gladness. Christ fills the heart with suchreasons for praise, and makes life one song of joy.

Thus Christ is the Healer.

To men seeking for knowledge, He offers a higher gift—healing. And asfor true knowledge and culture, in Christ, and in Christ alone, willyou find it.

Let your culture be rooted in Him. Let your Religion influence all yournature.

The effects of Christianity are its best evidence. What else does thelike of that which it does? Let Jannes and Jambres 'do the same withtheir enchantments.' We may answer the question, 'Art Thou He thatshould come?' as Christ did, 'The blind receive their sight, and thelame walk; the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear.'

The perfect Restoration will be in heaven. Then, indeed, when our soulsare freed from mortal grossness, and the thin veils of sense are rentand we behold Him as He is, then when they rest not day nor night, butwith ever renewed strength run to His commandments, then when He hasput into their lips a new song—'then shall the eyes of the blind beopened, and the ears of the deaf be unstopped; then shall the lame manleap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing.'

MIRAGE OR LAKE

'For in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in thedesert. And the glowing sand shall become a pool, and the thirstyground springs of water.' ISAIAH xxxv. 6, 7.

What a picture is painted in these verses! The dreary wildernessstretches before us, monotonous, treeless, in some parts bearing ascanty vegetation which flourishes in early spring and dies beforefierce summer heats, but for the most part utterly desolate, the sandblinding the eyes, the ground cracked and gaping as if athirst for therain that will not fall; over it the tantalising mirage dancing inmockery, and amid the hot sand the yelp of the jackals. What does thisdead land want? One thing alone—water. Could that be poured upon it,all would be changed; nothing else will do any good. And it comes.Suddenly it bursts from the sand, and streams bring life along thedesert. It gathers into placid lakes, with their whispering reeds andnodding rushes, and the thick cool grass round their margins. The foulbeasts that wandered through dry places seeking rest are drowned out.So full of blessed change will be the coming of the Lord, of which allthis context speaks. Mark that this burst of waters is when 'the Lordshall come,' and that it is the reason for the restoration of lostpowers in men, and especially for a chorus of praise from dumb lips.This, then, is the central blessing. It is not merely a joyfultransformation, but it is the reason for a yet more joyfultransformation (chap. xliv. 3). Recall Christ's words to the Samaritanwoman and in the Temple on the great day of the Feast.

Then this is pre-eminently a description of the work of Christ.

I. Christ brings the Supernatural Communication of a New Life.

We may fairly regard this metaphor as setting forth the very deepestcharacteristic of the gospel. Consider man's need, as typified in theimage of the desert. Mark that the supply for that need must come fromwithout; that coming from without, it must be lodged in the heart ofthe race; that the supernatural communication of a new life and poweris the very essence of the work of Christ; that such a communication isthe only thing adequate to produce these wondrous effects.

II. This new life slakes men's thirst.

The pangs and tortures of the waterless wilderness. The thirst of humansouls; they long, whether they know it or not, for—

Truth for Understanding.
Love for Heart.
Basis and Guidance for Will and Effort.
Cleansing for Conscience.
Adequate objects for their powers.

They need that all these should be in One.

The gnawing pain of our thirst is not a myth; it is the secret of man'srestlessness. We are ever on the march, not only because change is thelaw of the world, nor only because effort and progress are the law forcivilised men, but because, like caravans in the desert, we have tosearch for water.

In Christ it is slaked; all is found there.

III. The Communication of this New Life turns Illusions into Realities.

'The mirage shall become a pool.' Life without Christ is but a longillusion. 'Sin makes a mock of fools.' How seldom are hopes fulfilled,and how still less frequently are they, when fulfilled, as good as wepainted them! The prismatic splendours of the rain bow, which gleambefore us and which we toil to catch, are but grey rain-drops whencaught. Joys attract and, attained, have incompleteness and a tang ofbitterness. The fish is never so heavy when landed on the sward as itfelt when struggling on our hook. 'All is vanity'—yes, if creaturesand things temporal are pursued as our good. But nothing is vanity, ifwe have the life in us which Jesus comes to give. His Gospel givessolid, unmingled joys, sure promises which are greater when fulfilledthan when longed for, certain hopes whose most brilliant colours areduller than those of the realities. The half has not been told of the'things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.'

Sure Promises.

A certain Hope.

IV. This New Life gives Fruitfulness. It stimulates all our nature. Agodless life is in a very tragic sense barren, and a wilderness. Thereis in it nothing really worth doing, nor anything that will last.Christ gives Power, Motive, Pattern, and makes a life of holy activitypossible. The works done by men apart from Him are, if measured by thewhole relations and capacities of the doers, unfruitful works, howeverthey may seem laden with ruddy clusters. It is only lives into whichthat river of God which is full of water flows that bring forth fruit,and whose fruit remains. The desert irrigated becomes a garden of theLord.

Note, too, how this river drowns out wild beasts. The true way ofconquering evil is to turn the river into it. Cultivate, and weeds die.The expulsive power of a new affection is the most potent instrumentfor perfecting character.

What is the use of water if we do not drink? We may perish with thirsteven on the river's bank. 'If any man thirst, let him come to Me anddrink.'

THE KING'S HIGHWAY

'And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called theway of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall befor those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. Nolion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, itshall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there.'—ISAIAHxxxv. 8, 9.

We can fancy what it is to be lost in a forest where a traveller mayride round in a circle, thinking he is advancing, till he dies. But itis as easy to be lost in a wilderness, where there is nothing to see,as in a wood where one can see nothing. And there is something evenmore ghastly in being lost below the broad heavens in the open face ofday than 'in the close covert of innumerous boughs.' The monotonousswells of the sand-heaps, the weary expanse stretching right away tothe horizon, no land-marks but the bleaching bones of former victims,the gigantic sameness, the useless light streaming down, and in thecentre one tiny, black speck toiling vainly, rushing madly hither andthither—a lost man—till he desperately flings himself down and letsdeath bury him, that is the one picture suggested by the text. Theother is of that same wilderness, but across it a mighty king has flungup a broad, lofty embankment, a highway raised above the sands, cuttingacross them so conspicuously that even an idiot could not help seeingit, so high above the land around that the lion's spring falls farbeneath it, and the supple tiger skulks baffled at its base. It is likeone of those roads which the terrible energy of conquering Rome carriedstraight as an arrow from the milestone in the Forum over mountains,across rivers and deserts, morasses and forests, to flash along themthe lightning of her legions, and over whose solid blocks we travelto-day in many a land.

The prophet has seen in his vision the blind and deaf cured, thecapacities of human nature destroyed by sin restored. He has told usthat this miraculous change has come from the opening of a spring ofnew life in the midst of man's thirsty desert, and now he gets beforeus, in yet another image, another aspect of the glorious change whichis to follow that coming of the Lord to save, which filled the farthesthorizon of his vision. The desert shall have a plain path on whichthose diseased men who have been healed journey. Life shall no longerbe trackless, but God will, by His coming, prepare paths that we shouldwalk in them; and as He has given the lame man power to walk, so willhe also provide the way by which His happy pilgrims will journey totheir home.

I. The pathless wandering of godless lives.

The old, old comparison of life to a journey is very natural and verypathetic. It expresses life's ceaseless change; every day carries usinto a new scene, every day the bends of the road shut out some happyvalley where we fain would have rested, every day brings new faces, newassociations, new difficulties, and even if the same recur, yet it iswith such changes that they are substantially new, and of each day'smarch it is true, even when life is most monotonous, that 'ye have notpassed this way heretofore.' It expresses life's ceaseless effort andconstant plodding. To-day's march does not secure to-morrow's rest,but, however footsore and weary, we have to move on, like some childdragged along by a careless nurse. It expresses the awful crumblingaway of life beneath us. The road has an end, and each step takes usnearer to it. The numbers that face us on the milestones slowly andsurely decrease; we pass the last and on we go, tramp, tramp, and wecannot stop till we reach the narrow chamber, cold and dark, where, atany rate, we have got the long march over.

But to many men, the journey of life is one which has no definitedirection deliberately chosen, which has no all-inclusive aim, whichhas no steady progress. There may be much running hither and thither,but it is as aimless as the marchings of a fly upon a window, as busyand yet as uncertain as that of the ants who bustle about on anant-hill.

Now that is the idea, which our text implies, of all the activity of agodless life, that it is not a steady advance to a chosen goal, but arushing up and down in a trackless desert, with many immense exertionsall thrown away. Then, in contrast, it puts this great thought: thatGod has come to us and made for us a path for our feet.

II. The highway that God casts up.

Of course that coming we take to be Christ's coming, and we have justto consider the manner in which His coming fulfils this great promise,and has made in the trackless wilderness a way for us to walk in.

1. Christ gives us a Definite Aim for Life. I know, of course, that menmay have this apart from Him, definite enough in all conscience. Butsuch aims are unworthy of men's whole capacities. Not one of them isfit to be made the exclusive, all-embracing purpose of a life, and,taken together, they are so multifarious that in their diversity theycome to be equal to none. How many we have all had! Most of us are likemen who zig-zag about, chasing after butterflies! Nor are any such aimscertain to be reached during life, and they all are certain to be lostat death.

Godless men are enticed on like some dumb creature lured toslaughter-house by a bunch of fodder—once inside, down comes thepole-axe.

But Christ gives us a definite aim which is worthy of a man, whichincludes all others; which binds this life and the next into one.

2. Christ gives us distinct knowledge of whither we should go. It isnot enough to give general directions; we need to know what our nextstep is to be. It is of no avail that we see the shining turrets faroff on the hill, if all the valleys between are unknown and trackless.Well: we have Him to point us our course. He is the exemplar—the trueideal of human nature. Hour by hour His pattern fits to our lives.True, we shall often be in perplexity, but that perplexity will clearitself by patient thought, by holding our wills in suspense till Hespeaks, and by an honest wish to go right. There will no longer bedoubt as to what is our law, though there may be as to the applicationof it. We are not to be guided by men's maxims, nor by the standardsand patterns round us, but by Him.

3. Christ gives means by which we can reach the aim. He does so bysupplying a stimulus to our activity, in the motive of His love; by theremoval of the hindrances arising from sin, through His redeeming work;by the gifts of new life from His Spirit.

'The labour of the foolish wearieth every one of them, because heknoweth not how to go to the city.' But he that follows Jesus treadsthe right way to the city of habitation.

4. Christ goes with us. The obscure words, 'It shall be for those' areby some rendered, 'He shall be with them,' and we may take them so, asreferring to the presence with His happy pilgrims of the Lord Himself.Perhaps Isaiah may have been casting back a thought to the desertmarch, where the pillar led the host. But at all events we have thesame companion to 'talk with us by the way,' and make 'our hearts burnwithin us,' as had the two disconsolate pedestrians on the road toEmmaus. It is Jesus who goes before us, whether He leads us to greenpastures and waters of quietness or through valleys of the shadow ofdeath, and we can be smitten by no evil, since He is with us.

III. The travellers upon God's highway.

Two conditions are laid down in the text. One is negative-the uncleancan find no footing there. It is 'the way of holiness,' not onlybecause holiness is in some sense the goal to which it leads, but stillmore, because only holy feet can tread it, holy at least in thetravellers' aspiration and inward consecration, though still needing tobe washed daily. One is positive—it is 'the simple' who shall not errtherein. They who distrust themselves and their own skill to find orforce a path through life's jungle, and trust themselves to higherguidance, are they whose feet will be kept in the way.

No lion or ravenous beast can spring or creep up thereon. Simplekeeping on Christ's highway elevates us above temptations and evils ofall sorts, whether nightly prowlers or daylight foes.

This generation is boasting or complaining that old landmarks areblotted out, ancient paths broken, footmarks obliterated, stars hid,and mist shrouding the desert. But Christ still guides, and His promisestill holds good: 'He that followeth Me shall not walk in the darkness,but shall have the light of life.' The alternative for each 'travellerbetween life and death' is to tread in His footsteps or to 'wander inthe wilderness in a solitary way, hungry and thirsty,' with faintingsoul. Let us make the ancient prayer ours: 'See if there be any wickedway in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.'

WHAT LIFE'S JOURNEY MAY BE

'The redeemed shall walk there: And the ransomed of the Lord shallreturn, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon theirheads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shallflee away.'—ISAIAH XXXV 9,10.

We have here the closing words of Isaiah's prophecy. It has beensteadily rising, and now it has reached the summit. Men restored to alltheir powers, a supernatural communication of a new life, a pathway forour journey—these have been the visions of the preceding verses, andnow the prophet sees the happy pilgrims flocking along the raised way,and hears some faint strains of their glad music, and he marks them,rank after rank, entering the city of their solemnities, and throughthe gates can behold them invested with joy and gladness, while sorrowand sighing, like some night-loving birds shrinking from the blaze ofthat better sun which lights the city, spread their black wings andflee away.

The noble rhythm of our English version rises here to a strain ofpathetic music, the very cadence of which stirs thoughts that lie toodeep for tears, and one shrinks from taking these lofty words ofimmortal hope—which life's sorrows have interpreted, I trust, for manyof us—as the text of a sermon. But I would fain try whether some oftheir gracious sweetness and power may not survive even our rudehandling of them.

The prophet here is not only speaking of the literal return of hisbrethren from captivity. The place which this prophecy holds at thevery close of the book, the noble loftiness of the language, the entireabsence of any details or specific allusions which compel reference tothe Captivity, would be sufficient of themselves to make us suspectthat there was very much more here. The structure of prophecy ismisunderstood unless it be recognised that all the history of Israelwas itself a prediction, a great supernatural system of types andshadows, and that all the interventions of the divine hand are one inprinciple, and all foretell the great intervention of redeeming love,in the person of Jesus Christ. Nor need that be unlikely in the eyes ofany who believe that Christ's coming is the centre of the world'shistory, and that there is in prophecy a supernatural element. We arenot reading our own fancies into Scripture; we are not using, inallowable freedom, words which had another meaning altogether, to adornour own theology, but we are apprehending the innermost meaning ofprophecy, when we see in it Christ and His salvation (1 Peter i. 10).

We have then here a picture of what Christ does for us weary journeyerson life's road,

I. Who are the travellers?

'Redeemed,' 'ransomed of the Lord.' Israel had in its past history onegreat act, under the imagery of which all future deliverances wereprophesied. The events of the Exodus were the great storehouse fromwhich prophets drew the clothing of their brightest hopes; and that isa lesson for us of how to use the history of God's past deliverances.They believed that each transitory act was a revelation of anunchanging purpose and an unexhausted power, and that it would berepeated over and over again. Experience supplied the material out ofwhich Hope wove its fairest webs, but Faith drove the shuttle. Here thenames which describe the pilgrims come from the old story. They areslaves, purchased or otherwise set free from captivity by a divine act.The epithets are transferred to the New Testament, and become thestanding designation for those who have been delivered by Christ.

That designation, 'ransomed of the Lord,' opens out into the greatevangelical thoughts which are the very life-blood of vitalChristianity.

Emancipation from bondage is the first thing that we all need. 'He thatcommitteth sin is the slave of sin.' An iron yoke presses on every neck.

The needed emancipation can only be obtained by a ransom price. Thequestion of to whom the ransom is paid is not in the horizon of prophetor apostle or of Jesus Himself, in using this metaphor. What isstrongly in their minds is that a great surrender must be greatly madeby the Emancipator.

Jesus conceived of Himself as giving 'His life a ransom for the many.'

The emancipation must be a divine act. It surpasses any created power.

There can be no happy pilgrims unless they are first set free.

II. The end of the journey.

'They shall come to Zion.' It is one great distinctive characteristicand blessedness of the Christian conception of the future that it takesaway from it all the chilling sense of strangeness, arising fromignorance and lack of experience, and invests it with the attraction ofbeing the mother-city of us all. So the pilgrims are not travelling adreary road into the common darkness, but are like colonists who visitEngland for the first time, and are full of happy anticipations of'going home,' though they have never seen its shores.

That conception of the future perfect state as a 'city' includes theideas of happy social life, of a settled polity, of stability andsecurity. The travellers who were often solitary on the march will allbe together there. The nomads, who had to leave their camping-placeeach morning and let the fire that cheered them in the night die downinto a little ring of grey ashes, will 'go no more out,' but yet makeendless progress within the gates. The defenceless travellers, who werefain to make the best 'laager' they could, and keep vigilant watch forhuman and bestial enemies crouching beyond the ring of light from thecamp-fires, are safe at last, and they that swallowed them up shall befar away.

Contrast the future outlook of the noblest minds in heathenism with thecalm certainty which the gospel has put within the reach of thesimplest! 'Blessed are your eyes, for they see.'

III. The joy of the road.

The pilgrims do not plod wearily in silence, but, like the tribes goingup to the feasts, burst out often, as they journey, into song. They arelike Jehoshaphat's soldiers, who marched to the fight with the singersin the van chanting 'Give thanks unto the Lord, for His mercy endurethfor ever.' The Christian life should be a joyful life, ever echoingwith the 'high praises of God.' However difficult the march, there isgood reason for song, and it helps to overcome the difficulties. 'Amerry heart goes all the day, a sad heart tires in a mile.' Why shouldthe ransomed pilgrims sing? For present blessings, for deliverance fromthe burden of self and sin, for communion with God, for light shed onthe meaning of life, and for the sure anticipation of future bliss.

'Everlasting joy on their heads.' Other joys are transitory. It is notonly 'we poets' who 'in our youth begin with gladness,' whereof 'comethin the end despondency and madness'; but, in a measure, these are theoutlines of the sequence in all godless lives. The world's festalwreathes wilt and wither in the hot fumes of the banqueting house, and'the crown of pride shall be trodden under foot.' But joy of Christ'sgiving 'shall remain,' and even before we sit at the feast, we may haveour brows wreathed with a garland 'that fadeth not away.'

IV. The perfecting of joy at last.

'They shall obtain joy and gladness': but had they not had it on theirheads as they marched? Yes; but at last they have it in perfect measureand manner. The flame that burned but dimly in the heavy air of earthflashes up into new brightness in the purer atmosphere of the city.

And one part of its perfecting is the removal of all its opposites.Sorrow ends when sin and the discipline that sin needs have ended. 'Theinhabitant shall not say: I am sick; the people that dwell thereinshall be forgiven their iniquity.' Sighing ends when weariness, loss,physical pain, and all the other ills that flesh is heir to have ceasedto vex and weigh upon the spirit. Life purges the dross of imperfectionfrom character. Death purges the alloy of sorrow and sighing from joy,and leaves the perfected spirit possessor of the pure gold of perfectand eternal gladness.

THE TRIUMPH OF FAITH

'And Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, andread it: and Hezekiah went up unto the house of the Lord, and spread itbefore the Lord. 15. And Hezekiah prayed unto the Lord, saying, 16. OLord of hosts, God of Israel, that dwellest between the cherubims, Thouart the God, even Thou alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth: Thouhast made heaven and earth. 17. Incline Thine ear, O Lord, and hear;open Thine eyes, O Lord, and see: and hear all the words ofSennacherib, which hath sent to reproach the living God. 18. Of atruth, Lord, the kings of Assyria have laid waste all the nations, andtheir countries, 19. And have cast their gods into the fire: for theywere no gods, but the work of men's hands, wood and stone: thereforethey have destroyed them. 20. Now therefore, O Lord our God, save usfrom his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that Thouart the Lord, even Thou only. 21. Then Isaiah the son of Amoz sent untoHezekiah, saying. Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Whereas thou hastprayed to Me against Sennacherib king of Assyria…. 33. Therefore thussaith the Lord concerning the king of Assyria, He shall not come intothis city, nor shoot an arrow there, nor come before it with shields,nor cast a bank against it. 34. By the way that he came, by the sameshall he return, and shall not come into this city, saith the Lord. 35.For I will defend this city to save it for mine own sake, and for myservant David's sake. 36. Then the angel of the Lord went forth, andsmote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred and fourscore and fivethousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they wereall dead corpses. 37. So Sennacherib king of Assyria departed, and wentand returned, and dwelt at Nineveh. 38. And it came to pass, as he wasworshipping in the house of Nisroch his god, that Adrammelech andSharezer his sons smote him with the sword; and they escaped into theland of Armenia: and Esarhaddon his you reigned in his stead.'—ISAIAHxxxvii. 14-21, 33-38.

Is trust in Jehovah folly or wisdom? That was the question raised bySennacherib's invasion. A glance at the preceding chapters will showhow the high military official, 'the rabshakeh,' or chief of theofficers, shaped all his insolent and yet skilful mixture of threatsand promises so as to demonstrate the vanity of trust in Egypt or inJehovah, or in any but 'the great king.' Isaiah had been labouring tolift his countrymen to the height of reliance on Jehovah alone, and nowthe crucial test of the truth of his contention had come. On the onehand were Sennacherib and his host, flushed with victory, and sure ofcrushing this puny kinglet Hezekiah and his obstinate little city,perched on its rock. On the other was nothing but a prophet's word.Where is the stronger force? And does political prudence dictatereliance on the Unseen or on the visible? The moment is the crisis ofIsaiah's work, and this narrative has been placed, with true insightinto its importance, at the close of the first half of this book.

To grasp the significance of the text the preceding events have to beremembered. Hezekiah's kingdom had been overrun, and tribute exactedfrom him. The rabshakeh had been sent from the main body of theAssyrian army, which was down at Lachish in the Philistine low countryon the road to Egypt, in order to try to secure Jerusalem by promisesand threats, since it was too important a post to leave in the rear, ifEgypt was to be invaded. That attempt having failed, and the Egyptianforces being in motion, this new effort was made to induce Hezekiah tosurrender. A letter was sent, whether accompanied by any considerablearmed force or no does not appear. At this point the narrative begins.It may be best studied as an illustration of the trial of faith, itsrefuge, its pleading, and its deliverance.

I. Note the trial of faith. Rabshakeh had derided the obstinateconfidence in Jehovah, which kept these starving men on the wallsgrimly silent in spite of his coaxing. The letter of Sennacherib harpson the same string. It is written in a tone of assumed friendlyremonstrance, and lays out with speciousness the apparent grounds forcalling trust in Jehovah absurdity. There are no threats in it. It isall an appeal to common sense and political prudence. It marshalsundeniable facts. Experience has shown the irresistible power ofAssyria. There have been plenty of other little nations which havetrusted in their local deities, and what has become of them? Barbarousnames are flourished in Hezekiah's face, and their wasted dominions arepointed to as warnings against his committing a parallel folly. Thereis nothing in the letter which might not have been said by a friend,and nothing which was not said by the Jews who had lost their faith intheir God. It was but the putting into plain words of what'common-sense' and faint faith had often whispered to Hezekiah. Thevery absence of temper or demand in the letter gives it an aspect ofthat 'sweet reasonableness' so dear to sense-bound souls.

Mutatis mutandis, the letter may stand for a specimen of thearguments which worldly prudence brings to shake faith, in all ages.We, too, are assailed by much that sounds most forcible from the pointof view of mere earthly calculation. Sennacherib does not lie inboasting of his victories. He and his shoals of soldiers are very realand potent. It does seem madness for one little kingdom to stand out,and all the more so because its king is cooped up in his city, as thecuneiform inscription proudly tells, 'like a bird in a cage,' and allthe rest of his land is in the conqueror's grip. They who look only atthe things seen cannot but think the men of faith mad. They who look atthe things unseen cannot but know that the men of sense are fools. Thelatter elaborately prove that the former are impotent, but they haveleft out one factor in their calculations, and that is God. One man andGod at his back are stronger than Sennacherib and all his mercenaries.

II. Note the refuge of tempted faith. What was Hezekiah to do with thecrafty missive? It was hoped that he would listen to reason, and comedown from his perch. But he neither yielded nor took counsel with hisservants, but, like a devout man, went into the house of the Lord, andspread the letter before the Lord. It would have gone hard with him ifhe had not been to the house of the Lord many a time before. It is noteasy to find our way thither for the first time, when our eyes areblinded by tears or our way darkened by calamities. But faithinstinctively turns to God when anything goes wrong, because it hasbeen accustomed to turn to Him when all was right, according to theworld's estimate of right and wrong. Whither should the burdened heartbetake itself but to Him who daily bears our burdens? The impulse totell God all troubles is as truly a mark of the faithful soul as theimpulse to tell everything to the beloved is the life-breath of love.

The act of spreading the letter before the Lord is an eloquent symbol,which some prosaic and learned commentators have been dull enough tocall gross, and to compare to Buddhist praying-mills! Its meaning isexpressed in the prayer which follows. It is faith's appeal to Hisknowledge. It is faith's casting of its burden on the Lord. Our faithis of little power to bless, unless it impels us to take God intoconfidence in regard to everything which troubles us. If the letter isnot grave enough to be spread before Him, it is too small to annoyus. If we truly live in fellowship with God, we shall find ourselvesin His house, with the cause of our trouble in our hands, before wehave time to think. Instinct acts more quickly than reason, and, if ourfaith be vital, it will not need to be argued into speaking to God ofall that weighs upon us.

III. Note the pleading of faith. Hezekiah's address to God is no mereformal recapitulation of divine names, but is the effort of faith tograsp firmly the truths which the enemy denies, and on which it builds.So considered, the accumulation of titles in verse 16 is veryinstructive, and shows how a trustful soul puts forth the energy of itsfaith in summoning to mind the great aspects of the divine name asbulwarks against suggested fears, and bases of supplication. Hezekiahappeals to 'the God of Hosts,' the Ruler of all the embattled forces ofthe universe, as well as of the armies of angels. What is Sennacherib'sarray compared with these? He appeals to the 'God of Israel,' aspleading the ancient relationship, which binds the unchangeableGuardian of the people to be still what He has been, and casts theresponsibility of Israel's preservation upon Him. He appeals to Him'who sits between the cherubim,' as thence defending and filling thethreatened city. He grasps the thought that Jehovah is 'God alone' witha vividness which is partly due no doubt to Isaiah's teaching, but isalso the indignant recoil of faith from the assumption of the letter,that Jehovah was but as the beaten deities of Gozan and the rest. Faithclings the more tenaciously to truths denied, as a dog will hold on tothe stick that one tries to pull from it.

Thus, having heartened himself and pled with God by all these names,Hezekiah comes to his petition. It is but translating into words thesymbol of spreading the letter before God. He asks God to behold and tohear the defiant words. Prayer tells God what it knows that He knowsalready, for it relieves the burdened heart to tell Him. It asks Him tosee and hear what it knows that He does see and hear. But the prayer isnot for mere observance followed by no divine act, but for takingknowledge as the precursor of the appropriate help. Of such seeing andhearing by God, believing prayer is the appointed condition. 'YourFather knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask Him'; butthat is not a reason for silence, but for supplication.

Hezekiah rightly regarded Sennacherib's words as meant to reproach theliving God, for the point of the letter was to dissuade from trust inHim, as no more powerful than the petty deities of already conqueredcities. The prayer, therefore, pleads that God would take care of Hisown honour, and by delivering Jerusalem, show His sole sovereignty. Itis a high and wonderful level for faith to reach, when it regardspersonal deliverance mainly in its aspect as vindicating God andwarranting faith. We may too easily conclude that God's honour isinvolved in our deliverance, and it is well to be on our guard againstthat.

But it is possible to die to self so fully as to feel that our cause isHis, because His is so entirely ours; and then we may come to thatheroic faith which seeks even personal good more for God's sake thanfor our own. It was noble that this man should have no word to sayabout self but 'Save us, that all the kingdoms of the earth may knowthat Thou art God alone.' Like him, we may each feel that our defenceis more God's affair than ours, in proportion as we feel we are Hisrather than our own. That siege of Jerusalem was indeed as a duelbetween faith and unbelief on the one hand, and between Jehovah and thegods who were 'no gods' on the other. Sennacherib's letter was adefiant challenge to Jehovah to do His best for this people, and whenfaith repeated in prayer the insolence of unbelief only one result waspossible. It came.

IV. Note the deliverance of faith. Isaiah's grand prophecy tempts us tolinger over its many beauties and magnificent roll of triumphant scorn,but it falls outside our purpose. As for the catastrophe, it should benoted that its place and time are not definitely stated, and thatprobably the notion that the Assyrian army was annihilated beforeJerusalem is a mistake. Sennacherib and his troops were at Libnah, ontheir way to meet the Egyptian forces. If there were any of them beforeJerusalem, they would at most be a small detachment, sufficient toinvest it. Probably the course of events was that, at some time notspecified, soon after the dismissal of the messengers who brought theletter, the awful destruction fell, and that, when the news of thedisaster reached the detachment at Jerusalem, as the psalm which throbswith the echoes of the triumph says, 'They were troubled, and hastedaway.'

How complete was the crushing blow the lame record of this campaign inthe inscriptions shows, in which the failure of the attempt to capturethe city is covered up by vapouring about tribute and the like. If ithad not failed, however, the success would certainly have been told, asall similar cases are told, with abundant boasting. The other fact isalso to be remembered, that Sennacherib tried no more conclusions withJerusalem and Jehovah, and though he lived for some twenty yearsafterwards, never again ventured on to the soil where that mighty Godfought for His people.

The appended notice of Sennacherib's death has been added by somenarrator, since it probably occurred after Isaiah's martyrdom. 'Allthey that take the sword shall perish with the sword.' Such a career ashis could not but give taste for violence and bloodshed, and dimmishregard for human life. Retribution comes slowly, for twenty yearsintervened between the catastrophe to the army and the murder of theking. Its penalties increase as its fall delays; for first came theblotting out of the army, and then, when that had no effect, at lastthe sword in his own heart. 'He that being often reproved hardeneth hisneck shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.'

But the great lesson of that death is the same as that of the otherking's deliverance. Hezekiah 'went unto the house of the Lord,' andfound Him a very present help in trouble. Sennacherib was slain in thehouse of his god. The two pictures of the worshippers and their fatesare symbolic of the meaning of the whole story. Sennacherib had daredJehovah to try His strength against him and his deities. The challengewas accepted, and that bloody corpse before the idol that could nothelp preaches a ghastly sermon on the text, 'They that make them arelike unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them. O Israel, trustthou in the Lord: He is their help and their shield.'

WHERE TO CARRY TROUBLES

And Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, andread it: and Hezekiah went up unto the house of the Lord, and spread itbefore the Lord.'—ISAIAH xxxvii. 14.

When Hezekiah heard the threatenings of Sennacherib's servants, he renthis clothes and went into the house of the Lord, and sent to Isaiahentreating his prayers. When he received the menacing letter, his faithwas greater, having been heartened by Isaiah's assurances. So he thenhimself appealed to Jehovah, spreading the letter before Him, andhimself prayed God to guard His own honour, and answer the challengeflung down by the insolent Assyrian. It is noble when faith increasesas dangers increase.

I. We have here an example of what to do with troubles and difficulties.

We are to lay them out before God, as we can do by praying about them.Hezekiah's trouble was great. His kingdom could be crushed like aneggshell by the grasp of Sennacherib's hand. But little troubles aswell as great ones are best dealt with by being 'spread before theLord.' Whatever is important enough to disturb me is important enoughfor me to speak to God about it. Whether the poison inflaming our bloodbe from a gnat's bite, or a cobra's sting, the best antidote is—prayabout it.

How much more real and fervid our prayers would be, if we habituallyturned all our affairs into materials for petition! That is a veryempty dispute as to whether we ought to pray for deliverance fromoutward sorrows. If we are living in touch with God, we cannot but takeHim into our confidence, if we may so say, as to everything thataffects us. And we should as soon think of hiding any matter from ourdearest on earth as from our Friend in heaven. 'In everything, byprayer and supplication' is the commandment, and will be the instinctof the devout heart.

Note Hezekiah's assurance that God cares about him.

Note his clear perception that God is his only help.

Note his identification of his own deliverance with God's honour. Wecannot identify our welfare, or deliverance in small matters, withGod's fair fame, in such a fashion. But we ought to be quite sure thatHe will not let us sink or perish, and will never desert us. And we canbe quite sure that, if we identify ourselves and our work with Him, Hewill identify Himself with us and it. His treatment of His servantswill tell the world (and not one world only) what He is, how faithful,how loving, how strong.

II. We have here an example of how God answers His servants' prayers.

It was 'by terrible things in righteousness' that Hezekiah's answercame. His prayer was at one end of the chain, and at the other was acamp full of corpses. One poor man's cry can set in motion tremendouspowers, as a low whisper can start an avalanche. That magnificenttheophany in Psalm xviii., with all its majesty and terror of flashinglightnings and a rocking earth, was brought about by nothing more than'In my distress I called upon the Lord,' and its purpose was nothingmore than to draw the suppliant out of many waters and deliver him fromhis strong enemy.

That army swept off the earth may teach us how much God will do for apraying child of His. His people's deliverance is cheaply purchased atsuch a price. 'He reproved kings for their sake.'

One man with God beside him is stronger than all the world. As thepsalmist learned in his hour of peril, 'Thou, Lord, makest me to dwellin safety, thou alone!'

GREAT VOICES FROM HEAVEN

'Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. 2. Speak yecomfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare isaccomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received ofthe Lord's hand double for all her sins. 3. The voice of him thatcrieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straightin the desert a highway for our God. 4. Every valley shall be exalted,and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall bemade straight, and the rough places plain: 5. And the glory of the Lordshall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouthof the Lord hath spoken it. 6. The voice said, Cry. And he said, Whatshall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is asthe flower of the field: 7. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth:because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people isgrass. 8. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of ourGod shall stand for ever. 9. 0 Zion, that bringest good tidings, getthee up into the high mountain; O Jerusalem, that bringest goodtidings, lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid:say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God! 10. Behold, the Lord Godwill come with strong hand, and His arm shall rule for Him: behold, Hisreward is with Him, and His work before Him.'—ISAIAH xi. 1-10.

How majestically this second part of the Book of Isaiah opens withthese mysterious voices! Other prophecies are wont to begin withsymbolic visions, but here the ear takes the place of the eye; andinstead of forms and flashing lights, which need to be translated, theprophet hears words, the impressiveness of which is heightened by theabsence of any designation of the speakers. This much is clear, thatthe first words are God's, addressed to the prophets. They are thekeynote of the whole. Israel is comforted in the assurance that hertrial is ended and her sin purged. Then there is silence, broken by avoice to which no personality is attached, the herald and forerunner ofthe coming King and God. When the echoes of it have died away, anotheris heard, commanding yet another unnamed to 'cry,' and, in response tothe latter's asking what is to be the burden of his message, biddinghim peal out the frailty of man and the eternal vigour of the word ofthe Lord, which assures its own fulfilment.

Then comes a longer pause. The way has been prepared, the coming Godhas come; He has set up His throne in the restored Jerusalem, and Hisglory is seen upon her. So there rings out from unnamed lips thestirring command to the city, thus visited by the indwelling God, toproclaim the glad tidings with a voice, the strength of which shallcorrespond to their gladness and certainty. This rapid glance at thestructure of the whole naturally suggests the fourfold division towhich we shall adhere.

I. God speaks and bids His servants speak (vs. 1, 2), That is awonderfully tender word with which the silence and sadness of exile arebroken. The inmost meaning of God's voice is ever comfort. What a worldof yearning love there is, too, in the two little words 'my' and'your'! The exiles are still His; He who has hidden His face from themso long is still theirs. And what was true of them is true of us; forsin may separate us from God, but it does not separate Him from us, andHe still seeks to make us recognise the imperishable bond, which itselfis the ground of both our comfort and of His will that we should becomforted.

As the very first words go deep into the meaning of all God's voices,and unveil the permanence of His relation of love even to sinful andpunished men, so the next disclose the tender manner of His approach tous, and prescribe the tone for all His true servants: 'Speak ye to theheart of Jerusalem,' with loving words, which may win her love; for isshe not the bride of Jehovah, fallen though she be? And is not humanitythe beloved of Jesus, in whom God's heart is unveiled that our heartsmay be won? How shall human voices be softened to tenderness worthy ofthe message which they carry? Only by dwelling near enough to Him tocatch the echoes, and copy the modulations, of His voice, as some birdsare taught sweeter notes than their own. The prophet's charge is laidupon all who would speak of Christ to men. Speak to the heart, not onlyto the head or to the conscience. God beseeches in the person of His'ambassadors.' The substance of the message may well find its way tothe heart; for it is the assurance that the long, hard service of theappointed term of exile is past, that the sin which brought it about isforgiven, and, more wonderful and gracious still, that God's mercyreckons that the ills which followed on faithlessness have more thanexpiated it. We need not seek for any other explanation of thesestartling words than the exuberance of the divine pity, which 'doth notwillingly afflict.'

Of course, the captivity is in the foreground of the prophet's vision;but the wider sense of the prophecy embraces the worse captivity of sinunder which we all groan, and the divine voice bids His prophetsproclaim that Jehovah comes, to set us all free, to end the wearybondage, and to exact no more punishment for sins.

II. The forerunner speaks. There is something very impressive in theabrupt bursting in of this second voice, all unnamed. It is thereverberation, as it were, of the former, giving the preparation on theside of man for the coming of Jehovah. Israel in bondage in Egypt hadbeen delivered by Jehovah marching through the wilderness, a wildernessstretched between Babylon and Jerusalem; these supply the scenery, soto speak; but the scenery is symbolic, and the call is really one toprepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness of human sin, by raisingup the cast-down by reason of transgressions or sorrows, to subduelofty thoughts and self-sufficiency by humble self-abnegation, to makethe 'crooked things' or 'rugged things' straight or smooth, and therough ground where heights were tumbled on heights a deep valley, byforsaking evil.

The moral preparation, not the physical, is meant. It was fitting thatthe road for such a coming should be prepared. But the coming was notso contingent on the preparation that the 'glory of the Lord' would not'be revealed' unless men made a highway for Him. True, that therevelation of His glory to the individual soul must be preceded by sucha preparation; but that raising of abjectness and levelling ofloftiness needs some perception of Him ere it can be done by man.Christ must come to the heart before the heart can be prepared for Hiscoming. John the Baptist came crying in the wilderness, but his fierymessage did little to cast up a highway for the footsteps of the King.John's immovable humility pierced to the very heart of the prophecywhen he answered the question 'Who art thou?' with 'I am a voice. Thevoice was unnamed; why, what does it matter who I am?'

The substance and the range of the coming manifestation are nextdefined. It is to be the revelation of 'the glory of the Lord,' and tobe for all mankind, not for Israel only. That lowly life and thatshameful death were a strange revelation of God's glory. If theyrevealed it, then it cannot consist in power or any of the majestic'attributes,' but in love, pity, and long-suffering. Love is thedivinest thing in God. The guarantee for all lies simply here, that Godhas spoken it. It is because the unnamed herald's ear has heard thedivine voice uttering the gracious assurances of verse 1, that hisvoice is lifted up in the commands and assurances of verse 4. Absolutefaith in God's utterances, however they seem to transcend experience,is wisdom and duty.

III. Yet another voice, whether sounding from heaven or earth is asuncertain as is the person to whom it is addressed, authoritativelycommands a third to 'cry,' and, on being asked what is to be the burdenof the call, answers. This new herald is to proclaim man's frailty andthe immortal vigour of God's word, which secures the fulfilment of Hispromises. Is it the questioning voice, or the commanding one, whichsays, 'All flesh is grass,… the people is grass'? If the former, itis the utterance of hopelessness, all but refusing the commission. But,dramatic as that construction is, it seems better to regard the wholeas the answer to the question, 'What shall I cry?' The repetition ofthe theme of man's frailty is not unnatural, and gives emphasis to thecontrast of the unchangeable stability of God's word. An hour of thedeadly hot wind will scorch the pastures, and all the petals of theflowers among the herbage will fall. So everything lovely, bright, andvigorous in humanity wilts and dies. One thing alone remains fresh fromage to age,—the uttered will of Jehovah. His breath kills and makesalive. It withers the creatural, and it speaks the undying word.

This message is to follow those others which tell of God's mercifulpromises, that trembling hearts may not falter when they see allcreated stays sharing the common lot, but may rest assured that God'spromises are as good as God's facts, and so may hope when all thingsvisible would preach despair. It was given to hearten confidence in theprophecy of a future revelation of the glory of God. It remains with usto hearten confidence in a past revelation, which will stand unshaken,whatever forces war against it. Its foes and its friends are alikeshort-lived as the summer's grass. The defences of the one and theattacks of the other are being antiquated while being spoken; but thebare word of God, the record of the incarnate Word, who is the truerevelation of the glory of God, will stand for ever,—'And this is theWord which by the gospel is preached to you.'

IV. The prophet seems to be the speaker in verses 9-11, or perhaps thesame anonymous voice which already commanded the previous messagesummons Jerusalem to become the ambassadress of her God. The coming ofthe Lord is conceived as having taken place, and He is enthroned inZion. The construction which takes Jerusalem or Zion (the double nameso characteristic of the second part of Isaiah) to be the recipient ofthe good tidings is much less natural than that which regards her astheir bearer.

The word rendered 'tellest good tidings' is a feminine form, and fallsin with the usual personification of a city as a woman. She, long laidin ruins, the Niobe of nations, the sad and desolate widow, is bid tobear to her daughter cities the glad tidings, that God is in her of atruth. It is exactly the same thought as 'Cry out and shout, thouinhabitant of Zion: for great is the Holy One of Israel in the midst ofthee.' The prophecy refers to the Church. It sets forth her highestoffice as being the proclamation of her indwelling King. The possessionof Christ makes the Church the evangelist for the world; for it givesthe capacity and the impulse as well as the obligation to speak theglad tidings. Every Christian has this command binding on him by thefact of his having Christ.

The command sets forth the bold clearness which should mark theherald's call. Naturally, any one with a message to peal out to a crowdwould seek some vantage-ground, from which his words might fly thefarther. If we have a message to deliver, let us seek the best placefrom which to deliver it. 'Lift up thy voice with strength.' No whisperwill do. Bated breath is no fit vehicle for God's gospel. There are toomany of God's heralds who are always apologising for their message, andseeking to reconcile it with popular opinions. We are all apt to speaktruth less confidently because it is denied; but, while it is needfulto speak with all gentleness and in meekness to them that oppose, it iscowardly, as well as impolitic, to let one tremor be heard in our tonesthough a world should deny our message.

The command tells the substance of the Church's message. Its essence isthe proclamation of the manifested God. To gaze on Jesus is to beholdGod. That God is made known in the twin glories of power andgentleness. He comes 'as a strong one.' His dominion rests on His ownpower, and on no human allies. His reign is retributive, and that notmerely as penally recompensing evil, but as rewarding the faith andhope of those who waited for Him.

But beyond the limits of our text, in verse 11, we have the necessarycompletion of the manifestation, in the lovely figure of the Shepherdcarrying the lambs in His arms, and gently leading the flock ofreturning exiles. The strength of Jesus is His lowliness; and Hismighty arm is used, not to wield an iron sceptre, but to gather us toHis bosom and guide us in His ways. The paradox of the gospel, whichpoints to a poor, weak man dying in the dark on a cross and says,'Behold the great Power of God!' is anticipated in this prophecy. Thetriumphant paradox of the Apostle is shadowed here: 'We preach Christcrucified, … the power of God, and the wisdom of God.'

O THOU THAT BRINGEST GOOD TIDINGS

'O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the highmountain: O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voicewith strength; lift it up, be not afraid; say unto the cities of Judah,Behold your God!'—ISAIAH xl. 9.

There is something very grand in these august and mysterious voiceswhich call one to another in the opening verses of this chapter. First,the purged ear of the prophet hears the divine command to him and tohis brethren—Comfort Jerusalem with the message of the God who comesfor her deliverance. Then afar off another voice is heard, the heraldand forerunner of the approaching Deity; and when thus the foundationhas been laid, yet another takes up the speech, and 'The voice said,Cry,' and the anonymous recipient of the command asks with what messagehe shall be entrusted, and the answer is the signature and pledge ofthe divine fulfilment of the word thus spoken. And then there comes, asI take it, a pause of silence, within which the great Epiphany andmanifestation takes place, and the coming God comes, enters into therebuilded city, and there shines in His beauty; and then breaks forththe rapturous commandment of my text to the resuscitated city, to tellto all her daughters of Judah the glad tidings of a present God.

I need not, I suppose, spend your time in vindicating the translationof our Bible as against one which has been made very familiar by beingwedded to Handel's music, and has commended itself to many, accordingto which Zion is rather the recipient than the herald of the tidings,'O thou that tellest good tidings to Jerusalem, lift up thy voice withstrength,' and so on.

And I suppose I need not either spend any time in vindicating thetransference of the text to the Gentile Church, beyond the simpleremark that, whatever be the date of this second portion of Isaiah'sprophecy, its standpoint is the time of the Captivity, when Jerusalemlay desolate, burned with fire, and all their pleasant things were laidwaste, so that the city here addressed is the new form of the ancientZion, which had risen from her ashes, and had a better tidings of gladsignificance to impart to all the nations. And so, dear brethren,looking at the words from that point of view, I think that they mayvery fairly yield to us two or three very old-fashioned and well-wornthoughts, which may yet be stimulating and encouraging to us. I takethem as simply as possible, just as they run here in this text, whichbrings out very strikingly and beautifully, first, the function of theEvangelist Zion; secondly, the manner of her message; and lastly, itscontents.

I. Look with me at the thoughts that cluster round the name, 'O Zion,that bringest glad tidings.'

It is almost a definition of the Church; at any rate, it is adescription of her by her most characteristic office and function, thatwhich marks and separates her from all associations and societies ofmen. This is her highest office; this is the reason of her being; thisis her noblest dignity. All mystical powers have been claimed for her,men have been bidden to submit their judgment and manhood to herauthority; but her true dignity is that she bears a gospel in her hand,and that grace is poured into her lips. Fond and sense-bound regretshave been sighed forth that her miracle-working gifts have faded away;but so long as her voice can quicken dead souls, and make the tongue ofthe dumb to speak, her noblest energies remain unimpaired, and so wemay think of her as most exalted and dignified in that her Masteraddresses her, 'O Zion, that bringest good tidings.'

Now, if I was right in my preliminary remark, to the effect that, priorto my text, we are to suppose the manifestation and approach of theDivine Deliverer, then I think it is quite clear that what constitutesZion the messenger of good tidings is the presence in her of the livingGod. Translate that into New Testament language, and it just comes tothis: that what constitutes the Church the evangelist for the world isthe simple possession of Christ or of the Gospel. That thought branchesinto some considerations on which we may touch.

The first of them is this: Whoever has Christ has the power to impartHim. All believers are preachers, or meant to be so, by virtue of thepossession of that Divine Christ for your own. We Nonconformists areready enough to proclaim the universal priesthood of all believers whenwe are opposing ecclesiastical assumption; are we as ready to take itfor the law of our own lives, and to say, 'Yes, priests by theimposition of a mightier hand, and ministers of Christ by thepossession of Christ, and therefore bound and able to impart Him to allaround'? He has given us His love, and He thereby has made us fit toimpart Him. Zion only needed to receive its God, in order thereby topossess the power to say unto all the cities of Judah, 'Behold yourGod.' It does not take much genius, it does not take much culture, itdoes not need any prolonged training, for a man who has Christ to say,'Behold, I have Him.' The very first Christian sermon that was everpreached was a very short one, and a very effectual one, for itconverted the whole congregation, and it was this: 'We have found theMessiah.' That was all—the utterance of individual possession andpersonal experience—and it 'brought him to Jesus.'

Take another point. The possession of Christ for ourselves imposes uponus the obligation to impart Him. All property in this world is trustproperty, and everything that a man has that can help or bless themoral or spiritual or intellectual condition of his fellows, he isthereby under solemn obligation to impart. There is an obligationarising from the bands that knit us to one another, so that no man canpossess his good alone without being untrue to what we call nowadaysthe solidarity of humanity. You have, you say, the bread of life: verywell, what would you think of a man in a famine who, when women wereboiling their children, and men were fighting with the swine on thedunghill for garbage, was content to eat his morsel alone, and leaveothers to perish by starvation? You possess, you say, the healing forall the diseases of humanity: very well, what would you think of a manwho, in a pestilence, was contented with swallowing his own specific,and leaving others to die and to rot in the street? If you have theChrist, you have Him that you may impart Him. 'He that withholdethbread, the people shall curse him'; of how much deeper malediction fromdespairing lips will they be thought worthy who call themselves thefollowers of Him that gave His life to be the bread of the world, andyet withhold it from famishing souls?

And it is an obligation that arises, too, from the very purposes of ourcalling. What are Christian men and women saved for? For their ownblessedness? Yes, and no. No creature in God's great universe but isgreat enough to be a worthy end of the divine action; the happiness ofthe humblest and most insignificant moves His mighty hand. Ay, but nocreature in God's universe so great as that he is a worthy end of thedivine action, if he is going to keep all the divine gifts in himself.We are all brought into the light that we may impart light.

'Heaven doth with us as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd
But to fine issues.'

II. And now turn to the second thought which I desire to draw fromthese words. We have here, in a very picturesque and vivid form, thesetting forth of the manner in which the Evangelist Zion is to proclaimher message.

The fair-featured herald is bidden to get up into the highmountain—perhaps a mere picturesque detail, perhaps some reference tothe local position of the city set upon a hill—like the priests onEbal and Gerizim, or Alpine shepherds, calling to each other across thevalleys, to secure some vantage-ground, and next, to let her voice rollout across the glen. No faltering whisper will do, but a voice thatcompels audience, that can be heard above the tumult and afar off, andconfident and loud and clear, because courageous and without dread.'Lift up thy voice with strength.' Yes, but a timid heart will make atremulous voice, and fear and doubt will whisper a message when couragewill ring it out. 'Be not afraid' is the foundation of the clearnessand the loudness with which the word is to be uttered.

That thought opens itself out into these two others, on each of which Isay a word or two. Our message is to be given with a courage and aforce that are worthy of it; 'Be not afraid.' That is a lesson for thisday, my brethren. There are plenty of causes of fear round about us if,like poor Peter on the water, we look at the waves instead of at theMaster. There are the great forces of evil that are always arrayedagainst Christ. There is the thoroughgoing and formidable rejection ofall that is dearest to us, which is creeping like poison throughcultivated society at home; there is the manifest disproportion betweenour resources and the task that we have set ourselves to. 'They neednot depart; give ye them to eat,' said the Master. What! five thousandpeople need not depart, and only this scanty provision of loaves andfishes! Yes; the Master's hand can multiply it. There is theconsciousness of our own weakness; there is the apparent slow progressof the Gospel in the world. All these things come surging in upon uswhen our spirits are low and our faith weak; and yet the message comesto us, 'Be not afraid.' I venture to break that injunction up into twoor three exhortations, which I cast into the shape of exhortations, notfrom any assumption of superiority, but for the sake of point and force.

First of all, I would say, let us cherish a firm, soul-absorbingconfidence in the power and truth of the message we have to carry. I donot speak now of the intellectual discipline which may be required fromeach of us to meet the difficulties of this day—that is outside of mypresent subject; but there is a moral discipline quite as important asthe intellectual. There cannot be any question, I suppose, to any onewho looks round about, and notices the tendencies of his own mind, butthat all we Christian people, in our various circles and organisations,are under a very great temptation to a very perceptible lowering of ourkey in the presence of widespread doubt. We are tempted to fancy that atruth is less certain because it is denied; that because a has attackedthis thing, and b's clever book has unsettled that thing, and c'sresearches seem to cast a great deal of doubt upon that other thing,therefore we are to surrender them all, and talk about them as if theywere doubtful problems or hypotheses rather than sure verities of ourfaith. And there are some of us, I venture to say, who are in danger ofanother temptation, and that is of getting a little ashamed andbecoming afraid to say 'Yes, I stand by that great truth, God in Christreconciling the world to Himself,' for fear of being thought tobe—well, 'narrow' is the favourite word, 'old-fashioned,' or 'holdersof a creed outworn,' 'in antagonism with the spirit of the age,' and soon, and so on. Brethren, I am not the man, I hope, to preach anunreasonable attitude of antagonism; I am not the man to ask anybody toexaggerate his beliefs because somebody else denies them, but I dobelieve that among us all, and especially among young men, there is thetemptation just to be a little bit afraid, and not to let the voicering out with that clear certitude which becomes the messenger of theCross. Try by mental discipline to find intellectual standing-groundthat will be firm below your feet, and then remember that that is notall, but that moral discipline is wanted also that I may open my mouthboldly, as I ought to speak.'

And then, if I might venture to dwell for a moment or two further uponthis class of consideration, I would say, Do not let us make too muchof the enemy. There is no need why we should take them at their ownappraisem*nt. Men are always tempted to think that no generation everhad such a fight as their own generation. They have said that eversince there was a Christian Church. But the true, healthy way oflooking at the adversary—and by that I mean all the various forms ofdifficulty which beset us in our evangelistic work, difficulties in themission-field, difficulties in the state of things here round us—thetrue, healthy way of looking at them all, is to look at them as thebrave Apostle Paul did, when he said, 'I am going to stop at Ephesustill Pentecost, for there is a great and effectual door opened to me.'And how did he know that? He tells us in the next clause, 'There aremany adversaries.' Where there are many adversaries, there is aneffectual door, if you and I are bold and big enough to go in andoccupy.

And then I would venture to say, still further, let us remember thevictories of the past. Let us make personal experience of theovercoming powers that are stored and hidden in Christ's Gospel. And,above all, let us remember who fights with us. Jesus Christ and one manare always the majority. There is an old story, which you may remember,about the Conqueror of Rome, who dashed his sword into the scales whenthe ransom was being weighed; and Christ flings His sharp sword withthe two edges into the scales when we are weighing resources, and theother kicks the beam. There are enemies, plenty of them, all roundabout. Yes, and the spreading forth of their wings fills the breadth ofthe land. Be it so. But notwithstanding the irruption of the barbarousand cruel hosts, it is 'Thy land, O Emanuel!' And in His time He willsweep them before His presence, as the north wind drives the locustsinto the hindermost sea. I do not know if any of you remember anancient Christian legend, and I do not know whether it is a legend or atruth—it does not matter, it will serve for our purpose all the sameeither way—how when the Emperor Julian, surnamed the Apostate, oncetaunted a humble Christian man with the question, 'What is thecarpenter's son doing now?' and the answer was, 'Hewing wood for theemperor's funeral pile,' and not very long after there came the fatalfield on which, according to ancient tradition, he died with the wordson his lips, 'Thou hast conquered, Galilean. As in Carlyle's grandtranslation of Luther's Hymn of the Reformation—

'Of our own strength we nothing can,
Full soon were we downridden;
But for us fights the proper Man,
Whom God Himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, who is the same?
Christ Jesus is His name,
The Lord Sabaoth's Son.
He and none other one
Shall conquer in this battle.'

'Lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid.'

III. I come to the last thought that emerges from these words, and thatis the substance and contents of the Evangelist Zion's message: 'Sayunto the cities of Judah, behold your God!'

They were to be pointed to a great historical act, in which God hadmanifested and made Himself visible to men; and the words of my textare, not only an exclamation, but they are an entreaty, and the messagewas to be given to these little daughter cities of Judah asrepresenting all of those for whom the deliverance had beenwrought—all which things are paralleled in the message that iscommitted to our hand.

For, first of all, we all have given to us the charge of pointing mento the great historical fact wherein God is visible to men, and socrying, 'Behold your God!' God cannot be revealed by word, God cannotbe revealed by thought. There is no way open to Him to make Himselfknown to His creatures except the way by which men make themselvesknown to one another; that is, by their deeds; and so, high above allspeculation, high above all abstraction, nearer to us than all thoughtstands the historical fact in which God shows Himself to the world, andthat is the person and work of Jesus Christ, 'the brightness of Hisglory and the express image of His person,' in whom the abysses of thedivine nature are opened, and through whom all the certitude of divinelight that human eyes can receive pours itself in genial and yetintensest radiance upon the world. How beautiful in that connection theverses following my text are I need only indicate in a word as I pass,'Behold, the Lord God will come with strong hand,' and yet, 'behold, Heshall feed His flock like a shepherd.' And so in Christ is the power ofGod, for I take it that He is the arm of the Lord; and in Christ is thegentleness of God; and whilst men grope in the darkness, our businessis to point to the living, dying Son, and to say, 'There you have thecomplete, the ultimate revelation of the unseen God.'

And do not let us forget that the burning centre of all that brightnessis the Cross, that ever-wondrous paradox; that the depth of humiliationis the height of glorifying; that Christ's Cross is the throne of themanifested divine power quite as much as it is the seat of themanifested divine love, and that when He is hanging there in Hisweakness and mortal agony, the words are yet true—strange,paradoxical, blessedly true—'He that hath seen Me hath seen theFather.' And when we say, pointing to His Cross and Him there, His browpaled with dying, and His soul faint with loss—when we say, 'Beholdthe Lamb!' we are also and therein saying, 'Behold your God!'

And therefore, with what of gentleness, with what of tenderness, withwhat of patient entreaty as well as strength and confidence, the wordthat speaks of a strength manifested in weakness, and a God madevisible in Christ, should be spoken, it needs not here to enlargeupon—only take that one last thought that I suggested, that thismessage comes to all those for whom God has appeared, and for whom thedeliverance has been wrought. We each have the right, and we each havethe charge, to go to every man and say, 'Behold your God!' and thehearts of men will leap up to meet the message. For, though overlaid bysin, perverted often into its own opposite by fear, misinterpreted andmisunderstood by the very men that bear it, there yet lies deep inevery heart the aching thirst for the living God, and we have the wordthat alone can meet that thirst. All around us men are saying—'In allthe fields of science and of nature, in human history and in the spiritof men, I find no God,' and are falling back into that dreary negation,'Behold, we know not anything!' And some of them, orphaned in theiragony, are crying, though it be often in contemptuous tones that almostsound as if they meant the opposite, 'Oh, that I knew where I mightfind Him!' We have a word that can meet that. For cultivated Europe ithas come to this—Christ or nothing; either He has shown us the Father,or there is no knowledge of Him possible. We do not need to dread thealternative; we can face it, and overcome it. And in far-off lands menare groping in twilight uncertainty, worshipping, with a namelesshorror at their hearts, gods capricious, gods cruel, godsterrible—tamely believing in gods far-off and mysterious, coweringbefore gods careless and heartless, degrading their manhood byimitating gods foul and bestial, and yet all the while dimly feeling,'Surely, surely there is somewhere a good and a fair Being, that has aneye to see my sorrows, and a heart to pity them; an ear to hear myprayer, and a hand to stretch out.' We have a word that can meet that.Let that word ring out, brother, as far as your influence can reach.Set the trumpet to thy mouth, and say, 'Behold your God!' and be surethat from the uttermost parts of the earth we shall hear the choralsongs of many voices answering, 'Lo! this is our God, we have waitedfor Him, and He will save us! This is our God; we will be glad andrejoice in His salvation!'

'HAVE YE NOT? HAST THOU NOT?'

'Have ye not known, have ye not heard? hath it not been told yon fromthe beginning? have ye not understood from the foundations of theearth?… Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard?'—ISAIAH xl. 21 and28.

The recurrence of the same form of interrogation in these two verses isremarkable. In the first case the plural is used, in the second thesingular, and we may reasonably conclude that as Israel is addressed inthe latter, the nations outside the sphere illumined by Revelation areappealed to in the former. The context of the two passages confirmsthis reference, for the witness of Creation and History is summoned inthe former section, and that of God's inward dealings with trustfulsouls is brought out in the latter.

I. What Nature and History tell men about God.

Observe that emphatic 'told you'; then the witness here appealed tois truly a Revelation, though a silent one. 'There is no speech norlanguage,' yet 'their line is gone out through all the earth, and theirwords to the ends of the world.'

The general idea of the divine nature, as revealed 'from the beginning'and 'from the foundation of the earth,' is that of Majesty transcendingall comparison.

The contrast is drawn between Him and men, in the magnificent image ofHim as throned above 'the circle of the earth,' and so far above thatall the busy tribes of men 'are as grasshoppers,' their restlessactivity but aimless leaping, and 'the tumult of the peoples' only as ameaningless chirping.

God's creative and sustaining power is further set forth by that greatimage of His 'stretching out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadingthem out as a tent to dwell in.' As easily as travellers set up theirtents when the day's march is done, did He stretch the great expanseabove the low earth; and all its depths and spaces are, in comparisonwith Him, thin, transient, and as easily rolled up and put aside as thestuff that makes a nomad's home for a night. Nor are the two impliedthoughts that 'the heavens' are a veil screening Him from men evenwhile they tell of Him to men, and that they are His loftydwelling-place, to be left out of view.

But in verse 26 we have a more specific and grander exhibition of God'srelation to the Universe. The stars, in number numberless, areconceived of as a great army drilled and directed by Him. And thatmetaphor, familiar to us as it is, and condensed into the divine titleso frequent in this prophetic book, is pregnant with great truths.

It speaks of God as the Imperator, the Commander, exercising supremeauthority by 'the word of His power,' and of creation as obedientthereto. 'For ever, O Lord, Thy word is settled in the heavens.' TheCommander needs but to speak, and so mystic is the power of His utteredwill, that effects on the material universe follow that altogetherimmaterial energy.

It speaks of the harmony and order of the whole Creation. 'By number'and 'by name' He sways and ranks them. 'All things work together.' Theyare an ordered whole—a kosmos, not a chaos. Modern science is slowlyestablishing by experiment the truth which is enshrined in that oldname, 'the Lord of hosts,' that all things in the physical universe area unity.

It speaks of the perfectness of God's knowledge of each item in themighty whole. 'He calleth them all by name.' Thereby are expressedauthority, ownership, particular knowledge of, and relation to, eachindividual of the overwhelming aggregate. God knows all, because Heknows each.

It speaks of the inexhaustible energy of His sustaining power, and theconsequent strength of His creatures. 'Preservation is a continuedcreation.' The prophet saw much deeper than the mechanical view of thecreative act. To him God was, to use more modern language, 'immanent'as well as 'transcendent.' True, He 'sits above the circle of theearth,' but as truly He is working on His creatures, and it is by Hiscommunicated strength that they are strong. If any being—star, orinsect—were separated utterly from Him, it would crumble intonothingness.

But the appeal to Creation is singularly interrupted by an appeal toHistory. The prophet drops from the serene expanse of the silent yeteloquent heavens to the stormy scenes of changing dynasties andrevolutions of earth's kingdoms. How calm the one, how tumultuous theother! How the one witnesses to Him by its apparently unchangingcontinuance! how the other witnesses by its swift mutations! In theone, He is revealed as Preserver; in the other, the most cleardemonstration of His power is given in His destroying of rebelkingdoms. But in these acts by which ancient and firmly rooteddynasties are rooted up or withered as by the simoom, He reveals a sideof His nature to which the calm heavens bore no witness. He is themoral Governor of the world, 'The history of the world is the judgmentof the world,' and when hoary iniquities are smitten to death, 'theHoly One' is revealed as the righteous Judge. And the conjoint witnessof creation and of history attests that none can be 'likened' to Him.

II. What Revelation tells Israel about God.

It is noteworthy that in the section of which our first text is thecentre, there is no mention of the divine Name, and even the well-knowntitle, 'the Holy One of Israel,' is truncated, so as to leave outreference to the people of Revelation; whereas in this section He isnot only designated as God and Creator, but as Jehovah, the God who hasmade a covenant with Israel, and made known His will and to some extentHis nature. The distinct climax in the divine Names itself implies anobler relation to men, and a clearer revelation than was declared inthe former part of this prophecy. It is the fitting preparation for theloftier and infinitely more tender and touching aspect of the divinenature which shines with lambent, inviting lustre within the sphere ofRevelation.

The distinctive glory of the long process of God's self-manifestationto Israel is that, while it emphasises all that nature and historyaffirm of Him, it sets Him forth as restoring the weak, as well assustaining the strong. The sad contrast between the untroubled andunwearied strength of the calm heavens and the soon-exhausted strengthof struggling and often beaten men strikes the poet prophet's sensitivesoul. He did not know, what modern astronomy teaches us, that change,convulsions, ruin, are not confined to earth, but that stars as well asmen faint and fail, dwindle and die. The scriptural view of Nature isnot that of the scientist, but that of the poet and of the devout man.It lies quite apart from the scientific attitude, and has as good aright to exist as it has. The contrast of heaven and earth is for theprophet the contrast of strength with weakness, of joyful harmony withmoral disorder, of punctual, entire obedience with rebellion and theclash of multitudes of anarchic self-willed men.

But there is a sadder contrast still—namely, that between God and thewretched weaklings that men have made of themselves. 'He fainteth not,neither is weary.' Strange anomaly that in His universe there should bethe faint and 'them that have no might'! The only explanation of suchan exception to the order of Creation is that men have broken loosefrom Creation's dependence on God, and that therefore the inflow ofsustaining strength has been checked. In other words, man's weaknesscomes from man's sin.

Hence to restore strength to those whose power has been drained away bysin is God's divinest work. It is more to restore than to sustain. Ittakes less energy to keep a weight stationary at a height than to rollit up again if it falls to the bottom. Since sin is the cause of ourweakness, the first step to deliver from the weakness is to deliverfrom the sin. If we are ever to be restored, hearts, consciences,averted wills must be dealt with—and but One Hand can deal with these.

And not only does God outdo all His mightiest works in the work ofrestoring strength to the faint, but He crowns that restoration bymaking the restored weakling like Himself. 'He fainteth not, neither isweary.' They, too, 'shall ran and not be weary, they shall walk and notfaint.' In the long drawn out grind of monotonous marching along thecommon path of daily small duties and uneventful life, they shall notfaint; in the rare occasional spurts, occurring in every man'sexperience, when extraordinary tax is laid on heart and limbs, theyshall not be weary. And they will be able both to walk and to run,because they soar on wings as eagles. And they do all because they waiton the Lord. Communion with Him buoys us above this low earth, andbears us up into the heavenly places, and, living there, we shall befit for the slow hours of commonplace plodding and for the crowdedmoments of great crises.

UNFAILING STABS AND FAINTING MEN

'…For that He is strong in power; not one faileth…. He giveth powerto the faint; and to them that have no might He increasethstrength.'—ISAIAH xl. 26 and 29.

These two verses set forth two widely different operations of thedivine power as exercised in two sadly different fields, the starryheavens and this weary world. They are interlocked, as it were, by therecurrence in the latter of the emphatic words of the former. The oneverse says, 'He is strong in power'; the other, 'He giveth power.' Inthe former verse, 'the greatness of His might' sustains the stars; inthe latter verse, a still diviner operation is set forth in that 'tothem that have no might He increaseth strength.' Thus there are threecontrasts suggested: that between unfailing stars, and men that faint;that between the unwearied God and wearied men; and that between thesustaining power that is exercised in the heavens and the restoringpower that is manifested on earth.

There is another interlocking between the latter of these two texts andits context, which is indicated by a similar recurrence of epithets. Inmy second text we read of the 'faint,' and in the verse that followsit, again we find the expressions 'faint' and 'weary,' while in theverse before my text we read that 'the Lord fainteth not, neither isweary.' So again the contrast between Him and us is set forth, but, inthe verse that closes the chapter, we read how that contrast mergesinto likeness, inasmuch as the unfainting and unwearied God makes eventhe men that wait upon Him unwearied and unfainting. Here, then, wehave lessons that we may well ponder.

Note, first—

I. That sad contrast.

The prophet in the former of these verses seems to be expanding thethoughts that lie in the name, 'the Lord of hosts,' in so far as thatname expresses the divine relation to the starry universe. The imagethat underlies both it and the words of the text is that of a captainwho commands his soldiers, and they obey. Discipline and plan arraythem in their ranks; they are not a mob, but an army. The voice thatreads the roll-call summons one after another to his place, and,punctually obedient, there they stand, ready for any evolution that maybe prescribed. The plain prose of which is, that night by night abovethe horizon rise the bright orbs, and roll on their path obedient tothe Sovereign will; 'because He is strong in might not one' is lacking.Astronomers have taught us, what the prophet did not know, that even inthe apparently serene spaces there are collisions and catastrophes, andthat stars may dwindle and dim, and finally go out. But while Scripturedeals with creation neither from the scientific nor from the aestheticpoint of view, it leaves room for both of these—for all that thepoet's imagination can see or say, for all that the scientist'sinvestigation can discover, it sees that beneath the beauty is theFountain of all loveliness, beneath and behind the 'number' of thenumberless stars works the infinite will of God. Surely an intelligiblecreation must have an intelligent source. Surely a universe in whichMind can apprehend order and number must have a Mind at the back of it.Wordsworth has nobly said of Duty what we may more truly say of God:'Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, And the most ancient heavensthrough Thee are fresh and strong.' 'For that He is great in might, notone faileth.' Scripture bids us think of God, not as a creative energythat set the universe in motion, and leaves it to roll or spin, but asof a Divine Presence—to use a word which can only be in a verymodified sense applied to that mysterious, intelligentEntity—operating in, and being the sustaining Cause of, all that is.This Divine Presence stamps its signature on the unfailing strength ofthese bright creatures above.

But in our second text we drop from the illumination of the heavens tothe shadowed plain of this low earth. It is as if a man, looking upinto the violet sky, with all its shining orbs, should then turn tosome reeking alley, with its tumult and its squalor. Just because manis greater than the stars, man 'fails,' whilst they shine on unwearied.For what the prophet has in view as the clinging curse that cleaves toour greatness, is not merely the bodily fatigue which is necessarilyinvolved in the very fact of bodily existence, since energy cannot beput forth without waste and weariness, but it is far more the wearyheart, the heart that is weary of itself, the heart that is weary oftoil, the heart that is weary of the momentary crises that demandeffort, and wearier still of the effortless monotony of our dailylives; the heart that all of us carry, and which to all of us sometimeswhispers, with a dark and gloomy voice which we cannot contradict,'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.' I was going to say, happy are youif you do not know that weariness, but I check myself and say, tenfoldmore miserable are you if you have never been sober and wise enough tohave felt the weariness and weight of all this unintelligible world,and of your own sorry selves.

For it is ever to be remembered that the faintness and the ebbing awayof might, which is the truly tragic thing in humanity, does not dependupon physical constitution, but upon separation from the Source of allstrength, breaking the union between ourselves and God. If a star couldshake off its dependence, and shut out the influx of the sustainingpower that by continual creation preserves it, it would die intodarkness, or crumble into dust. It cannot, and we cannot, in so far asour physical being is concerned, but we can shake ourselves free fromGod, in so far as the life of the spirit is concerned, and the godlessspirit bears the Cain-curse of restlessness and weariness ever upon it.So the contrast between the unfailing strengths that ever shine downupon us from the heavens, and the weariness of body and of mindafflicting the sleeping millions on whom they shine, is tragicalindeed. But far more tragical is the contrast, of which the other isbut an indication because it is a consequence, the contrast between thepunctual obedience with which these hosts, summoned by the greatCommander, appear and take their places, and the self-will which turnsa man into a 'wandering star unto whom is reserved the blackness ofdarkness for ever.' Above is peace and order, because above is thesupremacy of an uncontested will. Below is tumult and weariness,because when God says 'Thou shalt,' men respond, 'I will not.'

Secondly, my text suggests to us—

II. Another sad contrast, melting into a blessed likeness.

'He fainteth not, neither is weary.' 'He giveth power to the faint.''Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shallutterly fail,' but waiting on God the curse removes, and faintness andweariness cease, and the humble man becomes in some measure participantof, and conformed to, that life which knows no exhausting, operatesunspent, burns with an undying flame, works and never wearies. We maytake to ourselves all the peace and strength that come from thattranscendent hope, whilst we are still subject, as of course we mustbe, to the limitations imposed on spirits fettered, as well as housed,in body. Whilst toil leaves as its consequence fatigue, and as our daysincrease our strength wanes; whilst physical weariness remainsunaffected, there may pour into our spirits the influx of divine power,by which they will remain fresh and strong through advancing years andheavy tasks and stiff battles. Is it not something to believe itpossible that

'In old age, when others fade, We fruit still forth shall bring'

Is it not something to know it as a possibility that we may have thatwithin us which has no tendency to decay, which neither perishes withthe using nor is exhausted by exercise, which grows the more the longerwe live, which has in it the pledge of immortality, because it has init the impossibility of exhaustion? Thus to all of us who know howweary life sometimes is, thus to those of us who in the flush of ouryouth are deceived into thinking that the vigorous limbs will always bevigorous, and the clear eyesight will always be keen, and to those ofus who, in the long weary levels of middle life, where there are fewchanges, are worn out by the eventless recurrence, day after day, ofduties that have become burdensome, because they are so small, and tothose of us who are learning by experience how inevitably earlystrength utterly fails; to us all surely it comes us a gospel, 'Theythat wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall run andnot be weary, they shall walk and not faint.' It is true; and each ofus may set to our seals, if we will, that the promise is faithful andsure.

Is that not a higher exercise of power than to 'preserve the stars fromwrong'? Is not the strength that restores mightier than the strengththat sustains? Is not the hand that, put beneath the falling body,stops its plunge, and lifts it whence it fell, displaying a greatermanifestation of strength, than the hand that held it unfailing at theheight? The mighty miracle of the calm, steadfast heavens, with novacant spaces where yesterday a star blazed, is less than the miracleof that restoring energy which, coming to men separated from theFountain of power, re-establishes the connection between them, and outof the fainting creature makes one that is neither faint nor weary forever. God is greater, in the miracle that He works upon you and me,poor strengthless souls, than when He rolls the stars along. Redemptionis more than Creation, and to the hosts of 'the principalities andpowers in heavenly places, is made known,' by the Church, 'of restoredand redeemed souls, the manifold wisdom of God.'

What are the consequences that the prophet traces to this restoringpower? 'They shall mount up with wings as eagles.' Power to soar, tolift our heavy selves from earth, and to reach the heavenly placeswhere we shall commune with God, that is the greatest of all gifts tostrengthened spirits. And it is the foundation of all the others, forit is only they who know how to soar that can creep, and it is onlythey who have renewed their strength hour by hour, by communion withthe Source of all energy and might, who when they 'drop with quiveringwings, composed and still,' down to the low earth, there live unweariedand unfainting.

'They shall run and not be weary.' Crises come—moments whencirc*mstances demand from us more than ordinary energy and swifter rateof progress. We have often, in the course of our years, to make shortspurts of unusual effort. 'They shall run and not be weary. They shallwalk.' The bulk of our lives is a slow jog-trot, and it is harder tokeep elasticity, buoyancy, freshness of spirit, in the eventlessmill-horse round of our trivial lives than it is in the rarer bursts.Excitement helps us in the one; nothing but dogged principle, and closecommunion with God, 'mounting on wings as eagles,' will help us in theother. But we may have Him with us in all the arid and featurelesslevels across which we have to plod, as well as in the height to whichwe sometimes have to struggle upwards, or in the depths into which wehave sometimes to plunge. If we have the life of Christ within us, thenneither the one nor the other will exhaust our energy or darken ourspirits.

Lastly, one word as to—

III. The way by which these contrasts can be reconciled, and thislikeness secured.

'They that wait upon the Lord'—that is the whole secret. What doeswaiting on the Lord include? Let me put it in three brief exhortations.Keep near Him; keep still; expect. If I stray away from Him, I cannotexpect His power to come to me. If I fling myself about, in vainimpatience, struggling, resisting providences, shirking duties,perturbing my soul, I cannot expect that the peace which bringsstrength, or the strength which brings peace, will come to me. It mustbe a windless sea that mirrors the sunshine and the blue, and thetroubled heart has not God's strength in it. If I do not expect to getanything from Him, He will not give me anything; not because He willnot, but because He cannot. Take the old Psalmist's words, 'I havequieted myself as a weaned child,' and nestle on the great bosom, andits warmth, its fragrance, its serenity will be granted to you. Keephold of God's hand in expectation, in submission, in close union, andthe contact will communicate something of His own power. 'In quietnessand in confidence shall be your strength.' The bitter contrasts may allbe harmonised, and the miraculous assimilation of humanity to divinitymay, in growing measure according to our faith, be realised in us. Andthough we must still bear the limitations of our present corporealcondition, and though life's tasks must still oftentimes be felt by usas toils, and life's burdens as too burdensome for our feebleshoulders, yet we shall be held up. 'As thy day so shall thy strengthbe,' and at last, when we mount up further than eagle's wings have eversoared, and look down upon the stars that are 'rolled together as ascroll,' we shall through eternal ages 'run and not be weary' and 'walkand not faint.'

THE SECRET OF IMMORTAL YOUTH

'Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shallutterly fall. But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew theirstrength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run andnot be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.'—ISAIAH xl. 30, 31.

I remember a sunset at sea, where the bosom of each wavelet thatfronted the west was aglow with fiery gold, and the back of each turnedeastward was cold green; so that, looking on the one hand all wasglory, and on the other all was sober melancholy. So differently doeslife look to you young people and to us older ones. Every man must buyhis own experience for himself, and no preaching nor talking will evermake you see life as we see it. It is neither possible nor desirablethat you should; but it is both possible and most desirable that youshould open your eyes to plain, grave facts, which do not at all dependon our way of looking at things, and that if they be ascertainable, asthey are, you should let them shape your lives.

Here are a couple of facts in my text which I ask you to look steadilyin the face, and to take account of them, because, if you do so now, itmay save you an immense deal of disappointment and sorrow in the daysthat are to come. You have the priceless prerogative still in yourhands of determining what that future is to be; but you will never usethat power rightly if you are guided by illusions, or if, unguided byanything but inclination, you let things drift, and do as you like.

So, then, my object is simply to deal with these two forecasts which mytext presents; the one a dreary certainty of weariness and decay, theother a blessed possibility of inexhaustible and incorruptible strengthand youth, and on the contrast to build as earnest an appeal to you asI can make.

I. Now, then, look at the first fact here, that of the dreary certaintyof weariness and decay.

I do not need to spend much time in talking about that. It is one ofthe commonplaces which are so familiar that they have lost all power ofimpression, and can only be rescued from their trivial insignificanceby being brought into immediate connection with our own experience. If,instead of the toothless generality, 'the youths shall faint and beweary,' I could get you young people to say, 'I—I shall faint and beweary, and, as sure as I am living, I shall lose what makes to me thevery joy of life at this moment,' I should not have preached in vain.

Of course the words of my text point to the plain fact that all createdand physical life, by the very law of its being, in the act of livingtends to death; and by the very operation of its strength tends toexhaustion. There are three stages in every creature's life—that ofgrowth, that of equilibrium, that of decay. You are in the first. Ifyou live, it is as certain as fate that you will come to the second andthe third. Your 'eyes will grow dim,' your 'natural force' will be'abated,' your body will become a burden, your years that are fullof buoyancy will be changed for years of heaviness and weariness,strength will decay, 'and the young men'—that is you—'shall utterlyfall.'

And the text points also to another fact, that, long before yournatural life shall have begun to tend towards decay, hard work andoccasional sorrows and responsibilities and burdens of all sorts willvery often make you wearied and ready to faint. In your early days youdream of life as a kind of enchanted garden, full of all manner ofdelights; and you stand at the threshold with eager eyes andoutstretched hands. Ah! dear young friend, long before you havetraversed the length of one of its walks, you will often have been sickand tired of the whole thing, and weary of what is laid upon you.

My text points to another fact, as certain as gravitation, that thefaintness and weariness and decay of the bodily strength will beaccompanied with a parallel change in your feelings. We are drawnonward by hopes, and when we get them fulfilled we find that they aredisappointing. Custom, which weighs upon us 'heavy as frost, and deepalmost as life,' takes the edge off everything that is delightsome,though it does not so completely take away the pain of things that areburdensome and painful. Men travel from a tinted morning into the soberlight of common day, and with failing faculties and shattered illusionsand dissipated hopes, and powers bending under the long monotony ofmiddle life, most of them live. Now all that is the veriest threadbaremorality, and I dare say while I have been speaking, some of you havebeen thinking that I am repeating platitudes that every old woman couldpreach. So I am. That is to say, I am trying to put into feeble wordsthe universal human experience. That is your experience, and what Iwant to get you to think about now is that, as sure as you are livingand rejoicing in your youth and strength, this is the fate that isawaiting you—'the youths shall faint and be weary, and shall utterlyfall.'

Well, then, one question: Do you not think that, if that is so, itwould be as well to face it? Do you not think that a wise man wouldtake account of all the elements in forecasting his life and wouldshape his conduct accordingly? If there be something certain to come,it is a very questionable piece of wisdom to make that the thing whichwe are most unwilling to think about. I do not want to be a kill-joy; Ido not want to take anything out of the happy buoyancy of youth. Iwould say, as even that cynical, bitter Ecclesiastes says, 'Rejoice, Oyoung man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days ofthy youth.' By all means; only take all the facts into account, and ifyou have joys which shrivel up at the touch of this thought, then thesooner you get rid of such joys the better. If your gladness dependsupon your forcibly shutting your eyes to what is inevitably certain tocome about, do you not think that you are living in a fool's paradisethat you had better get out of as soon as possible? There is the fact.Will you be a wise and brave man and front it, and settle how you aregoing to deal with it, or will you let it hang there on your horizon, athunder-cloud that you do not like to look at, and that you are all themore unwilling to entertain the thought of, because you are so surethat it will burst in storm? Lay this, then, to heart, though it is adreary certainty, that weariness and decay are sure to be your fate.

II. Now turn, in the next place, to the blessed opposite possibility ofinexhaustible and immortal strength. 'They that wait upon the Lordshall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.' Thelife of nature tends inevitably downward, but there may be another lifewithin the life of nature, which shall have the opposite motion, andtend as certainly upwards. 'The youths shall faint and beweary'—whether they be Christians or not, the law of decay and fatiguewill act upon them; but there may be that within each of us, if wewill, which shall resist that law, and have no proclivity whatsoever toextinction in its blaze, to death in its life, to weariness in itseffort, and shall be replenished and not exhausted by expenditure.'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength,' and, in allforms of motion possible to a creature they shall expatiate and nevertire. So let us look on this blessed possibility a little more closely.

Note, then, how to get at it. 'They that wait upon the Lord' is OldTestament dialect for what in New Testament phraseology is meant by'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.' For the notion expressed here by'waiting' is that of expectant dependence, and the New Testament'faith' is the very same in its attitude of expectant dependence, whilethe object of the Old Testament 'waiting,' Jehovah, is identical withthe object of the New Testament faith, which fastens on God manifest inthe flesh, the Man Jesus Christ.

Therefore, I am not diverting the language of my text from its truemeaning, but simply opening its depth, when I say that the condition ofthe inflow of this unwearied and immortal life into our poor, fainting,dying humanity is simply the trust in Jesus Christ the Redeemer of oursouls. True, the revelation has advanced; the contents of that which wegrasp are more developed and articulate, blessed be God! True, we knowmore about Jehovah, when we see Him in Jesus Christ, than Isaiah did.True, we have to trust in Him as dying on the Cross for our salvationand as the pattern and example in His humanity of all nobleness andbeauty of life for young or old, but the Christ is the 'same yesterday,and to-day, and for ever.' And the faith that knit the furthest back ofthe saints of old to the Jehovah, whom they dimly knew, is in essenceidentical with the faith that binds my poor sinful heart to the Christthat died and that lives for my redemption and salvation. So, dearbrethren, here is the simple old message for each of you, young or old.No matter where we stand on the course of life, there may come into ourhearts a Divine Indweller, who laughs at weariness and knows nothing ofdecay; and He will come if, as sinful men, we turn ourselves to thatdear Lord, who fainted and was weary many a time in His humanity, andwho now lives, the 'strong Son of God, immortal love,' to make uspartakers in His immortality and His strength. The way, then, by whichwe get this divine gift is by faith in Jesus Christ, which is theexpansion, as it was the root, of trust in Jehovah.

Further, what is this strength that we thus get, if we will, by faith?It is the true entrance into our souls of a divine life. God in His Sonwill come to us, according to His own gracious and profound promise:'If any man open the door I will enter in.' He will come into ourhearts and abide there. He will give to us a life derived from, andtherefore, kindred with, His own. And in that connection it is verystriking to notice how the prophet, in the context, reiterates thesetwo words, 'fainteth not, neither is weary.' He begins by speakingof 'God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, who faintethnot, neither is weary.' He passes on to speak of His gift of power tothe faint. He returns to the contrast between the Creator'sincorruptible strength and the fleeting power of the strongest andyoungest. And then he crowns all with the thought that the samecharacteristics will mark them in whom the unwearied God dwells, asmark Him. We too, like Him, if we have Christ in our hearts by faith,will share, in some fashion and degree, in His wondrous prerogative ofunwearied strength.

So, brethren, here is the promise. God will give Himself to you, and inthe very heart of your decaying nature will plant the seed of animmortal being which shall, like His own, shake off fatigue from thelimbs, and never tend to dissolution or an end. The life of nature diesby living; the life of grace, which may belong to us all, lives byliving, and lives evermore thereby. And so that life is continuous andprogressive, with no tendency to decay, nor term to its being. 'Thepath of the just is as the shining light that shineth more and more,'until it riseth to the zenith of the noontide of the day. Each of you,looking forward to the certain ebbing away of creatural power, to thecertain changes that will pass upon you, may say, 'I know that I shallhave to leave behind me my present youthful strength, my unwornfreshness, my buoyancy, my confidence, my wonder, my hope; but I shallcarry my Christ; and in Him I shall possess the secret of an immortalyouth.'

The oldest angels are the youngest. The longer men live in fellowshipwith Christ, the stronger do they grow. And though our lives, whetherwe are Christians or no, are necessarily subject to the common laws ofmortality, we may carry all that is worth preserving of the earlieststages into the latest; and when grey hairs are upon us, and we areliving next door to our graves, we may still have the enthusiasm, theenergy, and above all, the boundless hopefulness that made the gladnessand the spring of our long-buried youth. 'They shall still bring forthfruit in old age.' 'The youths shall faint and be weary, but they thatwait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.'

There is one more point to touch, and then I have done, and that is themanner in which this immortal strength is exercised. The latter clausesof my text give us, so to speak, three forms of motion. 'They shallmount up with wings as eagles.' Some good commentators find in this aparallel to the words in the 103rd Psalm, 'My youth is renewed like theeagle's,' and propose to translate it in this fashion, 'They shall casttheir plumage like the eagle.' But it seems much more in accordancewith the context and the language to adopt substantially the reading ofour English version here, or to make the slight change, 'They shalllift up their wings as the eagle,' implying, of course, the steadyupward flight towards the light of heaven.

So, then, there are three forms of unwearied strength lying ready foryou, young men and women, to take for your very own if you like:strength to soar, strength to run, strength to walk.

There is strength to soar. Old men generally shed their wings, and canonly manage to crawl. They have done with romance. Enthusiasms aredead. Sometimes they cynically smile at their own past selves and theirdreams. And it is a bad sign when an old man does that. But for themost part they are content, unless they have got Christ in theirhearts, to keep along the low levels, and their soaring days are done.But if you and I have Jesus Christ for the life of our spirits, ascertainly as fire sends its shooting tongues upwards, so certainlyshall we rise above the sorrows and sins and cares of this 'dim spotwhich men call earth,' and find an ampler field for buoyant motion highup in communion with God. Strength to soar means the gracious power ofbringing all heaven into our grasp, and setting our affections onthings above. As the night falls, and joys become fewer and lifesterner, and hopes become rarer and more doubtful, it is something tofeel that, however straitened may be the ground below, there is plentyof room above, and that, though we are strangers upon earth, we canlift our thoughts yonder. If there be darkness here, still we can'outsoar the shadow of our night,' and live close to the sun infellowship with God. Dear brethren, life on earth were too wretchedunless it were possible to 'mount up with wings as eagles.'

Again, you may have strength to run—that is to say, there is powerwaiting for you for all the great crises of your lives which call forspecial, though it may be brief, exertion. Such crises will come toeach of you, in sorrow, work, difficulty, hard conflicts. Moments willbe sprung upon you without warning, in which you will feel that yearshang on the issue of an instant. Great tasks will be clashed downbefore you unexpectedly which will demand the gathering together of allyour power. And there is only one way to be ready for such times asthese, and that is to live waiting on the Lord, near Christ, with Himin your hearts, and then nothing will come that will be too hard foryou. However rough the road, and however severe the struggle, andhowever swift the pace, you will be able to keep it up. Though it maybe with panting lungs and a throbbing heart, and dim eyes and quiveringmuscles, yet if you wait on the Lord you will run and not be weary. Youwill be masters of the crises.

Strength to walk may be yours—that is to say, patient power forpersistent pursuit of weary, monotonous duty. That is the hardest, andso it is named last. Many a man finds it easy, under the pressure ofstrong excitement, and for a moment or two, to keep up a swift pace,who finds it very difficult to keep steadily at unexciting work. Andyet there is nothing to be done except by doggedly plodding along thedusty road of trivial duties, unhelped by excitement and unwearied bymonotony. Only one thing will conquer the disgust at the wearisomeround of mill-horse tasks which, sooner or later, seizes all godlessmen, and that is to bring the great principles of the gospel to bear onthem, and to do them in the might and for the sake of the dear Lord.'They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk' along life's commonway in cheerful godliness, 'and they shall not faint.'

Dear friends, life to us all is, and must be, full of sorrow and ofeffort. Constant work and frequent sorrows wear us all out, and bringus many a time to the verge of fainting. I beseech you to begin right,and not to add to the other occasions for weariness that of having toretrace, with remorseful heart and ashamed feet, the paths of evil onwhich you have run. Begin right, which is to say, begin with Christ andtake Him for inspiration, for pattern, for guide, for companion. 'Runwith patience the race set before you, looking unto Jesus the author ofyour faith, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds.'

And if you have Him in your hearts, then, however your creatural powermay grow weary, yet because He is with you, 'your shoes shall be ironand brass, and as your days so shall your strength be,' and you maylift up in your turn the glad, triumphant acknowledgment: 'For thiscause we faint not, but though our outward man perish, our inward manis renewed day by day.'

God bless you all and make that your experience!

CHRIST THE ARRESTER OF INCIPIENT EVIL AND THE NOURISHER OF INCIPIENTGOOD

'A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall He notquench…. He shall not fail nor be discouraged.'—ISAIAH xlii. 3, 4.

The two metaphors which we have in the former part of these words arenot altogether parallel. 'A bruised reed' has suffered an injury which,however, is neither complete nor irreparable. 'Smoking flax,' on theother hand—by which, of course, is meant flax used as a wick in anold-fashioned oil lamp—is partially lit. In the one a process has beenbegun which, if continued, ends in destruction; in the other, a processhas been begun which, if continued, ends in a bright flame. So the onemetaphor may refer to the beginnings of evil which may still beaverted, and the other the beginnings of incipient and incomplete good.If we keep this distinction in mind, the words of our text gainwonderfully in comprehensiveness.

Then again, it is to be noticed that in the last words of our text,which are separated from the former by a clause which we omit, we havean echo of these metaphors. The word translated 'fail' is the same asthat rendered in the previous verse 'smoking,' or 'dimly burning'; andthe word 'discouraged' is the same as that rendered in the previousverse 'bruised.' So then, this 'Servant of the Lord,' who is not tobreak the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax, is fitted for Hiswork, because He Himself has no share in the evils which He would heal,and none in the weaknesses which He would strengthen. His perfectmanhood knows no flaws nor bruises; His complete goodness is capable ofand needs no increase. Neither outward force nor inward weakness canhinder His power to heal and bless; therefore His work can never ceasetill it has attained its ultimate purpose. 'He shall not fail nor bediscouraged'; shall neither be broken by outward violence, nor shallthe flame of His fading energy burn faint until He hath 'set judgmentin the earth,' and crowned His purposes with complete success.

We have, then, here set before us three significant representations ofthe servant of the Lord, which may well commend Him to our confidenceand our love. I shall not spend any time in answering the question: Ofwhom speaketh the prophet this? The answer is plain for us. He speaksof the personal Servant of the Lord, and the personal Servant of theLord is Jesus Christ our Saviour. I ask you then to come with me whileI deal, as simply as may be, with these three ideas that lie before usin this great prophecy.

I. Consider then, first, the representation of the Servant of the Lordas the arrester of incipient ruin.

'He shall not break the bruised reed.' Here is the picture—a slenderbulrush, growing by the margin of some tarn or pond; its sides crushedand dented in by some outward power, a gust of wind, a sudden blow, thefoot of a passing animal. The head is hanging by a thread, but it isnot yet snapped or broken off from the stem.

But, blessed be God! there emerges from the metaphor not only thesolemn thought of the bruises by sin that all men bear, but the otherblessed one, that there is no man so bruised as that he is broken; noneso injured as that restoration is impossible, no depravity so total butthat it may be healed, none so far off but that he may be brought nigh.On no man has sin fastened its venomous claws so deeply but that thesemay be wrenched away. In none of us has the virus so gone through ourveins but that it is capable of being expelled. The reeds are allbruised, the reeds are none of them broken. And so my text comes withits great triumphant hopefulness, and gathers into one mass as capableof restoration the most abject, the most worthless, the most ignorant,the most sensuous, the most godless, the most Christ-hating of therace. Jesus looks on all the tremendous bulk of a world's sins with theconfidence that He can move that mountain and cast it into the depthsof the sea.

There is a man in Paris that says he has found a cure for that horribledisease of hydrophobia, and who therefore regards the poor sufferers ofwhom others despair as not beyond the reach of hope. Christ looks upona world of men smitten with madness, and in whose breasts awful poisonis working, with the calm confidence that He carries in His hand anelixir, one drop of which inoculated into the veins of the furiouspatient will save him from death, and make him whole. 'The blood ofJesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.' 'He will not break,' and thatmeans He will restore, 'the bruised reed.' There are no hopelessoutcasts. None of you are beyond the reach of a Saviour's love, aSaviour's blood, a Saviour's healing.

But then the words in my text may be taken in a somewhat narrowersense, applying more particularly to a class. In accordance with othermetaphors of Scripture, we may think of 'the bruised reed' asexpressive of the condition of men whose hearts have been crushed bythe consciousness of their sins. 'The broken and the contrite heart,'bruised and pulverised, as it were, by a sense of evil, may be typifiedfor us by this bruised reed. And then from the words of my text thereemerges the great and blessed hope that such a heart, wholesomelyremoved from its self-complacent fancy of soundness, shall certainly behealed and bound up by His tender hand. Did you ever see a gardenerdealing with some plant, a spray of which may have been wounded? Howdelicately and tenderly the big, clumsy hand busies itself about thetiny spray, and by stays and bandages brings it into an erect position,and then gives it water and loving care. Just so does Jesus Christ dealwith the conscious and sensitive heart of a man who has begun to findout how bad he is, and has been driven away from all his foolishconfidence. Christ comes to such an one and restores him, and justbecause he is crushed deals with him gently, pouring in Hisconsolation. Wheresoever there is a touch of penitence, there ispresent a restoring Christ.

And the words may be looked at from yet another point of view. We maythink of them as representing to us the merciful dealing of the Masterwith the spirits which are beaten and bruised, sore and wounded, bysorrows and calamities; to whom the Christ comes in all the tendernessof His gentleness, and lays a hand upon them—the only hand in all theuniverse that can touch a bleeding heart without hurting it.

Brother and sister suffering from any sorrow, and bleeding from anywound, there is a balm and a physician. There is one hand that willnever be laid with blundering kindness or with harshness upon our sorehearts, but whose touch will be healing, and whose presence will bepeace.

The Christ who knows our sins and sorrows will not break the bruisedreed. The whole race of man may be represented in that parable thatcame from His own lips, as fallen among thieves that have robbed himand wounded him and left him bruised, but, blessed be God! only 'halfdead'; sorely wounded, indeed, but not so sorely but that he may berestored. And there comes One with the wine and the oil, and pours theminto the wounds. 'The bruised reed shall He not break.'

II. Now, in the next place, look at the completing thought that ishere, in the second clause, which represents Christ as the fosterer ofincipient and imperfect good.

'The dimly-burning wick He shall not quench.' A process, as I havesaid, is begun in the smoking flax, which only needs to be carried onto lead to a brilliant flame. That represents for us not the beginningsof a not irreparable evil, but the commencement of very dim andimperfect good. Now, then, who are represented by this 'smoking flax'?You will not misunderstand me, nor think that I am contradicting what Ihave already been saying, if I claim for this second metaphor as wide auniversality as the former, and say that in all men, just because theprocess of evil and the wounds from it are not so deep and complete asthat restoration is impossible, therefore is there something in theirnature which corresponds to this dim flame that needs to be fostered inorder to blaze brightly abroad. There is no man out of hell but has inhim something that needs but to be brought to sovereign power in hislife in order to make him a light in the world. You have consciences atthe least; you have convictions, you know you have, which if youfollowed them out would make Christians of you straight away. You haveaspirations after good, desires, some of you, after purity andnobleness of living, which only need to be raised to the height and thedominance in your lives which they ought to possess, in order torevolutionise your whole course. There is a spark in every man which,fanned and cared for, will change him from darkness into light. Fannedand cared for it needs to be, and fanned and cared for it can only beby a divine power coming down upon it from without. This secondmetaphor of my text, as truly as the other, belongs to every soul ofman upon the earth. He from whom all sparks and light have died out isnot a man but a devil. And for all of us the exhortation comes: 'Thouhast a voice within testifying to God and to duty'; listen to it andcare for it.

Then again, dear brethren, in a narrower way, the words may be appliedto a class. There are some of us who have in us a little spark, as webelieve, of a divine life, the faint beginnings of a Christiancharacter. We call ourselves Christ's disciples. We are; but oh! howdimly the flax burns. They say that where there is smoke there is fire.There is a great deal more smoke than fire in the most of Christianpeople in this generation, and if it were not for such thoughts as thisof my text about that dear Christ who will not lay a hasty hand uponsome little tremulous spark, and by one rash movement extinguish it forever, there would be but small hope for a great many of us.

Whether, then, the dimly-burning wick be taken to symbolise thelingering remains of a better nature which still abides with all sinfulmen, yet capable of redemption, or whether it be taken to mean the lowand imperfect and inconsistent and feeble Christianity of us professingChristians, the words of my text are equally blessed and equally true.Christ will neither despise, nor so bring down His hand upon it as toextinguish, the feeblest spark. Look at His life on earth, think how Hebore with those blundering, foolish, selfish disciples of His; howpatient the divine Teacher was with their slow learning of His meaningand catching of His character. Remember how, when a man came to Himwith a very imperfect goodness, the Evangelist tells us that Jesus,beholding him, loved him. And take out of these blessed stories thisgreat hope, that howsoever small men 'despise the day of small things,'the Greatest does not; and howsoever men may say 'Such a little sparkcan never be kindled into flame, the fire is out, you may as well letit alone,' He never says that, but by patient teaching and fosteringand continual care and wise treatment will nourish and nurture it untilit leaps into a blaze.

How do you make 'smoking flax' burn? You give it oil, you give it air,and you take away the charred portions. And Christ will give you, inyour feebleness, the oil of His Spirit, that you may burn brightly asone of the candlesticks in His Temple; and He will let air in, andsometimes take away the charred portions by the wise discipline ofsorrow and trial, in order that the smoking flax may become a shininglight. But by whatsoever means He may work, be sure of this, that Hewill neither despise nor neglect the feeblest inclination of good afterHim, but will nourish it to perfection and to beauty.

The reason why so many Christian men's Christian light is so fuliginousand dim is just that they keep away from Jesus Christ. 'Abide in Me andI in you.' 'As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abidein the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in Me.' How can the Templelamps burn bright unless the Priest of the Temple tends them? Keep nearHim that His hand may nourish your smoking dimness into a pure flame,leaping heavenward and illuminating your lives.

III. And now, lastly, we have here the representation of the servant ofthe Lord's exemption from human evil and weakness, as the foundation ofHis restoring and fostering work.

'He shall not burn dimly nor be broken till He hath set judgment in theearth.' There are no bruises in this reed; that is to say, Christ'smanhood is free from all scars and wounds of evil or of sin. There isno dimness in this light, that is to say, Christ's character isperfect, His goodness needs no increase. There is no trace of effort inHis holiness, no growth manifest in His God-likeness, from thebeginning to the end. There is no outward violence that can be broughtto bear upon Him that will stay Him in His purpose. There is no inwardfailure of strength in Him that may lead us to fear that His work shallnot be completed. And because of these things, because of His perfectexemption from human infirmity, because in Him was no sin. He ismanifested to take away our sins. Because in Him there was goodnessincapable of increase, being perfect from the beginning, therefore Heis manifested to make us participants of His own unalterable andinfinite goodness and purity. Because no outward violence, no inwardweakness, can ever stay His course, nor make Him abandon His purpose,therefore His gospel looks upon the world with boundless hopefulness,with calm triumph; will not hear of there being any outcast andirreclaimable classes; declares it to be a blasphemy against God andChrist to say that any men or any nations are incapable of receivingthe gospel and of being redeemed by it, and comes with supreme love anda calm consciousness of infinite power to you, my brother, in yourdeepest darkness, in your moods most removed from God and purity, andinsures you that it will heal you, and will raise all that in you isfeeble to its own strength. Every man may pray to that strong Christwho fails not nor is discouraged—

'What in me is dark
Illumine; what is low, raise and support,'

in the confidence that He will hear and answer. If you do that you willnot do it in vain, but His gentle hand laid upon you will heal thebruises that sin has made. Out of your weakness, as of 'a reed shakenwith the wind,' the Restorer will make a pillar of marble in the Templeof His God. And out of your smoking dimness and wavering light, a sparkat the best, almost buried in the thick smoke that accompanies it, thefostering Christ will make a brightness which shall flame as theperfect light that 'shineth more and more unto the noontide of the day.'

THE BLIND MAN'S GUIDE

'I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead themin paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light beforethem, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them,and not forsake them.'—ISAIAH xiii. 16.

The grand stormy verses before these words, with all their dread arrayof natural convulsions, have one object—the tender guidance promisedin the text. So we have the combination of terror and love, theblending in the divine government of terrible judgments and most gentleguidance. The words apply, of course, primarily to the redemption ofIsrael; but through them shines a picture of the greater redemption ofhumanity.

1. The blind travellers. They are blind, and their road is unknown tothem. It is a symbol of our condition and of our paths in life. Ourlimited foresight cannot discern certainly even the next moment. It isalways the unexpected that happens. We cannot tell what lies behind thenext bend in the road, and there are so many bends; and behind one ofthem, we cannot tell whether it may be the next, sits 'the Shadowfeared of man.' Life is like the course of the Congo, which makes somighty a bend northward that, till it had been followed from source tomouth, no one could have supposed that it was to enter the ocean faraway to the west. Not only God's mercies, but our paths, are 'new everymorning.' Experience, like conscience, sheds light mainly on what liesbehind, and scarcely 'doth attain to something of prophetic strain.'

2. The Leader. How tenderly God makes Himself the leader of the blindpilgrims! It does not matter about being blind, if we put our hands inHis. Then He will 'be to us instead of eyes.' Jesus took the blind manby the hand.

So here is the promise of guidance by Providence, Word, Spirit. Andhere is the condition of receiving it, namely, our conscious blindnessand realisation of the complexities of life, leading to puttingourselves into His hands in docile faith.

3. The gradual light. Darkness is made light. We receive the knowledgeof each step, when it needs to be taken; the light shines only on thenext; we are like men in a fog, who are able only to see a yard ahead.

4. The clearing away of hindrances. 'Crooked things straight.' Acareful guide lifts stones out of a blind man's way. How far is thistrue? There will be plenty of crooked things left crooked, but still somany straightened as to make our road passable.

5. The perpetual Presence. If God is with me, then all these blessingswill surely be mine. He will be with me if I keep myself with Him. Itis His felt presence that gives me light on the road, and levels andstraightens out the crookedest and roughest path.

THY NAME: MY NAME

'I have called thee by thy name.'—ISAIAH xliii. 1.

'Every one that is called by My name.'—ISAIAH xliii. 7.

Great stress is laid on names in Scripture. These two parallel andantithetic clauses bring out striking complementary relations betweenGod and the collective Israel. But they are as applicable to eachindividual member of the true Israel of God.

I. What does God's calling a man by his name imply?

1. Intimate knowledge.

Adam naming the creatures.

Christ naming His disciples.

2. Loving friendship.

Moses, 'I know thee by name, and thou hast found grace in my sight.'

3. Designation and adaptation to work.

Bezaleel—Exodus xxxi. 2; Cyrus—ISAIAH xlv. 3; Servant of the
Lord—ISAIAH xlix. 1.

II. What does God's calling a man by His name imply?

1. God's possession of him. That possession by God involves God'sprotection and man's safety. He does not hold His property slackly.'None shall pluck them out of My Father's hand.'

2. Kindred. The man bears the family name. He is adopted into thehousehold. The sonship of the receiver of the new name is dimlyshadowed.

3. Likeness.

The Biblical meaning of 'name' is 'character manifested.'

Nomen and omen coincide.

We must bring into connection with the texts the prominence given inthe Apocalypse to analogous promises.

'I will write on him the name of My God.' That means a fullerdisclosing of God's character, and a clear impress of that character onperfected men 'His name shall be in their foreheads.'

JACOB—ISRAEL—JESHURUN

'Yet now hear, O Jacob My servant; and Israel, whom I have chosen….Fear not, O Jacob, My servant; and thou, Jeshurun, whom I havechosen.—ISAIAH xliv. 1, 2.

You observe that there are here three different names applied to theJewish nation. Two of them, namely Jacob and Israel, were borne bytheir great ancestor, and by him transmitted to his descendants. Thethird was never borne by him, and is applied to the people only hereand in the Book of Deuteronomy.

The occurrence of all three here is very remarkable, and the order inwhich they stand is not accidental. The prophet begins with the namethat belonged to the patriarch by birth; the name of nature, whichcontained some indications of character. He passes on to the name whichcommemorated the mysterious conflict where, as a prince, Jacob hadpower with God and prevailed. He ends with the name Jeshurun, of whichthe meaning is 'the righteous one,' and which was bestowed upon thepeople as a reminder of what they ought to be.

Now, as I take it, the occurrence of these names here, and theirsequence, may teach us some very important lessons; and it is simply tothese lessons, and not at all to the context, that I ask your attention.

I. I take, then, these three names in their order as teaching us,first, the path of transformation.

Every 'Jacob' may become a 'righteous one,' if he will tread Jacob'sroad. We start with that first name of nature which, according toEsau's bitter etymology of it, meant 'a supplanter'—not without somesuggestions of craft and treachery in it. It is descriptive of thenatural disposition of the patriarch, which was by no means attractive.Cool, calculating, subtle, with a very keen eye to his own interests,and not at all scrupulous as to the means by which he secured them, hehad no generous impulses, and few unselfish affections. He told lies tohis poor old blind father, he cheated his brother, he met theshiftiness of Laban with equal shiftiness. It was 'diamond cut diamond'all through. He tried to make a bargain with God Himself at Bethel, andto lay down conditions on which he would bring Him the tenth of hissubstance. And all through his earlier career he does not look like thestuff of which heroes and saints are made.

But in the mid-path of his life there came that hour of deep dejectionand helplessness, when, driven out of all dependence on self, andfeeling round in his agony for something to lay hold upon, there cameinto his nightly solitude a vision of God. In conscious weakness, andin the confidence of self-despair, he wrestled with the mysteriousVisitant in the only fashion in which He can be wrestled with. 'He weptand made supplication to Him,' as one of the prophets puts it, and sohe bore away the threefold gift—blessing from those mighty lips whoseblessing is the communication, and not only the invocation, of mercy, adeeper knowledge of that divine and mysterious Name, and for himself anew name.

That new name implied a new direction given to his character.

Hitherto he had wrestled with men whom he would supplant, for his ownadvantage, by craft and subtlety; henceforward he strove with God forhigher blessings, which, in striving, he won. All the rest of his lifewas on a loftier plane. Old ambitions were dead within him, and thoughthe last of these names in our text was never actually borne by him, hebegan to deserve it, and grew steadily in nobleness and beauty ofcharacter until the end, when he sang his swan-song and lay down todie, with thanksgiving for the past and glowing prophecies for thefuture, pouring from his trembling lips.

And now, brethren, that is the outline of the only way in which, fromout of the evil and the sinfulness of our natural disposition, any ofus can be raised to the loftiness and purity of a righteous life. Theremust be a Peniel between the two halves of the character, if there isto be transformation.

Have you ever been beaten out of all your confidence, and ground downinto the dust of self-disgust and self-abandonment? Have you ever felt,'there is nothing in me or about me that I can cling to or rely upon'?Have you ever in the thickest of that darkness had, gleaming in uponyour solitude, the vision of His face, whose face we see in JesusChrist? Have you ever grasped Him who is infinitely willing to be heldby the weakest hand, and who never 'makes as though He would gofurther,' except in order to induce us to say, with deeper earnestnessof desire, 'Abide with us, for it is dark'? And have you ever, infellowship with Him thus, found pouring into your enlightened mind adeeper reading of the meaning of His character and a fuller conceptionof the mystery of His love? And have you ever—certainly you have ifthese things have preceded it, certainly you have not if they havenot—have you ever thereby been borne up on to a higher level of feelingand life, and been aware of new impulses, hopes, joys, new directionsand new capacities budding and blossoming in your spirit?

Brethren! there is only one way by which, out of the mire and clay ofearth, there can be formed a fair image of holiness, and that is, thatJacob's experience, in deeper, more inward, more wonderful form, shouldbe repeated in each one of us; and that thus, penitent and yet hopeful,we should behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, and drawfrom Him our righteousness. That is the path of transformation. Theroad passes through Peniel, and Jacob must become Israel before he isJeshurun. He must hold communion with God in Christ before he isclothed with righteousness.

How different that path is from the road which men are apt to take inworking out their own self-improvement! How many forms of religion, andhow many toiling souls put the cart before the horse, and in effectjust reverse the process, and say practically—'first make yourselvesrighteous, and then you will have communion with God'! That is anendless and a hopeless task. I have no doubt that some of you havespent—and I would not say wasted, but it has been almost so—years oflife, not without many an honest effort, in the task ofself-improvement, and are very much where you were long ago. Why haveyou failed? Because you have never been to Peniel. You have never seenthe face of God in Christ, You have not received from Him the blessing,even righteousness, from the God of your salvation.

Dear friends, give up treading that endless, weary path of vain effort;and learn—oh! learn—that the righteousness which makes a soul pureand beautiful must come as a gift from God, and is given only in JesusChrist.

This sequence too, I think, may very fairly be used to teach us thelesson that there is no kind of character so debased but that it maypartake of the purifying and ennobling influence. All the Jacobs may beturned into righteous ones, however crafty, however subtle, howeverselfish, however worldly they are. Christianity looks at no man andsays, 'That is too bad a case for me to deal with.' It will undertakeany and every case, and whoever will take its medicines can be cured'of whatsoever disease he had.'

To all of us, no matter what our past may have been, this blessedmessage comes: 'There is hope for thee, if thou wilt use these means.'Only remember, the road from the depths of evil to the heights ofpurity always lies through Peniel. You must have power with God anddraw a blessing from Him, and hold communion with Him, before you canbecome righteous.

How do they print photographs? By taking sensitive paper, and layingit, in touch with the negative, in the sun. Lay your spirits on Christ,and keep them still, touching Him, in the light of God, and that willturn you into His likeness. That, and nothing else will do it.

II. And now there is a second lesson from the occurrence of these threenames, viz., here we may find expressed the law for the Christian life.

There are some religious people that seem to think that it is enough ifonly they can say; 'Well! I have been to Jesus Christ and I have got mypast sins forgiven; I have been on the mountain and have held communionwith God; I do know what it is to have fellowship with Him, in many anhour of devout communion.' and who are in much danger of treating thefurther stage of simple, practical righteousness as of secondaryimportance. Now the order of these names here points the lesson thatthe apex of the pyramid, the goal of the whole course,is—Righteousness. The object for which the whole majestic structure ofRevelation has been builded up, is simply to make good men and women.God does not tell us His Name merely in order that we may know HisName, but in order that, knowing it, we may be smitten with the love ofit, and so may come into the likeness of it. There is no religioustruth which is given men for the sake of clearing their understandingsand enlightening their minds only. We get the truth to enlighten ourminds and to clear our understandings in order that thereby, as becomesreasonable men with heads on our shoulders, we may let our principlesguide our conduct. Conduct is the end of principle, and all Revelationis given to us in order that we may be pure and good men and women.

For the same end all God's mercy of forgiveness and deliverance fromguilt and punishment in Jesus Christ is given to you, not merely inorder that you may escape the penalties of your evil, but in orderthat, being pardoned, you may in glad thankfulness be lifted up into anenthusiasm of service which will make you eager to serve Him and longto be like Him. He sets you free from guilt, from punishment, and Hiswrath, in order that by the golden cord of love you may be fastened toHim in thankful obedience. God's purpose in redemption is that 'we,being delivered out of the hand of our enemies should serve Him withoutfear, in holiness and righteousness before Him all our days.'

And in like manner, righteousness, by which, in the present connection,we mean simply the doing of the things, and the being the character,which a conscience enlightened by the law of God dictates to us to beand to do—righteousness is the intention and the aim of all religiousemotion and feeling. It is all very well to have the joy of fellowshipwith God in our inmost soul, but there is a type of Christianity whichis a great deal stronger on the side of devout emotion than on the sideof transparent godliness; and although it becomes no man to say whatJesus Christ could say to those whose religion is mainly emotional,'Hypocrites!' it is the part of every honest preacher to warn all thatlisten to him that there does lie a danger, a very real danger, veryclose to some of us, to substitute devout emotion for plain, practicalgoodness, and to be a great deal nearer God in the words of our prayersthan we are in the current and set of our daily lives. Take, then,these three names of my text as flashing into force and emphasis theexhortation that the crown of all religion is righteousness, and aspreaching, in antique guise, the same lesson that the very Apostle ofaffectionate contemplation uttered with such earnestness:—'Littlechildren! let no man deceive you. He that doeth righteousness isrighteous, even as He is righteous.' An ounce of practical godliness isworth a pound of fine feeling and a ton of correct orthodoxy. Rememberwhat the Master said, and take the lesson in the measure in which youneed it: 'Many will say to Me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we notprophesied in Thy name, and in Thy name have cast out devils, and inThy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them,I never knew you, depart from Me.' And the proof that I never knew you,nor you Me, is: 'Ye that work iniquity.'

III. Then there is another lesson still which I draw from these words,viz. the merciful judgment which God makes of the character of themthat love Him.

Jeshurun means 'the righteous one.' How far beneath the ideal of thename these Jewish people fell we all know, and yet the name is appliedto them. Although the realisation of the ideal has been so imperfect,the ideal is not destroyed. Although they have done so many sins, yetHe calls them by His name of 'righteous.' And so we Christian peoplefind that the New Testament calls us 'saints.' That name is not appliedto some select and lofty specimens of Christianity, but to allChristians, however imperfect their present life and character may be.Then people sneer and say, 'Ah! a strange kind of saints theseChristians are! Do you think that a man can condone practicalimmorality by saying that he is trusting in Jesus Christ? The Church's"saint" seems to mean less than the world's "man of honour."' Godforbid that it should be fancied that Christian sainthood is moretolerant of evil than worldly morality, or has any fantastic standardof goodness which makes up for departures from the plain rule of rightby prayers and raptures. But surely there may be a principle of actiondeep down at the bottom of a heart, very feeble in its present exerciseand manifestation, which yet is the true man, and is destined toconquer the whole nature which now wars against it. Here, for instance,is a tiny spark, and there is a huge pile of damp, green wood. Yes; andthe little spark will turn all the wood into flame, if you give it timeand fair play. The leaven may be hid in an immensely greater mass ofmeal, but it, and not the three measures of flour, is the activeprinciple. And if there is in a man, overlaid by ever so manyabsurdities, and contradictions, and inconsistencies, a little seed offaith in Jesus Christ, there will be in him proportionately a littleparticle of a divine life which is omnipotent, which is immortal, whichwill conquer and transform all the rest into its own likeness; and Hewho sees not as men see, beholds the inmost tendencies and desires ofthe nature, as well as the facts of the life, and discerning the inmostand true self of His children, and knowing that it will conquer, callsus 'righteous ones,' even while the outward life has not yet beenbrought into harmony with the new man, created in righteousness afterGod's image.

All wrong-doing is inconsistent with Christianity, but, thank God, itis not for us to say that any wrong-doing is incompatible with it;and therefore, for ourselves there is hope, and for our estimate of oneanother there ought to be charity, and for all Christian people thereis the lesson—live up to your name. Noblesse oblige! Fulfil yourideal. Be what God calls you, and 'press toward the mark for the prize.'

If one had time to deal with it, there is another lesson naturallysuggested by these names, but I only put it in a sentence and leave it;and that is the union between the founder of the nation and the nation.The name of the patriarch passes to his descendants, the nation iscalled after him that begat it. In some sense it prolongs his life andspirit and character upon the earth. That is the old-world way oflooking at the solidarity of a nation. There is a New Testament factwhich goes even deeper than that. The names which Christ bears aregiven to Christ's followers. Is He a King, is He a Priest? He 'makes uskings and priests.' Is He anointed the Messiah? God 'hath anointed usin Him.' Is He the Light of the World?

'Ye are the lights of the world.' His life passeth into all that loveHim in the measure of their trust and love. We are one with Jesus if werest upon Him; one in life, one in character, approximating by slowdegrees, but surely, to His likeness; and blessed be His name! one indestiny. Then, my friend, if you will only keep near that Lord, trustHim, live in the light of His face, go to Him in your weakness, in yourdespair, in your self-abandonment; wrestle with Him, with thesupplication and the tears that He delights to receive, then you willbe knit to Him in a union so real and deep that all which is His shallbe yours, His life shall be the life of your spirit, His power thestrength of your life, His dominion the foundation of your dignity as aprince with God, His all-prevailing priesthood the security that yourprayer shall have power, and the spotless robe of His righteousness thefine linen, clean and white, in which arrayed, you shall be found ofHim, and in Him at last, in peace, 'not having your own righteousness,but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness whichis of God by faith.'

FEEDING ON ASHES

'He feedeth on ashes: a deceived heart hath turned him aside, that hecannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a lie in my righthand?'—ISAIAH xliv. 20.

The prophet has been pouring fierce scorn on idolaters. They make, hesays, the gods they worship. They take a tree and saw it up: one logserves for a fire to cook their food, and with compass and pencil andplane they carve the figure of a man, and then they bow down to it andsay, 'Deliver me, for thou art my god!' He sums up the whole in thissentence of my text, in which the tone changes from bitter irony toastonished pity. Now, if this were the time and the place, one wouldlike to expand and illustrate the deep thoughts in these words inreference to idolatry; thoughts which go dead in the teeth of a greatdeal that is now supposed to be scientifically established, but whichmay be none the more true for all that. He asserts that idolatry isempty, a feeding on ashes. He declares, in opposition to modern ideas,that the low, gross forms of polytheism and idol-worship are adeparture from a previous higher stage, whereas to-day we are told by ahundred voices that all religion begins at the bottom, and slowlystruggles up to the top. Isaiah says the very opposite. The pure formis the primitive; the secondary form is the gross, which is acorruption. They tell us too, nowadays, that all religion pursues aprocess of evolution, and gradually clears itself of its more imperfectand carnal elements. Isaiah says, 'he cannot deliver his soul'; and noreligion ever worked itself up, unless under the impulse of arevelation from without. That is Isaiah's philosophy of idolatry, and Iexpect it will be accepted as the true one some day.

But my text has a wider bearing. It not only describes, in patheticlanguage, the condition of the idolater, but it is true about alllives, which are really idolatrous in so far as they make anything elsethan God their aim and their joy. Every word of this text applies tosuch lives—that is to say, to the lives of a good many peoplelistening to me now. And I would fain try to lay the truths here onsome hearts. Let me just take them as they lie in the words before me.

I. A life that substantially ignores God is empty of all truesatisfaction.

'He feedeth on ashes'! Very little imagination will realise the forceof that picture. The gritty cinders will irritate the lips and tongue,will dry up the moisture of the mouth, will interfere with thebreathing, and there will be no nourishment in a sackful of them.

Dear brethren, the underlying truth is this—God is the only food of aman's soul. You pick up the skeleton of a bird upon a moor; and if youknow anything about osteology—the science of bones—you will see, inthe very make of its breast-bone and its wing-bones, the declarationthat its destiny was to soar into the blue. You pick up the skeleton ofa fish lying on the beach, and you will see in its very form andcharacteristics that its destiny is to expatiate in the depths of thesea. And, written on you, as distinctly as flight on the bird, orswimming on the fish, is this, that you are meant, by your very make,to soar up into the heights of the glory of God, and to plunge deepinto the abysses of His infinite love and wisdom. Man is made for God.'Whose image and superscription hath it?' said Christ. The coin belongsto the king whose head and titles are displayed upon it; and on yourheart, friend, though a usurper has tried to recoin the piece, and puthis own foul image on the top of the original one, is stamped deep thatyou belong to the King of kings, to God Himself.

For what does our heart want? A perfect, changeless, all-powerful love.And what does our mind want? Reliable, guiding, inexhaustible, and yetaccessible truth. And what does our will want? Commandments which havean authoritative ring in their very utterance, and which will serve forinfallible guides for our lives. And what do our weak, sinful natureswant? Something that shall free our consciences, and shall deliver usfrom the burden of our transgressions, and shall calm our fears, andshall quicken and warrant our lofty hopes. And what do men whosedestiny is to live for ever want but something that shall go with themthrough all changes of condition, and, like a light in the midst of thedarkest tunnel, shall burn in the passage between this and the otherworld, and shall never be taken away from them? We want a Person to beeverything to us. No accumulation of things will satisfy a man. And wewant all our treasures to be in one Person, and we need that thatPerson shall live as long as we live, and as long as we need shall besufficient to supply us. And all this is only the spelling in manyletters of the one name—God. That is what we want, that, and nothingless.

Then the next step that I suggest to you is, that where a man will takeGod for the food of his spirit, and turn love and mind and will andconscience and practical life to Him, seeing Him in everything, andseeing all things in Him; saturating, as it were, the universe with thethought of God, and recreating his own spirit with communion offriendship to Him; to that man lower goods do first disclose their realsweetness, their most poignant delight, and their most solidsatisfaction. To say of a world where God has set us, that it is all'vanity and vexation of spirit,' goes in flat contradiction to what Hesaid when, creation finished, He looked upon His world, and proclaimedto the waiting seraphim around that 'it was very good.' There is a viewof the world which calls itself pious, but is really an insult to God;and the irreligious pessimism that is fashionable nowadays, as if humanlife were a great mistake, and everything were mean and poor andinsufficient, is contrary to the facts and to the consciousness ofevery man. But if you make things first which were meant to be second,then you make what was meant to be food 'ashes.' They are all good intheir place. Wealth is good; wisdom is good; success is good; love isgood. And all these things may be enjoyed without God, and will each ofthem yield their proportional satisfaction to the part of our nature towhich they belong. But if you put them first you degrade them; a changepasses over them at once. A long row of cyphers means nothing; put asignificant digit in front of it, and it means millions. Take away thedigit, and it goes back to nothing again. The world, and all its fadingsweets, if you put God in the forefront of it, and begin the serieswith Him, is sweet, though it may be fleeting, and is meant to be feltby us as such. But if you take away Him, it is a row of cypherssignifying nothing, and able to contribute nothing to the real, deepestnecessities of the human soul. And so the old question comes—'Why doye spend your money for that which is not bread?' It is bread, if onlyyou will remember first that God is the food of your souls. But if youtry to nourish yourselves on it alone, then, as I said, a sackful ofsuch ashes will not stay your appetite. Oh! brethren, God has not soblundered in making the world that He has surrounded us with thingsthat are all lies, but He has so made it that whosoever flies in theface of the gracious commandment which is also an invitation, 'Seek yefirst the Kingdom of God and His righteousness,' has not only nosecurity that the 'other things' shall 'be added unto him,' but has thecertainty that though they were added to him, in degree beyond hisdreams and highest hopes, they would avail nothing to satisfy thehunger of his heart. As George Herbert puts it—

Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career,
Embroidered lies, nothing between two dishes,
These are the pleasures here.'

'He feedeth on ashes,' because he does not take God for the food of hissoul.

II. So, secondly, notice that a life which thus ignores God istragically unaware of its own emptiness.

'A deceived heart hath turned him aside.' That explains how the mancomes to fancy that ashes are food. His whole nature is perverted, hisvision distorted, his power of judgment marred. He is given over tohallucinations and illusions and dreams.

That explains, too, why men persist in this feeding on ashes after allexperience. There is no fact stranger or more tragical in our historiesthan that we do not learn by a thousand failures that the world willnot avail to make us restful and blessed. You will see a dog chasing asparrow,—it has chased hundreds before and never caught one. Yet, whenthe bird rises from the ground, away it goes after it once more, witheager yelp and rush, to renew the old experience. Ah! that is like whata great many of you are doing, and you have not the same excuse thatthe dog has. You have been trying all your lives—and some of you havegrey hairs on your heads—to slake your thirst by dipping leaky bucketsinto empty wells, and you are at it yet. As some one says, 'experiencethrows a light on the wave behind us,' but it does very little to flinga light on the sea before us. Experience confirms my text, for Iventure to put it to the experience of every man—how many moments ofcomplete satisfaction and rest can you summon up in your memory ashaving been yours in the past? 'He that loveth silver shall not besatisfied with silver, nor he that loveth abundance with increase.'Appetite always grows faster than supply. And so, though we have triedthem in vain so often, we turn again to the old discredited sources,and fancy we shall do better this time. Is it not strange? Is there anyexplanation of it, other than that of my text? 'A deceived heart hathturned him aside.'

And that deceived heart, stronger than experience, is also strongerthan conscience. Do you not know that you ought to be Christians? Doyou not know that it is both wrong and foolish of you to ignore God? Doyou not know that you will have to answer for it? Have you not hadmoments of illumination when there has risen up before you the wholevanity of your past lives, and when you have felt 'I have played thefool, and erred exceedingly'? And yet, what has come of it all withsome of you? Why, what comes of it with the drunkard in the Book ofProverbs, who, as soon as he has got over the bruises and the sicknessof his last debauch, says, 'I will seek it yet again.' 'A deceivedheart hath turned him aside.'

And how is it that this hallucination that you have fed full and beensatisfied, when all the while your hunger has not been appeased, cancontinue to act on us? For the very plain reason that every one of ushas in himself a higher and a lower self, a set of desires for thegrosser, more earthly, and, using the word in its proper sense, worldlysort—that is to say, directed towards material things, and a higherset which look right up to God if they were allowed fair play. And ofthese two sets—which really are one at bottom, if a man would only seeit—the lower gets the upper hand, and suppresses the higher and thenobler. And so in many a man and woman the longing for God is crushedout by the grosser delights of sense.

One sometimes hears of cowardly, unmanly sailors, who in shipwreck pushthe women and children aside, and struggle to the boats. And there arein all of us groups of sturdy mendicants, so to speak, who elbow theirway to the front, and will have their wants satisfied. What becomes ofthe gentler group that stand behind, unnoticed and silent? It is anawful thing when men and women do, as so many of us do, pervert thetastes that are meant to lead them to God, in order to stifle theconsciousness that they need a God at all. There are tribes of lowsavages who are known as 'clay-eaters.' That is what a great many of usare; we feed upon the serpent's meat, the dust of the earth, and letall the higher heavenly food, which addresses itself first to loftierdesires, but also satisfies these lower ones, stand unnoticed, unsoughtfor, unpartaken of. Dear friends, do not be befooled by thattreacherous heart of yours, but let the deepest voices in your soul beheard. Understand, I beseech you, that their cry is for no createdperson or thing, and that only God Himself can satisfy them.

III. And now, lastly, notice that a life thus ignoring God needs apower from without to set it free.

'He cannot deliver his soul.' Can you? Do you think you can break thehabits of a lifetime? Do you think that, left to yourself, you wouldever have any inclination to break them? Certainly, left to yourselves,you will never have the power. These long indulged appetites of oursgrow with indulgence; and that which first was light as a cobweb, andsoft as a silken bracelet, becomes heavier and solider until it is aniron fetter upon the limb, which no man can break. There is nothingmore awful in life than the influence of habit, so unthinkinglyacquired, so inexorably certain, so limiting our possibilities andenclosing us in its grip.

Dear brethren, there is something more wanted than yourselves to breakthis chain. You have tried, I have no doubt, in the course of yourlives, more and more resolutely, to cure yourselves of some more orless unworthy habits. They may be but mere slight tricks of attitude orintonation, or movement. Has your success been such as to encourage youto think that you can revolutionise your lives, and dethrone thedespots that have ruled over you in the past? I leave the question toyourselves. To me it seems that the world of men is certain to go onignoring God, and seeking its delight only in the world of creatures,unless there comes in an outside power into the heart of the world andrevolutionises all things.

It is that power that I have to preach, the Christ who is the 'Bread ofGod that came down from Heaven,' who can lift up any soul from the mostobstinate and long-continued grovelling amongst the transitory thingsof this limited world, and the superficial delights of sense and agratified bodily life; who can bring the forgiveness which isessential, the deliverance from the power of evil which is not lessessential, and who can fill our hearts with Himself the food of theworld. He comes to each of us; He comes to you, with the oldunanswerable question upon His lips, 'Why do you spend your money forthat which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfiethnot?' It is unanswerable, for you can give no reason sufficient forsuch madness. All that you could say, and you durst not say it to Him,is, 'a deceived heart hath turned me aside.' He comes with the oldgracious word upon His lips, 'Take! eat! this is My body which isbroken for you.' He offers us Himself. He can stay all the hungers ofall mankind. He can feed your heart with love, your mind with truthwhich is Himself, your will with His sweet commands.

As of old He made the thousands sit down upon the grass, and they didall eat and were filled, so He stands before the world to-day and says,'I am the Bread of Life; He that cometh to Me shall never hunger.' Andif you will only come to Him—that is to say, will trust yourselvesaltogether to the merits of His sacrifice, and the might of Hisindwelling Spirit—He will take away all the taste for the leeks andonions and garlic, and will give you the appetite for heavenly food. Hewill spread for you a table in the wilderness, and what would else beashes will become sweet, wholesome, and nourishing. Nor will He ceasethere, for in His own good time He will call us to the banqueting houseabove, where He will make us to sit down to meat, and come forthHimself and serve us. Here, hunger often brings pain, and eating isfollowed by repletion. But there, appetite and satisfaction willproduce each other perpetually, and the blessed ones who then hungerwill not hunger so as to feel faintness or emptiness, nor be so filledas to cease to desire larger portions of the Bread of God. I beseechyou, cry, 'Lord, ever more give us this bread!'

WRITING BLOTTED OUT AND MIST MELTED

'I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as acloud, thy sins.'—ISAIAH xliv. 22.

Isaiah has often and well been called the Evangelical Prophet. Manyparts of this second half of his prophecies referring to the Messiahread like history rather than prediction. But it is not only from theclearness with which the great figure of the future king of Israelstands out on his page that he deserves that title. Other thoughtsbelonging to the very substance of the gospel appear in him with avividness and a frequency which well warrants its application to him.He speaks much of the characteristically Christian conceptions of sin,forgiveness, and redemption. The whole of the latter parts of this bookare laden with that burden. They are gathered up in the extraordinarilypregnant and blessed words of my text, in which metaphors are blendedwith much disregard to oratorical propriety, in order to bring out thewhole fulness of the prophet's meaning. 'I have blotted out'—thatsuggests a book. 'I have blotted out as a cloud'—that suggests thethinning away of morning mists. The prophet blends the two thoughtstogether, and on that great revelation of a forgiveness granted beforeit has been asked, and given, not only to one penitent soul wailing outlike the abased king of Israel in his deep contrition, 'according tothe multitude of Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions,' butpromised to a whole people, is rested the great invitation, 'Returnunto Me, for I have redeemed thee.'

Let me try and bring out, as simply and earnestly as I can, the greatteaching that is condensed into these words.

I. Observe here the penetrating glance into the very essentialcharacteristics of all sin.

There are two words, as you see, employed in my text, 'transgressions'and 'sins.' They apply to the same kind of actions, but they look atthem from different angles and points of view. They are partiallysynonymous, but they cover very various conceptions, and if we takenote of the original significations of the two words, we get two veryimportant and often forgotten thoughts.

For that expression rendered in my text, and rendered correctlyenough—transgressions—means at bottom, 'rebellion,' the rising up of adisobedient will, not only against a law, but against a lawgiver. Therewe have a deepening of that solemn fact of a man's wrongdoing, whichbrings it into immediate connection with God, and marks its foulness byreason of that connection.

Ah! brethren, it makes all the difference to a man's notions of rightand wrong, whether he stops on the surface or goes down to the depths;whether he says to himself, 'The thing is a vice; it is wrong; it iscontrary to what I ought to be'; or whether he gets down to the darker,deeper, and truer thought, and says, 'The damnable thing about everylittle evil that I do is this, that in it I—poor puny I—perk myselfup against God, and say to Him, "Thou wilt; wilt thou? I shall not!"'Sin is rebellion.

And so what becomes of the hazy distinction between great sins andlittle ones? An overt act of rebellion is of the same gravity,whatsoever may be its form. The man that lifts his sword against thesovereign, and the man behind him that holds his horse, are equallycriminal. And when once you let in the notion that in all our actionswe have to do with a Person, to whom we are bound to be obedient, thenthe distinction which sophisticates so many people's consciences, anddoes such infinite harm in so many lives, between great and smalltransgressions, disappears altogether. Sin is rebellion.

Then the other word of my text is equally profound and significant. Forit, literally taken, means—as the words for 'sin' do in otherlanguages besides the Hebrew—missing a mark. Every wrong thing thatany man does is beside the mark, at which he, by virtue of his manhood,and his very make and nature, ought to aim. It is beside the mark inanother sense than that. As some one says, 'A rogue is a roundaboutfool.' No man ever secures that, and only that, which he aims at by anydeparture from the straight path of imperative duty. For if he getssome vulgar and transient titillation of appetite, or satisfaction ofdesire, he gets along with it something that takes all the gilt off thegingerbread, and all the sweetness out of the satisfaction. So that itis always a blunder to be bad, and every arrow that is drawn by asinful hand misses the target to which all our arrows should bepointed, and misses even the poor mark that we think we are aiming at.Take these two thoughts with you—I will not dwell on them, but Idesire to lay them upon all your hearts—all evil is sin, and every sinis rebellion against God, and a blunder in regard to myself.

II. And now I come to the second point of our text, and ask you to notethe permanent record which every sin leaves.

I explained in the earlier part of my remarks that we have a case hereof the thing that horrifies rhetoricians, but does not matter a bit toa prophet, the blending or confusing of two metaphors. The first ofthem—'I have blotted out'—suggests a piece of writing, a book, ormanuscript of some sort. And the plain English of what lies behind thatmetaphor is this solemn thought, which I would might blaze before eachof us, in all our lives, that God's calm and all-comprehensiveknowledge and remembrance takes and keeps filed, and ready forreference, the whole story of our whole acts. There is a book. It isa violent metaphor, no doubt, but there is a solemn truth underlying itwhich we are too apt to forget. The world is groaning nowadays withtwo-volume memoirs of men that nobody wants to know anything moreabout. But every man is ever writing his autobiography with invisiblebut indelible ink. You have seen those old-fashioned 'manifold writers'in your places of business, and the construction of them is this: aflimsy sheet of tissue paper, a bit of black to be put in below it, andthen another sheet on the other side; and the pen that writes on theflimsy top surface makes an impression that is carried through theblack to the sheet below, and there is a duplicate which the writerkeeps. You and I, upon the flimsinesses of this fleeting—sometimes, wethink, futile—life, are penning what is neither flimsy nor futile,which goes through the opaque dark, and is reproduced and docketedyonder. That is what we are doing every day and every minute, writing,writing, writing our own biography. And who is going to read it? Well,God does read it now, and you will have to read it out one day, and howwill you like that?

This metaphor will bear a little further expansion. Scripture tells us,and conscience tells us, what manner of manuscript it is that we areeach so busy adding line upon line to. It is a ledger; it is anindictment. Our own handwriting puts down in the ledger our own debts,and we cannot deny our own handwriting when we are confronted with it.It is an indictment, and our own hand draws it, and we have to plead'guilty,' or 'not guilty,' to it. Which, being translated into plainfact, is this—that there goes with all our deeds some sense andreality of responsibility for them, and that all our rebellions againstGod, and our blunders against self, be they great or small, carry withthem a sense of guilt and a reality of guilt whether we have the senseof it or not. God has a judgment at this moment about every man andwoman, based upon the facts of the unfinished biography which they arewriting.

Mystical and awful, yet blessed and elevating, is the thought thatnothing—nothing, ever dies; and that what was, is now, and alwayswill be.

Amongst the specimens from the coal measures in a museum you will findslabs upon which the tiniest fronds of ferns that grew nobody knows howmany millenniums since are preserved for ever. Our lives, when the blowof the last hammer lays them open, will, in like manner, bear theimpress of the minutest filament of every deed that we have ever done.

But my metaphor will bear yet further expansion, for thisautobiographical record which we are busy preparing, which is at onceledger and indictment, is to be read out one day. There is a greatscene in the last book of Scripture, the whole solemn significance ofwhich, I suppose, we shall not understand till we have learned it byexperience, but the truth of which we have sufficient premonitions toassure us of, which declares that at a given time, on the confines ofEternity, the Great White Throne is to be set, and the books are to beopened, and the dead are judged 'out of the books,' which, the seergoes on to explain, is 'according to their works.' The story of Esthertells us how the sleepless monarch in the night-watches sent for therecords of the kingdom and had them read to him. The King who neverslumbers nor sleeps, in that dawning of heaven's eternal morning, willhave the books opened before Him, and my deeds will be read out. He andI will hear them, whether any else may hear or no. That is my secondlesson.

III. The third is, that we have here suggested the darkening power ofsin.

The prophet, as I said, mixes metaphors. 'I have blotted out as a cloudthy transgressions.' He uses two words for 'cloud' here; both of themmean substantially the same thing, and both suggest the same idea. Whencloud fills the sky it darkens the earth, and shuts out the sunshineand the blue, it closes the petals of the little flowers, it hushes thesongs of the birds. Sin makes for the sinning man 'an under-roof ofdoleful grey,' which shuts out all the glories above. Put that metaphorinto plain English, and it is just this, 'Your sins have separatedbetween you and your God, and your iniquities have hid His face fromyou that He will not hear.' It is impossible for a man that has hisheart all stiffened by the rebellion of his will against God's, or allseething with unrestrained passions, or perturbed with worldly longingsand desires, to enter into calm fellowship with God or to keep thethought of God clear before his mind. For we know Him, not by sense norby reason, but by sympathy and by feeling. And whatsoever comes in todisturb a man's purity, comes in to hinder his vision of God. 'Blessedare the pure in heart, for they'—and they only—'shall see God.'Whenever from the undrained swamps of my own passions and sensualities,or from the as malarious though loftier grounds of my own self-regard,be I student or thinker, or moral man, there rise up these light mists,they will fill the sky and hide the sun. On a winter's night you willsee the Pleiades, or other bright constellations, varying in brilliancyfrom moment to moment as some invisible cloud-wrack floats across theheavens. So, brother, every evil thing that we do rises up and getsdiffused through our atmosphere, and blots out from our vision the faceof God Himself, the blessed Son.

Not only by reason of dimming and darkening my thoughts of Him is mysin rightly compared to an obscuring cloud; but the comparison alsoholds good because, just as the blanket of a wet mist swathing thewintry fields prevents the sunshine from falling upon them in blessing,so the accumulated effect of my evil doings and evil designings andthinkings and willings comes between me and all spiritual blessingswhich God can bestow, so that the very light of light, the highestblessings that He yearns to give, and we faint for want of possessing,are impossible even to His love to communicate until the cloud is sweptaway. So my sin darkens my soul, and separates me from the light oflife.

But the metaphor carries with it, too, a suggestion of the limitationsof the power of sin. For when the cloud is thickest and most obscuringit only hugs the earth, and rises but a little way Into the heavens;and far above it the blue is as blue, and the sunshine as bright, as ifthere were no mist or fog in the lower regions. Therefore, let usremember that, while the cloud must veil us from the light, the lightis above it, and 'every cloud that veileth love' may some day bethinned away by the love it veils.

IV. That brings me to the last word of my text,—viz. the prophet'steaching as to the removal of the sin.

We have to carry both the metaphors together with us here. 'I haveblotted out'—that is, as erasing from a book. 'I have blotted out as acloud'—that is, the thinning away of the mist. The blurred and stainedpage can be cancelled. Chemicals will take the ink out. 'The blood ofJesus Christ cleanseth from all sin'; and it, passed over all that foulrecord, makes it pure and clean. 'What I have written, I have written,'said Pilate in his obstinacy. 'What I have written, I have written,'wails many a man in the sense of the irrevocableness of his past.Brother! be not afraid. Christ can take away all that stained record,and give you back the page ready to receive holier words.

The cloud is thinned away. What thins the cloud? As I have said, thelight which the cloud obscures, shining on the upper surface of it,dissipates it layer by layer till it gets down at last to thelowermost, and then rends a gap in it, and sends the shaft of thesunbeam through on to the green earth. And that is only a highlyimaginative way of saying that it is the love against which wetransgress that thins away the cloud of transgression, and at last, asthe placid moon, by simply shining silently on, will sweep the wholesky clear of its clouds, dissipates them all, and leaves the calm blue.God forgives. The ledger account—if I may use so grossly commercial afigure—is settled in full; the indictment is endorsed, 'acquitted.' Heremembers the sins only to breathe into the child's heart the assuranceof pardon, and no obstacle rises by reason of forgiven transgressionbetween the sinning man and the reconciled God.

Now, all this preaching of Isaiah's is enlarged and confirmed, and tosome extent the rationale of it is set before us in the great Gospeltruth of forgiveness through the blood of Jesus Christ. Unless we knowthat truth, we may well stand amazed and questioning as to whether arighteous God, administering a rigorous universe, can ever pardon sin.And unless we know that by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, granted to ourspirits, our whole nature may be remade and moulded, we might well betempted to say, Ah! the Ethiopian cannot change his skin nor theleopard his spots. But Jesus Christ can change more than skin, even theheart and spirit, the inmost depths of the nature.

Now, brother, my text speaks of this great blotting out as a past fact.It is so in the divine mind with regard to each of us, because Christ'sgreat work has made reconciliation and atonement for all the sins ofall the world. And on the fact that it is past is based theexhortation, 'Return unto Me, for I have redeemed thee.' God does notsay, 'Come back and I will forgive'; He does not say, 'Return and Iwill blot out'; but He says, 'Return, for I have blotted out.' Thoughaccomplished, the forgiveness has to be appropriated by individualfaith. The sins of the world have been borne, and borne away, by theLamb of God, but your sins are not borne away unless your hand is laidon this head.

If it is, then you do not need to say, 'What I have written is written,and it cannot be blotted out.' But as in the old days a monk would takesome manuscript upon which filthy stories about heathen gods andfoolish fables were written, and erase these to write the legends ofsaints, or perhaps the words of the Gospels themselves; so on ourhearts, which have been scribbled all over with obscenities andfollies, He will write His new best name of Love, and we may beepistles of Christ, written with the Spirit of the living God.

HIDDEN AND REVEALED

'Verily thou art a God that hidest Thyself, O God of Israel, the
Saviour…. I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth;
I said not unto the seed of Jacob, Seek ye Me in vain: I the Lord speak
righteousness, I declare things that are right.'—ISAIAH xlv, 15,19.

The former of these verses expresses the thoughts of the prophet incontemplating the close of a great work of God's power which issues inthe heathen's coming to Israel and acknowledging God. He adores thedepth of the divine counsels which, by devious ways and after longages, have led to this bright result. And as he thinks of all thelong-stretching preparations, all the apparently hostile forces whichhave been truly subsidiary, all the generations during which theseEgyptian and Ethiopian tribes have been the enemies and oppressors ofthat Israel whom they at last acknowledge for the dwelling-place ofGod, and enemies of that Jehovah before whom they finally bow down, hefeels that he has no measuring-line to fathom the divine purposes, andbows his face to the ground in reverent contemplation with that wordupon his lips: 'Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself, O God ofIsrael, the Saviour.' It is a parallel to the apostolic words, 'O thedepths of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God. Howunsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out.'

But such thoughts are but a half truth, and may very easily become inmen's minds a whole error, and therefore they are followed by amarvellous section in which the Lord Himself speaks, and of which thewhole burden is—the clearness and fulness with which God makes Himselfknown to men. True it is that there are depths inaccessible in thedivine nature. True it is that there are mysteries unrevealed in themethod of the divine procedure, and especially in that of the relationof heathen tribes to His gospel and His love. True it is that there aremysteries opened in the very word of His grace. But notwithstanding allthis—it is also true that He makes Himself known to us all, that Hedeclares righteousness, that He calls us to seek Him, and that He willsto be found and known by us.

The collocation of these two passages may be taken, then, asrepresenting the two phases of the Divine Manifestation, the obscuritywhich must ever be associated with all our finite knowledge of God, andthe clear sunlight in which blazes all that we need to know of Him.

I. After all revelation, God is hidden.

There is revelation of His Name in all His works. His action must beall self-manifestation. But after all it is obscure and hidden.

1. Nature hides while it reveals.

Nature's revelation is unobtrusive.

God is concealed behind second causes.

God is concealed behind regular modes of working (laws).

Nature's revelation is partial, disclosing only a fragment of the name.

Nature's revelation is ambiguous. Dark shadows of death and pain in thesensitive world, of ruin and convulsions, of shivered stars, seem tocontradict the faith that all is very good; so that it has beenpossible for men to drop their plummet in the deep and say, 'I find noGod,' and for others to fall into Manichaeism or some form or other ofdualism.

2. Providence hides while it reveals.

That is the sphere in which men are most familiar with the idea ofmystery.

There is much of which we do not see the issue. The process is notcompleted, and so the end is not visible.

Even when we believe that 'to Him' and 'for good' are 'all things,' wecannot tell how all will come circling round. We are like men lookingonly at one small segment of an ellipse which is very eccentric.

There is much of which we do not see the consistency with the divinecharacter.

We are confronted with stumbling-blocks in the allotment of earthlyconditions; in the long ages and many tribes which are withoutknowledge of God; in the sore sorrows, national and individual.

We can array a formidable host. But it is to be remembered thatrevelation actually increases these. It is just because we know so muchof God that we feel them so keenly. I suppose the mysteries of thedivine government trouble others outside the sphere of revelation butlittle. The darkness is made visible by the light.

3. Even in 'grace' God is hidden while revealed.

The Infinite and Eternal cannot be grasped by man.

The conception of infinity and eternity is given us by revelation, butit is not comprehended so that its contents are fully known. The wordsare known, but their full meaning is not, and no revelation can makethem, known to finite intelligences.

God dwells in light inaccessible, which is darkness.

Revelation opens abysses down which we cannot look. It raises andleaves unsettled as many questions as it solves.

The telescope resolves many nebulae, but only to bring moreunresolvable ones into the field of vision.

Now all this is but one side of the truth. There is a tendency in someminds to underrate what is plain because all is not plain. For someminds the obscure has a fascination, apart altogether from its nature,just because it is obscure. It is a noble emulation to press forwardand 'still to be closing up what we know not with what we know.' Butneither in science nor in religion shall we make progress if we do nottake heed of the opposing errors of thinking that all is seen, and ofthinking that what we have is valueless because there are gaps in it.The constellations are none the less bright nor immortal fires, thoughthere be waste places in heaven where nothing but opaque blackness isseen. In these days it is especially needful to insist both on theincompleteness of all our religious knowledge, and to say that—

II. Notwithstanding all obscurity, God has amply revealed Himself.

Though God hides Himself, still there comes from heaven the voice—'Ihave not spoken in secret,' Now these words contain these thoughts—

1. That whatever darkness there may be, there is none due to the mannerof the revelation.

God has not spoken in secret, in a corner. There are no arbitrarydifficulties made or unnecessary darkness left in His revelation. Wehave no right to say that He has left difficulties to test our faith.He Himself has never said so. He deals with us in good faith, doingall that can be done to enlighten, regard being had to still loftierconsiderations, to the freedom of the human will, to the laws which Hehas Himself imposed on our nature, and the purposes for which we arehere. It is very important to grasp this. We have been told as much ascan be told. Contrast with such a revelation the cave-mutteredoracles of heathenism and their paltering double sense. Be sure thatwhen God speaks, He speaks clearly and to all, and that in Christianitythere is no esoteric teaching for a few initiated only, while themultitude are put off with shows.

2. That whatever obscurity there may be, there is none which hides thedivine invitation or Him from those who obey it.

'I have never said … seek ye Me in vain.' Much is obscure ifspeculative completeness is looked for, but the moral relations of Godand man are not obscure.

All which the heart needs is made known. His revelation is clearly Hisseeking us, and His revelation is His gracious call to us to seek Him.He is ever found by those who seek. They have not to press throughobscurities to find Him, but the desire to possess must precedepossession in spiritual matters. He is no hidden God, lurking inobscurity and only to be found by painful search. They who 'seek' Himknow where to find Him, and seek because they know.

3. That whatever may be obscure, the Revelation of righteousness isclear.

We have to face speculative difficulties in plenty, but the great factremains that in Revelation steady light is focussed on the moralqualities of the divine Nature and especially on His righteousness.

And the revelation of the divine righteousness reaches its greatestbrightness, as that of all the divine Nature does, in the Person andwork of Jesus. Very significantly the idea of God's righteousness isfully developed in the immediately subsequent context. There we findthat attribute linked in close and harmonious conjunction with whatshallower thought is apt to regard as being in antagonism to it. Hedeclares Himself to be 'a just (righteous) God and a Saviour.' So then,if we would rightly conceive of His righteousness, we must give it awider extension than that of retributive justice or cold, inflexiblealoofness from sinners. It impels God to be man's saviour. And withsimilar enlarging of popular conceptions there follows: 'In the Lord isrighteousness and strength,' and therefore, 'In the Lord shall all theseed of Israel be justified (declared and made righteous) and shallglory'—then, the divine Righteousness is communicative.

All these thoughts, germinal in the prophet's words, are set in fullestlight, and certified by the most heart-moving facts, in the Person andwork of Jesus Christ. He 'declares at this time His righteousness, thatHe might Himself be righteous and the maker righteous of them that havefaith in Jesus.' Whatever is dark, this is clear, that 'Jehovah ourRighteousness' has come to us in His Son, in whom seeking Him we shallnever seek in vain, but 'be found in Him, not having a righteousness ofour own, even that which is of the law, but that which is through faithin Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.'

If the great purpose of revelation is to make us know that God lovesus, and has given us His Son that in Him we may know Him and possessHis Righteousness, difficulties and obscurities in its form or in itssubstance take a very different aspect. What need we more than thatknowledge and possession? Be not robbed of them.

Many things are not written in the book of the divine Revelation,whether it be that of Nature, of human history, or of our own spirits,or even of the Gospel, but these are written that we may believe thatJesus is the Son of God, and believing, may have life in His name.

A RIGHTEOUSNESS NEAR AND A SWIFT SALVATION

'Hearken unto Me, ye stout-hearted, that are far from righteousness: Ibring near My righteousness; it shall not be far off, and My salvationshall not tarry.'—ISAIAH xlvi. 12,13.

God has promised that He will dwell with him that is humble and of acontrite heart. Jesus has shed the oil of His benediction on the poorin spirit. It is the men who form the exact antithesis to thesecharacters who are addressed here. The 'stout-hearted' are those who,being untouched in conscience and ignorant of their sin, areself-reliant and almost defiant before God. That temper is brandedhere, though, of course, there is a sense in which a stout heart is apriceless possession, but that sort of stoutness of heart is bestsecured by the contrite of heart. Those who are far from righteousnessare those who are not only sinful in act, but do not desire to beotherwise, having no approximation or drawing towards a nobler life, byaspiration or effort.

To such men God speaks, as in the tone of a royal proclamation; andwhat should we expect to hear pealing from His lips? Words of rebuke,warning, condemnation? No; His voice is gentle and wooing, and does notthreaten blows, but proffers blessings: 'I will bring near Myrighteousness. It shall not be far off,' though the stout-hearted maybe'far from' it. Here we have a divine proclamation of a divine Love thatwill not let us away from its presence; of a divine Work for us that isfinished without us; of an all-sufficient Gift to us.

I. A divine proclamation of a divine Love that will not let us awayfrom its presence.

There is a great contest between God and man: man seeking to withdrawfrom God, and God following in patient, persistent love.

1. In general terms God keeps near us, however far away we go from Him.

Think of our forgetfulness of Him and His continual thought of us.
Think of our alienated hearts and His unchanging love.

We cannot turn away His care, we cannot exhaust His compassion, wecannot alienate His heart. All men everywhere are objects of these, asin every corner of the world the sky is overhead, and all lands havesunshine.

What a picture of divine patience and placability that truth points forus! It shows the Father coming after His prodigal son, and so surpasseseven the pearl of the parables.

2. The special reference to Christ's work.

That work is the exhibition in manhood and to men of a perfectrighteousness.

It is the implanting in the corrupt world of a new beginning. It is theclothing us with Christ's righteousness, for which we are forgiven andin which we are sanctified.

So Christ's work is God's coming to bring near His righteousness, andnow 'it is nigh thee in thy mouth and in thy heart.'

II. A divine proclamation of a divine Work which is finished without us.

The divine righteousness and its consequence are here represented asbeing brought near while men are still 'stout-hearted.' We must feelthe emphasis laid on 'I will bring near My righteousness,' and theimpression of merciful speed given by 'My salvation shall not tarry.'The whole suggests such thoughts as these:—

The divine love is not drawn out by anything in us, but pours out onus, even while we are far off and indifferent to it. His bringing nearof righteousness, and setting His salvation to run very swiftly side byside with it, originates in Himself. It is the self-impelled andself-fed flow of a fountain, and we need no pump or machinery to drawit forth.

The divine work is accomplished without man's co-operation.

'It is finished,' was Christ's dying cry. But what isfinished?—Bringing the righteousness near. What still remains to bedone?—Making it mine. And that is accomplished by faith.

It is mine if by faith I claim it as mine, and knit myself with Him whois righteousness and salvation for every man that they may beaccessible to and possessed by any man.

A man may be far from righteousness though it is near him and allaround him. Like Gideon's fleece, he may be dry when all is wet, orlike some rock in a field, barren and sullen, while all around the cornis waving.

III. The proclamation of an all-sufficient Gift.

Righteousness, salvation, glory, are here brought together insignificant sequence. They are but several names for the same divinegift, looked at from different angles. A diamond flashes varyingprismatic hues from its different facets.

That encyclopaedical gift, which in regard to man considered as sinfulbrings pardon and a new nature 'in righteousness and holiness oftruth,' brings deliverance from peril and from every form of evil anddeath, to him considered as exposed to consequences of sin bothphysical and moral, and a true though limited participation in thedivine glory, even now, with the hope of entering into the blaze of ithereafter, to him as considered as made in the divine image and havinglost it.

And all this wonderful triple hope, rapturous and impossible as itseems when we think of man as he is, and of each of ourselves as weeach feel ourselves to be, is for us a sober certainty and a factsufficiently accomplished, to give firm ground for our largestexpectations if we hold fast by Jesus who brings that all-sufficientgift of God within reach of each of us. The divine patience and lovefollow us in all our wild wanderings, praying us 'with much entreatythat we should receive the gift.' Jesus, who is God's righteousness andlove incarnate, beseeches us to take Him, and in Him righteousness,salvation, and glory.

A RIVER OF PEACE AND WAVES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

'Oh that thou hadst hearkened to My commandments! then had thy peacebeen as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of thesea.'—ISAIAH xlviii. 18.

I. The Wonderful Thought of God here.

This is an exclamation of disappointment; of thwarted love. The goodwhich He purposed has been missed by man's fault, and He regards thefaulty Israel with sorrow and pity as a would-be benefactor balked of akind intention might do. O Jerusalem! 'how often would I have gatheredthee.' 'If thou hadst known … the things that belong unto thy peace!'

II. Man's opposition to God's loving purpose for us.

To have hearkened to His commandments would have enabled Him to let Hiskindness have its way.

It is not only our act contrary to God's Law, but the source of thatact in our antagonistic will, which fatally bars out the possibility ofGod's intended good from us. It is 'not hearkening' which is the rootof not doing.

That possibility of lifting up our puny wills against theall-sovereign, Infinite Will is the mystery of mysteries.

The fact that the mysterious possibility becomes an actuality in us isstill more mysterious. If we could solve those two mysteries, we shouldbe far on the way to solve all the mysteries of man's relation to God,and God's to man.

A will absolutely submitted to Him is His great ideal of human nature.And that ideal we all can thwart, and alas, alas! we all do. It is thedeepest mystery; it is the blackest sin; it is the intensest folly.

Sin is negative as well as positive. Not to hearken is as bad as to actin dead opposition to.

III. The lost good.

The great purpose of the divine Commandment is to show us, for our ownsakes, the path that leads to all blessedness.

Peace and Righteousness, or, in more modern words, all well-being andall goodness, are the sure results of taking God's expressed Will asthe guide of life.

These two are inseparable. Indeed they are one and the same fact ofhuman experience, looked at from two points of view.

The force of the metaphor in both clauses is substantially the same. Itsuggests in both—Abundance—Continuity—Uninterrupted Succession. Butregarded separately each has its own fair promise. 'As ariver'—flowing softly, not stagnant—that suggests the calm and gentleflow of a placid and untroubled stream refreshing and fertilising. 'Aswaves of the sea,' these suggest greater force than 'river.' The imagespeaks of a righteousness massive and having power and a resistlessswing in it. It is the more striking because the waves of the sea arethe ordinary emblem of rebellious power. But here they stand as emblemof the strength of a submissive, not of a rebellious, will. In thatobedience human nature rises to a higher type of strength than it everattains while in opposition to the Source of all strength.

Contrast—'Whose waters cast up mire and dirt.'

IV. The lost good regained.

God has yet a method to accomplish His loving desire. Even those whohave not hearkened may receive through Christ the good which they havesinned away. In Him is peace; in Him is Righteousness, which comes fromfaith. 'Hear, and your soul shall live.'

EXPOSITIONS OF HOLY SCRIPTURE

ALEXANDER MACLAREN, D. D., Litt. D.

ISAIAH AND JEREMIAH

Isaiah, Chaps. XLIX to End. Jeremiah.

CONTENTS.

FEEDING IN THE WAYS (Isaiah xlix. 9)

THE MOUNTAIN ROAD (Isaiah xlix. 11)

THE WRITING ON GOD'S HANDS (Isaiah xlix. 16)

THE SERVANT'S WORDS TO THE WEARY (Isaiah l. 4)

THE SERVANT'S OBEDIENCE (Isaiah l. 5)

THE SERVANT'S VOLUNTARY SUFFERINGS (Isaiah l. 6)

THE SERVANT'S INFLEXIBLE RESOLVE (Isaiah l. 7)

THE SERVANT'S TRIUMPH (Isaiah l. 8, 9)

A CALL TO FAITH (Isaiah l. 10)

DYING FIRES (Isaiah l. 11)

THE AWAKENING OF ZION (Isaiah lii. 1)

A PARADOX OF SELLING AND BUYING (Isaiah lii. 3)

CLEAN CARRIERS (Isaiah lii. 11)

MARCHING ORDERS (Isaiah lii. 11, 12)

THE ARM OF THE LORD (Isaiah liii. 1)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—I. (Isaiah liii. 2,3)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—II. (Isaiah liii. 4-6)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—III. (Isaiah liii. 7-9)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—IV. (Isaiah liii. 10)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—V. (Isaiah liii. 11)

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—VI. (Isaiah liii. 12)

THE PASSING AND THE PERMANENT (Isaiah liv. 10)

THE CALL TO THE THIRSTY (Isaiah lv. 1-13)

THE GREAT PROCLAMATION (Isaiah lv. 1)

GOD'S WAYS AND MAN'S (Isaiah lv. 8, 9)

CAN WE MAKE SURE OF TO-MORROW? (Isaiah lvi. 12)

FLIMSY GARMENTS (Isaiah lix. 6; Rev. iii. 18)

THE SUNLIT CHURCH (Isaiah lx. 1-3)

WALLS AND GATES (Isaiah lx. 18)

THE JOY-BRINGER (Isaiah lxi. 3)

THE HEAVENLY WORKERS AND THE EARTHLY WATCHERS (Isaiah lxii. 1, 6, 7)

MIGHTY TO SAVE (Isaiah lxiii. 1)

THE WINEPRESS AND ITS TREADER (Isaiah lxiii. 2, 3)

THE SYMPATHY OF GOD (Isaiah lxiii. 9)

HOW TO MEET GOD (Isaiah lxiv. 5)

'THE GOD OF THE AMEN' (Isaiah lxv. 16)

THE BOOK OF JEREMIAH

GOD'S LAWSUIT (Jer. ii. 9)

STIFF-NECKED IDOLATERS AND PLIABLE CHRISTIANS (Jer. ii. 11)

FOUNTAIN AND CISTERNS (Jer. ii. 13)

FORSAKING JEHOVAH (Jer. ii. 19)

A COLLOQUY BETWEEN A PENITENT AND GOD (Jer. iii. 21, 22)

A QUESTION FOR THE BEGINNING (Jer. v. 31)

POSSESSING AND POSSESSED (Jer. x. 16, R.V.)

CALMS AND CRISES (Jer. xii. 5, R.V.)

AN IMPOSSIBILITY MADE POSSIBLE (Jer. xiii. 23; 2 Cor. v. 17; Rev. xxi.5)

TRIUMPHANT PRAYER (Jer. xiv. 7-9)

SIN'S WRITING AND ITS ERASURE (Jer. xvii, 1; 2 Cor. iii. 3; Col. ii. 14)

THE HEATH IN THE DESERT AND THE TREE BY THE RIVER (Jer. xvii. 6, 8)

A SOUL GAZING ON GOD (Jer. xvii. 12)

TWO LISTS OF NAMES (Jer. xvii. 13; Luke x. 20)

YOKES OF WOOD AND OF IRON (Jer. xxviii. 13)

WHAT THE STABLE CREATION TEACHES (Jer. xxxi. 36)

WHAT THE IMMENSE CREATION TEACHES (Jer. xxxi. 37)

A THREEFOLD DISEASE AND A TWOFOLD CURE (Jer. xxxiii. 8)

THE RECHABITES (Jer. xxxv. 16)

JEREMIAH'S ROLL BURNED AND REPRODUCED (Jer. xxxvi. 32)

ZEDEKIAH (Jer. xxxvii. 1)

THE WORLD'S WAGES TO A PROPHET (Jer. xxxvii. 11-21)

THE LAST AGONY (Jer. xxxix. 1-10)

EBEDMELECH THE ETHIOPIAN (Jer. xxxix. 18)

GOD'S PATIENT PLEADINGS (Jer. xliv. 4)

THE SWORD OF THE LORD (Jer. xlvii. 6, 7)

THE KINSMAN-REDEEMER (Jer. 1. 34)

'As SODOM' (Jer. lii. 1-11)

FEEDING IN THE WAYS

'They shall feed in the ways, and their pastures shall be in all highplaces.' ISAIAH xlix. 9.

This is part of the prophet's glowing description of the return of theCaptives, under the figure of a flock fed by a strong shepherd. We haveoften seen, I suppose, a flock of sheep driven along a road, some ofthem hastily trying to snatch a mouthful from the dusty grass by thewayside. Little can they get there; they have to wait until they reachsome green pasture in which they can be folded. This flock shall 'feedin the ways'; as they go they will find nourishment. That is not all;the top of the mountains is not the place where grass grows. Thereare bare, savage cliffs, from which every particle of soil has beenwashed by furious torrents, or the scanty vegetation has been burnt upby the fierce 'sunbeams like swords.' There the wild deer and theravens live, the sheep feed down in the valleys. But 'their pastureshall be in all high places.' The literal rendering is even moreemphatic: 'Their pasture shall be in all bare heights,' where asudden verdure springs to feed them according to their need. Whilst,then, this prophecy is originally intended simply to suggest theabundant supplies that were to be provided for the band of exiles asthey came back from Babylon, there lie in it great and blessedprinciples which belong to the Christian pilgrimage, and the flock thatfollows Christ.

They who follow Him, says my text, to begin with, shall find in thedusty paths of common life, and in all the smallnesses and distractionsof daily duty, nourishment for their spirits. Do you remember whatJesus said? 'My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and tofinish His work.' We, too, may have the same meat to eat which theworld knows not of, and He will give that hidden manna to the combatantas well as 'to him that overcometh.' In the measure in which 'we followthe Lamb whithersoever He goeth,' in that measure do we find—like thestores of provisions that Arctic explorers come upon, cached forthem—food in the wilderness, and nourishment for our highest life inour common work. That is a great promise, and it is a great duty.

It is a promise the fulfilment of which is plainly guaranteed by thevery nature of the case. Religion is meant to direct conduct, and thesmallest affairs of life are to come under its imperial control, andthe only way by which a man can get any good out of his Christianity isby living it. It is when he sets to work on the principles of theGospel that the Gospel proves itself to be a reality in his blessedexperience. It is when he does the smallest duties from the greatmotives that these great motives are strengthened by exercise, as everymotive is. If you wish to weaken the influence of any principle uponyou, do not work it out, and it will wither and die. If a man wouldgrasp the fulness of spiritual sustenance which lies in the Gospel ofJesus Christ, let him go to work on the basis of the Gospel, and he'shall feed in the ways,' and common duties will minister strength tohim instead of taking strength from him. We can make the smallest dailyincidents subserve our growth and our spiritual strength, because, ifwe thus do them, they will bring to us attestations of the reality ofthe faith by which we act on them. For convincing a man that a lifebuoyis reliable there is nothing like having had experience of its power tohold his head above the waves when he has been cast into them. Liveyour Christianity, and it will attest itself. There will come, besidesthat, the blessed memory of past times in which we trusted in the Lordand were lightened, we obeyed God and found His promises true, werisked all for God and found that we had all more abundantly. It isonly an active Christian life that is a nourished and growing Christianlife.

The food which God gives us is not only to be taken by faith, but ithas to be made ours more abundantly by work. Saint Augustine said inanother connection, 'Believe, and thou hast eaten.' Yes, that isblessedly true, but it needs to be supplemented by 'they shall feed inthe ways,' and their work will bring them nourishment.

But this is a great duty as well as a great promise. How many of usChristian people have but little experience of getting nearer to Godbecause of our daily occupations? To by far the larger number of us, inby far the greater space of time in our lives, our daily work is adistraction, and tends to obscure the face of God to us and to shut usout from many of the storehouses of sustenance by which a quiet,contemplative faith is refreshed. Therefore we need times of specialprayer and remoteness from daily work; and there will be very littlerealisation of the nourishing power of common duties unless there isfamiliar to us also the entrance into the 'secret place of the MostHigh,' where He feeds His children on the bread of life.

We must not neglect either of these two ways by which our souls arefed, and we must ever remember that the reason why so many Christianpeople cannot set to their seal that this promise is true, lies mainlyin this, that the ways on which they go are either not the ways thatthe Shepherd has walked in before them, or that they are trodden inforgetfulness of Him and without looking to His guidance. The work thatis to minister to the Christian life must be work conformed to theChristian ideal, and if we fling ourselves into our secular business,as it is called—if you go to your counting-houses and shops, and I goto my desk and books, and forget the Shepherd—then there is no grassby the wayside for such sheep. But if we subject our wills to Him, andif in all that we do we are trying to refer to Him and are working independence on Him, and for Him, then the poorest work, the meanest, themost entirely secular, will be a source of Christian nourishment andblessing. We have to settle for ourselves whether we shall bedistracted, torn asunder by pressure of cares and responsibilities andactivities, or whether, far below the agitated surface which is ruffledby the winds, and borne along by the tidal wave, there will be a greatcentral depth, still but not stagnant—whether we shall be fed, orstarved in our Christian life, by the pressure of our worldly tasks.The choice is before us. 'They shall feed in the ways,' if the ways areChrist's ways, and He is at every step their Shepherd.

Further, my text suggests that for those who follow the Lamb thereshall be greenness and pasture on the bare heights. Strip that part ofour text of its metaphor, and it just comes to the blessed old thought,which I hope many of us have known to be a true one, that the times ofsorrow are the times when a Christian may have the most of the presenceand strength of God. 'In the days of famine they shall be satisfied,'and up among the most barren cliffs, where there is not a bite for anyfour-footed creature, they shall find springing grass and wateredpastures. Our prophet puts the same thought, under a kindred thoughsomewhat different metaphor, in another place in this book, where hesays, 'I will open rivers in high places.' That is clean contrary tonature. The rivers do not run on the mountain-tops, but down in the lowground. But for us, as the darkness thickens, the pillar may glow thebrighter; as the gloom increases, the glory may grow; the less ofnutriment or refreshment earth affords, the more abundantly does Godspread His stores before us, if we are wise enough to take them. It isan experience, I suppose, common to all devout men, that their times ofmost rapid growth were their times of trouble. In nature winter stopsall vegetable life. In grace the growing time is the winter. They tellus that up in the Arctic regions the reindeer will scratch away thesnow, and get at the succulent moss that lies beneath it. When thatShepherd, Who Himself has known sorrows, leads us up into those barrenregions of perpetual cold and snow, He teaches us, too, how to brush itaway, and find what we need buried and kept safe and warm beneath thewhite shroud. It is the prerogative of the Christian soul not to bewithout trouble, but to turn the trouble into nourishment, and to feedon the barest heights.

May I turn these latter words of our text a somewhat different way,attaching to them a meaning which does not belong to them, but by wayof accommodation? If Christian people want to have the bread of Godabundantly, they must climb. It is to those who live on the heightsthat provision comes according to their need. If you would have yourChristian life starved, go down into the fertile valleys. RememberAbraham and Lot, and the choice which each made. The one said: 'I wantcattle and wealth, and I am going down to Sodom. Never mind about thevices of the inhabitants. There is money to be made there.' Abrahamsaid: 'I am going to stay up here on the heights, the breezy, barrenheights,' and God stayed beside him. If we go down we starve our souls.If we desire them to be fat and flourishing, nourished with the hiddenmanna, then we must go up. 'Their pasture shall be in all high places.'

Before I finish, let me remind you of the application of the words ofmy text, which we owe to the New Testament. The context runs, as youwill remember, 'they shall not hunger nor thirst, neither shall theheat nor the sun smite them. For He that hath mercy on them shall leadthem, even by the springs of water shall He guide them.' And youremember the beautiful variation and deepening of this promise in thatgreat saying which the Seer in the Apocalypse gives us, when he speaksof those 'who follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth,' and are led 'byliving fountains of water,' where 'God shall wipe away all tears fromtheir eyes.' So we are entitled to believe that on the loftiestheights, far above this valley of weeping, there shall be immortalfood, and that on the high places of the mountains of God there shallbe pasture that never withers. The prophet Ezekiel has a similarvariation of my text, and transfers it from the captives on their marchhomewards, to the happy pilgrims who have reached home, when he says:'I will bring them unto their own land, and feed them upon themountains of Israel'—when they have reached them at last after theweary march—' I will feed them in a good pasture, and upon themountains of Israel shall their fold be; there shall they lie in a goodfold, and in a fat pasture shall they feed upon the mountains ofIsrael.'

THE MOUNTAIN ROAD

'And I will make all My mountains a way, and My highways shall beexalted.'—ISAIAH xlix. 11.

This grand prophecy is far too wide to be exhausted by the return ofthe exiles. There gleamed through it the wider redemption and the truereturn of the real captives. The previous promises all find theirfulfilment in the experiences of the soul on its journey back to God.Here we have two characteristics of that journey.

I. The Path through the mountains.

'My mountains.' That is the claim that all the world is His; and alsothe revelation that He is the Lord of Providence. He makes ourdifficult and steep places. Submission comes with that thought, andeven 'for the strength of the hills we bless Thee.' There are mountainswhich are not His but ours, artificial difficulties of our own creating.

1. Our way does lie over the mountains. There are difficulties. TheChristian course is like a Roman road which never turned aside, butwent straight up and on. So much the better. A keener air blows,bracing and health-giving, up there. Mosquitoes and malaria keep to thelower levels.

2. There is always a path over the mountains. Some way opens when weget close up, like a path through heather, which is not seen tillreached. We walk by faith. We foolishly forebode and fancy that wecannot live if something happens, but there is no cul de sac in ourpaths if God's mountain-way is our way, nor does the faint track everdie out if our faith is keen-sighted and docile.

II. The Pasture on the mountains—lit. 'bare heights.'

Pastures in the East are down in bottoms, not, like ours, upon thehills. But this flock finds supplies on the barren hill-tops.

Sustenance in Sorrow and Loss.

1. Promise that whatever be our trials and losses we shall be takencare of. Not, perhaps, as we should have liked, nor as abundantly fedas down in the valleys, but still not left to starve. No carcasesstrewed on the bleakest bit of road as one sees dead camels by the sideof the tracks in the desert.

2. Promise of sustenance of a higher kind even in sorrow. The Alpineflora is specially beautiful, though minute. The blessings ofaffliction; the more intimate knowledge of His love, submission ofwill. 'Out of the eater came forth meat.'

'Passing through the valley of weeping they make it a well'; the tearsshed in times of rightly borne sorrow are gathered into a reservoirfrom which refreshment, patience, trust and strength may be drawn inlater days.

But the perfect fulfilment of the promise lies beyond this life. 'Onthe high mountains of Israel shall their fold be,' and they who havefound pasture on the barren heights of earthly sorrow shall 'summerhigh in bliss upon the hills of God,' and shall at once both lie 'forever in a good fold,' and 'follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth,' andfind fountains of living water bursting forth for ever on these fertileheights.

THE WRITING ON GOD'S HANDS

'Behold! I have graven thee upon the palms of My hands; thy walls arecontinually before Me.'—ISAIAH xlix. 16.

In the preceding context we have the infinitely tender and beautifulwords: 'Zion hath said, The Lord hath forsaken me. Can a woman forgether sucking child? … yea, they may forget, yet will I not forgetthee.' There is more than a mother's love in the Father's heart. Butwonderful in their revelation of God, and mighty to strengthen, calm,and comfort, as these transcendent words are, those of my text, whichfollow them, do not fall beneath their loftiness. They are a singularlybold metaphor, drawn from the strange and half-savage custom, whichlingers still among sailors and others, of having beloved names orother tokens of affection and remembrance indelibly inscribed on partsof the body. Sometimes worshippers had the marks of the god thus set ontheir flesh; here God writes on His hands the name of the city of Hisworshippers. And it is not its name only, but its very likeness that Hestamps there, that He may ever look on it, as those who love bear withthem a picture of one dear face. The prophecy goes on: 'Thy walls arecontinually before Me,' but in the prophet's time the walls were inruins, and yet they are present to the divine mind.

I. Now, the first thought suggested by these great words is that herewe have set forth for our strength and peace a divine remembrance,tender as—yea, more tender than—a mother's.

When Israel came out of Egypt, the Passover was instituted as 'amemorial unto all generations,' or, as the same idea is otherwiseexpressed, 'it shall be for a sign unto thee upon thine hand.' Here Godrepresents Himself as doing for Israel what He had bid Israel do forHim. They were, as it were, to write the supreme act of deliverance inthe Exodus upon their hands, that it might never be forgotten. Hewrites Zion on His hands for the same purpose.

Now, of course, the text does not primarily refer to individuals, butto the community, whether Zion is understood, as the prophet understoodthe name, to be ancient Israel, or as the Christian Church. But therecognition of that fact should not be allowed to rob us of thepreciousness of this text in its bearing on the individual. For Godremembers the community, not as an abstraction or a generalisedexpression, but as the aggregate of all the individuals composing it.We lose sight of the particulars when we generalise. We cannot see thetrees for the wood. We think of 'the Church,' and do not think of thethousands of men and women who make it up. We cannot discern theseparate stars in the galaxy. But God's eye resolves what to us is anebula, and to Him every single glittering point of light hangs roundedand separate in the heaven. Therefore this assurance of our text is tobe taken by every single soul that loves God, and trusts Him throughJesus Christ, as belonging to it, as though there were not anothercreature on earth but itself.

'The sun whose beams most glorious are,
Disdaineth no beholder.'

Its light floods the world, yet seems to go straight into the eyeballof every man that looks at it. And such is the divine love andremembrance. There is no jostling nor confusion in the wide space ofthe heart of God. They that go before shall not hinder them that comeafter. The hungry crowd sat down in companies on the green grass, andthe first fifty, no doubt, were envied by the last of the hundredfifties that made up the five thousand, and wondered whether the fiveloaves and the two small fishes could go round, but the last fed fullas did the first. The great promise of our text belongs to me and thee,and therefore belongs to us all.

That remembrance which each man may take for himself—and we are poorChristians if we do not live in its light—is infinitely tender. Theecho of the music of the previous words still haunts the verse, and theremembrance promised in it is touched with more than a mother's love.'I am poor and needy,' says the Psalmist, 'yet the Lord thinketh uponme.' He might have said, 'I am poor and needy, therefore the Lordthinketh upon me.' That remembrance is in full activity when things aredarkest with us. Israel said, 'My Lord hath forgotten me,' because atthe point of view taken in the second half of Isaiah, it was captive ina far-off land. You and I sometimes are brought into circ*mstances inwhich we are ready to think 'God has, somehow or other, left me, hasforgotten me.' Never! never! However mirk the night, however apparentlysolitary the way, however mysterious and insoluble the difficulties ofour position, let us fall back on this, that the captive Israel wasremembered by God, and let us be sure that no circ*mstances of ourlives are so dark or mysterious as to warrant the faintest shadow ofsuspicion creeping over the brightness of our confidence in this greatpromise. His divine remembrance of each of His servants is certain.

But do not let us forget that it was a very sinful Zion that God thusremembered. It was because the nation had transgressed that they werecaptives, but their very captivity was a proof that they were notforgotten. The loving divine remembrance had to smite in order to provethat it was active. Let us neither be puzzled by our sorrows nor madeless confident when we think of our sins. For there is no sin that isstrong enough to chill the divine love, or to erase us from the divineremembrance. 'Captive Israel! captive because sinful, I have graventhee on the palms of My hands.'

II. A second thought here is that the divine remembrance guides thedivine action.

The palm of the hand is the seat of strength, the instrument of work;and so, if Zion's name is written there, that means not onlyremembrance, but remembrance which is at the helm, as it were, which ismoulding and directing all the work that is done by the hand that bearsthe name inscribed upon it. The thought is identical with the one whichis suggested by part of the High Priest's official dress, althoughthere the thought has a different application. He bore the names of thetwelve tribes graven upon his shoulder, the seat of power, and upon hisbreastplate that lay above the heart, the home of love. God holds outthe mighty Hand which works all things, and says to His children:'Look, you are graven there'—at the very fountain-head, as it were, ofthe divine activity. Which, being turned into plain English, is justthis, that for His Church as a whole, He does move amidst the affairsof nations. You remember the grand words of one of the Psalms,—'Hereproved kings for their sakes, saying, Touch not Mine anointed, and doMy prophets no harm.' It is no fanatical reading of the history ofearthly politics and kingdoms, if we recognise that one of the mostprominent reasons for the divine activities in moulding the kingdoms,setting up and casting down, is the advancement of the kingdom ofheaven and the building of the City of God. 'I have graven thee on thepalms of My hands'—and when the hands go to work, it is for the Zionwhose likeness they bear.

But the same truth applies to us individually. 'All things worktogether'; they would not do so, unless there was one dominant Willwhich turned the chaos into a cosmos. 'All things work,' that is veryplain. The tremendous activities round us both in Nature and in historyare clear to us all. But if all things and events are co-operant,working into each other, and for one end, like the wheels of awell-constructed engine, then there must be an Engineer, and they worktogether because He is directing them. Thus, because my name is gravenon the palms of the mighty Hand that doeth all things, therefore 'allthings work together for my good.' If we could but carry that quietconviction into all the mysteries, as they sometimes seem to be, of ourdaily lives, and interpret everything in the light of that greatthought, how different all our days would be! How far above the pettyanxieties and cares and troubles that gnaw away so much of our strengthand joy; how serene, peaceful, lofty, submissive, would be our lives,and how in the darkest darkness there would be a great light, not onlyof hope for a distant future, but of confident assurance for thepresent. 'I have graven thee on the palms of My hands '—do Thou, then,as Thou wilt with me.

III. A last thought here is that the divine remembrance works allthings, to realise a great ideal end, as yet unreached.

'Thy walls are continually before Me.' When this prophecy was utteredthe Israelites were in captivity, and the city was a wilderness, 'theholy and beautiful House'—as this very book says—'where the fatherspraised Thee was burned with fire,' the walls were broken down, rubbishand solitude were there. Yet on the palms of God's hands were inscribedthe walls which were nowhere else! They were 'before Him,' thoughJerusalem was a ruin. What does that mean? It means that that divineremembrance sees 'things that are not, as though they were.' In themidst of the imperfect reality of the present condition of the Churchas a whole, and of us, its actual components, it sees the ideal, theperfect vision of the perfect future, and 'all the wonder that shallbe.' Zion may be desolate, but 'before Him' stands what will one daystand on the earth before all men, 'the new Jerusalem, coming down fromheaven,' having walls great and high, and its foundations garnishedwith all manner of precious stones. 'Thy walls are before Me,' thoughthe ruins are there before men.

So, brethren, the most radiant optimism is the only fitting attitudefor Christian people in looking into the future, either of the Churchas a whole, or of themselves as individual members of it. God's hand isworking for Zion and for me. It is guided by love that does not losethe individual in the mass, nor ever forgets any of its children, andit works towards the attainment of unattained perfection. 'This Man'does not 'begin to build and' prove 'not able to finish.'

So let us be sure that, if only we keep ourselves in the love, andcontinue in the grace of God, He will not slack nor stay His hand onwhich Zion is graven, until it has 'perfected that which concernethus,' and fulfilled to each of us that 'which He has spoken to us of.'

I said at the beginning of these remarks that God did what He bids usdo. God bids us do what He does. His name should be on our hands; thatis to say, memory of Him, love of Him, regard to Him, confidence in Himshould mould and guide all our activity, and the aim that we shall bebuilded up for a habitation of God through the Spirit should be theconscious aim of our lives, as it is the aim which He has in view inall His dealings with us. Our names on His hand; His name on our hands;so shall we be blessed.

THE SERVANT'S WORDS TO THE WEARY

'The Lord God hath given me the tongue of them that are taught, that Ishould know how to sustain with words him that is weary; he wakenethmorning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear as they that aretaught.'—ISAIAH l. 4.

In chapter xlix. 1-6, the beginning of the continuous section of whichthese verses are part, a transition is made from Israel as collectivelythe ideal servant of the Lord, to a personal Servant, whose office itis 'to bring Jacob again to Him.' We see the ideal in the very act ofpassing to its highest form, and that in which it is finally fulfilledin history, namely, by the person Jesus. That Jesus was 'Thy HolyServant' was the earliest gospel preached by Peter and John beforepeople and rulers. It is not the most vital conception of our Lord'snature and work. The prophet does not here pierce to the core, as inhis fifty-third chapter with its vision of the Suffering Servant, butthis is prelude to that, and the office assigned here to the Servantcannot be fully discharged without that ascribed to Him there, as theprophet begins to discern almost immediately. The text gives us astriking view of the purpose of Messiah's mission and of His trainingand preparation for it.

I. The purpose of Christ's mission.

There is a remarkable contrast between the stately prelude to thesection of the prophecy in chapter xlix., and the ideal in this text.There the Servant calls the isles and the distant peoples to listen,and declares that His mouth is 'like a sharp sword'; here all that iskeen and smiting in His word has softened into gentle whispers ofcomfort to sustain the weary.

A mission addressed to 'the weary' is addressed to every man, for whois not 'weighed upon with sore distress,' or loaded with the burden andthe weight of tasks beyond his power or distasteful to hisinclinations, or monotonous to nausea, or prolonged to exhaustion, ortoiled at with little hope and less interest? Who is not weary ofhimself and of his load? What but universal weariness does theuniversal secret desire for rest betray? We are all 'pilgrims weary oftime,' and some of us are weary of even prosperity, and some of us areworn out with work, and some of us buffeted to all but exhaustion bysorrow, and all of us long for rest, though many of us do not knowwhere to look for it.

Jesus may have had this word in mind, when He called to Him all them'that labour and are heavy laden.' At all events, the prophet's idealand the evangelists' story accurately correspond. Christ's words haveother characteristics, but are eminently words that sustain the wearyand comfort the down-hearted. Who can ever calculate the new strengthpoured by them into fainting hearts and languid hands, the all but deadhopes that they have reanimated, the sorrows they have comforted, thewounds they have stanched?

What a lesson here as to the noblest use of high endowments! What acontrast to the use that so many of those to whom God has given 'thetongue of them that are taught' make of their great gifts! Literatureyields but few examples of great writers who have faithfully employedtheir powers for that purpose, which seems so humble and is so lofty,the help of the weary, the comfort of the sad. Many pages in famousbooks would be cancelled if all that had been written withoutconsideration for these classes were obliterated, as it will be one day.

But Christ not only speaks by outward words, but has other ways oflodging sustenance and comfort in souls than by vocables audible to theear or visible to the eye on the page. 'The words that I speak untoyou, they are spirit and they are life.' He spoke by His deeds onearth, and in one and the same set of facts, He 'began to do and toteach,' the doing being named first. He 'now speaketh from Heaven' bymany an inward whisper, by the communication of His own Spirit, on Whomthis very office of ministering sustenance and comfort is laid, andwhose very name of the Comforter means One who by his being with a manstrengthens him.

II. The training and preparation of the Messiah for His mission.

The Messiah is here represented as having the tongue of 'them that aretaught,' and as having it, because morning by morning He has beenwakened to hear God's lessons. He is thus God's scholar—a thought ofwhich an unreflecting orthodoxy has been shy, but which it is necessaryto admit unhesitatingly and ungrudgingly, if we would not reduce themanhood of Jesus to a mere phantasm. He Himself has said, 'As theFather taught Me, I speak these things.' With emphatic repetition, Hewas continually making that assertion, as, for instance, 'I have notspoken of Myself, but the Father which sent Me, He gave Me acommandment what I should say, and what I should speak … the thingstherefore which I speak, even as the Father hath said unto Me, so Ispeak.'

The Gospels tell us of the prayers of Jesus, and of rare occasions inwhich a voice from heaven spoke to Him. But while these are palpableinstances of His communion with God, and precious tokens of His truebrotherhood with us in the indispensable characteristics of the life offaith, they are but the salient points on which the light falls, andbehind them, all unknown by us, stretches an unbroken chain of likeacts of fellowship. In that subordination as of a scholar to teacher,both His divine and His human nature concurred, the former in filialsubmission, the latter in continual, truly human derivation andreception. The man Jesus was taught and, like the boy Jesus, 'increasedin wisdom.'

But while He learned as truly as we learn from God, and exercised thesame communion with the Father, the same submission to Him, which othermen have to exercise, and called 'us brethren, saying, I will put mytrust in Him,' the difference in degree between His close fellowshipwith God the Father, and our broken and always partial fellowship,between His completeness of reception of God's words and our imperfectcomprehension, between His perfect reproduction of the words He hadheard and our faint, and often mistaken echo of them, is so immense asto amount to a difference in kind. His unity of will and being with theFather ensured that all His words were God's. 'Never man spake likethis man.' The man who speaks to us once for all God's words must bemore than man. Other men, the highest, give us fragments of that mightyvoice; Jesus speaks its whole message, and nothing but its message. Ofthat perfect reproduction He is calmly conscious, and claims to giveit, in words which are at once lowly and instinct with more than humanauthority: 'All things that I have heard of My Father I have made knownunto you.' Who besides Him dare make such a claim? Who besides Himcould make it without being met by incredulous scorn? His utterance ofthe Father's words was unmarred by defect on the one hand, and byadditions on the other. It was like pure water which tastes of no soil.His soul was like an open vessel plunged in a stream, filled by theflow and giving forth again its whole contents.

That divine communication to Jesus was no mere impartation ofabstractions or 'truths,' still less of the poor words of man's speech,but was the flowing into His spirit of the living Father by whom Helived. And it was unbroken. 'Morning by morning' it was going on. Theline was continuous, whereas for the rest of us, at the best, it is aseries of points more or less contiguous, but with dark spaces between.'God giveth not the Spirit by measure unto Him.'

So, then, let us hold fast by Him, the Son in whom God has spoken tous, and to all voices without and within that would woo us to listen,let us answer with the only wise answer: 'To whom shall we go? Thouhast the words of eternal life.'

THE SERVANT'S OBEDIENCE

'I was not rebellious, neither turned away back'—ISAIAH l. 5.

I. The secret of Christ's life, filial obedience.

The fact is attested by Scripture. By His own words: 'My meat is to dothe will of My Father'; 'For thus it becometh us to fulfil allrighteousness'; 'I came down from heaven not to do My own will.' By Hisservant's words: 'Obedient unto death'; 'Made under the law'; 'Helearned obedience by the things which He suffered.' It is involved inthe belief of His righteous manhood. It is essential to true manhood.The highest ideal for humanity is conscious dependence on God, and thevery definition of righteousness is conscious conformity to the Will ofGod. If Christ had done the noblest acts and yet had not always hadthis sense of being a servant, He would not have been pure and holy.

It is not inconsistent with His true Divinity. We stand afar off, butwe can see this much.

The completeness of that obedience. It was continuous and it was entire.

The living heart of it: 'I delight to do Thy Will.' The Father's Willwas not a force without, but Christ's whole being was conformed to it,and it was shrined within His heart and had become His choice anddelight.

The expressions of His obedience were His perfect fulfilment of thedivine commands, and His perfect endurance of the divine appointments.

Thus God's Will was the keynote, to which Christ's will struck the fullchord.

II. The yet deeper mysteries which that perfect obedience discloses.

1. A sinless human life must be more than human. The contrast with allwhich we have known—the impossibility of retaining belief in theperfect obedience of Jesus unless we have underlying it the belief inHis divinity. 'There is none good but one, that is God.'

2. The sinless human life suffers not for itself but for us. Thecombination of holiness and sorrow leads on to the mystery ofatonement. The sinlessness is indispensable to the doctrine of Hissacrificial death.

III. The glorious gifts which flow from that perfect obedience.

1. It gives us a living law to obey.

2. It gives us a transforming power to receive.

3. It gives us a perfect righteousness to trust to.

This perfect obedience may be ours. Being ours, our lives will bestrong, free, peaceful.

That obedience becomes ours by faith, which leads to love, and love tothe glad obedience of sons.

THE SERVANT'S VOLUNTARY SUFFERINGS

'I gave My back to the smiters, and My cheeks to them that plucked offthe hair: I hid not My face from shame and spitting.'—ISAIAH l. 6.

Such words are not to be dealt with coldly. Unless they be grasped bythe heart they are not grasped at all. We do not think of analysing inthe presence of a great sorrow. There can be no greater dishonour tothe name of Christ than an unemotional consideration of His sufferingsfor us. The hindrances to a due consideration of these are manifold;some arising from intellectual, and some from moral, causes. Most menhave difficulty in vivifying any historical event so as to feel itsreality. There is no nobler use of the historical imagination than todirect it to that great life and death on which the salvation of theworld depends.

The prophet here has advanced from the first general conception of theServant of the Lord as recipient of divine commission, and submissiveto the divine voice, to thoughts of the sufferings which He would meetwith on His path, and of how He bore them.

I. The sufferings of the Servant.

The minute particularity is very noteworthy, scourging, plucking thebeard, shame, all sorts of taunts and buffets on the face, and the lastindignity of spitting. Clearly, then, He is not only to sufferpersecution, but is to be treated with insult and to endure thatstrange blending, so often seen, of grim infernal laughter with griminfernal fury, the hyena's laugh and its ferocity. Wherever it occurs,it implies not only fell hate and cruelty, but also contempt and ahorrible delight in triumphing over an enemy. It is found in allcorrupt periods, and especially in religious persecutions. Here itimplies the rejection of the Servant.

The prophecy was literally fulfilled, but not in all its traits. Thismay give a hint as to the general interpretation of prophecy and mayteach that external fulfilment only points to a deeper correspondence.The most salient instance is in Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem ridingon an ass, which was but a finger-post to guide men's thoughts to Hisfulfilling the ideal of the Messianic King. And yet, the minutecorrespondences are worth noticing. What a strange, solemn glimpse theygive into that awful divine omniscience, and into the mystery of theplay of the vilest passions as being yet under control in theirextremest rage!

We must note the remarkable prominence in the narratives of thePassion, of signs of contempt and mockery; Judas' kiss, the purplerobe, the crown of thorns, 'wagging their heads,' 'let be, let Eliascome,' etc.

Think of the exquisite pain of this to Christ. That He was sinless andfull of love made it all the worse to bear. Not the physical pain, butthe consciousness that He was encompassed by such an atmosphere ofevil, was the sharpest pang. We should think with reverent sympathy ofHis perfect discernment of the sinful malignant hearts from which thesufferings came, of His pained and rejected love thrown back on itself,of His clear sight of what their heartless infliction of tortures wouldend in for the inflicters, of His true human feeling which shrank frombeing the object of contempt and execration.

II. His patient submission.

'I gave,'—purely voluntary. That word originally expressed the patientsubmission with which He endured at the moment, when the lash scoredHis back, but it may be widened out to express Christ's perfectvoluntariness in all His passion. At any moment He could have abandonedHis work if His filial obedience and His love to men had let Him do so.His would-be captors fell to the ground before one momentary flash ofHis majesty, and they could have laid no hand on Him, if His will hadnot consented to His capture. Fra Angelico has grasped the thoughtwhich the prophet here uttered, and which the evangelists emphasise,that all His suffering was voluntary, and that His love to usrestrained His power, and led Him to the slaughter, silent as a sheepbefore her shearers. For he has pourtrayed the majestic figure seatedin passive endurance, with eyes blindfolded but yet wide open behindthe bandage, all-seeing, wistful, sad, and patient, while around arefragments of rods, and smiting hands, and a cruel face blowing spittleon the unshrinking cheeks. He seems to be saying: 'These things hastthou done, and I kept silence.' 'Thou couldest have no power at allagainst Me unless it were given thee.'

III. His submission to suffering in obedience to the Father's Will.

The context connects His opened ear and His not being rebellious withHis giving His back to the smiters. That involves the idea that theseindignities and insults were part of the divine counsel in reference toHim. That same combination of ideas is strongly presented in the earlyaddresses of Peter, recorded in the first chapters of Acts, of whichthis is a specimen: 'Him, being delivered by the determinate counseland foreknowledge of God, ye with wicked hands have crucified andslain.' The full significance of Christ's passion as that of theatoning sacrifice was not yet clear to the apostle, any more than theServant's sufferings were to the prophet, but both prophet and apostlewere carried on by fuller experience and reflection on what theyalready saw clearly, to discern the inwardness and depth of these. Theone soon came to see that 'by His stripes we are healed,' and the otherfinally wrote: 'Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on thetree.' And whoever deeply ponders the startling fact that 'it pleasedthe Lord to bruise Him,' sinless and ever obedient as He was, will beborne, sooner or later, into the full sunlight of the blessed beliefthat when Jesus suffered and died, 'He died for all.' His sufferingswere those of a martyr for truth, who is willing to die rather thancease to witness for it; but they were more. They were the sufferingsof a lover of mankind who will face the extremest wrong that can beinflicted, rather than abandon His mission; but they were more. Theywere not merely the penalty which He had to pay for faithfulness to Hiswork; they were themselves the crown and climax of His work. The Son ofMan came, indeed, 'not to be ministered to but to minister,' but that,taken alone, is but a maimed view of what He came for, and we mustwhole-heartedly go on to say as He said, 'and to give His life a ransomfor many,' if we would know the whole truth as to the sufferings ofJesus.

Again, since Christ suffers according to the will of God, it is clearthat all representations of the scope of His atoning death, whichrepresent it as moving the will of the Father to love and pardon, aretravesties of the truth and turn cause into effect. God does not love,because Jesus died, but Jesus died because God loved.

Further, it is to be noted that His sufferings are the great means bywhich He sustains the weary. The word to which His ears were opened,morning by morning, was the word to which He was docile when He gaveHis back to the smiters. It is His passion, regarded as the sacrificefor a world's sin, from which flow the most powerful stimulants toservice and tonics for weary souls, the tenderest comfortings forsorrow. He sustains and comforts by the example of His life, but farmore, and more sweetly, more mightily, by that which flows to usthrough His death. His sufferings are powerful to sustain, when thoughtof as our example, but they are a tenfold stronger source of patienceand strength, when laid on our hearts as the price of our redemption.The Cross is, in all senses of the expression, the tree of life.

Wonder, reverence, love, gratitude, should well forth from our hearts,when we think of these cruel sufferings, but the deepest fountains inthem will not be unsealed, unless we see in the suffering Servant theatoning Son.

THE SERVANT'S INFLEXIBLE RESOLVE

'For the Lord God will help Me; therefore shall I not be confounded:therefore have I set My face like a flint.'—ISAIAH l. 7.

What a striking contrast between the tone of these words and of thepreceding! There all is gentleness, docility, still communion,submission, patient endurance. Here all is energy and determination,resistance and martial vigour. It is like the contrast between a priestand a warrior. And that gentleness is the parent of this boldness. Thesame Will which is all submission to God is all resistance in the faceof hostile men. The utmost lowliness and the most resolved resistanceto opposing forces are found in that prophetic image of the Servant ofthe Lord—even as they are found in the highest degree and mostperfectly in Jesus Christ.

The sequence in this context is worth noting. We had first Christ'scommunion with God and communications from the Father; then the perfectsubmission of His Will; then that submission expressed in His voluntarysufferings; and now we have His immovable steadfastness of resistanceto the temptation, which lay in these sufferings, to depart from Hisattitude of submission, and to abandon His work.

The former verse led us up to the verge of the great mystery of Hissacrificial death. This gives us a glimpse into the depths of His humanlife, and shows Him to us as our example in all holy heroism.

I. The need which Christ felt to exercise firm resistance.

The words of the text are found almost reproduced in Jeremiah i. andEzekiel iii. All prophets and servants of God have had thus to resist,and it would be superfluous to show how resistance to opposinginfluences is the condition of all noble life and of all true service.

But was it so with Him? The more accurate translation of the secondclause of our text is to be noticed: 'Therefore I will not sufferMyself to be overcome by the shame.'

Then the shame had in it some tendency to divert Him from His course.Christ's humanity felt natural human shrinking from pain and suffering.It shrank from the contempt and mockery of those around Him, and did sowith especial sensitiveness because of His pure and sinless nature, Hisyearning sympathy, the atmosphere of love in which He dwelt, His clearsight of the sin, and His prevision of the consequent sorrow. If so,His sufferings did appeal to His human nature and constituted atemptation.

At the beginning the Tempter addressed himself to natural desires toprocure physical gratification (bread), and to the equally naturaldesire to avoid suffering and pain, and to secure His kingdom by aneasier method ('All these will I give Thee, if—').

And the latter temptation attended Him all through His life, and wasmost insistent at its close. The shadow of the cross stretched alongHis path from its beginning. But it is to be remembered that he had notthe same need of self-control which we have, in that His Will was notreluctant, and that no rebellious desires had escaped from its controland needed to be reduced to submission. 'I was not rebellious.' 'Thespirit is willing but the flesh is weak' was true in the fullest extentonly of Him. So the context gives us His perfect submission of will,and yet the need to harden His face toward externals from which,instinctively and without breach of filial obedience, His sensitivenature recoiled. The reality of the temptation, the limits of itsreach, His consciousness of it, and His immovable obedience andresistance, are all expressed in the deep and wonderful words, 'If itbe possible, let this cup pass from Me, nevertheless not as I will, butas Thou wilt.'

II. The perfect inflexible resolve.

'Face like a flint' seems to be quoted in Luke ix. 51; 'Steadily setHis face.' The whole story of the Gospels gives the one impression of alife steadfast in its great resolve. There are no traces of His everfaltering in His purpose, none of His ever suffering Himself to bediverted from it, no parentheses and no digressions. There are noblunders either. But what a contrast in this respect to all otherlives! Mark's Gospel, which is eminently the gospel of the Servant, isfull of energy and of this inflexible resolve, which speak in suchsayings as 'I must be about My Father's business'; 'I must work theworks of My Father while it is day.' That last journey, during which He'steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem,' is but a type of thewhole. Christ's life was a continuous or rather a continually repeatedeffort.

This inflexible resolve is associated in Him with characteristics notusually allied with it. The gentleness of Christ is so obvious in Hischaracter that little needs to be said to point it out. To theinfluence of His character more than to any other cause may be tracedthe change in the perspective, so to speak, of Virtue, whichcharacterises modern notions of perfection as contrasted with antiqueones. Contrast the Greek and Roman type with the mediaeval ascetic, orwith the philanthropic type of modern times. Carlyle's ideal isretrograde and an anachronism. Women and patient sufferers find examplein Him. But we have in Jesus Christ, too, the highest example of allthe stronger and robuster virtues, the more distinctly heroic,masculine; and that not merely passive firmness of endurance such as anAmerican Indian will show in torments, but active firmness whichpresses on to its goal, and, immovably resolute, will not be divertedby anything. In Him we see a resolved Will and a gentle loving Heart inperfect accord. That is a wonderful combination. We often find thatsuch firmness is developed at the expense of indifference to otherpeople. It is like a war chariot, or artillery train, that goescrashing across the field, though it be over shrieking men and brokenbones, and the wheels splash in blood. Resolved firmness is oftenaccompanied with self-absorption which makes it gloomy, and with narrowlimitations. Such men gather all their powers together to secure acertain end, and do it by shutting the eyes of their mind to everythingbut the one object, like the painter, who blocks up his studio windowto get a top light, or as a mad bull lowers his head and blindly rusheson.

There is none of all this in Christ's firmness. He was able at everymoment to give His whole sympathy to all who needed it, to take in allthat lay around Him, and His resolute concentration of Himself on Hiswork made Him none the less perfect in all which goes to make upcomplete manhood. Not only was Christ's firmness that of a fixed Willand a most loving Heart, like one of these 'rocking stones,' whosesolid mass can be set vibrating by a poising bird, but the fixed Willcame from the loving Heart. The very compassion and pity of His natureled to that resolved continuance in His path of redeeming love, thoughsuffering and mockery waited for Him at each turn.

And so He is the Joshua, the Warrior-King, as well as the Priest. ThatFace, ever ready to kindle into pity, to melt into tenderness, toexpress every shade of tender feeling, was 'set as a flint.' That Eye,ever brimming with tears, was ever fixed on one goal. That Character isthe type of all strength and of all gentleness.

III. The basis of Christ's fixed resolve in filial confidence.

'The Lord God will help Me.' So Christ lived by faith.

That faith led to this heroic resistance and immovable resolution.

That confidence of divine help was based upon consciousness ofobedience.

It is most blessed for us to have Him as our example of faith and ofbrave opposition to all the antagonistic forces around us. But we needmore than an example. He will but rebuke our wavering purposes ofobedience, if He is no more than our pattern. Thank God, He is more,even our Fountain of Power, from Whom we can draw life akin to, becausederived from, His own. In Him we can feel strength stealing intoflaccid limbs, and gain 'the wrestling thews that throw the world.' Ifwe are 'in Christ' and on the path of duty, we too may be able to setour faces as a flint, and to say truthfully: 'None of these things moveme, neither count I my life dear to myself, that I may finish my coursewith joy.' And yet we may withal be gentle, and keep hearts 'open asday to melting charity,' and have leisure and sympathy to spare forevery sorrow of others, and a hand to help and 'sustain him that isweary.'

THE SERVANT'S TRIUMPH

'He is near that justifieth Me; who will contend with Me? let us standtogether: who is Mine adversary? let him come near to Me. 9. Behold,the Lord God will help Me; who is he that shall condemn Me? lo, theyall shall wax old as a garment; the moth shall eat them up.'—ISAIAH l.8, 9.

We have reached the final words of this prophecy, and we hear in them atone of lofty confidence and triumph. While the former ones soundedplaintive like soft flute music, this rings out clear like the note ofa trumpet summoning to battle. The Servant of the Lord seems here to beeager for the conflict, not merely patient and enduring, not merelysetting His face like a flint, but confidently challenging Hisadversaries, and daring them to the strife.

As for the form of the words, the image underlying the whole is that ofa suit at law. It is noteworthy that since Isaiah xli. this metaphorhas run through the whole prophecy. The great controversy is Godversus Idols. God appears at the bar of men, pleads His cause, callsHis witnesses (xliii. 9). 'Let them' (i.e. idols) 'bring forth theirwitnesses that they may be justified.'

Possibly the form of the words here is owing to the dominance of thatidea in the context, and implies nothing more than the general notionof opposition and victory. But it is at least worth remembering that inthe life of Christ we have many instances in which the prophetic imageswere literally fulfilled even though their meaning was mainlysymbolical: as e.g. the riding on the ass, the birth in Bethlehem,the silence before accusers, 'a bone of Him shall not be broken,' andin this very contest, 'shame and spitting.' So here there may beincluded a reference to that time when the hatred of opposition reachedits highest point—in the sufferings and death of our Lord. And it isat least a remarkable coincidence that that highest point was reachedin formal trials before the ecclesiastical and civil authorities, forthe purpose of convicting Him, and that these processes as legalprocedures broke down so signally.

Keeping up the metaphor, we mark here—

I. The Messiah's lofty challenge to His accusers. II. The Messiah'sexpectation of divine vindication and acquittal. III. The Messiah'sconfidence of ultimate triumph.

I. Messiah's lofty challenge to His accusers.

The 'justifying' which He expects may refer either to personalcharacter or to official functional faithfulness. I think it refers toboth, and that we have here, expressed in prophetic outline, not onlythe fact of Christ's sinlessness, but the fact of His consciousness ofsinlessness.

The words are the strongest assertion of His absolute freedom fromanything that an adversary could lay hold of on which to found acharge, and not merely so, but they also dare to assert that theunerring and all-penetrating eye of the Judge of all will look into Hisheart, and find nothing there but the mirrored image of His ownperfection. I do not need to dwell on the fact of Christ's sinlessness,that He is perfect manhood without stain, without defect. I have hadoccasion to touch upon that truth in a former sermon on 'I was notrebellious.' Here we have to do not so much with sinlessness as withthe consciousness of sinlessness.

Now note that consciousness on Christ's part.

We have to reckon with the fact of it as expressed in His own words: 'Ido always the things that please Him. Which of you convinceth Me ofsin?' 'The Prince of this world cometh and hath nothing in Me.'

In Him there is the absence of all trace of sense of sin.

No prayer for forgiveness comes from His lips.

No penitence, no acknowledgment of even weakness is heard from Him.Even in His baptism, which for others was an acknowledgment ofimpurity, He puts His submission to the rite, not on the ground ofneeding to be washed from sin, but of 'fulfilling all righteousness.'

Now, unless Christ was sinless, what do we say of these assertions? 'Ifwe say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is notin us'—are we to apply that canon to Him when He stands before us andasks, 'Which of you convinceth Me of sin?' Surely it augurs smallself-knowledge or a low moral standard if, from the lips of a religiousteacher, there never comes one word to indicate that he has felt thehold of evil on him. I make bold to say that if Christ were notsinless, the Apostle Paul stood far above Him, with his 'of whom I amchief.' What difference would there be between Him and the Phariseeswho called forth His bitterest words by this very absence in them ofconsciousness of sin: 'If ye were blind ye would have no sin, but nowye say, We see, therefore your sin remaineth.'

Singularly enough the world has accepted Him at His own estimate, andhas felt that these lofty assertions of absolute perfection were borneout by His life, and were consistent with the utmost lowliness of heart.

As to the adversary's failure, I need only recall the close of Hislife, which is representative of the whole impression made on the worldby Him. What a wonderful and singular concurrence of testimonies wasborne to His pure and blameless life! After months of hatred andwatching, even the rulers' lynx-eyed jealousy found nothing, and theyhad to fall back upon false witnesses. 'Hearest thou not how manythings they witness against Thee?' He stood with unmoved silence, andthe lies fell down dead at His feet. Had He answered, they would havebeen preserved and owed their immortality to the Gospels: He held Hispeace and they vanished. All attempts failed so signally that at thelast they were fain, in well-simulated holy abhorrence, to base Hiscondemnation on what He had said in their presence. 'How think ye, yehave heard the blasphemy?' So all that the adversary, raking through alife, could find, was that one word. That was His sin; in all else Hewas pure. Remember Pilate's acquittal: 'I find no fault in Him,' andhis wife's warning, 'Have thou nothing to do with that just Person.'Think of Judas, 'I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocentblood.' Listen to the penitent thief's low voice gasping out in hispangs and almost collapse: 'This man hath done nothing amiss.' Listento the Centurion telling the impression made even on his rough nature:'Truly this was a righteous Man.'

These are the answers to the Servant's challenge, wrung from the lipsof His adversaries; and they but represent the universal judgment ofhumanity.

There is one Man whose life has been without stain or spot, whose soulhas never been crossed by a breath of passion, nor dimmed by a speck ofsin, whose will has ever been filled with happy obedience, whoseconscience has been undulled by evil and untaught to speak incondemnation, whose whole nature has been like some fair marble, purein hue, perfect in form, and unstained to the very core. There is oneMan who can front the most hostile scrutiny with the bold challenge,'Which of you convinceth Me of sin?' and His very haters have toanswer, 'I find no fault in Him,' while those that love Him rejoice toproclaim Him 'holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.'There is one Man who can front the most rigid Law of Duty and say, 'Icame not to destroy but to fulfil,' and the stony tables seem to glowwith tender light, as of rocky cliffs in morning sunshine, attestingthat He has indeed fulfilled all righteousness. There is one Man whocan stand before God without repentance or confession, and whose claim'I do always the things that please Him,' the awful voice from theopening heavens endorses, when it proclaims; 'This is My beloved Son inwhom I am well pleased.' The lowly Servant of God flings out Hischallenge to the universe: 'Who will contend with Me?' and that gagehas lain in the lists for nineteen centuries unlifted.

II. The Messiah's expectation of divine vindication and acquittal.

Like many another man, Christ had to strengthen Himself against calumnyand slander by turning to God, and finding comfort in the belief thatthere was One who would do Him right, and as throughout this context wehave had the true humanity of our Lord in great prominence, it is worthwhile to dwell for a moment on that thought of His real sharing in thepain of misconstruction and groundless charges, and of His too havingto say, as we have so often to say, 'Well, there is one who knows. Menmay condemn but God will acquit.'

But there is something more than that here. The divine vindication andacquittal is not a mere hidden thought and judgment in the mind of God.It is a declaring and showing to be innocent, and that not by word butby deed. That expectation seemed to be annihilated and made ludicrousby His death. But the 'justifying' of which our text speaks takes placein Christ's resurrection and ascension.

'Manifest in the flesh, justified in the spirit' (1 Timothy iii. 16).'Declared to be the Son of God with power, … by the resurrection fromthe dead' (Rom. i. 4).

His death seems the entire abandonment of this holy and sinless man. Itseems to demonstrate His claims to be madness, His hope to be futile,His promises to be wind. No wonder that the sorrowing apostles wailed,'We trusted that it had been He who should have redeemed Israel.' Thedeath of Christ, if it were but a martyr's death, and if we had tobelieve that that frame had crumbled into dust, and that heart ceasedfor ever to beat, would not only destroy the worth of all that Hespoke, but would be the saddest instance in all history of theirreversible sway that death wields over all mankind, and would deepenthe darkness and sadden the gloom of the grave. True, there were notwanting even in His dying hours mysterious indications, such as Hispromise to the penitent thief. But these only make the disappointmentthe deeper, if there was nothing more after His death.

So Christ's justification is in His resurrection and ascension.

III. The Messiah's confidence of ultimate triumph.

In the last words of the text the adversaries are massed together. Theconfidence that the Lord God will help and justify leads to theconviction that all opposition to Him is futile and leads todestruction.

We see the historical fulfilment in the fate of the nation. 'His bloodbe upon us and upon our children.'

We have a truth applying universally that antagonism to Him isself-destructive.

Two forms of destruction are here named. There is a slow decay going onin the opponents and their opposition, as a garment waxing old, andthere is a being fretted away by the imperceptible working of externalcauses, as by gnawing moths.

Applied to persons. To opposing systems.

How many antagonists the Gospel has had, and one after another has beenantiquated, and their books are only known because fragments of themare preserved in Christian writings. Paganism is gone from Europe, andits idols are in our museums. Each generation has its own phase ofopposition, which lasts for a little while. The mists round the sunmelt, the clouds piled in the north, surging up to bury it beneaththeir banks, are dissipated. The sea roars and smashes on the cliffs,but it ebbs and calms. Some of us have seen more than one school ofthought which came to the assault of Christianity, with colours flyingand drums rattling, defeated utterly and forgotten, and so it willalways be. One may be sure that each enemy in turn will descend to theoblivion that has already received so many, and can imagine thesebeaten foes rising from their seats to welcome the newcomer with thesad greeting: 'Art thou also become weak as we? art thou become likeunto us?'

We are 'justified' in His 'justification.'

The real connection between us and Christ by faith, makes ourjustification to be involved in His, so that it is no mereaccommodation but a profound perception of the real relation betweenChrist and us, when Paul, in Romans viii. 34, triumphantly claims thewords of our text for Christ's disciples, and rings out their challengeon behalf of all believers: 'It is God that justifieth, who is he thatcondemneth?'

Do you trust in Christ? Then you too can dare to say: 'The Lord Godwill help me; who is he that shall condemn me?'

'Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of hisservant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? let him trust inthe name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.'—ISAIAH l. 10.

The persons addressed in this call to faith are 'those who fear theLord,' and 'obey the voice of His Servant.' In that collocation isimplied that these two things are necessarily connected, so thatobedience to Christ is the test of true religion, and the fear of theLord does not exist where the word of the Son is neglected or rejected.

But besides that most fruitful and instructive juxtaposition, otherimportant thoughts come into view here. The fact that the call to faithis addressed to those who are regarded as already fearing God suggeststhe need for renewed and constantly repeated acts of confidence, atevery stage of the Christian life, and opens up the whole subject ofthe growth and progress of individual religion, as secured by thecontinuous exercise of faith. The call is addressed to all at everystage of advancement. Of course it is addressed also to those who aredisobedient and rebellious. But that wider aspect of the mercifulinvitation does not come into view here.

But there is another clause in the description of the personsaddressed, 'Who walketh in darkness and hath no light.' This is, nodoubt, primarily a reference to the great sorrow that filled, like agloomy thundercloud, the horizon of Jewish prophets, small anduninteresting as it seems to us, namely, the captivity of Israel andtheir expulsion from their land. The faithful remnant are not to escapetheir share in the national calamity. But while it lasts, they are towait patiently on the Lord, and not to cast away their confidence,though all seems dark and dreary.

The exhortation thus regarded suggests the power and duty of faith evenin times of disaster and sorrow. But another meaning has often beenattached to these words, they have been lifted into another region, thespiritual, and have been supposed to refer to a state of feeling notunknown to devout hearts, in which the religious life is devoid of joyand peace. That is a phase of Christian experience, which meets any onewho knows much of the workings of men's hearts, and of his own, whenfaith is exercised with but little of the light of faith, and the fearof the Lord is cherished with but scant joy in the Lord. Now if it beremembered that such an application of the words is not their originalpurpose, there can be no harm in using them so. Indeed we may say that,as the words are perfectly general, they include a reference to alldarkness of life or soul, however produced, whether it come from thenight of sorrow falling on us from without, or from mists and gloomrising like heavy vapours from our own hearts. So considered, the textsuggests the one remedy for all gloom and weakness in the spirituallife.

Thus, then, we have three different sets of circ*mstances in whichfaith is enforced as the source of true strength and our all-embracingduty. In outward sorrow and trial, trust; in inward darkness andsadness, trust; in every stage of Christian progress, trust. Or

I. Faith the light in the darkness of the world. II. Faith the light inthe darkness of the soul. III. Faith the light in every stage ofChristian progress.

* * * * *

I. Faith our light in the darkness of the world.

The mystery and standing problem of the Old Testament is thecoexistence of goodness and sorrow, and the mystery still remains, andever will remain, a fact. It is partially alleviated if we rememberthat one main purpose of all our sorrows is to lead us to thisconfidence.

1. The call to faith is the true voice of all our sorrows.

It seems easy to trust when all is bright, but really it is just ashard, only we can more easily deceive ourselves, when physicalwell-being makes us comfortable. We are less conscious of our ownemptiness, we mask our poverty from ourselves, we do not seem to needGod so much. But sorrow reveals our need to us. Other props are struckaway, and it is either collapse or Him. We learn the vanity, thetransiency, of all besides.

Sorrow reveals God, as the pillar of cloud glowed brighter when theevening fell. Sorrow is meant to awaken the powers that are apt tosleep in prosperity.

So the true voice of all our griefs is 'Come up hither.' They call usto trust, as nightfall calls us to light up our lamps. The snow keepsthe hidden seeds warm; shepherds burn heather on the hillside thatyoung grass may spring.

2. The call to faith echoes from the voice of the Servant.

Jesus in His darkness rested on God, and in all His sorrows was yetanointed with the oil of gladness. In every pang He has been before us.The rack is sanctified because He has been stretched upon it.

3. The substance of the call.

It is to trust, not to anything more. No attempts to stifle tears arerequired. There is no sin in sorrow. The emotions which we feel to Godin bright days are not appropriate at such times. There are seasons inevery life when all that we can say is, 'Truly this is a grief, and Iwill bear it.'

What then is required? Assurance of God's loving will sending sorrow.Assurance of God's strengthening presence in it, assurance ofdeliverance from it. These, not more, are required; these are theelements of the faith here called for.

Such faith may co-exist with the keenest sense of loss. The trueattitude in sorrow may be gathered from Christ's at the grave ofLazarus, contrasted with the excessive mourning of the sisters, and thefeigned grief of the Jews.

There are times when the most that we can do is to trust even in thegreat darkness, 'Though He slay me yet will I trust in Him.' Submissivesilence is sometimes the most eloquent confession of faith. 'I wasdumb, I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it.'

4. The blessed results of such faith.

It is implied that we may find all that we need, and more, in God. Havewe to mourn friends? 'In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lordsitting on a throne.' Have we lost wealth? We have in Him a treasurethat moth or rust cannot touch. Are our hopes blasted? 'Happy is He …whose hope is in the Lord his God.' Is our health broken? 'I shall yetpraise Him, who is the health of my countenance.' 'The Lord is able togive thee much more than these.'

How can we face the troubles of life without Him? God calls us when indarkness, and by the darkness, to trust in His name and stay ourselveson Him. Happy are we if we answer 'Though the fig-tree shall notblossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines … yet I will rejoice inthe Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation.'

II. Faith, our light in the darkness of the soul.

No doubt there may be such a thing as true fear of God in the soulalong with spiritual darkness, faith without the joy of faith. Now thiscondition seems contradictory of the very nature of the Christian life.For religion is union with God who is light, and if we walk in Him, weare in the light. How then can such experience be?

We must dismiss the notion of God's desertion of the trusting soul. Heis always the same; He has 'never said to the seed of Jacob, Seek ye Mein vain.' But while putting aside that false explanation, we can seehow such darkness may be. If our religious life was in more vigorousexercise, more pure, perfect and continuous, there would be noseparation of faith and the joy of faith. But we have not suchunruffled, perfect, uninterrupted faith, and hence there may be, andoften is, faith without much joy of faith. I would not say that suchexperience is always the fruit of sin. But certainly we are not toblame Him or to think of Him as breaking His promises, or departingfrom His nature. No principles, be they ever so firmly held, ever soundoubtingly received, ever so passionately embraced, exert their wholepower equally at all moments in a life. There come times of languorwhen they seem to be mere words, dead commonplaces, as unlike theirformer selves as sapless winter boughs to their summer pride of leafybeauty. The same variation in our realising grasp affects the truths ofthe Gospel. Sometimes they seem but words, with all the life and powersucked out of them, pale shadows of themselves, or like the dried bedof a wady with blazing, white stones, where flashing water used toleap, and all the flowerets withered, which once bent their meek littleheads to drink. No facts are always equally capable of exciting theircorrespondent emotions. Those which most closely affect our personallife, in which we find our deepest joys, are not always present in ourminds, and when they are, do not always touch the springs of ourfeelings. No possessions are always equally precious to us. The richman is not always conscious with equal satisfaction of his wealth. If,then, the way from the mind to the emotions is not always equally open,there is a reason why there may be faith without light of joy. If thethoughts are not always equally concentrated on the things whichproduce joy, there is a reason why there may be the habit of fearingGod, though there be not the present vigorous exercise of faith, andconsequently but little light.

Another reason may lie in the disturbing and saddening influence ofearthly cares and sorrows. There are all weathers in a year. And thehighest hope and nearest possible approach to joy is sometimes 'Untothe upright there ariseth light in the darkness.' Our lives aresometimes like an Arctic winter in which for many days is no sun.

Another reason may be found in the very fact that we are apt to lookimpatiently for peace and joy, and to be more exercised with these thanwith that which produces them.

Another may be errors or mistakes about God and His Gospel.

Another may be absorption with our own sin instead of with Him. To allthese add temperament, education, habit, example, influence of body onthe mind, and of course also positive inconsistencies and a low tone ofChristian life.

It is clear then that, if these be the causes of this state, the onecure for it is to exercise our faith more energetically.

Trust, do not look back. We are tempted to cast away our confidence andto say: What profit shall I have if I pray unto Him? But it is onlooking onwards, not backwards, that safety lies.

Trust, do not think about your sins.

Trust, do not think so much about your joy.

It is in the occupation of heart and mind with Jesus that joy and peacecome. To make them our direct aim is the way not to attain them. Thoughnow there seems a long wintry interval between seed time and harvest,yet 'in due season we shall reap if we faint not.'

'In the fourth watch of the night Jesus came unto them.'

III. Faith our guiding light in every stage of Christian progress.

Those who already 'fear God' are in the text exhorted to trust.

In the most advanced Christian life there are temptations to abandonour confidence. We never on earth come to such a point as that, withouteffort, we are sure to continue in the way. True, habit is a wonderfulally of goodness, and it is a great thing to have it on our side, butall our lives long, there will be hindrances without and within whichneed effort and self-repression. On earth there is no time when it issafe for us to go unarmed. The force of gravitation acts however highwe climb. Not till heaven is reached will 'love' be 'its own security,'and nature coincide with grace. And even in heaven faith 'abideth,' butthere it will be without effort.

1. The most advanced Christian life needs a perpetual renewal andrepetition of past acts of faith.

It cannot live on a past any more than the body can subsist on lastyear's food. The past is like the deep portions of coral reefs, a mereplatform for the living present which shines on the surface of the sea,and grows. We must gather manna daily.

The life is continued by the same means as that by which it was begun.There is no new duty or method for the most advanced Christian; he hasto do just what he has been doing for half a century. We cannottranscend the creatural position, we are ever dependent. 'To hoar hairswill I carry you.' The initial point is prolonged into a continuousline.

2. The most advanced and mature faith is capable of increase, in regardto its knowledge of its object, and in intensity, constancy, power. Atfirst it may be a tremulous trust, afterwards it should become anassured confidence. At first it may be but a dim recognition, as in aglass darkly, of the great love which has redeemed us at a great price;afterwards it should become the clear vision of the trusted Friend andlifelong companion of our souls, who is all in all to us. At first itmay be an interrupted hold, afterwards it should become such a grasp asthe roots of a tree have on the soil. At first it may be a feeble powerruling over our rebel selves, like some king beleaguered in hiscapital, who has no sway beyond its walls, afterwards it should becomea peaceful sovereign who guides and sways all the powers of the souland outgoings of the life. At first it may be like a premature roseputting forth pale petals on an almost leafless bough, afterwards thewhole tree should be blossomed over with fragrant flowers, the homes oflight and sweetness. The highest faith may be heightened, and thespirits before the throne pray the prayer, 'Lord, increase our faith.'

For us all, then, the merciful voice of the servant of the Lord callsto His light. Our faith is our light in darkness, only as a window isthe light of a house, or the eye, of the body, because it admits anddiscerns that true light. He calls us each from the darkness. Do nottry to make fires for yourselves, ineffectual and transient, but lookto Him, and you shall not walk in darkness, even amid the gloom ofearth, but shall have light in your darkness, till the time come when,in a clearer heaven and a lighter air, 'Thy sun shall no more go down,neither shall thy moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be thineeverlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.'

DYING FIRES

'Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that gird yourselves about withfirebrands: walk ye in the flame of your fire, and among the brandsthat ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand; ye shall liedown in sorrow.'—ISAIAH l. 11.

The scene brought before us in these words is that of a company ofbelated travellers in some desert, lighting a little fire that glimmersineffectual in the darkness of the eerie waste. They huddle round itsdying embers for a little warmth and company, and they hope it willscare wolf and jackal, but their fuel is all burned, and they have togo to sleep without its solace and security. The prophet's imaginativepicture is painted from life, and is a sad reality in the cases of allwho seek to warm themselves at any fire that they kindle forthemselves, apart from God.

I. A sad, true picture of human life.

It does not cover, nor is presented by the prophet as covering, all thefacts of experience. Every man has his share of sunshine, but still itis true of all who are not living in dependence on and communion withGod, that they are but travellers in the dark.

Scripture uses the image of darkness as symbolic of three sad facts ofour experience: ignorance, sin, sorrow. Are not all these thecharacteristics of godless lives?

As for ignorance—a godless man has no key to the awful problems thatfront him. He knows not God, who is to him a dread, a name, a mystery.He knows not himself, the depths of his nature, its possibilities forgood or evil, whence it cometh nor whither it goeth. He has no solutionfor the riddle of the universe. It is to him a chaos, and darkness isupon the face of the deep.

As to sin, the darkness of ignorance is largely due to the darkness ofsin. In every heart comes sometimes the consciousness that it is thusdarkened by sin. The sense of sin is with all men more or less—muchperverted, often wrong in its judgments, feeble, easily silenced, butfor all that it is there—and it is great part of the cold obstructionthat shuts out the light. Sin weaves the pall that shrouds the world.

As for darkness of sorrow—we must beware that we do not exaggerate.God makes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and there isgladness in every life, much that arises from fulfilled desires, fromaccomplished purposes, from gratified affections. But when all this hasbeen freely admitted, still sadness crouches somewhere in all hearts,and over every life the storm sometimes stoops.

We need nothing beyond our own experience and the slightest knowledgeof other hearts to know how shallow and one-sided a view of life thatis which sees only the joy and forgets the sorrow, which ignores thenight and thinks only of the day; which, looking out on nature, isblind to the pain and agony, the horror and the death, which are asreal parts of it as brightness and beauty, love and life. Every littlevalley that lies in lovely loneliness has its scenes of desolation, andtempest has broken over the fairest scenes. Every river has drowned itsman. Over every inch of blue sky the thunder cloud has rolled. Everysummer has its winter, every day its night, every life its death. Allstars set, all moons wane. 'Bare ruined choirs where late the sweetbirds sang' come after every leafy June.

Sorrow is as deeply embedded in the necessity and constitution ofthings as joy. 'God hath set one over against another, and hath madeall things double.'

II. The vain attempts at light.

There is bitter irony in the prophet's description of the poorflickering spot of light in the black waste and of its swift dying out.The travellers without a watch-fire are defenceless from midnightprowlers. How full of solemn truth about godless lives the vividoutline picture is!

Men try to free themselves from the miseries of ignorance, sin, andsorrow.

Think of the insufficiency of all such attempts, the feeble flickerwhich glimmers for an hour, and then fuel fails and it goes out. Thenthe travellers can journey no further, but 'lie down in sorrow,' andwithout a watchfire they become a prey to all the beasts of the field.It is a little picture taken from the life.

It vividly paints how men will try to free themselves from themiseries of their condition, how insufficient all their attempts are,how transient the relief, and how bitter and black the end.

We may apply these thoughts to—

1. Men-made grounds of hope before God.

2. Men-made attempts to read the mysteries.

We do not say this of all human learning, but of that which, apart from
God's revelation, deals with the subjects of that revelation.

3. Men-made efforts at self-reformation.

4. Men-made attempts at alleviating sorrow.

Scripture abounds in other metaphors for the same solemn spiritualfacts as are set before us in this picture of the dying watchfire andthe sad men watching its decline. Godless lives draw from brokencisterns out of which the water runs. They build with untemperedmortar. They lean on broken reeds that wound the hand pressed on them.They spend money for that which is not bread. But all these metaphorsput together do not tell all the vanity, disappointments, and finalfailure and ruin of such a life. That last glimpse given in the text ofthe sorrowful sleeper stretched by the black ashes, with darkness roundand hopeless heaviness within, points to an issue too awful to be dwelton by a preacher, and too awful not to be gravely considered by each ofus for himself.

III. The light from God.

What would the dead fire and the ring of ashes on the sand matter whenmorning dawned? Jesus is our Sun. He rises, and the spectres of thenight melt into thin air, and 'joy cometh in the morning.' He floodsour ignorance with knowledge of the Father whose name He declares, withknowledge of ourselves, of the world, of our destiny and our duty, ourhopes and our home. He takes away the sin of the world. He gives theoil of joy for mourning. For every human necessity He is enough. FollowHim and your life's pilgrimage shall not be a midnight one, butaccomplished in sunshine. 'I am the light of the world; he thatfolloweth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light oflife.'

THE AWAKENING OF ZION

'Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake, as in theancient days, in the generations of old.'—ISAIAH li. 9.

'Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion.'—ISAIAH lii. 1.

Both these verses are, I think, to be regarded as spoken by one voice,that of the Servant of the Lord. His majestic figure, wrapped in alight veil of obscurity, fills the eye in all these later prophecies ofIsaiah. It is sometimes clothed with divine power, sometimes girdedwith the towel of human weakness, sometimes appearing like thecollective Israel, sometimes plainly a single person.

We have no difficulty in solving the riddle of the prophecy by thelight of history. Our faith knows One who unites these diversecharacteristics, being God and man, being the Saviour of the body,which is part of Himself and instinct with His life. If we may supposethat He speaks in both verses of the text, then, in the one, as priestand intercessor, He lifts the prayers of earth to heaven in His ownholy hands—and in the other, as messenger and Word of God, He bringsthe answer and command of heaven to earth on His own authoritativelips—thus setting forth the deep mystery of His person and doubleoffice as mediator between man and God. But even if we put aside thatthought, the correspondence and relation of the two passages remain thesame. In any case they are intentionally parallel in form and connectedin substance. The latter is the answer to the former. The cry of Zionis responded to by the call of God. The awaking of the arm of the Lordis followed by the awaking of the Church. He puts on strength inclothing us with His might, which becomes ours.

The mere juxtaposition of these verses suggests the point of view fromwhich I wish to treat them on this occasion. I hope that the thoughtsto which they lead may help to further that quickened earnestness andexpectancy of blessing, without which Christian work is a toil and afailure.

We have here a common principle underlying both the clauses of ourtext, to which I must first briefly ask attention, namely—

I. The occurrence in the Church's history of successive periods ofenergy and of languor.

It is freely admitted that such alternation is not the highest ideal ofgrowth, either in the individual or in the community. Our Lord's ownparables set forth a more excellent way—the way of uninterruptedincrease, whereof the type is the springing corn, which puts forth'first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear,'and passes through all the stages from the tender green spikelets thatgleam over the fields in the spring-tide to the yellow abundance ofautumn, in one unbroken season of genial months. So would our growth bebest, healthiest, happiest. So might our growth be, if the mysteriouslife in the seed met no checks. But, as a matter of fact, the Churchhas not thus grown. Rather at the best, its emblem is to be looked for,not in corn, but in the forest tree-the very rings in whose trunk tellof recurring seasons when the sap has risen at the call of spring, andsunk again before the frowns of winter. I have not to do now with thecauses of this. These will fall to be considered presently. Nor am Isaying that such a manner of growth is inevitable. I am only pointingout a fact, capable of easy verification and familiar to us all. Ouryears have had summer and winter. The evening and the morning havecompleted all the days since the first.

We all know it only too well. In our own hearts we have known suchtimes, when some cold clinging mist wrapped us round and hid all theheaven of God's love and the starry lights of His truth; when thevisible was the only real, and He seemed far away and shadowy; whenthere was neither confidence in our belief, nor heat in our love, norenthusiasm in our service; when the shackles of conventionalism boundour souls, and the fetters of the frost imprisoned all their springs.And we have seen a like palsy smite whole regions and ages of theChurch of God, so that even the sensation of impotence was dead likeall the rest, and the very tradition of spiritual power had faded away.I need not point to the signal historical examples of such times in thepast. Remember England a hundred years ago—but what need to travel sofar? May I venture to draw my example from nearer home, and ask, havewe not been living in such an epoch? I beseech you, think whether thepower which the Gospel preached by us wields on ourselves, on ourchurches, on the world, is what Christ meant it and fitted to exercise.Why, if we hold our own in respect to the material growth of ourpopulation, it is as much as we do. Where is the joyful buoyancy andexpansive power with which the Gospel burst into the world? It lookslike some stream that leaps from the hills, and at first hurries fromcliff to cliff full of light and music, but flows slower and moresluggish as it advances, and at last almost stagnates in its flatmarshes. Here we are with all our machinery, our culture, money,organisations—and the net result of it all at the year's end is but apoor handful of ears. 'Ye sow much and bring home little.' Well may wetake up the wail of the old Psalm, 'We see not our signs. There is nomore any prophet; neither is there any among us that knoweth howlong—arise, O Lord, plead Thine own cause.'

If, then, there are such recurring seasons of languor, they must eithergo on deepening till sleep becomes death, or they must be broken by anew outburst of vigorous life. It would be better if we did not needthe latter. The uninterrupted growth would be best; but if that has notbeen attained, then the ending of winter by spring, and the suppling ofthe dry branches, and the resumption of the arrested growth, is thenext best, and the only alternative to rotting away.

And it is by such times that the Kingdom of Christ always has grown.Its history has been one of successive impulses gradually exhausted, asby friction and gravity, and mercifully repeated just at the momentwhen it was ceasing to advance and had begun to slide backwards. And insuch a manner of progress, the Church's history has been in fullanalogy with that of all other forms of human association and activity.It is not in religion alone that there are 'revivals,' to use the wordof which some people have such a dread. You see analogous phenomena inthe field of literature, arts, social and political life. In them all,there come times of awakened interest in long-neglected principles.Truths which for many years had been left to burn unheeded, save by afaithful few watchers of the beacon, flame up all at once as theguiding pillars of a nation's march, and a whole people strike theirtents and follow where they lead. A mysterious quickening thrillsthrough society. A contagion of enthusiasm spreads like fire, fusingall hearts in one. The air is electric with change. Some great advanceis secured at a stride; and before and after that supreme effort areyears of comparative quiescence; those before being times ofpreparation, those after being times of fruition and exhaustion—butslow and languid compared with the joyous energy of that moment. Oneday may be as a thousand years in the history of a people, and a nationmay be born in a day.

So also is the history of the Church. And thank God it is so, for if ithad not been for the dawning of these times of refreshing, the steadyoperation of the Church's worldliness would have killed it long ago.

Surely, dear brethren, we ought to desire such a merciful interruptionof the sad continuity of our languor and decay. The surest sign of itscoming would be a widespread desire and expectation of its coming,joined with a penitent consciousness of our heavy and sinful slumber.For we believe in a God who never sends mouths but He sends meat tofill them, and in whose merciful providence every desire is a prophecyof its own fruition. This attitude of quickened anticipation, diffusingitself silently through many hearts, is like the light air that springsup before sunrise, or like the solemn hush that holds all naturelistening before the voice of the Lord in the thunder.

And another sign of its approach is the extremity of the need. 'Ifwinter come, can spring be far behind?' For He who is always with Zionstrikes in with His help when the want is at its sorest. His 'rightearly' is often the latest moment before destruction. And though we areall apt to exaggerate the urgency of the hour and the severity of ourconflict, it certainly does seem that, whether we regard the languor ofthe Church or the strength of our adversaries, succour delayed a littlelonger would be succour too late. 'The tumult of those that rise upagainst Thee increaseth continually. It is time for Thee to work.'

The juxtaposition of these passages suggests for us—

II. The twofold explanation of these variations.

That bold metaphor of God's sleeping and waking is often found inScripture, and generally expresses the contrast between the long yearsof patient forbearance, during which evil things and evil men go ontheir rebellious road unchecked but by Love, and the dread moment whensome throne of iniquity, some Babylon cemented by blood, is smitten tothe dust. Such is the original application of the expression here. Butthe contrast may fairly be widened beyond that specific form of it, andtaken to express any apparent variations in the forth-putting of Hispower. The prophet carefully avoids seeming to suggest that there arechanges in God Himself. It is not He but His arm, that is to say. Hisactive energy, that is invoked to awake. The captive Church prays thatthe dormant might which could so easily shiver her prison-house wouldflame forth into action.

We may, then, see here implied the cause of these alternations, ofwhich we have been speaking, on its divine side, and then, in thecorresponding verse addressed to the Church, the cause on the humanside.

As to the former, it is true that God's arm sometimes slumbers, and isnot clothed with power. There are, as a fact, apparent variations inthe energy with which He works in the Church and in the world. And theyare real variations, not merely apparent. But we have to distinguishbetween the power, and what Paul calls 'the might of the power.' Theone is final, constant, unchangeable. It does not necessarily followthat the other is. The rate of operation, so to speak, and the amountof energy actually brought into play may vary, though the force remainsthe same.

It is clear from experience that there are these variations; and theonly question with which we are concerned is, are they mere arbitraryjets and spurts of a divine power, sometimes gushing out in full flood,sometimes trickling in painful drops, at the unknown will of the unseenhand which controls the flow? Is the 'law of the Spirit of life' at allrevealed to us; or are the reasons occult, if there be any reasons atall other than a mere will that it shall be so? Surely, whilst we nevercan know all the depths of His counsels and all the solemn concourse ofreasons which, to speak in man's language, determine the energy of Hismanifested power, He has left us in no doubt that this is theweightiest part of the law which it follows—the might with which Godworks on the world through His Church varies according to the Church'sreceptiveness and faithfulness.

Our second text tells us that if God's arm seems to slumber and reallydoes so, it is because Zion sleeps. In itself that immortal energyknows no variableness. 'He fainteth not, neither is weary.' 'The Lord'sarm is not shortened that He cannot save.' 'He that keepeth Israelshall neither slumber nor sleep.' But He works through us; and we havethe solemn and awful power of checking the might which would flowthrough us; of restraining and limiting the Holy One of Israel. Itavails nothing that the ocean stretches shoreless to the horizon; a jarcan hold only a jarful. The receiver's capacity determines the amountreceived, and the receiver's desire determines his capacity. The lawhas ever been, 'according to your faith be it unto you.' God gives asmuch as we will, as much as we can hold, as much as we use, and farmore than we deserve. As long as we will bring our vessels the goldenoil will flow, and after the last is filled, there yet remains morethat we might have had, if we could have held it, and might have heldif we would. 'Ye are not straitened in Me, ye are straitened inyourselves.'

So, dear brethren, if we have to lament times of torpor and smallsuccess, let us be honest with ourselves, and recognise that all theblame lies with us. If God's arm seems to slumber, it is because we areasleep. His power is invariable, and the Gospel which is committed toour trust has lost none of its ancient power, whatsoever men may say.If there be variations, they cannot be traced to the divine element inthe Church, which in itself is constant, but altogether to the human,which shifts and fluctuates, as we only too sadly know. The light inthe beacon-tower is steady, and the same; but the beam it throws acrossthe waters sometimes fades to a speck, and sometimes flames out clearand far across the heaving waves, according to the position of theglasses and shades around it. The sun pours out heat as profusely andas long at midwinter as on midsummer-day, and all the differencebetween the frost and darkness and glowing brightness and floweringlife, is simply owing to the earth's place in its orbit and the angleat which the unalterable rays fall upon it. The changes are in theterrestrial sphere; the heavenly is fixed for ever the same.

May I not venture to point an earnest and solemn appeal with thesetruths? Has there not been poured over us the spirit of slumber? Doesit not seem as if an opium sky had been raining soporifics on ourheads? We have had but little experience of the might of God amongst usof late years, and we need not wonder at it. There is no occasion tolook far for the reason. We have only to regard the low ebb to whichreligious life has been reduced amongst us to have it all and more thanall accounted for. I fully admit that there has been plenty ofactivity, perhaps more than the amount of real life warrants, not alittle liberality, and many virtues. But how languid and torpid thetrue Christian life has been! how little enthusiasm! how little depthof communion with God! how little unworldly elevation of soul! howlittle glow of love! An improvement in social position andcirc*mstances, a freer blending with the national life, a full share ofcivic and political honours, a higher culture in our pulpits, finechapels, and applauding congregations—are but poor substitutes forwhat many of us have lost in racing after them. We have the departedprophets' mantle, the outward resemblance to the fathers who have gone,but their fiery zeal has passed to heaven with them; and softer, weakermen, we stand timidly on the river's brink, invoking the Lord God ofElijah, and too often the flood that obeyed them has no ear for ourfeebler voice.

I speak to many who are in some sort representatives of the churchesthroughout the land, and they can tell whether my words are on thewhole true or overstrained. We who labour in our great cities, what saywe? If one of the number may speak for the rest, we have to acknowledgethat commercial prosperity and business cares, the eagerness afterpleasure and the exigencies of political strife, diffused doubt andwidespread artistic and literary culture, are eating the very life outof thousands in our churches, and lowering their fervour till, likemolten iron cooling in the air, what was once all glowing with ruddyheat is crusted over with foul black scoriae ever encroaching on thetiny central warmth. You from rural churches, what say you? Have younot to speak of deepening torpor settling down on quiet corners, of thepassing away of grey heads which leave no successors, of growingdifficulties and lessened power to meet them, that make you sometimesall but despair?

I am not flinging indiscriminate censures. I know that there are lightsas well as shades in the picture. I am not flinging censures at all.But I am giving voice to the confessions of many hearts, that ourconsciousness of our blame may be deepened, and we may hasten back tothat dear Lord whom we have left to serve alone, as His first disciplesleft Him once to agonise alone under the gnarled olives in Gethsemane,while they lay sleeping in the moonlight. Listen to His gentle rebuke,full of pain and surprised love, 'What, could ye not watch with Me onehour?' Listen to His warning call, loving as the kiss with which amother wakes her child, 'Arise, let us be going'—and let us shake thespirit of slumber from our limbs, and serve Him as those unsleepingspirits do, who rest not day nor night from vision and work and praise.

III. The beginning of all awaking is the Church's earnest cry to God.

It is with us as with infants, the first sign of whose awaking is acry. The mother's quick ear hears it through all the household noises,and the poor little troubled life that woke to a scared consciousnessof loneliness and darkness, is taken up into tender arms, and comfortedand calmed. So, when we dimly perceive how torpid we have been, andstart to find that we have lost our Father's hand, the first instinctof that waking, which must needs be partly painful, is to call to Him,whose ear hears our feeble cry amid the sound of praise like the voiceof many waters, that billows round His throne, and whose folding armskeep us 'as one whom his mother comforteth.' The beginning of all trueawaking must needs be prayer.

For every such stirring of quickened religious life must needs have init bitter penitence and pain at the discovery flashed upon us of thewretched deadness of our past—and, as we gaze like some wakenedsleepwalker into the abyss where another step might have smashed us toatoms, a shuddering terror seizes us that must cry, 'Hold Thou me up,and I shall be safe.' And every such stirring of quickened life willhave in it, too, desire for more of His grace, and confidence in Hissure bestowal of it, which cannot but breathe itself in prayer.

Nor is Zion's cry to God only the beginning and sign of all trueawaking: it is also the condition and indispensable precursor of allperfecting of recovery from spiritual languor.

I have already pointed out the relation between the waking of God andthe waking of His Church, from which that necessarily follows. God'spower flows into our weakness in the measure and on condition of ourdesires. We are sometimes told that we err in praying for theoutpouring of His Holy Spirit, because ever since Pentecost His Churchhas had the gift. The objection alleges an unquestioned fact, but theconclusion drawn from it rests on an altogether false conception of themanner of that abiding gift. The Spirit of God, and the power whichcomes from Him, are not given as a purse of money might be put into aman's hand once and for all, but they are given in a continuousimpartation and communication and are received and retained moment bymoment, according to the energy of our desires and the faithfulness ofour use. As well might we say, Why should I ask for natural life, Ireceived it half a century ago? Yes, and at every moment of thathalf-century I have continued to live, not because of a past gift, butbecause at each moment God is breathing into my nostrils the breath oflife. So is it with the life which comes from His Spirit. It ismaintained by constant efflux from the fountain of Life, by constantimpartation of His quickening breath. And as He must continuallyimpart, so must we continually receive, else we perish. Therefore,brethren, the first step towards awaking, and the condition of all truerevival in our own souls and in our churches, is this earnest cry,'Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord.

Thank God for the outpouring of a long unwonted spirit of prayer inmany places. It is like the melting of the snows in the high Alps, atonce the sign of spring and the cause of filling the stony river bedswith flashing waters, that bring verdure and growth wherever they come.The winter has been long and hard. We have all to confess that we havebeen restraining prayer before God. Our work has been done with butlittle sense of our need of His blessing, with but little ardour ofdesire for His power. We have prayed lazily, scarcely believing thatanswers would come; we have not watched for the reply, but have beenlike some heartless marksman who draws his bow and does not care tolook whether his arrow strikes the target. These mechanical words,these conventional petitions, these syllables winged by no real desire,inspired by no faith, these expressions of devotion, far too wide fortheir real contents, which rattle in them like a dried kernel in a nut,are these prayers? Is there any wonder that they have been dispersed inempty air, and that we have been put to shame before our enemies?Brethren in the ministry, do we need to be surprised at our fruitlesswork, when we think of our prayerless studies and of our faithlessprayers? Let us remember that solemn word, 'The pastors have becomebrutish, and have not sought the Lord, therefore they shall notprosper, and all their flocks shall be scattered.' And let us all,brethren, betake ourselves, with penitence and lowly consciousness ofour sore need, to prayer, earnest and importunate, believing andpersistent, like this heaven-piercing cry which captive Israel sent upfrom her weary bondage.

Look at the passionate earnestness of it—expressed in the short, sharpcry, thrice repeated, as from one in mortal need; and see to it thatour drowsy prayers be like it. Look at the grand confidence with whichit founds itself on the past, recounting the mighty deeds of ancientdays, and looking back, not for despair but for joyful confidence, tothe generations of old; and let our faint-hearted faith be quickened bythe example, to expect great things of God. The age of miracles is notgone. The mightiest manifestations of God's power in the spread of theGospel in the past remain as patterns for His future. We have not tolook back as from low-lying plains to the blue peaks on the horizon,across which the Church's path once lay, and sigh over the changedconditions of the journey. The highest watermark that the river inflood has ever reached will be reached and overpassed again, thoughto-day the waters may seem to have hopelessly subsided. Greatertriumphs and deliverances shall crown the future than have signalisedthe past. Let our faithful prayer base itself on the prophecies ofhistory and on the unchangeableness of God.

Think, brethren, of the prayers of Christ. Even He, whose spirit needednot to be purged from stains or calmed from excitement, who was ever inHis Father's house whilst He was about His Father's business, blendingin one, action and contemplation, had need to pray. The moments of Hislife thus marked are very significant. When He began His ministry, theclose of the first day of toil and wonders saw Him, far from gratitudeand from want, in a desert place in prayer. When He would send forthHis apostles, that great step in advance, in which lay the germ of somuch, was preceded by solitary prayer. When the fickle crowd desired tomake Him the centre of political revolution, He passed from their handsand beat back that earliest attempt to secularise His work, by prayer.When the seventy brought the first tidings of mighty works done in Hisname, He showed us how to repel the dangers of success, in that Hethanked the Lord of heaven and earth who had revealed these things tobabes. When He stood by the grave of Lazarus, the voice that waked thedead was preceded by the voice of prayer, as it ever must be. When Hehad said all that He could say to His disciples, He crowned all withHis wonderful prayer for Himself, for them, and for us all. When thehorror of great darkness fell upon His soul, the growing agony ismarked by His more fervent prayer, so wondrously compact of shrinkingfear and filial submission. When the cross was hid in the darkness ofeclipse, the only words from the gloom were words of prayer. When,Godlike, He dismissed His spirit, manlike He commended it to HisFather, and sent the prayer from His dying lips before Him to heraldHis coming into the unseen world. One instance remains, even more toour present purpose than all these—'It came to pass, that Jesus alsobeing baptized, and praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Ghostdescended in a bodily shape like a dove upon Him.' Mighty mystery! InHim, too, the Son's desire is connected with the Father's gift, and theunmeasured possession of the Spirit was an answer to His prayer.

Then, brethren, let us lift our voices and our hearts. That whichascends as prayer descends as blessing, like the vapour that is drawnup by the kiss of the sun to fall in freshening rain. 'Call upon Me,and I will answer thee, and show thee great and hidden things whichthou knowest not.'

IV. The answering call from God to Zion.

Our truest prayers are but the echo of God's promises. God's bestanswers are the echo of our prayers. As in two mirrors set opposite toeach other, the same image is repeated over and over again, thereflection of a reflection, so here, within the prayer, gleams anearlier promise, within the answer is mirrored the prayer.

And in that reverberation, and giving back to us our petitiontransformed into a command, we are not to see a dismissal of it as ifwe had misapprehended our true want. It is not tantamount to, Do notask me to put on my strength, but array yourselves in your own. Thevery opposite interpretation is the true one. The prayer of Zion isheard and answered. God awakes, and clothes Himself with might. Then,as some warrior king, himself roused from sleep and girded withflashing steel, bids the clarion sound through the grey twilight tosummon the prostrate ranks that lie round his tent, so the sign ofGod's awaking and the first act of His conquering might is this trumpetcall—'The night is far spent, the day is at hand, let us put off theworks of darkness,'—the night gear that was fit for slumber—'and puton the armour of light,' the mail of purity that gleams and glitterseven in the dim dawn. God's awaking is our awaking. He puts on strengthby making us strong; for His arm works through us, clothing itself, asit were, with our arm of flesh, and perfecting itself even in ourweakness.

Nor is it to be forgotten that this, like all God's commands, carriesin its heart a promise. That earliest word of God's is the type of allHis latter behests: 'Let there be light,' and the mighty syllables werecreative and self-fulfilling. So ever, with Him, to enjoin and tobestow are one and the same, and His command is His conveyance ofpower. He rouses us by His summons, He clothes us with power in thevery act of bidding us put it on. So He answers the Church's cry bystimulating us to quickened zeal, and making us more conscious of, andconfident in, the strength which, in answer to our cry, He pours intoour limbs.

But the main point which I would insist on in what remains of thissermon, is the practical discipline which this divine summons requiresfrom us.

And first, let us remember that the chief means of quickened life andstrength is deepened communion with Christ.

As we have been saying, our strength is ours by continual derivationfrom Him. It has no independent existence, any more than a sunbeamcould have, severed from the sun. It is ours only in the sense that itflows through us, as a river through the land which it enriches. It isHis whilst it is ours, it is ours when we know it to be His. Then,clearly, the first thing to do must be to keep the channels free bywhich it flows into our souls, and to maintain the connection with thegreat Fountainhead unimpaired. Put a dam across the stream, and theeffect will be like the drying up of Jordan before Israel: 'the watersthat were above rose up upon an heap, and the waters that were beneathfailed and were cut off,' and the foul oozy bed was disclosed to thelight of day. It is only by constant contact with Christ that we haveany strength to put on.

That communion with Him is no mere idle or passive attitude, but theactive employment of our whole nature with His truth, and with Him whomthe truth reveals. The understanding must be brought into contact withthe principles of His word, the heart must touch and beat against Hisheart, the will meekly lay its hand in His, the conscience draw at onceits anodyne and its stimulus from His sacrifice, the passions know Hisfinger on the reins, and follow, led in the silken leash of love. Then,if I may so say, Elisha's miracle will be repeated in nobler form, andfrom Himself, the Life thus touching all our being, life will flow intoour deadness. 'He put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon hiseyes, and his hands upon his hands, and he stretched himself upon thechild, and the flesh of the child waxed warm.' So, dear brethren, allour practical duty is summed up in that one word, the measure of ourobedience to which is the measure of all our strength-'Abide in Me, andI in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide inthe vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in Me.'

Again, this summons calls us to the faithful use of the power which, oncondition of that communion, we have.

There is no doubt a temptation, in all times like the present, to lookfor some new and extraordinary forms of blessing, and to substitutesuch expectation for present work with our present strength. There isnothing new to look for. There is no need to wait for anything morethan we possess. Remember the homely old proverb, 'You never know whatyou can do till you try,' and though we are conscious of muchunfitness, and would sometimes gladly wait till our limbs are stronger,let us brace ourselves for the work, assured that in it strength willbe given to us that equals our desire. There is a wonderful power inhonest work to develop latent energies and reveal a man to himself. Isuppose, in most cases, no one is half so much surprised at a greatman's greatest deeds as he is himself. They say that there is dormantelectric energy enough in a few raindrops to make a thunderstorm, andthere is dormant spiritual force enough in the weakest of us to flashinto beneficent light, and peal notes of awaking into many a deaf ear.The effort to serve your Lord will reveal to you strength that you knownot. And it will increase the strength which it brings into play, asthe used muscles grow like whipcord, and the practised fingers becomedeft at their task, and every faculty employed is increased, and everygift wrapped in a napkin melts like ice folded in a cloth, according tothat solemn law, 'To him that hath shall be given, and from him thathath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.'

Then be sure that to its last particle you are using the strength youhave, ere you complain of not having enough for your tasks. Take heedof the vagrant expectations that wait for they know not what, and theapparent prayers that are really substitutes for possible service. 'Whyliest thou on thy face? Speak unto the children of Israel that they goforward.'

The Church's resources are sufficient for the Church's work, if theresources are used. We are tempted to doubt it, by reason of ourexperience of failure and our consciousness of weakness. We are morethan ever tempted to doubt it to-day, when so many wise men are tellingus that our Christ is a phantom, our God a stream of tendency, ourGospel a decaying error, our hope for the world a dream, and our workin the world done. We stand before our Master with doubtful hearts,and, as we look along the ranks sitting there on the green grass, andthen at the poor provisions which make all our store, we are sometimestempted almost to think that He errs when He says with that strangecalmness of His, 'They need not depart, give ye them to eat.' But goout among the crowds and give confidently what you have, and you willfind that you have enough and to spare. If ever our stores seeminadequate, it is because they are reckoned up by sense, which takescognizance of the visible, instead of by faith which beholds the real.Certainly five loaves and two small fishes are not enough, but are notfive loaves and two small fishes and a miracle-working hand behindthem, enough? It is poor calculation that leaves out Christ from theestimate of our forces. The weakest man and Jesus to back him are morethan all antagonism, more than sufficient for all duty. Be not seducedinto doubt of your power, or of your success, by others' sneers, or byyour own faint-heartedness. The confidence of ability is ability.'Screw your courage to the sticking place,' and you will notfail—and see to it that you use the resources you have, as goodstewards of the manifold grace of God. 'Put on thy strength, O Zion.'

So, dear brethren, to gather all up in a sentence, let us confidentlylook for times of blessing, penitently acknowledge that our ownfaithlessness has hindered the arm of the Lord, earnestly beseech Himto come in His rejoicing strength, and, drawing ever fresh power fromconstant communion with our dear Lord, use it to its last drop for Him.Then, like the mortal leader of Israel, as he pondered doubtingly withsunken eyes on the hard task before his untrained host, we shall lookup and be aware of the presence of the sworded angel, the immortalCaptain of the host of the Lord, standing ready to save, 'putting onrighteousness as a breastplate, an helmet of salvation on His head, andclad with zeal as a cloak.' From His lips, which give what theycommand, comes the call, 'Take unto you the whole armour of God, thatye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, tostand.' Hearkening to His voice, the city of the strong ones shall bemade an heap before our wondering ranks, and the land shall lie open toour conquering march.

Wheresoever we lift up the cry, 'Awake, awake, put on strength, O armof the Lord,' there follows, swift as the thunderclap on the lightningflash, the rousing summons, 'Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion;put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem!' Wheresoever it is obeyedthere will follow in due time the joyful chorus, as in this context,'Sing together, ye waste places of Jerusalem; the Lord hath made bareHis holy arm in the eyes of all the nations, and all the ends of theearth have seen the salvation of our God.'

A PARADOX OF SELLING AND BUYING

'Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed withoutmoney.'—ISAIAH iii. 3.

THE first reference of these words is of course to the Captivity. Theycome in the midst of a grand prophecy of freedom, all full of leapinggladness and buoyant hope. The Seer speaks to the captives; they had'sold themselves for nought.' What had they gained by their departurefrom God?—bondage. What had they won in exchange for theirfreedom?—only the hard service of Babylon. As Deuteronomy puts it:'Because thou servedst not the Lord thy God with joyfulness… byreason of the abundance of all things, therefore shalt thou serve thineenemies…in want of all things.' A wise exchange! a good market theyhad brought their goods to! In striking ironical parallel the prophetgoes on to say that so should they be redeemed. They had got nothing bybondage, they should give nothing for liberty. This text has itshighest application in regard to our captivity and our redemption.

I. The reality of the captivity.

The true idea of bondage is that of coercion of will and conscience,the dominance and tyranny of what has no right to rule. So men arereally in bondage when they think themselves most free. The only realslavery is that in which we are tied and bound by our own passions andlusts. 'He that committeth sin is the slave of sin.' He thinks himselfmaster of himself and his actions, and boasts that he has broken awayfrom the restraints of obedience, but really he has only exchangedmasters. What a Master to reject—and what a master to prefer!

II. The voluntariness of the captivity.

'Ye have sold yourselves,' and become authors of your own bondage. Nosin is forced upon any man, and no one is to blame for it but himself.The many excuses which people make to themselves are hollow. Now-a-dayswe hear a great deal of heredity, how a man is what his ancestors havemade him, and of organisation, how a man is what his body makes him,and of environment, how a man is what his surroundings make him. Thereis much truth in all that, and men's guilt is much diminished bycirc*mstances, training, and temperament. The amount of responsibilityis not for us to settle, in regard to others, or even in regard toourselves. But all that does not touch the fact that we ourselves havesold ourselves. No false brethren have sold us as they did Joseph.

The strong tendency of human nature is always to throw the blame onsome one else; God or the devil, the flesh or the world, it does notmatter which. But it remains true that every man sinning is 'drawn awayof his own lust and enticed.'

After all, conscience witnesses to the truth, and by that mysterioussense of guilt and gnawing of remorse which is quite different from thesense of mistake, tears to tatters the sophistries. Nothing is moretruly my own than my sin.

III. The profitlessness of the captivity.

'For nought'; that is a picturesque way of putting the truth that allsinful life fails to satisfy a man. The meaning of one of the Hebrewwords for sin is 'missing the mark.' It is a blunder as well as acrime. It is trying to draw water from broken cisterns. It is 'as whena hungry man dreameth and behold he eateth, but he awaketh and his soulis empty.' Sin buys men with fairy money, which looks like gold, but inthe morning is found to be but a handful of yellow and faded leaves.'Why do ye spend your money for that which is not bread?' It cannot butbe so, for only God can satisfy a man, and only in doing His will arewe sure of sowing seed which will yield us bread enough and to spare,and nothing but bread. In all other harvests, tares mingle and theyyield poisoned flour. We never get what we aim at when we do wrong, forwhat we aim at is not the mere physical or other satisfaction which thetemptation offers us, but rest of soul—and that we do not get. Andwe are sure to get something that we did not aim at or look for—awounded conscience, a worsened nature, often hurts to health orreputation, and other consequent ills, that were carefully kept out ofsight, while we were being seduced by the siren voice. The old story ofthe traitress, who bargained to let the enemies into the city, if theywould give her 'what they wore on their left arms,' meaning bracelets,and was crushed to death under their shields heaped on her, is repeatedin the experience of every man who listens to the 'juggling fiends, whokeep the word of promise to the ear, but break it to the hope.' Thetruth of this is attested by a cloud of witnesses. Conscience andexperience answer the question, 'What fruit had ye then in those thingswhereof ye are now ashamed?' Wasted lives answer; tyrannous evil habitsanswer; diseased bodies, blighted reputations, bitter memories answer.

IV. The unbought freedom.

'Ye shall be redeemed without money.' You gained nothing by yourbondage; you need give nothing for your emancipation. The originalreference is, of course, to the great act of divine power which setthese literal captives free, not for price nor reward. As in the Exodusfrom Egypt, so in that from Babylon, no ransom was paid, but a nationof bondsmen was set at liberty without war or compensation. That was astrange thing in history. The paradox of buying back without buying isa symbol of the Christian redemption.

(1) A price has been paid.

'Ye were redeemed not with corruptible things as silver and gold, butwith the precious blood of Christ.' The New Testament idea ofredemption, no doubt, has its roots in the Old Testament provisions forthe Goel or kinsman redeemer, who was to procure the freedom of akinsman. But whatever figurative elements may enter into it, its coreis the ethical truth that Christ's death is the means by which thebonds of sin are broken. There is much in the many-sided applicationsand powers of that Death which we do not know, but this is clear, thatby it the power of sin is destroyed and the guilt of sin taken away.

(2) That price has been paid for all.

We have therefore nothing to pay. A slave cannot redeem himself, forall that he has is his master's already. So, no efforts of ours can setourselves free from the 'cords of our sins.' Men try to bring somethingof their own. 'I do my best and God will have mercy.' We will bring ourown penitence, efforts, good works, or rely on Church ordinances, oranything rather than sue in forma pauperis. How hard it is to get mento see that 'It is finished,' and to come and rest only on the meremercy of God.

How do we ally ourselves with that completed work? By simple faith, ofwhich an essential is the recognition that we have nothing and can donothing.

Suppose an Israelite in Babylon who did not choose to avail himself ofthe offered freedom; he must die in bondage. So must we if we refuse tohave eternal life as the gift of God. The prophet's paradoxicalinvitation, 'He that hath no money, come ye, buy…without money,' iseasily solved. The price is to give up ourselves and forsake allself-willed striving after self-purchased freedom which is but subtlerbondage. 'If the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed.' If not,then are ye slaves indeed, having 'sold yourselves for nought,' anddeclined to be 'redeemed without money.'

CLEAN CARRIERS

'Be ye clean, that bear the vessels of the Lord.'—ISAIAH lii. 11.

The context points to a great deliverance. It is a good example of theprophetical habit of casting prophecies of the future into the mould ofthe past. The features of the Exodus are repeated, but some of them areset aside. This deliverance, whatever it be, is to be after the patternof that old story, but with very significant differences. Then, thedeparting Israelites had spoiled the Egyptians and come out, laden withsilver and gold which had been poured into their hands; now there is tobe no bringing out of anything which was tainted with the foulness ofthe land of captivity. Then the priests had borne the sacred vesselsfor sacrifice, now they are to exercise the same holy function, and forits discharge purity is demanded. Then, they had gone out in haste;now, there is to be no precipitate flight, but calmly, as those who areguided by God for their leader, and shielded from all pursuit by God astheir rearward, the men of this new Exodus are to take their march fromthe new Egypt.

No doubt the nearest fulfilment is to be found in the Return fromBabylon, and the narrative in Ezra may be taken as a remarkableparallel to the prophecy here. But the restriction to Babylon must seemimpossible to any reader who interprets aright the significance of thecontext, and observes that our text follows the grand words of verse10, and precedes the Messianic prophecy of verse 13 and of ch. liii. Tosuch a reader the principle will not be doubtful according to whichEgypt and Babylon are transparencies through which mightier formsshine, and a more wonderful and world-wide making bare of the arm ofthe Lord is seen. Christ's great redemption is the highestinterpretation of these words; and the trumpet-call of our text isaddressed to all who have become partakers of it.

So Paul quotes the text in 2 Cor. vi. 17, blending with it other wordswhich are gathered from more than one passage of Scripture. We may thentake the whole as giving the laws of the new Exodus, and also asshadowing certain great peculiarities connected with it, by which itsurpasses all the former deliverances.

I. The Pilgrims of this new Exodus.

A true Christian is a pilgrim, not only because he, like all men, ispassing through a life which is transient, but because he isconsciously detached from the Visible and Present, as a consequence ofhis conscious attachment to the Unseen and Eternal. What is said inHebrews of Abraham is true of all inheritors of his faith: 'dwelling intabernacles, for he looked for the city.'

II. The priests.

Priests and Levites bore the sacred vessels. All Christians arepriests. The only true priesthood is Christ's, ours is derived fromHim. In that universal priesthood of believers are included theprivileges and obligations of

a. Access to God—Communion.

b. Offering spiritual sacrifices. Service and self-surrender.

c. Mediation with men.

Proclamation. Intercession. Thus follows

d. Bearing the holy vessels. A sacred deposit is entrusted to them—thehonour and name of God; the treasure of the Gospel.

III. The separation that becomes pilgrims.

'Come out and be ye separate.' The very meaning of our Christianprofession is separation. There is ludicrous inconsistency in sayingthat we are Christians and not being pilgrims. Of course, theseparation is not to be worked out by mere external asceticism orwithdrawal from the world. That has been so thoroughly preached andpractised of late years that we much need the other side to be put.There should be some plain difference between the life of Christiansand that of men whose portion is in this life. They should differ inthe aspect under which all outward things are regarded.

To a Christian they are to be means to an end, and ever to be felt tobe evanescent. They should differ in the motive for action, whichshould, for a Christian, ever be the love of God. They should differ inthat a Christian abstains from much which non-Christians feel free todo, and often has to say, 'So did not I, because of the fear of theLord.' He who marches light marches quickly and marches far; to bringthe treasures of Egypt along with us, is apt to retard our steps.

IV. The purity that becomes priests.

The Levites would cleanse themselves before taking up the holy vessels.And for us, clean hands and a pure heart are essential. There is nocommunion with God without these; a small speck of dust in the eyeblinds us. There is no sacrificial service without them. No efficientwork among men can be done without them. One main cause of the weaknessof our Christian testimony is the imperfection of character in thewitnesses, which is more powerful than all talk and often neutralisesmuch effort. Keen eyes are watching us.

The consciousness of our own impurity should send us to Jesus, with theprayer and the confidence, 'Cleanse me and I shall be clean.' 'Theblood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.' 'He hath loosed us fromour sins and made us kings and priests to God.'

MARCHING ORDERS

'Depart ye, depart ye, go ye out from thence, touch no unclean thing;go ye out of the midst of her; be ye clean, that bear the vessels ofthe Lord. 12. For ye shall not go out with haste, nor go by flight: forthe Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be yourreward.'—ISAIAH iii. 11, 12.

These ringing notes are parts of a highly poetic picture of that greatdeliverance which inspired this prophet's most exalted strains. It isdescribed with constant allusion to the first Exodus, but also withsignificant differences. Now no doubt the actual historical return ofthe Jews from the Babylonish captivity is the object that fills theforeground of this vision, but it by no means exhausts itssignificance. The restriction of the prophecy to that more immediatefulfilment may well seem impossible when we note that my text followsthe grand promise that 'all the ends of the earth shall see thesalvation of our God,' and immediately precedes the Messianic prophecyof the fifty-third chapter. Egypt was transparent, and through it shoneBabylon; Babylon was transparent, and through it shone Christ'sredemption. That was the real and highest fulfilment of the prophet'santicipations, and the trumpet-calls of my text are addressed to allwho have a share in it. We have, then, here, under highly metaphoricalforms, the grand ideal of the Christian life; and I desire to notebriefly its various features.

I. First, then, we have it set forth as a march of warrior priests.

Note that phrase—'Ye that bear the vessels of the Lord.' The returningexiles as a whole are so addressed, but the significance of theexpression, and the precise metaphor which it is meant to convey, maybe questionable. The word rendered 'vessel' is a wide expression,meaning any kind of equipment, and in other places of the Old Testamentthe whole phrase rendered here, 'ye that bear the vessels,' istranslated 'armour-bearers.' Such an image would be quite congruouswith the context here, in which warlike figures abound. And if so, thepicture would be that of an army on the march, each man carrying someof the weapons of the great Captain and Leader. But perhaps the otherexplanation is more likely, which regards 'the vessels of the Lord' asbeing an allusion to the sacrificial and other implements of worship,which, in the first Exodus, the Levites carried on the march. And ifthat be the meaning, as seems more congruous with the command of puritywhich is deduced from the function of bearing the vessels, then thefigure here, of course, is that of a company of priests. I venture tothrow the two ideas together, and to say that we may here find an idealof the Christian community as being a great company of warrior-priestson the march, guarding a sacred deposit which has been committed totheir charge.

Look, then, at that combination in the true Christian character of thetwo apparently opposite ideas of warrior and priest. It suggests thatall the life is to be conflict, and that all the conflict is to beworship; that everywhere, in the thick of the fight, we may still bearthe remembrance of the 'secret place of the most High.' It suggests,too, that the warfare is worship, that the offices of the priest and ofthe warrior are one and the same thing, and both consist in theirmediating between man and God, bringing God in His Gospel to men, andbringing men through their faith to God. The combination suggests,likewise, how, in the true Christian character, there ought ever to beblended, in strange harmony, the virtues of the soldier and thequalities of the priest; compassion for the ignorant and them that areout of the way, with courage; meekness with strength; a quiet, placableheart hating strife, joined to a spirit that cheerily fronts everydanger and is eager for the conflict in which evil is the foe and Godthe helper. The old Crusaders went to battle with the Cross on theirhearts, and on their shoulders, and on the hilts of their swords; andwe, too, in all our warfare, have to remember that its weapons are notcarnal but spiritual, and that only then do we fight as the Captain ofour salvation fought, when our arms are meekness and pity, and ourwarfare is waged in gentleness and love.

Note, further, that in this phrase we have the old, old metaphor oflife as a march, but so modified as to lose all its melancholy andweariness and to become an elevating hope. The idea which runs throughall poetry, of life as a journey, suggests effort, monotonous change, auniform law of variety and transiency, struggle and weariness, but theChristian thought of life, while preserving the idea of change,modifies it into the blessed thought of progress. Life, if it is asChrist meant it to be, is a journey in the sense that it is acontinuous effort, not unsuccessful, toward a clearly discerned goal,our eternal home. The Christian march is a march from slavery tofreedom, and from a foreign land to our native soil.

Again, this metaphor suggests that this company of marching priestshave in charge a sacred deposit. Paul speaks of the 'glorious Gospelwhich was committed to my trust.' 'That good thing which was committedunto thee by the Holy Ghost, keep.' The history of the return fromBabylon in the Book of Ezra presents a remarkable parallel to thelanguage of my text, for there we are told how, in the preparation forthe march, the leader entrusted the sacred vessels of the temple, whichthe liberality of the heathen king had returned to him, to a group ofLevites and priests, weighing them at the beginning, and bidding themkeep them safe until they were weighed again in the courts of theLord's house in Jerusalem.

And, in like manner, to us Christians is given the charge of God'sgreat weapons of warfare, with which He contends with the wickedness ofthe world—viz. that great message of salvation through, and in, theCross of Jesus Christ. And there are committed to us, further, to guardsedulously, and to keep bright and untarnished and undiminished inweight and worth, the precious treasures of the Christian life ofcommunion with Him. And we may give another application to the figureand think of the solemn trust which is put into our hands, in the giftof our own selves, which we ourselves can either waste, and stain, andlose, or can guard and polish into vessels 'meet for the Master's use.'

Gathering, then, these ideas together, we take this as the ideal of theChristian community—a company of priests on the march, with a sacreddeposit committed to their trust. If we reflected more on such aconception of the Christian life, we should more earnestly hearken to,and more sedulously discharge, the commands that are built thereon. Tothese commands I now turn.

II. Note the separation that befits the marching company.

'Depart ye, depart ye, go ye out from thence, touch no unclean thing,go ye out of the midst of her.' In the historical fulfilment of mytext, separation from Babylon was the preliminary of the march. Ourtask is not so simple; our separation from Babylon must be the constantaccompaniment of our march. And day by day it has to be repeated, if wewould lift a foot in advance upon the road. There is still a Babylon.The order in the midst of which we live is not organised on thefundamental laws of Christ's Kingdom. And wherever there are men whoseek to order their lives as Christ would have them to be ordered, thefirst necessity for them is, 'Come out from amongst them, and be yeseparate, saith the Lord.' There is no need in this day to warnChristian people against an exaggerated interpretation of thesecommandments. I almost wish there were more need. We have been told sooften, in late years, of how Christian men ought to mingle with all theaffairs of life, and count nothing that is human foreign to themselves,that it seems to me there is vast need for a little emphasis being puton the other side of the truth, and for separation being insisted upon.Wherever there is a real grasp of Jesus Christ for a man's own personalSaviour, and a true submission to Him as the Pattern and Guide of life,a broad line of demarcation between that man and the irreligious liferound him will draw itself. If the heart have its tendrils twined roundthe Cross, it will have detached them from the world around. Separationby reason of an entirely different conception of life, separationbecause the present does not look to you as it looks to the men who seeonly it, separation because you and they have not only a differentideal and theory of life, but are living from different motives and fordifferent ends and by different powers, will be the inevitable resultof any real union with Jesus Christ. If I am joined to Him I amseparated from the world; and detachment from it is the simple andnecessary result of any real attachment to Him. There will always be agulf in feeling, in purpose, in view, and therefore there will oftenhave to be separation outward things. 'So did not I because of the fearof the Lord' will have to be said over and over again by any real andhonest follower of the Master.

This separation will not only be the result of union with Jesus Christ,but it is the condition of all progress in our union with Him. We mustbe unmoored before we can advance. Many a caravan has broken down inAfrican exploration for no other reason than because it was too wellprovided with equipments, and so collapsed of its own weight.Therefore, our prophet in the context says, 'Touch no unclean thing.'There is one of the differences between the new Exodus and the old.When Israel came out of Egypt they spoiled the Egyptians, and came awayladen with gold and jewels; but it is dangerous work bringing anythingaway from Babylon with us. Its treasure has to be left if we wouldmarch close behind our Lord and Master. We must touch 'no uncleanthing,' because our hands are to be filled with the 'vessels of theLord.' I am preaching no impossible asceticism, no misanthropicalwithdrawal from the duties of life, and the obligations that we owe tosociety. God's world is a good one; man's world is a bad one. It isman's world that we have to leave, but the lofties, sanctity requiresno abstention from anything that God has ordained.

Now, dear friends, I venture to think that this message is one that weall dreadfully need to-day. There are a great many Christians,so-called, in this generation, who seem to think that the main objectthey should have in view is to obliterate the distinction betweenthemselves and the world of ungodly men, and in occupation andamusem*nts to be as like people that have no religion as they possiblycan manage. So they get credit for being 'liberal' Christians, andpraise from quarters whose praise is censure, and whose approval oughtto make a Christian man very uncomfortable. Better by far the narrowestPuritanism—I was going to say better by far monkish austerities—thana Christianity which knows no self-denial, which is perfectly at homein an irreligious atmosphere, and which resents the exhortation toseparation, because it would fain keep the things that it is bidden todrop. God's reiteration of the text through Paul to the Church inluxurious, corrupt, wealthy Corinth is a gospel for this day forEnglish Christians, 'Come out from among them, and I will receive you.'

III. Further, note the purity which becomes the bearers of the vesselsof the Lord.

'Be ye clean.' The priest's hands must be pure, which figure, beingtranslated, is that transparent purity of conduct and character isdemanded from all Christian men who profess to bear God's sacreddeposit. You cannot carry it unless your hands are clean, for all thegifts that God gives us glide from our grasp if our hands be stained.Monkish legends tell of sacred pictures and vessels which, when animpure touch was laid upon them, refused to be lifted from their place,and grew there, as rooted, in spite of all efforts to move them.Whoever seeks to hold the gifts of God in His Gospel in dirty handswill fail miserably in the attempt; and all the joy and peace ofcommunion, the assurance of God's love, and the calm hope of immortallife will vanish as a soap bubble, grasped by a child, turns into adrop of foul water on its palm, if we try to hold them in foul hands.Be clean, or you cannot bear the vessels of the Lord.

And further, remember that no priestly service nor any successfulwarfare for Jesus Christ is possible, except on the same condition. Onesin, as well as one sinner, destroys much good, and a littleinconsistency on the part of us professing Christians neutralises allthe efforts that we may ever try to put forth for Him. Logic requiresthat God's vessels should be carried with clean hands. God requires it,men require it, and have a right to require it. The mightiest witnessfor Him is the witness of a pure life, and if we go about the worldprofessing to be His messengers, and carrying His epistle in our dirtyfingers, the soiled thumb-mark upon it will prevent men from caring forthe message; and the Word will be despised because of the unworthinessof its bearers. 'Be ye clean that bear the vessels of the Lord.'

IV. Lastly, notice the leisurely confidence which should mark the marchthat is guarded by God. 'Ye shall not go out with haste, nor go byflight, for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will beyour reward.'

This is partly an analogy and partly a contrast with the story of thefirst Exodus. The unusual word translated 'with haste' is employed inthe Pentateuch to describe the hurry and bustle, not altogether due tothe urgency of the Egyptians, but partly also to the terror of Israel,with which that first flight was conducted. And, says my text, in thisnew coming out of bondage there shall be no need for tremor orperturbation, lending wings to any man's feet; but, with quietdeliberation, like that with which Peter was brought out of hisdungeon, because God knew that He could bring him out safely, the newExodus shall be carried on.

'He that believeth shall not make haste.' Why should he? There is noneed for a Christian man ever to be flurried, or to lose hisself-command, or ever to be in an undignified and unheroic hurry. Hismarch should be unceasing, swift, but calm and equable, as the motionsof the planets, unhasting and unresting.

There is a very good reason why we need not be in any haste due toalarm. For, as in the first Exodus, the guiding pillar led the march,and sometimes, when there were foes behind, as at the Red Sea, shiftedits place to the rear, so 'the Lord will go before you, and the God ofIsrael will be your rereward.' He besets us behind and before, going infront to be our Guide, and in the rear for our protection, gathering upthe stragglers, so that there shall not be 'a hoof left behind,' andputting a wall of iron between us and the swarms of hovering enemiesthat hang on our march. Thus encircled by God, we shall be safe. Christfulfils what the prophet pledged God to do; for He goes before us, thePattern, the Captain of our salvation, the Forerunner, 'the Breaker isgone up before them '; and He comes behind us to guard us from evil;for He is 'the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, theAlmighty.'

Dear brethren, life for us all must be a weary pilgrimage. We cannotalter that. It is the lot of every son of man. But we have the power ofeither making it a dreary, solitary tramp over an undefended desert, toend in the great darkness, or else of making it a march in which thetwin sisters Joy and Peace shall lead us forth, and go out with us, andthe other pair of angel-forms, 'Goodness and Mercy,' shall follow usall the days of our lives. We may make it a journey with Jesus forGuide and Companion, to Jesus as our Home. 'The ransomed of the Lordshall return, and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upontheir heads.'

THE ARM OF THE LORD

'To whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?'—-ISAIAH liii 1.

In the second Isaiah there are numerous references to 'the arm of theLord.' It is a natural symbol of the active energy of Jehovah, and isanalogous to the other symbol of 'the Face of Jehovah,' which is alsofound in this book, in so far as it emphasises the notion of power inmanifestation, though 'the Face' has a wider range and may be explainedas equivalent to that part of the divine Nature which is turned to men.The latter symbol will then be substantially parallel with 'the Name.'But there are traces of a tendency to conceive of 'the arm of the Lord'as personified, for instance, where we read (ch. lxiii. 12) thatJehovah 'caused His glorious arm to go at the right hand of Moses.'Moses was not the true leader, but was himself led and sustained by thedivine Power, dimly conceived as a person, ever by his side to sustainand direct. There seems to be a similar imperfect consciousness ofpersonification in the words of the text, especially when taken intheir close connection with the immediately following prophecy of thesuffering servant. It would be doing violence to the gradualdevelopment of Revelation, like tearing asunder the just-opening petalsof a rose, to read into this question of the sad prophet full-blownChristian truth, but it would be missing a clear anticipation of thattruth to fail to recognise the forecasting of it that is here.

I. We have here a prophetic forecast that the arm of the Lord is aperson.

The strict monotheism of the Old Testament does not preclude some veryremarkable phenomena in its modes of conception and speech as to thedivine Nature. We hear of the 'angel of His face,' and again of 'theangel in whom is His Name.' We hear of 'the angel' to whom divineworship is addressed and who speaks, as we may say, in a divine dialectand does divine acts. We meet, too, with the personification of Wisdomin the Book of Proverbs, to which are ascribed characteristics and areattributed acts scarcely distinguishable from divine, and eminentlyassociated in the creative work. Our text points in the same directionas these representations. They all tend in the direction of preparingfor the full Christian truth of the personal 'Power of God.' What wasshown by glimpses 'at sundry times and in divers manners,' with manygaps in the showing and much left all unshown, is perfectly revealed inthe Son. The New Testament, by its teaching as to 'the Eternal Word,'endorses, clears, and expands all these earlier dimmer adumbrations.That Word is the agent of the divine energy, and the conception ofpower as being exercised by the Word is even loftier than that of it asput forth by 'the arm,' by as much as intelligent and intelligibleutterance is more spiritual and higher than force of muscle. Theapostolic designation of Jesus as 'the power of God and the wisdom ofGod' blends the two ideas of these two symbols. The conception of JesusChrist as the arm of the Lord, when united with that of the EternalWord, points to a threefold sphere and manner of His operations, as thepersonal manifestation of the active power of God. In the beginning,the arm of the Lord stretched out the heavens as a tent to dwell in,and without Him 'was not anything made that was made.' In HisIncarnation, He carried into execution all God's purposes and fulfilledHis whole will. From His throne He wields divine power, and rules theuniverse. 'The help that is done on earth, He doeth it all Himself,'and He works in the midst of humanity that redeeming work which nonebut He can effect.

II. We have here a prophetic paradox that the mightiest revelation ofthe arm of the Lord is in weakness.

The words of the text stand in closest connection with the greatpicture of the Suffering Servant which follows, and the pathetic figureportrayed there is the revealing of the arm of the Lord. The closebringing together of the ideas of majesty and power and of humiliation,suffering, and weakness, would be a paradox to the first hearers of theprophecy. Its solution lies in the historical manifestation of Jesus.Looking on Him, we see that the growing up of that root out of a dryground was the revelation of the great power of God. In Jesus' lowlyhumanity God's power is made perfect in man's weakness, in another andnot less true sense than that in which the apostle spoke. There we seedivine power in its noblest form, in its grandest operation, in itswidest sweep, in its loftiest purpose. That humble man, lowly and poor,despised and rejected in life, hanging faint and pallid on the Romancross, and dying in the dark, seems a strange manifestation of the'glory' of God, but the Cross is indeed His throne, and sublime as arethe other forms in which Omnipotence clothes itself, this is, to humaneyes and hearts, the highest of them all. In Jesus the arm of the Lordis revealed in its grandest operation. Creation and the continualsustaining of a universe are great, but redemption is greater. It isinfinitely more to say, 'He giveth power to the faint,' than to say,'For that He is strong in might, not one faileth,' and toprincipalities and powers in heavenly places who have gazed on thegrand operations of divine power for ages, new lessons of what it caneffect are taught by the redemption of sinful men. The divine powerthat is enshrined in Jesus' weakness is power in its widest sweep, forit is to every one that believeth, and in its loftiest purpose, for itis 'unto salvation.'

III. We have here a prophetic lament that the power revealed to all isunseen by many.

The text is a wail over darkened eyes, blind at noonday. The prophet'sradiant anticipations of the Servant's exaltation, and of God's holyarm being made bare in the eyes of all nations, are clouded over by thethought of the incredulity of the multitude to 'our report.' Jehovahhad indeed 'made bare His arm,' as a warrior throws back his looserobe, when he would strike. But what was the use of that, if dull eyeswould not look? The 'report' had been loudly proclaimed, but what wasthe use of that, if ears were obstinately stopped? Alas, alas! nothingthat God can do secures that men shall see what He shows, or listen towhat He speaks. The mystery of mysteries is that men can, the tragedyof tragedies is that they will, make any possible revelation of noneeffect, so far as they are concerned.

The Arm is revealed, but only by those who have 'believed our report'does the prophet deem it to be actually beheld. Faith is the individualcondition on which the perfected revelation becomes a revelation to me.The 'salvation of our God' is shown in splendour to 'all the ends ofthe earth,' but only they who exercise faith in Jesus, who is the powerof God, will see that far-shining light. If we are not of those who'believe the report,' we shall, notwithstanding that 'He hath made bareHis holy arm,' be of those who grope at noonday as in the dark.

THE SUFFERING SERVANT-I

'For He grew up before Him as a tender plant, and as a root out of adry ground He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we see Him, thereis no beauty that we should desire Him. 3. He was despised, andrejected of men, a Man of Sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and asone from whom men hide their face He was despised, and we esteemed Himnot.'—ISAIAH liii, 2, 3.

To hold fast the fulfilment of this prophecy of the Suffering Servantin Jesus it is not necessary to deny its reference to Israel. Just asoffices, institutions, and persons in it were prophetic, and by theirfailures to realise to the full their own role, no less than by theirpartial presentation of it, pointed onwards to Him, in whom their ideawould finally take form and substance, so this great picture of God'sServant, which was but imperfectly reproduced even by the Israel withinIsrael, stood on the prophet's page a fair though sad dream, withnothing corresponding to it in the region of reality and history, tillHe came and lived and suffered.

If we venture to make it the theme of a short series of sermons, ourobject is simply to endeavour to bring out clearly the features of thewonderful portrait. If they are fully apprehended, it seems to us thatthe question of who is the original of the picture answers itself. Wemust note that the whole is introduced by a 'For,' that is to say, thatit is all explanatory of the unbelief and blindness to the revealed armof the Lord, which the prophet has just been lamenting. This closeconnection with the preceding words accounts for the striking way inwhich the description of the person of the Servant is here blendedwith, or interrupted by, that of the manner in which he was treated.

I. The Servant's lowly origin and growth.

'He grew,'—not 'shall grow.' The whole is cast into the form ofhistory, and to begin the description with a future tense is not onlyan error in grammar but gratuitously introduces an incongruity. Theword rendered 'tender plant' means a sucker, and 'root' probably wouldmore properly be taken as a shoot from a root, the tree having beenfelled, and nothing left but the stump. There is here, then, at theoutset, an unmistakable reference to the prophecy in ch. xi. 1, whichis Messianic prophecy, and therefore there is a presumption that thistoo has a Messianic reference. In the original passage the stump or'stock' is explained as being the humiliated house of David, and it isonly following the indications supplied by the fact of the secondIsaiah's quotation of the first, if we take the implication in hiswords to be the same. Royal descent, but from a royal house fallen onevil days, is the plain meaning here.

And the eclipse of its glory is further brought out in that not onlydoes the shoot spring from a tree, all whose leafy honours have longbeen lopped away, but which is 'in a dry ground.' Surely we do notforce a profounder meaning than is legitimate into this feature of thepicture when we think of the Carpenter's Son 'of the house and lineageof David,' of the Son of God 'who was found in fashion as a man,' ofHim who was born in a stable, and grew up in a tiny village hidden awayamong the hills of Galilee, who, as it were, stole into the world 'notwith observation,' and opened out, as He grew, the wondrous blossom ofa perfect humanity such as had never before been evolved from any root,nor grown on the most sedulously cultured plant. Is this part of theprophet's ideal realised in any of the other suggested realisations ofit?

But there is still another point in regard to the origin and growth ofthe lowly shoot from the felled stump—it is 'before Him.' Then theunnoticed growth is noticed by Jehovah, and, though cared for by noothers, is cared for, tended, and guarded, by Him.

II. The Servant's unattractive form.

Naturally a shoot springing in a dry ground would show but littlebeauty of foliage or flower. It would be starved and colourless besidethe gaudy growths in fertile, well-watered gardens. But thatunattractiveness is not absolute or real; it is only 'that we shoulddesire Him.' We are but poor judges of true 'form or comeliness,' andwhat is lustrous with perfect beauty in God's eyes may be, andgenerally is, plain and dowdy in men's. Our tastes are debased.Flaunting vulgarities and self-assertive ugliness captivate vulgareyes, to which the serene beauties of mere goodness seem insipid.co*ckatoos charm savages to whom the iridescent neck of a dove has nocharms. Surely this part of the description fits Jesus as it does noother. The entire absence of outward show, or of all that pleases thespoiled tastes of sinful men, need not be dwelt on. No doubt the worldhas slowly come to recognise in Him the moral ideal, a perfect man, butHe has been educating it for nineteen hundred years to get it up tothat point, and the educational process is very far from complete. Thereal desire of most men is for something much more pungent and dashingthan Jesus' meek wisdom and stainless purity, which breed in them ennuirather than longing. 'Not this man but Barabbas,' was the approximaterealisation of the Jewish ideal then; not this man but—some type orother of a less oppressive perfection, and that calls for less effortto imitate it, is the world's real cry still. Pilate's scornfullywondering question: Art Thou—such a poor-looking creature—the Kingof the Jews? is very much of a piece with the world's question still:Art Thou the perfect instance of manhood? Art Thou the highestrevelation of God?

III. The Servant's reception by men.

The two preceding characteristics naturally result in this third. Forlowliness of condition and lack of qualities appealing to men's falseideals will certainly lead to being 'despised and rejected.' The latterexpression is probably better taken, as in the margin of the Rev. Ver.as 'forsaken.' But whichever meaning is adopted, what an Iliad of woesis condensed into these two words! 'The spurns that patient merit ofthe unworthy takes,' the loneliness of one who, in all the crowddescries none to trust—these are the wages that the world ever givesto its noblest, who live but to help it and be misunderstood by it, andas these are the wages of all who with self-devotion would serve God byserving the world for its good, they were paid in largest measure to'the Servant of the Lord.' His claims were ridiculed, His words ofwisdom thrown back on Himself; none were so poor but could afford todespise Him as lower than they, His love was repulsed, surely He drankthe bitterest cup of contempt. All His life He walked in the solitudeof uncomprehended aims, and at His hour of extremest need appealed invain for a little solace of companionship, and was deserted by thosewhom He trusted most. His was a lifelong martyrdom inflicted by men.His was a lifelong solitude which was most utter at the last. And Hebrought it all on Himself because He would be God's Servant in beingmen's Saviour.

IV. The Servant's sorrow of heart.

The remarkable expression 'acquainted with grief' seems to carry anallusion to the previous clause, in which men are spoken of asdespising and rejecting the Servant. They left Him alone, and His onlycompanion was 'grief'—a grim associate to walk at a man's side all hisdays! It is to be noted that the word rendered 'grief' is literallysickness. That description of mental or spiritual sorrows under theimagery of bodily sicknesses is intensified in the subsequent terriblepicture of Him as one from whom men hide their faces with disgust atHis hideous appearance, caused by disease. Possibly the meaning mayrather be that He hides His face, as lepers had to do.

Now probably the 'sorrows' touched on at this point are to bedistinguished from those which subsequently are spoken of in terms ofsuch poignancy as laid on the Servant by God. Here the prophet isthinking rather of those which fell on Him by reason of men's rejectionand desertion. We shall not rightly estimate the sorrowfulness ofChrist's sorrows, unless we bring to our meditations on them the otherthought of His joys. How great these were we can judge, when weremember that He told the disciples that by His joy remaining in themtheir joy would be full. As much joy then as human nature was capableof from perfect purity, filial obedience, trust, and unbroken communionwith God, so much was Jesus' permanent experience. The golden cup ofHis pure nature was ever full to the brim with the richest wine of joy.And that constant experience of gladness in the Father and in Himselfmade more painful the sorrows which He encountered, like a biting windshrieking round Him, whenever He passed out from fellowship with God inthe stillness of His soul into the contemptuous and hostile world. Hisspirit carrying with it the still atmosphere of the Holy Place, wouldfeel more keenly than any other would have done the jarring tumult ofthe crowds, and would know a sharper pain when met with greetings inwhich was no kindness. Jesus was sinless, His sympathy with all sorrowwas thereby rendered abnormally keen, and He made others' griefs Hisown with an identification born of a sympathy which the mostcompassionate cannot attain. The greater the love, the greater thesorrow of the loving heart when its love is spurned. The intenser theyearning for companionship, the sharper the pang when it is repulsed.The more one longs to bless, the more one suffers when his blessingsare flung off. Jesus was the most sensitive, the most sympathetic, themost loving soul that ever dwelt in flesh. He saw, as none other hasever seen, man's miseries. He experienced, as none else has everexperienced, man's ingratitude, and, therefore, though God, even HisGod, 'anointed Him with the oil of gladness above His fellows,' He was'a Man of Sorrows,' and grief was His companion during all His life'scourse.

THE SUFFERING SERVANT-II

'Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we didesteem Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 5. But He waswounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: thechastisem*nt of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we arehealed. 6. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every oneto his own way; and the Lord hath laid (made to light) on Him theiniquity of us all.'—ISAIAH liii. 4-6.

The note struck lightly in the close of the preceding paragraph becomesdominant here. One notes the accumulation of expressions for suffering,crowded into these verses—griefs, sorrows, wounded, bruised, smitten,chastisem*nt, stripes. One notes that the cause of all this multiforminfliction is given with like emphasis of reiteration—our griefs, oursorrows, and that these afflictions are invested with a still moretragic and mysterious aspect, by being traced to our transgressions,our iniquities. Finally, the deepest word of all is spoken when thewhole mystery of the servant's sufferings is referred to Jehovah'smaking the universal iniquity to lie, like a crushing burden, on Him.

I. The Burdened Servant.

It is to be kept in view that the 'griefs' which the servant is heredescribed as bearing are literally 'sicknesses,' and that, similarly,the 'sorrows' may be diseases. Matthew in his quotation of the verse(viii. 17) takes the words to refer to bodily ailments, and finds their'fulfilment' in Christ's miracles of healing. And that interpretationis part of the whole truth, for Hebrew thought drew no such sharp lineof distinction between diseases of the body and those of the soul as weare accustomed to draw. All sickness was taken to be the consequence ofsin, and the intimate connection between the two was, as it were, setforth for all forms of bodily disease by the elaborate treatmentprescribed for leprosy, as pre-eminently fitted to stand as type of thewhole. But the fulfilment through the miracles is but a parable of thedeeper fulfilment in regard to the more virulent and deadly diseases ofthe soul. Sin is the sickness, as it is also the grief, which mostafflicts humanity. Of the two words expressing the Servant's takingtheir burden on His shoulders, the former implies not only the takingof it but the bearing of it away, and the latter emphasises the weightof the load.

Following Matthew's lead, we may regard Christ's miracles of healing asone form of His fulfilment of the prophecy, in which the principlesthat shape all the forms are at work, and which, therefore, may standas a kind of pictorial illustration of the way in which He bears andbears away the heavier burden of sin. And one point which comes outclearly is that, in these acts of healing, He felt the weight of theaffliction that He took away. Even in that region, the condition ofability to remove it, was identifying Himself with the sorrow. Did Henot 'sigh and look up' in silent appeal to heaven before He could say,Ephphatha? Did He not groan in Himself before He sent the voice intothe tomb which the dead heard? His miracles were not easy, though Hehad all power, for He felt all that the sufferers felt, by theidentifying power of the unparalleled sympathy of a pure nature. Inthat region His pain on account of the sufferers stood in vitalrelation with His power to end their sufferings. The load must gall Hisshoulders, ere He could bear it away from theirs.

But the same principles as apply to these deeds of mercy done ondiseases apply to all His deeds of deliverance from sorrow and fromsin. In Him is set forth in highest fashion the condition of allbrotherly help and alleviation. Whoever would lighten a brother's loadmust stoop his own shoulders to carry it. And whilst there is anelement in our Lord's sufferings, as the text passes on to say, whichis not explained by the analogy with what is required from all humansuccourers and healers, the extent to which the lower experience ofsuch corresponds with His unique work should always be made prominentin our devout meditations.

II. The Servant's sufferings in their reason, their intensity, andtheir issue.

The same measure that was meted out to Job by his so-called friends wasmeasured to the servant, and at the Impulse of the same heartlessdoctrinal prepossession. He must have been had to suffer so much; thatis the rough and ready verdict of the self-righteous. With crashingemphasis, that complacent explanation of the Servant's sufferings andtheir own prosperity is shivered to atoms, by the statement of the truereason for both the one and the other. You thought that He wasafflicted because He was bad and you were spared because you weregood—no, He was afflicted because you were bad, and you were sparedbecause He was afflicted.

The reason for the Servant's sufferings was 'our transgressions.' Moreis suggested now than sympathetic identification with others' sorrows.This is an actual bearing of the consequences of sins which He had notcommitted, and that not merely as an innocent man may be overwhelmed bythe flood of evil which has been let loose by others' sins to sweepover the earth. The blow that wounds Him is struck directly and solelyat Him. He is not entangled in a widespread calamity, but is the onlyvictim. It is pre-supposed that all transgression leads to wounds andbruises; but the transgressions are done by us, and the wounds andbruises fall on Him. Can the idea of vicarious suffering be moreplainly set forth?

The intensity of the Servant's sufferings is brought home to our heartsby the accumulation of epithets, to which reference has already beenmade. He was 'wounded' as one who is pierced by a sharp sword;'bruised' as one who is stoned to death; beaten and with livid wealeson His flesh. A background of unnamed persecutors is dimly seen. Thedescription moves altogether in the region of physical violence, andthat violence is more than symbol.

It is no mere coincidence that the story of the Passion reproduces somany of the details of the prophecy, for, although the fulfilment ofthe latter does not depend on such coincidences, they are not to bepassed by as of no importance. Former generations made too much of thephysical sufferings of Jesus; is not this generation in danger ofmaking too little of them?

The issue of the Servant's sufferings is presented in a startlingparadox. His bruises and weales are the causes of our being healed. Hischastisem*nt brings our peace. Surely it is very hard work, and needsmuch forcing of words and much determination not to see what is setforth in as plain light as can be conceived, to strike the idea ofatonement out of this prophecy. It says as emphatically as words cansay, that we have by our sins deserved stripes, that the Servant bearsthe stripes which we have deserved, and that therefore we do not bearthem.

III. The deepest ground of the Servant's sufferings.

The sad picture of humanity painted in that simile of a scattered flocklays stress on the universality of transgression, on its divisiveeffect, on the solitude of sin, and on its essential characteristic asbeing self-willed rejection of control. But the isolation caused bytransgression is blessedly counteracted by the concentration of the sinof all on the Servant. Men fighting for their own hand, and living attheir own pleasure, are working to the disruption of all sweet bonds offellowship. But God, in knitting together all the black burdens intoone, and loading the Servant with that tremendous weight, is preparingfor the establishment of a more blessed unity, in experience of thehealing brought about by His sufferings.

Can one man's 'iniquity,' as distinguished from the consequences ofiniquity, be made to press upon any other? It is a familiar and notvery profound objection to the Christian Atonement that guilt cannot betransferred. True, but in the first place, Christ's nature stands invital relations to every man, of such intimacy that what is impossiblebetween two of us is not impossible between Christ and any one of us;and, secondly, much in His life, and still more in His passion, isunintelligible unless the black mass of the world's sin was heaped uponHim, to His own consciousness. In that dread cry, wrung from Him as Hehung there in the dark, the consciousnesses of possessing God and ofhaving lost Him are blended inextricably and inexplicably. The onlyapproach to an explanation of it is that then the world's sin was feltby Him, in all its terrible mass and blackness, coming between Him andGod, even as our own sins come, separating us from God. That grimburden not only came on Him, but was laid on Him by God. The sameidea is expressed by the prophet in that awful representation and byJesus in that as awful cry, 'Why hast Thou forsaken Me?'

The prophet constructs no theory of Atonement. But no language could bechosen that would more plainly set forth the fact of Atonement. And itis to be observed that, so far as this prophecy is concerned, theServant's sole form of service is to suffer. He is not a teacher, anexample, or a benefactor, in any of the other ways in which men needhelp. His work is to bear our griefs and be bruised for our healing.

'He was oppressed, yet He humbled Himself and opened not His mouth; asa lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before hershearers is dumb; yea, He opened not His mouth. 8. By oppression andjudgment He was taken away; and as for His generation, who among themconsidered that He was cut off out of the land of the living? for thetransgression of my people was He stricken. 9. And they made His gravewith the wicked, and with the rich in His death; although He had doneno violence, neither was any deceit in His mouth'—ISAIAH liii, 7-9. R.V.

In this section of the prophecy we pass from contemplating thesufferings inflicted on the Servant to the attitude of Himself and ofHis contemporaries towards these, His patience and their blindness. Tothese is added a remarkable reference to His burial, which strikes oneat first sight as interrupting the continuity of the prophecy, but onfuller consideration assumes great significance.

I. The unresisting endurance of the Servant.

The Revised Version's rendering of the first clause is preferable tothat of the Authorised Version. 'Afflicted' would be little better thantautology, but 'humbled Himself' strikes the keynote of the verse,which dwells not on the Servant's afflictions, but on His bearing underthem. Similarly, the pathetic imagery of the lamb led and the sheepdumb gives the same double representation, first of the indignities,and next of His demeanour in enduring them, as is conveyed in 'He wasoppressed, yet He humbled Himself.' Unremonstrating, unresistingendurance, then, is the point emphasised in the lovely metaphor.

We recall the fact that this emphatically reduplicated phrase 'openednot His mouth' was verbally fulfilled in our Lord's silence before eachof the three authorities to whom He was presented, before the Jewishrulers, before Pilate, and before Herod. Only when adjured by theliving God and when silence would have been tantamount to withdrawal ofHis claims, did He speak before the Sanhedrin. Only when silence wouldhave been taken as disowning His Kingship, did He speak before Pilate.And Herod, who had no right to question Him, received no answer at all.Jesus' lips were opened in witness but never in complaint orremonstrance. No doubt, the prophecy would have been as reallyfulfilled though there had been no such majestic silences, for itssubstance is patient endurance, not mere abstinence from speech. Still,as with other events in His life, the verbal correspondence withprophetic details may help, and be meant to help, to bring out moreclearly, for purblind eyes, the true fulfilment. So we may meditate onthe wonder and the beauty of that picture which the evangelists draw,and which the world has recognised, with whatever differences as to itsinterpretation, as the most perfect, pathetic, and majestic picture ofmeek endurance that has ever been painted.

But we gather only the most superficial of its lessons, if that is allthat we find to say about it. For the main point for us to lay to heartis not merely the fact of that silent submission, but the motive whichled to it. He opened not His mouth, because He willingly embraced theCross, and He willingly embraced the Cross because He loved the Fatherand would do His will, because He loved the world and would be itsSaviour,

That touching imagery of the dumb lamb has manifold felicities andsignificances beyond serving to figure meekness. And we are not forcingunintended meanings into a mere piece of poetic imagination when wenote how remarkably the metaphor links on to that of strayed sheep inthe preceding verse, or when we venture to recall John Baptist's firstproclamation of the Lamb of God, and Peter's quotation of this veryprophecy, and the continual recurrence in the Apocalypse of the name ofThe Lamb as the title of honour of 'Him who sitteth on the throne.' Akind of nimbus or aureole shines round the humble figure as drawn bythe prophet.

II. The misunderstood end of the Servant's life.

The difficult expressions of verse 8 are rendered in the RevisedVersion with clearness and so as to yield a profound meaning. We maynote that here, for the first time, is spoken out that end to which allthe preceding description of sufferings has been leading up, and yet itis spoken with a kind of solemn reticence, very impressive. The Servantis 'taken away,' 'cut off,' 'stricken.' Not yet is the grim word'death' plainly uttered; that comes in the next verse, only after theServant's death is supposed to be past. The three words suggest, at allevents, though in half-veiled language, violence and suddenness in theServant's fate. Who were the agents who took Him, cut Him off andstruck Him, is left in impressive obscurity. But the fact that Hisdeath was a judicial murder is set in clear light. Whether we read 'By'or 'From—oppression and judgment He was taken away,' the forms of laware represented as wrested to bring about flagrant injustice. And, ifit were my object now to defend the Messianic interpretation, one mightask where any facts corresponding to this element in the picture are tobe found in regard to either the national Israel, or the Israel withinthe nation.

That unjust death by illegal violence under the mask of law was,further, wholly misunderstood by 'His generation.' We need not do morethan remark in a sentence how that feature corresponds with the factsin regard to Jesus, and ask whether it does so on any other theory of'fulfilment.' Neither friends nor foes had even the faintest conceptionof what the death of Jesus was or was to effect. And it is worth whileto dwell for a moment on this, because we are often told that there isno trace of the doctrine of an atoning sacrifice in the Gospels, andthe inference is drawn that it was an afterthought of the apostles, andtherefore to be set aside as an excrescence on Christianity accordingto Christ. The silence of Jesus on that subject is exaggerated; butcertainly no thought of His being the Sacrifice for the sins of theworld was in the minds of the sad watchers by the Cross, nor for many aday thereafter. Is it not worth noting that precisely such a blindnessto the meaning of His death had been prophesied eight hundred yearsbefore?

But the reason why this feature is introduced seems mainly to be tounderscore the lesson, that those who exercised the violence whichhurried the Servant from the land of the living were blind instrumentsof a higher power. And may we not also see in it a suggestion of thegreat solitude of sorrow in which the Servant was to die, even as Hehad lived in it? Misapprehended and despised He lived, misapprehendedHe died. Jesus was the loneliest man that ever breathed human breath.He gave up His breath in a more awful solitude than ever isolated anyother dying man. Utterly solitary, He died that none of us need everface death alone.

III. The Servant's Grave.

Following on the mystery of the uncomprehended death comes the enigmaof the burial. The words are an enigma, but they seem meaningless onany hypothesis but the Messianic one. As they stand, they assert thatunnamed persons gave Him a grave with the wicked, as they would do byputting Him to death under strained forms of law, and that then,somehow, the criminal destined to be buried with other criminals in adishonoured grave was laid in a tomb with the rich. It seems asingularly minute trait to find place in such a prophecy. The remarksalready made as to similar minute correspondences in details of theprophecy with purely external facts in Christ's life need not berepeated now. One does not see that it is a self-evident axiom needingonly to be enunciated in order to be accepted, that such minuteprophecies are beneath the dignity of revelation. It might rather seemthat, as one element in prophecy, they are eminently valuable. Thesmaller the detail, the more remarkable the prevision and the morestriking the fulfilment. For a keen-sighted man may forecast tendenciesand go far to anticipate events on the large scale, but only God canforesee trifles. The difficulty in which this prediction of theServant's grave being 'with the rich' places those who reject theMessianic reference of the prophecy to our Lord may be measured by thedesperate attempts to evade it by suggesting other readings, or bymaking 'rich' to be synonymous with 'wicked.' The words as they standhave a clear and worthy meaning on one interpretation, and we evenventure to say, on one interpretation only, namely, that they refer tothe reverent laying of the body of the Lord in the new tomb belongingto 'a certain rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph.'

If in the latter clause of verse 9 we render 'Because' rather than'Although,' we get the thought that the burial was a sign that theServant, slain as a criminal, yet was not a criminal. The criminalswere either left unburied or disgraced by promiscuous interment in anunclean place. But that body reverently bedewed with tears, wrapped infine linen clean and white, softly laid down by loving hands, watchedby love stronger than death, lay in fitting repose as the corpse of aKing till He came forth as a Conqueror. So once more the dominant noteis struck, and this part of the prophecy closes with the emphaticrepetition of the sinlessness of the Suffering Servant, which makes Hissufferings a deep and bewildering mystery, unless they were enduredbecause of 'our transgressions.'

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—IV

'It pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He hath put Him to grief: when Thoushalt make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, Heshall prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper inHis hand.'—ISAIAH liii. 10.

We have seen a distinct progress of thought in the preceding verses.
There was first the outline of the sorrows and rejection of the
Servant; second, the profound explanation of these as being for us;
third, the sufferings, death and burial of the Servant.

We have followed Him to the grave. What more can there be to be said?Whether the Servant of the Lord be an individual or a collective or anideal, surely all fitness of metaphor, all reality of fact wouldrequire that His work should be represented as ending with His life,and that what might follow His burial should be the influence of Hismemory, the continued operation of the principles He had set agoing andso on, but nothing more.

Now observe that, however we may explain the fact, this is the fact tobe explained, that there is a whole section, this closing one, devotedto the celebration of His work after His death and burial, and, stillmore remarkable, that the prophecy says nothing about His activity onthe world till after death. In all the former portion there is not asyllable about His doing anything, only about His suffering; and thenwhen He is dead He begins to work. That is the subject of these lastthree verses, and it would be proper to take them all for ourconsideration now, but fur two reasons, one, because of their greatfulness and importance, and one because, as you will observe, the twolatter verses are a direct address of God's concerning the Servant. Theprophetic words, spoken as in his own person, end with verse 10, and,catching up their representations, expanding, defining, glorifyingthem, comes the solemn thunder of the voice of God. I now deal onlywith the prophet's vision of the work of the Servant of the Lord.

One other preliminary remark is that the work of the Servant afterdeath is described in these verses with constant and very emphaticreference to His previous sufferings. The closeness of connectionbetween these two is thus thrown into great prominence.

I. The mystery of God's treatment of the sinless Servant.

The first clause is to be read in immediate connection with thepreceding verse. The Servant was of absolute sinlessness, and yet theDivine Hand crushed and bruised Him. Certainly, if we think of thevehemence of prophetic rebukes, and of the standing doctrine of the OldTestament that Israel was punished for its sin, we shall be slow tobelieve that this picture of the Sinless One, smitten for the sins ofothers, can have reference to the nation in any of its parts, or to anyone man. However other poetry may lament over innocent sufferers, theOld Testament always takes the ground: 'Our iniquities, like the wind,have carried us away.' But mark that here, however understood, theprophet paints a figure so sinless that God's bruising Him is anoutstanding wonder and riddle, only to be solved by regarding thesebruises as the stripes by which our sins were healed, and by notingthat 'the pleasure of the Lord' is carried on through Him, after andthrough His death. What conceivable application have suchrepresentations except to Jesus? We note, then, here:—

1. The solemn truth that His sufferings were divinely inflicted. Thatis a truth complementary to the other views in the prophecy, accordingto which these sufferings are variously regarded as either inflicted bymen ('By oppression and judgment He was taken away') or drawn on Him byHis own sacrificial act ('His soul shall make an offering for sin'). Itwas the divine counsel that used men as its instruments, though theywere none the less guilty. The hands that 'crucified and slew' were noless 'the hands of lawless men,' because it was 'the determinatecounsel and foreknowledge of God' that 'delivered Him up.'

But a still deeper thought is in these words. For we can scarcely avoidseeing in them a glimpse into that dim region of eclipse and agony ofsoul from which, as from a cave of darkness, issued that last cry:'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani?' The bruises inflicted by the God, whomade to meet on Him the iniquities of us all, were infinitely moresevere than the weales of the soldiers' rods, or the wounds of thenails that pierced His hands and feet.

2. The staggering mystery of His sinlessness and sufferings.

The world has been full from of old of stories of goodness tortured andevil exalted, which have drawn tears and softened hearts, but whichhave also bewildered men who would fain believe in a righteous Governorand loving Father. But none of these have cast so black a shadow ofsuspicion on the government of the world by a good God as does the fateof Jesus, unless it is read in the light of this prophecy. Standing atthe cross, faith in God's goodness and providence can scarcely survive,unless it rises to be faith in the atoning sacrifice of Him who waswounded there for our transgressions.

II. The Servant's work in His sufferings.

The margin of the Revised Version gives the best rendering—'His soulshall make an offering for sin.' The word employed for 'offering' meansa trespass offering, and carries us at once back to the sacrificialsystem. The trespass offering was distinguished from other offerings.The central idea of it seems to have been to represent sin or guilt asdebt, and the sacrifice as making compensation. We must keep in viewthe variety of ideas embodied in His sacrifice, and how all correspondto realities in our wants and spiritual experience.

Now there are three points here:—

a. The representation that Christ's death is a sacrifice. Clearlyconnecting with whole Mosaic system—and that in the sense of atrespass offering. Christ seems to quote this verse in John x. 15, whenHe speaks of laying down His life, and when He declares that He came to'give His life a ransom for many.' At any rate here is the greatword, sacrifice, proclaimed for the first time in connection withMessiah. Here the prophet interprets the meaning of all the types andshadows of the law.

That sacrificial system bore witness to deep wants of men's souls, andprophesied of One in whom these were all met and satisfied.

b. His voluntary surrender.

He is sacrifice, but He is Priest also. His soul makes the offering,and His soul is the offering and offers itself in concurrence with theDivine Will. It is difficult and necessary to keep that double aspectin view, and never to think of Jesus as an unwilling Victim, nor of Godas angry and needing to be appeased by blood.

c. The thought that the true meaning of His sufferings is only reachedwhen we contemplate the effects that have flowed from them. Thepleasure of the Lord in bruising Him is a mystery until we see howpleasure of the Lord prospers in the hand of the Crucified.

III. The work of the Servant after death.

Surely this paradox, so baldly stated, is meant to be an enigma tostartle and to rouse curiosity. This dead Servant is to see of thetravail of His soul, and to prolong His days. All the interpretationsof this chapter which refuse to see Jesus in it shiver on this rock.What a contrast there is between platitudes about the spirit of thenation rising transformed from its grave of captivity (which was onlyvery partially the case), and the historical fulfilment in JesusChrist! Here, at any rate, hundreds of years before His Resurrection,is a word that seems to point to such a fact, and to me it appears thatall fair interpretation is on the side of the Messianic reference.

Note the singularity of special points.

a. Having died, the Servant sees His offspring.

The sacrifice of Christ is the great power which draws men to Him, andmoves to repentance, faith, love. His death was the communication oflife. Nowhere else in the world's history is the teacher's death thebeginning of His gathering of pupils, and not only has the dead Servantchildren, but He sees them. That representation is expressive of themutual intercourse, strange and deep, whereby we feel that He is trulywith us, 'Jesus Christ, whom having not seen we love.'

b. Having died, the Servant prolongs His days.

He lives a continuous life, without an end, for ever. The bestcommentary is the word which John heard, as he felt the hand of theChrist laid on his prostrate form: 'I became dead, and lo, I am alivefor evermore.'

c. Having died, the Servant carries into effect the divine purposes.

'Prosper' implies progressive advancement. Christ's Sacrifice carriedout the divine pleasure, and by His Sacrifice the divine pleasure isfurther carried out.

If Christ is the means of carrying out the divine purpose, considerwhat this implies of divinity in His nature, of correspondence betweenHis will and the divine.

But Jesus not only carries into effect the divine purpose as aconsequence of a past act, but by His present energy this dead man is aliving power in the world today. Is He not?

The sole explanation of the vitality of Christianity, and the solereason which makes its message a gospel to any soul, is Christ's deathfor the world and present life in the world.

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—V

'He shall see of the travail of His soul, and shall be satisfied: byHis knowledge shall My righteous servant justify many; and He shallbear their iniquities'—ISAIAH liii. 11.

These are all but the closing words of this great prophecy, and are thefitting crown of all that has gone before. We have been listening tothe voice of a member of the race to whom the Servant of the Lordbelonged, whether we limit that to the Jewish people or include in itall humanity. That voice has been confessing for the speaker and hisbrethren their common misapprehensions of the Servant, their blindnessto the meaning of His sufferings and the mystery of His death. It hasbeen proclaiming the true significance of these as now he had learnedthem, and has in verse 10 touched the mystery of the reward and triumphof the Servant.

That note of His glory and coronation is caught up in the two closingverses, which, in substance, are the continuation of the idea of verse10. But this identity of substance makes the variety of form the moreemphatic. Observe the 'My Servant' of verse 11, and the 'I willdivide' of verse 12. These oblige us to take this as the voice of God.The confession and belief of earth is hushed, that the recognition andthe reward of the Servant may be declared from heaven. An addedsolemnity is thus given to the words, and the prophecy comes roundagain to the keynote on which it started in chapter lii, 13, 'MyServant.' Notice, too, how the same characteristic is here as in verse10—that the recapitulation of the sufferings is almost equallyprominent with the description of the reward. The two are so woventogether that no power can part them. We may take these two verses assetting forth mainly two things—the divine promise that the Servantshall give righteousness to many, and the divine promise that theServant shall conquer many for Himself.

As to the exposition, 'of' here is probably casual, not partitive, asthe Authorised Version has it; 'travail' is not to be understood in thesense of childbirth, but of toil and suffering; 'soul' is equivalent tolife. This fruit of His soul's travail is further defined in thewords which follow. The great result which will be beheld by Him andwill fill and content His heart is that 'by His knowledge He shalljustify many.' 'By His knowledge' certainly means, by the knowledgeof Him on the part of others. The phrase might be taken eitherobjectively or subjectively, but it seems to me that only the formeryields an adequate sense. 'My righteous servant' is scarcely emphaticenough. The words in the original stand in an unusual order, whichmight be represented by 'the righteous one, My servant,' and isintended to put emphasis on the Servant's righteousness, as well as tosuggest the connection between His righteousness and His 'justifying,'in virtue of His being righteous. 'Justify' is an unusual form, andmeans to procure for, or impart righteousness to. 'The many' hasstress on the article, and is the antithesis not to all, but tofew. We might render it 'the masses,' an indefinite expression, whichif not declaring universality, approaches very near to it, as in Romansv. 19 and Matthew xxvi. 28. 'He shall bear,' a future referring to theServant in a state of exaltation, and pointing to His continuous workafter death. This bearing is the root of our righteousness.

We may put the thoughts here in a definite order.

I. The great work which the Servant carries on.

It consists in giving or imparting righteousness. It seems to me thatit is out of place to be too narrow here in interpreting so as to drawdistinctions between righteousness imparted and righteousness bestowed.We should rather take the general idea of making righteous, making,in fact, like Himself. Note that this is the work which is Christ'scharacteristic one. All thoughts of His blessings to the world whichomit that are imperfect.

II. The preparation for that making of us righteous.

The roots of our being made righteous by the righteous Servant arefound in His bearing our sins. His sin-bearing work is basis of ourrighteousness. Christ justifies men by giving to them His ownrighteousness, and taking in turn their sins on Himself that He mayexpiate them.

Not only 'did He bear our sins in His own body on the tree,' but Hewill bear them in His exaltation to the Throne, and only because Hecontinuously and eternally does so are we justified on earth and shallwe be sanctified in heaven.

III. The condition on which He imparts righteousness.

'His knowledge,' which is to be taken in the profound Biblical sense asincluding not only understanding but experience also.

Parallels are found in 'This is life eternal to know Thee' (John xvii.3), and in 'That I may know Him' (Phil. iii. 10). So this prophecycomes very near to the New Testament proclamation of righteousness byfaith.

IV. The grand sweep of the Servant's work.

'The many' is indefinite, and its very indefiniteness approximates itto universality. A shadowy vision of a great multitude that no man cannumber stretches out, as to the horizon, before the prophet. How manythey are he knows not. He knows that they are numerous enough to'satisfy' the Servant for all His sufferings. He knows, too, that thereis no limit to the happy crowd except that which is set by thenecessary condition of joining the bands of 'the justified'—namely,'the knowledge of Him.' They who receive the benefits which the Servanthas died and will live to bring cannot be few; they may be all. If anyare shut out, they are self-excluded.

V. The Servant's satisfaction.

It may be that the word employed means 'full,' rather than 'content,'but the latter idea can scarcely be altogether absent from it. We have,then, the great hope that the Servant, gazing on the results of Hissufferings, will be content, content to have borne them, content withwhat they have effected.

'The glory dies not and the grief is past.'

And the 'grief' has had for fruit not only 'glory' gathering round thethorn-pierced head, but reflected glory shining on the brows of 'themany,' whom He has justified and sanctified by their experience of Himand His power. The creative week ended with the 'rest' of the Creator,not because His energy was tired and needed repose, but because He hadfully carried out His purpose, and saw the perfected idea embodied in acreation that was 'very good.' The redemptive work ends with theServant's satisfied contemplation of the many whom He has made likeHimself, His better creation.

THE SUFFERING SERVANT—VI

'Therefore will I divide Him a portion with the great, and He shalldivide the spoil with the strong; because He hath poured out His soulunto death: and was numbered with the transgressors; and He bare thesins of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.'—ISAIAHliii. 12.

The first clause of this verse is somewhat difficult. There are twoways of understanding it. One is that adopted in A. V., according towhich the suffering Servant is represented as equal to the greatestconquerors. He is to be as gloriously successful in His victory as theyhave been in theirs. But there are two very strong objections to thisrendering-first, that it takes 'the many' in the sense of mighty,thus obscuring the identity of the expression here and in the previousverse and in the end of this verse; and secondly, that it gives a veryfeeble and frigid ending to the prophecy. It does not seem a worthyclose simply to say that the Servant is to be like a Cyrus or aNebuchadnezzar in His conquests.

The other rendering, though there are some difficulties, is to bepreferred. According to it 'the many' and 'the strong' are themselvesthe prey or spoil. The words might be read, 'I will apportion to Himthe many, and He shall apportion to Himself the strong ones.'

This retains the same meaning of 'many' for the same expressionthroughout the context, and is a worthy ending to the prophecy. Theforce of the clause is then to represent the suffering Servant as aconqueror, leading back from His conquests a long train of captives, arich booty.

Notice some points about this closing metaphor.

Mark its singular contrast to the tone of the rest of the prophecy.Note the lowliness, the suffering, the minor key of it all, and then,all at once, the leap up to rapture and triumph. The special form ofthe metaphor strikes one as singular. Nothing in the preceding contexteven remotely suggests it. Even the previous clause about 'making themany righteous' does not do much to prepare the way for it. Whatever beour explanation of the words, it must be one that does full justice tothis metaphor, and presents some conquering power or person, whosevictories are brilliant and real enough to be worthy to stand at theclose of such a prophecy. We must keep in mind, too, what has beenremarked on the two previous verses, that this victorious campaign andgrowing conquest is achieved after the Servant is dead. That is aparadox. And note that the strength of language representing Hisactivity can scarcely be reconciled with the idea that it is only thepost-mortem influence of His life which is meant.

Note, too, the singular blending of God's power and the Servant's ownactivity in the winning of this extended sovereignty. Side by side thetwo are put. The same verb is used in order to emphasise the intendedparallel. 'I will divide,' 'He shall divide.' I will give Him—He shallconquer for Himself. Remember the intense vehemence with which the OldTestament guards the absolute supremacy of divine power, and howstrongly it always puts the thought that God is everything and mannothing. Look at the contrast of the tone when a human conqueror, whoseconquests are the result of God's providence, is addressed (xlv. 1-3).There is an entire suppression of his personality, not a word about hisbravery, his military genius, or anything in him. It is all I, I, I.Remember how, in chapter x., one of the sins for which the Assyrian isto be destroyed is precisely that he thought of his victories as due tohis own strength and wisdom. So he is indignantly reminded that he isonly 'a staff in Mine hand,' the axe with which God hewed the nations,whereas here the voice of God Himself speaks, and gives a strange placebeside Himself to the will and power of this Conqueror. This feature ofthe prophecy should be accounted for in any satisfactory interpretation.

Note, too, the wide sweep of the Servant's dominion, which carries usback to the beginning of this prophecy in chapter lii. 15, where wehear of the Servant as 'sprinkling' (or startling') many nations, andthe 'kings' is parallel with the 'strong' in this verse. No bounds areassigned to the Servant's conquests, which are, if not declared to beuniversal, at least indefinitely extended and striding on to world-wideempire.

These points are plainly here. I do not dilate upon them. But I askwhether any of the interpretations of these words, except one, givesadequate force to them? Is there anything in the history of therestored exiles which corresponds to this picture? Even if you admitthe violent hypothesis that there was a better part of the nation, sogood that the national sorrows had no chastisem*nt for them, and theother violent hypothesis that the devoutest among the exiles sufferedmost, and the other that the death and burial and resurrection of theServant only mean the reformation wrought on Israel by captivity. Whatis there in the history of Israel which can be pointed at as theconquest of the world? Was the nation that bore the yokes of a Ptolemy,an Antiochus, a Herod, a Caesar, the fulfiller of this dream ofworld-conquest? There is only one thing which can be called the Jewconquering the world. It is that which, as I believe, is meant here,viz. Christ's conquest. Apart from that, I know of nothing which wouldnot be ludicrously disproportionate if it were alleged as fulfilment ofthis glowing prophecy.

This prophetic picture is at least four hundred years before Christ, bythe admission of those who bring it lowest down, in their eagerness toget rid of prophecy. The life of Christ does correspond to it, in sucha way that, clause by clause, it reads as if it were quite as much ahistory of Jesus as a prophecy of the Servant. This certainly is anextraordinary coincidence if it be not a prophecy. And there is reallyno argument against the Messianic interpretation, except dogmaticprejudice—'there cannot be prophecy.'

No straining is needed in order to fit this great prophetic picture ofthe world-Conqueror to Jesus. Even that, at first sight incongruous,picture of a victor leading long lines of captives, such as we see onAssyrian slabs and Egyptian paintings, is historically true of Him who'leads captivity captive,' and is, through the ages, winning ever freshvictories, and leading His enemies, turned into lovers, in Histriumphal progress. He, and He only, really owns men. His slaves havemade real self-surrenders to Him. Other conquerors may imprison or loadwith irons or deport to other lands, but they are only lords of bodies.Jesus' chains are silken, and bind hearts that are proud of theirbonds. He carries off His free prisoners 'from the power of darkness'into His kingdom of light. His slaves rejoice to say, 'I am not myown,' and he only truly possesses himself who has given himself away tothe Conquering Christ. For all these centuries He has been conqueringhearts, enthralling and thereby liberating wills, making Himself thelife of lives. There is nothing else the least like the bond betweenJesus and millions who never saw him. Who among all the leaders ofthought or religious teachers has been able to impress his personalityon others and to dominate them in the fashion that Jesus has done andis doing to-day? How has He done this thing, which no other man hasbeen able in the least to do? What is His charm, the secret of Hispower? The prophet has no doubt what it is, and unfolds it to us with asignificant 'For.' We turn, then, to the prophetic explanation of thatworldwide empire and note—

II. The foundation of the Servant's dominion.

That explanation is given in four clauses which fall into two pairs.They remarkably revert to the thought of the Servant's sufferings, butin how different a tone these are now spoken of, when they are nolonger regarded as the results of man's blind failure to see Hisbeauty, or as inflicted by the mysterious 'pleasure of Jehovah,' but asthe causes of His triumph! Echoes of both the two first clauses areheard from the lips of Jesus. As He passed beneath the tremulous shadowof the olives of Gethsemane, He appealed for the companionship of thethree, by an all but solitary revelation of His weakness and sorrow,'My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death; abide ye here andwatch with Me.' And even more distinctly did He lay His hand on thisprophecy when He ended all His words in the upper room with 'This whichis written must be fulfilled in Me, And He was reckoned with"transgressors."' May we not claim Jesus as endorsing the Messianicinterpretation of this prophecy? He gazed on the portrait painted agesbefore that night of sorrow, and saw in it His own likeness, and said,That is meant for Me. Some of us feel that, kenosis or no kenosis,He is the best judge of who is the original of the prophet's portrait.

The two final clauses are separated from the preceding by the emphaticintroduction of the pronominal nominative, and cohere closely asgathering up for the last time all the description of the Servant, andas laying broad and firm the basis of His dominion, in the two greatfacts which sum up His office and between them stretch over the pastand the future. 'He bare the sin of many, and maketh intercession forthe transgressors.' The former of these two clauses brings up thepathetic picture of the scapegoat who 'bore upon him all theiriniquities into a solitary land.' The Servant conquers hearts becauseHe bears upon Him the grim burden which a mightier hand than Aaron'shas made to meet on His head, and because He bears it away. The ancientceremony, and the prophet's transference of the words describing it tohis picture of the Servant who was to be King, floated before John theBaptist, when he pointed his brown, thin finger at Jesus and cried:'Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.' Thegoat had borne the sins of one nation; the prophet had extended theServant's ministry indefinitely, so as to include unnumbered 'many';John spoke the universal word, 'the world.' So the circles widened.

But it is not enough to bear away sins. We need continuous help in thepresent. Our daily struggles, our ever-felt weakness, all the ills thatflesh is heir to, cry aloud for a mightier than we to be at our sides.So on the Servant's bearing the sins of the many there follows acontinuous act of priestly intercession, in which, not merely byprayer, but by meritorious and prevailing intervention, He makes Hisown the cause of the many whose sins He has borne.

On these two acts His dominion rests. Sacrifice and Intercession arethe foundations of His throne.

The empire of men's hearts falls to Him because of what He has done andis doing for them. He who is to possess us absolutely must give Himselfto us utterly. The empire falls to Him who supplies men's deepest need.He who can take away men's sins rules. He who can effectually undertakemen's cause will be their King.

If Jesus is or does anything less or else, He will not rule men forever. If He is but a Teacher and a Guide, oblivion, which shrouds all,will sooner or later wrap Him in its misty folds. That His name shouldso long have resisted its influence is due altogether to men havingbelieved Him to be something else. He will exercise an everlastingdominion only if He have brought in an everlasting righteousness. Hewill sit King for ever, if and only if He is a priest for ever. Allother rule is transient.

A remarkable characteristic of this entire prophecy is the frequentrepetition of expressions conveying the idea of sufferings borne forothers. In one form or another that thought occurs, as we reckon,eleven times, and it is especially frequent in the last verses of thechapter. Why this perpetual harking back to that one aspect? It is tobe further noticed that throughout there is no hint of any other kindof work which this Servant had to do. He fulfils His service to God andman by being bruised for men's iniquities. He came not to be ministeredunto but to minister, and the chief form of His ministry was that Hegave His life a ransom for the many. He came not to preach a gospel,but to die that there might be a gospel to preach. The Cross is thecentre of His work, and by it He becomes the Centre of the world.

Look once more at the sorrowful, august figure that rose before theprophet's eye—with its strange blending of sinlessness and sorrow,God's approval and God's chastisem*nt, rejection and rule, death andlife, abject humiliation and absolute dominion. Listen to the lastechoes of the prophet's voice as it dies on our ear—'He bore the sinsof the many.' And then hearken how eight hundred years after anothervoice takes up the echoes—but instead of pointing away down thecenturies, points to One at his side, and cries, 'Behold the Lamb ofGod, which taketh away the sin of the world.' Look at that life, thatdeath, that grave, that resurrection, that growing dominion, thatinexhaustible intercession—and say, 'Of whom speaketh the prophetthis?'

May we all be able to answer with clear confidence, 'These things saithEsaias when he saw His glory and spake of Him.' May we all take upthe ancient confession: 'Surely He hath borne our griefs and carriedour sorrows…. He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruisedfor our iniquities, the chastisem*nt of our peace was upon Him, andwith His stripes we are healed.'

THE PASSING AND THE PERMANENT

'For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but Mykindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of Mypeace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.'—ISAIAH liv,10.—

There is something of music in the very sound of these words. Thestately march of the grand English translation lends itself withwonderful beauty to the melody of Isaiah's words. But the thought thatlies below them, sweeping as it does through the whole creation, andparting all things into the transient and eternal, the mortal andimmortal, is still greater than the music of the words. These areremoved; this abides. And the thing in God which abides is all-gentletenderness, that strange love mightier than all the powers of Deitybeside, permanent with the permanence of His changeless heart. Themountains shall depart, the emblems of eternity shall crumble andchange and pass, and the hills be removed; but this immortal,impalpable, and, in some men's minds, fantastic and unreal something,'My loving kindness and the covenant of My peace,' shall outlast themall. And this great promise is stamped with the sign manual of Heaven,being spoken by the Lord that hath mercy on thee.'

So then, dear friends, I think I shall most reverentially deal withthese words if I handle them in the simplest possible way, and think,first of all, of that great antithesis that is set before us here—whatpasses and what abides; and, secondly, draw two or three plain, homelylessons and applications from the thoughts thus suggested.

I. First, then, we have to deal with the contrast between theapparently enduring which passes, and that which truly abides.

'The mountains depart, the hills remove, My loving-kindness shall notdepart, neither shall the covenant of My peace be removed.' Let me thensay a word or two about that first thought—'the mountains shalldepart.' There they tower over the plains, looking down upon the flatvalley beneath as they did when the prophet spoke. The eternalbuttresses of the hills stand to the eyes of the fleeting generationsas emblems of permanence, and yet winter storms and summer heats, andthe slow processes of decay which we call the gnawing of time, are everworking upon them, and changing their forms, and at last they shallpass. Modern science, whilst it has all but incalculably enlarged ourconceptions of the duration of the material universe, emphasises, asfaith alone never could, the thought of the ultimate perishing of thismaterial world. For geology tells us that 'where rears the cliff thererolled the sea,' that through the cycles of the shifting history of theworld there have been elevations and depressions so that the ancienthills in many places are the newest of all things, and the world's formhas changed many and many a time since first it circled as a planet.And researches into the ultimate constitution of matter have taught usto think of solids and liquids and gases, as being an infinitemultitude of atoms all in rapid motion with inconceivable velocity, andhave shown us the very atoms in the act of breaking up. So that the oldguess of the infancy of physical science which divined that 'all thingsare in a state of flux' is confirmed by its last utterances. Scienceprophesies too, and bids us expect that the earth shall one day become,like some of the stars, a burnt out mass of uniform temperature,incapable of change or of sustaining life, and shall end by fallinginto the diminished sun, and so the old word will be fulfilled that'the earth and the works that are therein shall be burnt up.' Noneshould be able to utter the words of my text, 'The mountains shalldepart and the hills be removed,' with such emphasis of certitude asthe present students of physical science.

But our text does not stop there. It brings into view the transiency ofthe transient, in order to throw into greater relief and prominence theperpetuity of the abiding. If we had nothing abiding beyond thisperishable material universe, it would indeed be misery to exist. Lifewould be not only insignificant but wretched, and a ghastly irony, ameaningless, aimless ripple on the surface of that silent, shorelesssea. The great 'But' of this text lifts the oppression from humanitywith which the one-sided truth of the passing of all the Visible loadsit.

And so turn for a moment to the other side of this great text. Therestands out above all that is mortal, which, although it counts itsexistence by millenniums, is but for an instant, visible to the eye offaith, the Great Spirit who moves all the material universe, Himselfunmoved, and lives undiminished by creation, and undiminished ifcreation were swept out of existence. Let that which may pass, pass;let that which can perish, perish; let the mountains crumble and thehills melt away; beyond the smoke and conflagration, and rising highabove destruction and chaos, stands the calm throne of God, with aloving Heart upon it, with a council of peace and purpose of mercy foryou and for me, the creatures of a day indeed, but who are to live whenthe days shall cease to be. 'My kindness!' What a wonderful word thatis, so far above all the cold delusion of so-called theism! 'Mykindness!' the tender-heartedness of an infinite love, the aboundingfavour of the Father of my spirit, His gentle goodness bending down tome, His tenderness round about me, eternal love that never can die; thething that lasts in the universe is His kindness, which continues fromeverlasting to everlasting. What a revelation of God! Oh, dear friends,if only our hearts could open to the full acceptance of that thought,sorrow and care and anxiety, and every other form of trouble, wouldfade away and we should be at rest. The infinite, undying, imperishablelove of God is mine. Older than the mountains, deeper than their roots,wider than the heavens, and stronger than all my sin, is the love thatgrasps me and keeps me and will not let me go, and lavishes itstenderness upon me, and beseeches me, and pleads with me, and woos me,and rebukes me, and corrects me when I need, and sent His Son to diefor me. 'My kindness shall not depart from thee.'

But even that great conception does not exhaust the encouragement whichthe prophet has to give to souls weighed upon with the transiency ofthe material. He speaks of 'the covenant of My peace.' We are to thinkof this great, tender, changeless love of God, which underlies allthings and towers above all things, which overlaps them all and fillseternity, as being placed, so to speak, under the guarantee of a solemnobligation. God's covenant is a great thought of Scripture which we fartoo little apprehend in the depth and power of its meaning. Hiscovenant with you and me, poor creatures, is this, 'I promise that Mylove shall never leave thee.' He makes Himself a constitutionalmonarch, so to speak, giving us a plighted word to which we can appealand go to Him and say, 'There, that is the charter given by Thyself,given irrevocably for ever, and I hold Thee to it. Fulfil it, O ThouGod of Truth.'

'My covenant of peace.' Dear friends, the prophet spoke a deeper thingthan he knew when he uttered these words. Let me remind you of thelarge meaning which the New Testament puts into them. 'Now the God ofPeace that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the GreatShepherd of the Sheep, through the blood of the everlasting Covenant,make us perfect in every good work, to do His will.' God has boundHimself by His promise to give you and me the peace that belongs to Hisown nature, and that covenant is sealed to us in the blood of JesusChrist upon the Cross, and so we sinful men, with all the burden of ourevil upon us, with all our sins known to us, with all our manifestfailings and infirmities, can turn to Him and say, 'Thou hast pledgedThyself to forgive and accept, and that covenant is made sure to mebecause Thy Son hath died, and I come and ask Thee to fulfil it.' Andbe sure of this, that no poor creature upon earth, however lame hishand, who puts out that hand to grasp that peaceful covenant—that newcovenant in the blood of Christ—can plead in vain.

My brother, have you done that? Have you entered into this covenant ofpeace with God—peace in believing, peace by the blood of Christ, peacethat fills a new heart, peace that rules amidst all the perturbationsand disappointments of life? Then you may be sure that that covenantwill stand for evermore, though the mountains depart and the hills beremoved.

II. Now turn with me to a few practical lessons which we may gatherfrom these great contrasts here, between the perishable mortal and theimmortal divine love.

Surely the first plain one is a warning against fastening our love, ourhope, or our trust on these transient things.

What folly it is for a man to risk his peace and the strength and thejoy of his life upon things that crumble and change, when all the whilethere is lying before him open for his entrance, and wooing him to comeinto the eternal home of his spirit, this covenant! Here are we, fromday to day, plunged into these passing vanities, and always tempted tothink that they are the true abiding things, and it needs greatdiscipline and watchfulness to live the better life. There is nothingthat will help us to do it like a firm grasp of the love of God inJesus Christ. Then we can hold these mortal joys with a loose hand,knowing that they are only for a little time, and feeling that they arepassing whilst we look at them, and are changing like the scenery inthe sky on a summer's night, with its cliffs and hills in the clouds,even while we gaze. Where there was a mountain a moment ago up there,there is now a depression, and the world and everything in it lastsvery little longer than these. It is only a film on the surface of thegreat sea of eternity—there is no reality about it. It is but adream—a vision, slipping, slipping, slipping away, and you and Islipping along with it. How foolishly, how obstinately, we all cling toit, though even the very grasp of our hands tends to make it pass away,as the children coming in from the fields with their store ofbuttercups and daisies in their hot hands, which by their very clutchhasten the withering. And that is just our position. We have them for abrief moment, and they all perish in the using. Oh, brother, have youset your heart on that which is not, when all the while there, longingto bless and love us, stands the Eternal God, with His unchanging loveand faithful covenant of His perpetual peace? Surely it werewiser—wiser, to put it on the lowest ground—to seek the things thatare above, and, knowing as we do that the mountains shall depart andthe hills be removed, so make our portion the kindness which shall notdepart, and seek our share in the peace that shall not pass away.

But there is another lesson to be put in the same simple fashion.Surely we ought to use thoughts like these of my text in order to staythe soul in seasons which come to every one sometimes, when we are madepainfully conscious of the transiency of this Present. Meditative hourscome to us all—moments when perhaps some strain of music gives us backchildhood's days; when perhaps some perfume of a flower reminds us oflong-vanished gardens and hands that have crumbled into dust; when sometouch of a sunset sky, or some word of a book, or some providence ofour lives, comes upon the heart and mind, reminding us how everythingis passing. You have all had these thoughts. Some of us stiflethem—they are not pleasant to many of us; some of us brood over themunwholesomely, and that is not wise; but the best use of them is tobear us onward into the peaceful region where we clasp to our troubledhearts that which cannot go. If any of us are making experience to-dayof earthly change, if any of us have hearts heavy with earthly losses,if any of us are bending under the weight of that awful law, thateverything becomes part and parcel of that dreadful past, if any of usare looking at our empty hands and saying, 'They have taken away my godand what have I more?' let us listen to the better voice that says, 'Mykindness shall not depart from thee, and so, whatever goes, thou canstnot be desolate if thou hast Me.'

And then, still further, let me remind you that this same thought mayavail to give to us hopes of years as immortal as itself. We do notbelong to the mountains and hills that shall depart, or to the order ofthings to which they belong. There is coming a very solemn day, Ibelieve, not by any mere processes of natural decay as I take it, butby the action of God Himself, the Judge that 'day of the Lord thatshall come as a thief in the night'—when the mountains shall depart,and the hills be removed, and the throne of judgment shall be set, andyou and I will be there. My brother, lay your hand on that covenant ofpeace which is made for us all in Christ Jesus the Lord, and then 'calmas the summer's ocean we shall be, and all the wreck of nature' cannotdisturb us, for we shall abide unshaken as the throne of God. Themountains may pass, the hills be removed, but herein is our love madeperfect, that we may have boldness in the day of 'judgment,' for thatkindness shall not depart from us, and God's gentle tenderness iseternal as Himself. Then we shall not depart from it either, and we areimmortal as the tenderness that encloses us. God's endless love musthave undying creatures on whom to pour itself out, and if to-day Ipossess—as we all may possess in however feeble a measure—some sipsand prelibations of that great flood of love that is in God, I can lookunblanched right into the eyes of death and say, 'Thou hast no power atall over me, I am eternal because the God that loves me is so, andsince He hath loved me with an everlasting love, His loving-kindnessshall not depart from me. Therefore, seeing that all these things shallbe dissolved, I know that I have a building of God, a house not madewith hands, eternal in the heavens, and because He lives I shall livealso.' The hope that is built upon the eternal love of God in Christ isthe true guarantee to me of immortal existence, and this hope is oursif, and only if, we come into the covenant—the covenant of peace. Godsays, 'I will love thee, I will bless thee, I will keep thee, I willpardon thee, I will save thee, I will glorify thee, and there is Mybond on that Cross, the new covenant in His blood.' Close with thecovenant that God is ready to make with you, and then 'life and death,principalities and powers, things present and things to come, heightand depth, and every other creature shall be impotent to separate youfrom the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hathno money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk withoutmoney and without price. 2. Wherefore do ye spend money for that whichis not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearkendiligently unto Me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your souldelight itself in fatness. 3. Incline your ear, and come unto Me, hear,and your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant withyou, even the sure mercies of David. 4. Behold, I have given him for awitness to the people, a leader and commander to the people. 5. Behold,thou shalt call a nation that thou knowest not, and nations that knewnot thee shall run unto thee because of the Lord thy God, and for theHoly One of Israel; for He hath glorified thee. 6. Seek ye the Lordwhile He may be found, call ye upon Him while He is near: 7. Let thewicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and lethim return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to ourGod, for He will abundantly pardon. 8. For My thoughts are not yourthoughts, neither are your ways My ways, saith the Lord. 9. For as theheavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than yourways, and My thoughts than your thoughts. 10. For as the rain comethdown, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereththe earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed tothe sower, and bread to the eater: 11. So shall My word be that goethforth out of My mouth: it shall not return unto Me void, but it shallaccomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thingwhereto I sent it. 12. For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forthwith peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before youinto singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.13. Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of thebrier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the Lord for aname, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.'—ISAIAH lv.1-13.

The call to partake of the blessings of the Messianic salvationworthily follows the great prophecy of the suffering Servant. No doubtthe immediate application of this chapter is to the exiled nation, whoin it are summoned from their vain attempts to find satisfaction in thematerial prosperity realised in exile, and to make the only trueblessedness their own by obedience to God's voice. But if ever theprophet spoke to the world he does so here. It is no unwarrantedspiritualising of his invitation which hears in it the voice whichinvites all mankind to share the blessings of the gospel feast.

The glorious words need little exposition. What we have to do is to seethat they do not fall on our ears in vain. They may be roughly dividedinto two sections—the invitation to the feast, with the promises tothe obedient Israel (verses 1-5), and the summons to the necessarypreparation for the feast, namely, repentance, with the reason for itsnecessity, and the encouragements to it in the might of God's faithfulpromises (verses 6-13).

I. Whose voice sounds so beseechingly and welcoming in this great call,which rings out to all thirsty souls? If we note the 'Me' and 'I' whichfollow, we shall hear God Himself thus taking the office of summoner toHis own feast. By whatever media the gospel call reaches us, it is inreality God's own voice to our hearts, and that makes theresponsibility of hearing more tremendous, and the folly of refusingmore inexcusable.

Who are invited? There are but two conditions expressed in verse 1, andthese are fulfilled in every soul. All are summoned who are thirsty andpenniless. If we have in our souls desires that all the broken cisternsof earth can never slake-and we all have these-and if we have nothingby which we can procure what will still the gnawing hunger and burningthirst of our souls—and none of us has—then we are included in thecall. Universal as are the craving for blessedness and thepowerlessness to satisfy it, are the adaptation and destination of thegospel.

What is offered? Water, wine, milk—all the beverages of a simplecivilisation, differing in their operation, but all precious to athirsty palate. Water revives, wine gladdens and inspirits, milknourishes. All that any man needs or desires is to be found in Christ.We shall not understand the nature of the feast unless we remember thatHe Himself is the 'gift of God.' What these three draughts mean is bestperceived when we listen to Him saying, in a plain quotation of thiscall, 'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.' Nothingshort of Himself can satisfy the thirst of one soul, much less of allthe thirsty. Like the flow from the magic fountain of the legend, Jesusbecomes to each what each most desires.

How does He become ours? The paradox of buying with what is not moneyis meant, by its very appearance of contradiction, to put in strongestfashion that the possession of Him depends on nothing in us but thesense of need and the willingness to accept. We buy Christ when we partwith self, which is all that we have, in order to win Him. We must befull of conscious emptiness and desire, if we are to be filled with Hisfulness. Jesus interpreted the meaning of 'come to the waters' when Hesaid, 'He that cometh to Me shall never hunger, and he that believethon Me shall never thirst.' Faith is coming, faith is drinking, faith isbuying.

The universal call, with is clear setting forth of blessing andconditions of possessing, is followed by a pleading remonstrance as tothe folly of lavishing effort and money on what is not bread. It isstrange that men will cheerfully take more pains to continue thirstythan to accept the satisfaction which God provides. They toil andcontinue unsatisfied. Experience does not teach them, and all the whilethe one real good is waiting to be theirs for nothing.

''Tis heaven alone that is given away;
'Tis only God may be had for the asking.'

Christ goes a-begging, and we spend our strength in vain toil toacquire what we turn away from when it is offered us in Him. When thegreat Father offers bread for nothing, we will not have it, but we areready to give any price for a stone. It is not the wickedness, but thefolly, of unbelief, which is the marvel.

The contrast between the heavy price at which men buy hunger, and theeasy rate at which they may have full satisfaction, is further setforth by the call to 'incline the ear,' which is all that is needed inorder that life and nourishment which delights the soul may be ours.'Hearken, and eat' is equivalent to 'Hearken, and ye shall eat.' Thereal 'good' for man is only to be found in listening to and obeying thedivine voice, whether it sound in invitation, promise, or command. Thetrue life of the soul lies in that listening receptiveness which takesfor one's own God's great gift of Christ, and yields glad obedience toHis every word.

The exiled Israel was promised an 'everlasting covenant' as the resultof their acceptance of the invitation; and we know whose blood it isthat has sealed the new covenant, which abides as long as Christ'sfulness and men's need shall last. That covenant, of which we seldomhear in Isaiah, but which fills a prominent place in Jeremiah andEzekiel, is further explained as being 'the sure mercies of David.'This phrase and its context are difficult, but the general meaning isclear. The great promises of God's unfailing mercy, made to thehistorical founder of the royal house, shall be transferred andcontinued, with inviolable faithfulness, to those who drink of the giftof God.

This parallel between the great King and the whole mass of the trueIsrael is further set forth in verses 4 and 5. Each begins with'Behold,' and the similar form indicates similarity in contents. Theson of Jesse was in some degree God's witness to the heathen nations,as is expressed in several psalms; and, what he was imperfectly, theransomed Israel would be to the world. The office of the ChristianChurch is to draw nations that it knew not, to follow in the blessedpath, in which it has found satisfaction and the dawnings of a morethan natural glory transfiguring it. They who have themselves drunk ofthe unfailing fountain in Christ are thereby fitted and called to cryto others, 'Come ye to the waters.' Experience of Christ'spreciousness, and of the rest of soul which comes from partaking of Hissalvation, impels and obliges to call others to share the bliss.

II. The second part of the chapter begins with an urgent call torepentance, based upon the difference between God's ways and man's, andon the certainty that the divine promises will be fulfilled. Thesummons in verses 6 and 7 is first couched in most general terms, whichare then more closely defined. To 'seek the Lord' is to direct conductand heart to obtain possession of God as one's own. Of that seeking,the chief element is calling upon Him; since such is His desire to befound of us that it only needs our asking in order to receive. Assurely as the mother hears her child's cry, so surely does He catch thefaintest voice addressed to Him. But, men being what they are, a changeof ways and of their root in thoughts is indispensable. Seeking whichis not accompanied by forsaking self and an evil past is no genuineseeking, and will end in no finding. But this forsaking is only oneside of true repentance; the other is return to God, as is expressed inthe New Testament word for it, which implies a change of mind, purpose,and conduct. The faces which were turned earthward and averted from Godare to be turned God-ward and diverted from earth. Whosoever thus seeksmay be confident of finding and of abundant pardon. The belief in God'sloving forgivingness is the strongest motive to repentance, and themost melting argument to listen to the call to seek Him. But there isanother motive of a more awful kind; namely, the consideration that theperiod of mercy is limited, and that a time may come, and that soon,when God no longer 'may be found' nor 'is near.'

The need for such a radical change in conduct and mind is furtherenforced, in verses 8 and 9, by the emphatic statement of presentdiscord between the exiled Israel and God. Mark that the deepest seatof the discord is first dealt with, and then the manifestation of it inactive life. Mark also that the order of comparison is inverted in thetwo successive clauses in verse 8. God's thoughts have not entered intoIsrael's mind and become theirs. The 'thinkings' not being regulatedaccording to God's truth, nor the desires and sentiments brought intoaccord with His will and mind, a contrariety of 'ways' must follow, andthe paths which men choose for themselves cannot run parallel withGod's, nor be pleasing to Him. Therefore the stringent urgency of thecall to forsake 'the crooked, wandering ways in which we live,' and tocome back to the path of righteousness which is traced by God for ourfeet.

But divergence which necessitates repentance is not the only relationbetween our ways and God's. There is elevation, transcendency, likethat of the eternal heavens, high, boundless, the home of light, thestorehouse of beneficent influences which fertilise. If we think of thedreary, flat plains where the exiles were, and the magnificent sweep ofthe sky over them, we shall feel the beauty of the figure. If 'Mythoughts are not your thoughts' was all that was to be said, repentancewould be of little use, and there would be little to encourage to it;but if God's thoughts of love and ways of blessing arch themselvesabove our low lives as the sky bends, pitying and bestowing, abovesqualor, barrenness, and darkness, then penitence is not in vain, andthe low earth may be visited with gifts from the highest heaven.

The certainty that such gifts will be bestowed is the last thought ofthis magnificent summons. The prophet dilates on that assurance to theend of the chapter. He seems to catch fire, as it were, from theintroduction of that grand figure of the lofty heavens domed above theflat earth. In effect, what he says is: They are high and inaccessible,but think what pours down from them, and how all fertility depends ontheir gifts of rain and snow, and how the moisture which they drop isturned into 'seed to the sower, and bread to the eater.' Thinking ofthat continuous benefaction and miracle, we should see in it a symbolof the better gifts from the higher heavens. So does God's word comedown from His throne. So does it turn barrenness into nodding harvest.So does it quicken undreamed of powers of fruitfulness in human natureand among the forces of the world. So does it supply nourishment forhungry souls, and germs which shall bear fruit in coming years. Nocomplicated machinery nor the most careful culture can work what thegentle dropping rain effects. There is mightier force in it than inmany thunder-clouds. The gospel does with ease and in silence whatnothing else can do. It makes barren souls fruitful in all good works,and in all happiness worthy of men. Therefore the summons to drink ofthe springing fountain and to turn from evil ways and thoughts isrecommended by the assurance that God's word is faithful, and all Hispromises firm.

The final verses (verses 12, 13) give the glowing picture of the returnfrom exile amid the jubilation of a transformed world, as the strongestmotive to the obedient hearkening to God's voice, to which the chapterhas summoned, and as the great instance of God's keeping His word.

The flight from Egypt was 'in haste' (Deut. xvi. 3); but this shall bea triumphal exodus, without conflict or alarms. All nature shallparticipate in the joy. Mountains and hills shall raise the shrill noteof rejoicing, and the trees wave their branches, as if clapping handsin delight. This is more than mere poetic rhetoric. A redeemed humanityimplies a glorified world. Nature has been involved in the consequencesof sin, and will share in the results of redemption, and have somehumble reflected light from 'the liberty of the glory of the sons ofGod.'

The fulfilment of this final promise is not yet. All earlier returns ofthe exiled Israel from the Babylon of their bondage to God and the cityof God, such as the historical one which the prophet foretold, and thespiritual one which is repeated age by age in the history of theChristian Church and of single penitent souls, point on to that lasttriumphant day when 'the ransomed of the Lord shall return,' and theworld be transfigured to match the glory that they inherit. That fairworld without poison or offence, and the nations of the saved whoinhabit its peaceful spaces, shall be, in the fullest stretch of thewords, 'to the Lord for a name, and for an everlasting sign that shallnot be cut off.' The redemption of man and his establishing amid thefelicities of a state correspondent to His God-given glory shall be toall eternity and to all possible creations the highest evidence of whatGod is, and His token to all beings.

THE GREAT PROCLAMATION

'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hathno money; come ye, buy and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk withoutmoney and without price.'—ISAIAH lv.1.

The meaning of the word preach is 'proclaim like a herald'; or, whatis perhaps more familiar to most of us, like a town-crier; with a loudvoice, clearly and plainly delivering the message. Now, there are othernotions of a sermon than that; and there is other work which ministershave to do, of an educational kind. But my business now is to preach.We have ventured to ask others than the members of our own congregationto join us in this service; and I should be ashamed of myself, and havegood reason to be so, if I had asked you to come to hear me talk, or toentertain you with more or less eloquent and thoughtful discourses.There is a time for everything; and what this is the time for is toring out like a bellman the message which I believe God has given mefor you. It cannot but suffer in passing through human lips; but I praythat my poor words may not be all unworthy of its stringency, and ofthe greatness of its blessing. My text is God's proclamation, and allthat the best of us can do is but to reiterate that, more feebly alas,but still earnestly.

Suppose there was an advertisem*nt in to-morrow morning's papers thatany one that liked to go to a certain place might get a fortune forgoing, what a queue of waiting suppliants there would be at the door!Here is God's greatest gift going a-begging; and there are no doubtsome among you who listen to my text with only the thought, 'Oh, theold threadbare story is what we have been asked to come and hear!'Brethren, have you taken the offer? If not, it needs to be pressed uponyou once more. So my purpose in this sermon is a very simple one. Iwish, as a brother to a brother, to put before you these three things:to whom this offer is made; what it consists of; and how it may be ours.

I. To whom this offer is made.

It is to every one thirsty and penniless. That is a melancholycombination, to be needing something infinitely, and to have not afarthing to get it with. But that is the condition in which we allstand, in regard to the highest and best things. This invitation of mytext is as universal as if it had stopped with its third word. 'Ho,every one' would have been no broader than is the offer as it stands.For the characteristics named are those which belong, necessarily anduniversally, to human experience. If my text had said, 'Ho, every onethat breathes human breath,' it would not have more completely coveredthe whole race, and enfolded thee and me, and all our brethren, in theamplitude of its promise, than it does when it sets up as the solequalifications thirst and penury—that we infinitely need, and that weare absolutely unable to acquire, the blessings that it offers.

'Every one that thirsteth'—that means desire. Yes; but it means needalso. And what is every man but a great bundle of yearnings andnecessities? None of us carry within ourselves that which suffices forourselves. We are all dependent upon external things for being and forwellbeing.

There are thirsts which infallibly point to their true objects. If aman is hungry he knows that it is food that he wants. And just as thenecessities of the animal life are incapable of being misunderstood,and the objects which will satisfy them incapable of being confused ormistaken, so there are other nobler thirsts, which, in like manner,work automatically, and point to the thing that they need. We havesocial instincts; we need love; we need friendship; we need somebody tolean upon; we thirst for some heart to rest our heads upon, for handsto clasp ours; and we know where the creatures and the objects are thatwill satisfy these desires. And there are the higher thirsts of thespirit, that 'follows knowledge, like a sinking star, beyond thefurthest bounds of human thought'; and a man knows where and how togratify the impulse that drives him to seek after the many forms ofknowledge and wisdom.

But besides all these, besides sense, besides affection, besidesemotions, besides the intellectual spur of which we are all more orless conscious, there come in a whole set of other thirsts that do notin themselves carry the intimation of the place where they can beslaked. And so you get men restless, as some of you are; alwaysdissatisfied, as some of you are; feeling that there is somethingwanting, yet not knowing what, as some of you are. You remember the oldstory in the Arabian Nights, of the man who had a grand palace, andlived in it quite contentedly, until some one told him that it needed aroc's egg hanging from the roof to make it complete, and he did notknow where to get that, and was miserable accordingly. We build ourhouses, we fancy that we are satisfied; and then there comes thestinging thought that it is not all complete yet, and we go groping,groping in the dark, to find out where the lacking thing is.Shipwrecked sailors sometimes, in their desperation, drink salt water,and that makes them thirstier than ever, and brings on madness anddeath. Some publicans drug the vile liquors which they sell, so thatthey increase thirst. We may make no mistake about how to satisfy thedesires of sense or of earthly affections; we may be quite certain that'money answereth all things,' and that it is good to get on in businessin Manchester; or may have found a pure and enduring satisfaction instudy and in books—yet we have thirsts that some of us know not whereto satisfy; and so we have parched lips and swollen tongues, and ragingdesire that earth can give nothing to fill.

My brother, do you know what it is that you want?

It is God. Nothing else, nothing less. 'My soul thirsteth for God, forthe living God.' The man that knows what it is of which he is in suchsore need, is blessed. The man who only feels dimly that he needssomething, and does not know that it is God whom he does need, iscondemned to wander in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is, andwhere his heart gapes, parched and cracked like the soil upon which hetreads. Understand your thirst. Interpret your desires aright. Openyour eyes to your need; and be sure of this, that mountains of moneyand the clearest insight into intellectual problems, and fame, andlove, and wife, and children, and a happy home, and abundance of allthings that you can desire, will leave a central aching emptiness thatnothing and no person but God can ever fill. Oh, that we all knew whatthese yearnings of our hearts mean!

Aye! but there are dormant thirsts too. It is no proof of superioritythat a savage has fewer wants than you and I have, for the want is theopen mouth into which supply comes. And it is no proof that you havenot, deep in your nature, desires which, unless they are satisfied,will prevent your being blessed, that these desires are all unconsciousto yourselves. The business of us preachers is, very largely, to getthe people who will listen to us, to recognise the fact that they dowant things which they do not wish; and that, for the perfection oftheir natures, the cherishing of noble longings and thirstings isneedful, and that to be without this sense of need is to be without oneof the loftiest prerogatives of humanity.

Some of you do not wish forgiveness. Many of you would much rather nothave holiness. You do not want to have God. The promises of the Gospelgo clean over your heads, and are as impotent to influence you as thewind whistling through a keyhole, because you have never been aware ofthe wants to which these promises correspond, and do not understandwhat it is that you truly require.

And yet there is no desire—that is to say, consciousness ofnecessities—so dormant but that its being un-gratified makes a manrestless. You do not wish forgiveness, but you will never be happy tillyou get it. You do not wish to be good and true and holy men, but youwill never be blessed till you are. You do not want to have God, someof you, but you will be restless till you find Him. You fancy you wishheaven when you are dead; you do not want it while you are living. Butuntil your earthly life is like the life of Jesus Christ in heaven,though in an inferior degree, whilst it is on earth, you will never beat rest. You are thirsty enough after these things to be ill at easewithout them, when you bethink yourselves and pass out of the region ofmere mechanical and habitual existence; but until you get these thingsthat you do not desire, be sure of this: that you will be tortured withvain unrest, and will find that the satisfactions which you do seekturn to ashes in your mouth. 'Bread of deceit,' says the Book, 'issweet to a man.' The writer meant by that that there were people towhom it was pleasant to tell profitable lies. But we might widen themeaning, and say that all these lower satisfactions, apart from theloftier ones of forgiveness, acceptance, reconciliation with God, theconscious possession of Him, a well-grounded hope of immortality, thepower to live a noble life and to look forward to a glorious heaven,are 'bread of deceit,' which promises nourishment and does not give it,but breaks the teeth that try to masticate it; 'it turneth to gravel.'

'Ho, every one that thirsteth.' That designation includes us all. 'Andhe that hath no money.' Who has any? Notice that the personsrepresented in our text as penniless are, in the next verse,remonstrated with for spending 'money.' So then the penniless man hadsome pence away in some corner of his pocket which he could spend. Hehad the money that would buy shams, 'that which is not bread' but astone though it looks like a loaf, but he had no money for the truefood. Which being translated out of parable into fact, is simply this,that our efforts may and do win for us the lower satisfactions whichmeet our transitory and superficial necessities, but that no effort ofours can secure for us the loftier blessings which slake the divinerthirsts of immortal souls. A man lands in a far country with Englishshillings in his pocket, but he finds that no coins go there butthalers, or francs, or dollars, or the like; and his money is onlycurrent in his own land, and he must have it changed before he can makehis purchases. So though he has a pocketful of it he may as well bepenniless.

And, in like fashion, you and I, with all our strenuous efforts, whichwe are bound to make, and which there is joy in making, after theselower good things that correspond to our efforts, find that we have nocoinage that will buy the good things of the kingdom of heaven, withoutwhich we faint and die. For them our efforts are useless. Can a man byhis penitence, by his tears, by his amendment, make it possible for theconsequences of his past to be obliterated, or all changed in theircharacter into fatherly chastisem*nt? No! A thousand times, no! Thesuperficial notions of Christianity, which are only too common amongstboth educated and uneducated, may say to a man, 'You need no divineintervention, if only you will get up from the dust, and do your bestto keep up when you are up.' But those who realise more deeply what thesignificance of sin is, and what the eternal operation of itsconsequences upon the soul is, and what the awful majesty of a divinerighteousness is, learn that the man who has sinned can, by nothingthat he can do, obliterate that awful fact, or reduce it toinsignificance, in regard to the divine relations to him. It is onlyGod who can do that. We have no money.

So we stand thirsty and penniless—a desperate condition! Ay! brother,it is desperate, and it is the condition of every one of us. I wish Icould turn the generalities of my text into the individuality of apersonal address. I wish I could bring its wide-flowing beneficence toa sharp point that might touch your conscience, heart, and will. Icannot do that; you must do it for yourself.

'Ho, every one that thirsteth.' Will you pause for a moment, and say toyourself, 'That is I'? 'And he that hath no money'—that is I. 'Come yeto the waters'—that is I. The proclamation is for thine ear and forthy heart; and the gift is for thy hand and thy lips.

II. In what this offer consists.

They tell an old story about the rejoicings at the coronation of somegreat king, when there was set up in the market-place a triplefountain, from each of whose three lips flowed a different kind of rareliquor which any man who chose to bring a pitcher might fill it with,at his choice. Notice my text, 'come ye to the waters' … 'buywine and milk.' The great fountain is set up in the market-place ofthe world, and every man may come; and whichever of this glorious triadof effluents he needs most, there his lip may glue itself and there itmay drink, be it 'water' that refreshes, or 'wine' that gladdens, or'milk' that nourishes. They are all contained in this one great giftthat flows out from the deep heart of God to the thirsty lips ofparched humanity.

And what is that gift? Well, we may say, salvation; or we may use manyother words to define the nature of the gifts. I venture to take ashorter one, and say, it means Christ. He, and not merely some truthabout Him and His work; He Himself, in the fulness of His being, in theall-sufficiency of His love, in the reality of His presence, in thepower of His sacrifice, in the daily derivation, into the heart thatwaits upon Him, of His life and His spirit, He is the all-sufficientsupply of every thirst of every human soul. Do we want happiness?Christ gives us His joy, abiding and full, and not as the world gives.Do we want love? He gathers us to His heart, in which 'there is novariableness, neither shadow cast by turning,' and binds us to Himselfby bonds that death, the separator, vainly attempts to untie, and whichno unworthiness, ingratitude or coldness of ours will ever be able tounloose. Do we want wisdom? He will dwell with us as our light. Do ourhearts yearn for companionship? With Him we shall never be solitary. Dowe long for a bright hope which shall light up the dark future, andspread a rainbow span over the great gorge and gulf of death? JesusChrist spans the void, and gives us unfailing and undeceiving hope. Foreverything that you and I need here or yonder, in heart, in will, inpractical life, Jesus Christ Himself is the all-sufficient supply.

'My life in death, my all in all.' What is offered in Him may bedescribed by all the glorious and blessed names which men have inventedto designate the various aspects of the Good. These are the goodlypearls that men seek, but there is one of great price which is worththem all, and gathers into itself all their clouded and fragmentarysplendours. Christ is all, and the soul that has Him shall never thirst.

'Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of Thee.'

III. Lastly, how do we obtain the offered gifts?

The paradox of my text needs little explanation, 'Buy without money andwithout price.' The contradiction on the surface is but intended tomake emphatic this blessed truth, which I pray may reach your memoriesand hearts, that the only conditions are a sense of need, and awillingness to take—nothing less and nothing more. We must recogniseour penury and must abandon self, and put away all ideas of having afinger in our own salvation, and be willing—which, strangely and sadlyenough, many of us are not-to be under obligations to God's unhelpedand undeserved love for all.

Cheap things are seldom valued. Ask a high price and people think thatthe commodity is precious. A man goes into a fair, for a wager, and hecarries with him a try full of gold watches and offers to sell them fora farthing apiece, and nobody will buy them. It does not, I hope,degrade the subject, if I say Jesus Christ comes into the market-placeof the world with His hands full of the gifts which His pierced handshave bought, that He may give them away. He says, 'Will you take them?'And you, and you, and you, pass by on the other side, and go away toanother merchant, and buy dearly things that are not worth the having.

'My father, my father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing,wouldst thou not have done it?' Would you not? Swing at the end of apole, with hooks in your back; measure all the way from Cape Comorin tothe Himalayas, lying down on your face and rising at each length; do ahundred things which heathens and Roman Catholics and unspiritualProtestants think to be the way to get salvation; deny yourselvesthings that you would like to do; do things that you do not want to do;give money that you would like to keep; avoid habits that are verysweet, go to church or chapel when you have no heart for worship; andso try to balance the account. If the prophet had bid thee do somegreat thing, thou wouldst have done it. How much rather when he says,'Wash, and be clean.' 'Nothing in my heart I bring.' You do not bringanything. 'Simply to Thy Cross I cling.' Do you? Do you? Jesus Christcatches up the 'comes' of my text, and He says, 'Come unto Me, all yethat labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 'If any manthirst, let him come unto Me and drink.' Brethren, I lay it on yourhearts and consciences to answer Him—never mind about me—to answerHim: 'Sir, give me this water that I thirst not.'

GOD'S WAYS AND MAN'S

'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,saith the Lord. 9. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so areMy ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than yourthoughts.'—ISAIAH lv. 8, 9.

Scripture gives us no revelations concerning God merely in order thatwe may know about Him. These words are grand poetry and noble theology,but they are meant practically and in fiery earnestness. The 'for' atthe beginning of each clause points us back to the previous statement,and both of the verses of our text are in different ways itsfoundation. And what has preceded is this: 'Let the wicked forsake hisway and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto theLord, for He will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for He willabundantly pardon.' That is why the prophet dilates upon the differencebetween the 'thoughts' and the 'ways' of God and of men.

If we look at these two verses a little more closely we shall perceivethat they by no means cover the same ground nor suggest the same ideaas to the relationship between God's 'ways' and 'thoughts' and ours.The former of them speaks of unlikeness and opposition, the latter ofelevation and superiority; the former of them is the basis of anindictment and an exhortation, the latter is the basis of anencouragement and a promise. The former of them is the reason why 'thewicked' and 'unrighteous man' ought to and must 'turn' from 'his ways'and 'thoughts,' the latter of them is the reason why, 'turning,' he maybe sure that the Lord 'will abundantly pardon.'

And so we have here two things to consider in reference to the relationbetween the divine purposes and acts and man's purposes and acts.First, the antagonism, and the indictment and exhortation that arebased upon that; second, the analogy but superiority, and theexhortation and hope that are built upon that. Let me deal, then, withthese separately.

I. We have here an unlikeness declared, and upon that is rested anappeal.

Notice the remarkable order and alternation of pronouns in the firstverse. 'My thoughts are not your thoughts,' saith the Lord. Thethings that God thinks and purposes are not the things that man thinksand purposes, and therefore, because the thoughts are different, theoutcomes of them in deeds are divergent. God's 'ways' are His acts, themanner and course of His working considered as a path on which Hemoves, and on which, in some sense, we can also journey. Our'ways'—our manner of life—are not parallel with His, as they shouldbe.

But that opposition is expressed with a remarkable variation. Observethe change of pronouns in the two clauses. First, 'My thoughts arenot your thoughts'—you have not taken My truth into your minds, nor Mypurposes into your wills; you do riot think God's thoughts.Therefore—'your ways (instead of 'My,' as we should have expected,to keep the regularity of the parallelism) are not My ways'—Irepudiate and abjure your conduct and condemn it utterly.

Now, of course, in this charge of man's unlikeness to God, there is nocontradiction of, nor reference to, man's natural constitution, inwhich there are, at one and the same time, the likeness of the childwith the parent and the unlikeness between the creature and theCreator. If our thoughts were not in a measure like God's thoughts, weshould know nothing about Him. If our thoughts were not like God'sthoughts, we should have no standard for life or thinking.Righteousness and beauty and truth and goodness are the same things inheaven and earth, and alike in God and man. We are made after Hisimage, poor creatures though we be; and though there must ever be agulf of unlikeness, which we cannot bridge, between the thoughts of Himwhose knowledge has no growth nor uncertainty, whose wisdom is infiniteand all whose nature is boundless light, and our knowledge, and mustever be a gulf between the workings and ways of Him who works withouteffort, and knows neither weariness nor limitation, and our work, sooften foiled, so always toilsome, yet in all the unlikeness there is(and no man can denude himself of it) a likeness to the Father. For theimage in which God made man at the beginning is not an image that it isin the power of men to cast away, and in the worst of his corruptionsand the widest of his departures he still bears upon him the signs oflikeness 'to Him that created him.' The coin is rusty, battered,defaced; but still legible are the head and the writing. 'Whose imageand superscription hath it?' Render unto God the things that aredeclared to be God's, because they bear His likeness and are stampedwith His signature.

But that very necessary and natural likeness between God and man makesmore solemnly sinful the voluntary unlikeness which we have broughtupon ourselves. If there were no analogy, there could be no contrast.If God and man were utterly unlike, then there would be no evil in ourunlikeness and no need for our repentance.

The true state for each of us is that we should, as the greatastronomer said he had done in regard to his own science, 'think God'sthoughts after Him,' and have our minds filled with His truth and ourwills all harmonised with His purposes, and that we should thus makeour ways to run parallel with the ways of God. The blessedness, thepeace, the true manhood of a man, are that his ways and thoughts shouldbe like God's. And so my text comes with its indictment—You who bynature were formed in His image, you to whom it is open to sympathisewith His designs, to harmonise your wills with His will, and to bringall the dark and crooked ways in which you walk into full parallelismwith His way—you have departed into darkness of unlikeness, and inthought and in ways are the opposites of God.

Mark how wonderfully, in the simple language of my text, deep truthsabout this sin of ours are conveyed. Notice its growth and order. Itbegins with a heart and mind that do not take in God's thoughts,truths, purposes, desires, and then the alienated will and the darkenedunderstanding and the conscience which has closed itself against Hisimperative voice issue afterwards in conduct which He cannot accept asin any way corresponding with His. First comes the thought unreceptiveof God's thought, and then follow ways contrary to God's ways.

Notice the profound truth here in regard to the essential and deepestevil of all our evil. 'Your thoughts'; 'yourways,'—self-dependence and self-confidence are the master-evils ofhumanity. And every sin is at bottom the result of saying—'I will notconform myself to God, but I am going to please myself, and take my ownway.' My own way is never God's way; my own way is always the devil'sway. And the root of all sin lies in these two strong, simple words,'Your thoughts not Mine; your ways not Mine.'

Notice, too, how there are suggested the misery and retribution of thisunlikeness. 'If you will not make My thoughts your thoughts, I shallnot take your ways as My ways. I will leave you to them.' 'You will befilled with the fruit of your own devices. I shall not incorporate youractions into My great scheme and purpose.' Men

'Would not know His ways,
And He has left them to their own.'

So here we have the solemn indictment brought by God's own voiceagainst us all. The criminality of our unlikeness to Him rests upon ouroriginal likeness.

The unlikeness roots itself in thought, and blossoms in the poisonousflower of God-displeasing acts. It brings down upon our heads thesolemn retribution of separation from Him, and being filled with thefruit of our own devices. Such is the indictment brought against everysoul of man upon the earth, and there is built upon it the call torepentance and change,' let the wicked forsake his way, and theunrighteous man his thoughts.' The question rises in many a heart,'How am I to forsake these paths on which my feet have so longedwalked?' And if I do, what about all the years behind me, full of wildwanderings and thoughts in all of which God was not?

II. The second verse of our text meets that despairing question. Itproclaims the elevation of God's ways and thoughts above ours, andthereon bases the assurance of pardon.

The relation is not only one of unlikeness and opposition, but it isalso one of analogy and superiority. The former clause began withthoughts which are the parents of ways, and, as befits the all-seeingJudge, laid bare first the hidden discord of man's heart and will, ereit pointed to the manifest antagonism of his doings. This clause beginswith God's ways, from which alone men can reach the knowledge of Histhoughts. The first follows the order of God's knowledge of man; thesecond, that of man's knowledge of God.

It is a wonderful and beautiful turn which the prophet here gives tothe thought of the transcendent elevation of God. The heavens are thevery type of the unattainable; and to say that they are 'higher thanthe earth' seems, at first sight, to be but to say, 'No man hathascended into the heavens,' and you sinful men must grovel here downupon your plain, whilst they are far above, out of your reach. But theheavens bend. They are an arch, and not a straight line. They touch thehorizon; and there come from them the sweet influences of sunshine andof rain, of dew and of blessing, which bring fertility. So they are notonly far and unattainable, but friendly and beneficent, andcommunicative of good. Like them, in true analogy but yet infinitesuperiority to the best and noblest in man, is the boundless mercy ofour pardoning God:

'The glorious sky, embracing all,
Is like its Maker's love,
Wherewith encompassed, great and small
In peace and order move.'

'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher thanyour ways.' The special 'thought' and 'way' which is meant here isGod's thought and way about sin. There are three points here on which Iwould touch for a moment. First, God's way of dealing with sin islifted up above all human example. There is such a thing as pardoningmercy amongst men. It is a faint analogy of, as it is an offshoot from,the divine pardon, but all the forgivingness of the most placable andlong-suffering and gladly pardoning of men is but as earth to heavencompared with the greatness of His. Our forgiveness has itslimitations. We sometimes cannot pardon as freely as we thought,because there blends with our indignation against evil a passionatepersonal sense of wrong done to us which we cannot get rid of, and thatdisturbs the freeness and the joyfulness of many a human pardon. ButGod's pardon is undisturbed and hindered by any sense of personalresentment, though sin is an offense against Him, and in its freeness,its fulness, its frequency, and its sovereign power to melt away thatwhich it forgives, it towers above the loftiest of earth's beauties offorgiveness, as the starry heavens do above the flat plain.

God's pardon is above all human example, even though, having once beenreceived by us, it ought to become for us the pattern by which we shapeand regulate our own lives. Nothing of which we have any experience inourselves or in others is more than as a drop to the ocean comparedwith the absolute fulness and perfect freeness and unwearied frequencyof His forgiveness. 'He will abundantly pardon.' He will multiplypardon. 'With Him there is plenteous redemption.' We think we havestretched the elasticity of long suffering and forgiveness further thanwe might have been reasonably expected to do if seven times we forgivethe erring brother, but God's measure of pardon is seventy times seven,two perfectnesses multiplied into themselves perfectly; for the measureof His forgiveness is boundless, and there is no searching of thedepths of His pardoning mercy. You cannot weary Him out, you cannotexhaust it. It is full at the end as at the beginning; and after allits gifts still it remains true, 'With Him is the multiplying ofredemption.'

Again, God's way of dealing with sin surpasses all our thought. Allreligion has been pressed with this problem, how to harmonise theperfect rectitude of the divine nature and the solemn claims of lawwith forgiveness. All religions have borne witness to the fact that menare dimly aware of the discord and dissonance between themselves andthe divine thoughts and ways; and a thousand altars proclaim to us howthey have felt that something must be done in order that forgivenessmight be possible to an all-righteous and Sovereign Judge. The Jew knewthat God was a pardoning God, but to him that fact stood as needingmuch explanation and much light to be thrown upon its relations withthe solemn law under which he lived. We have Jesus Christ. The mysteryof forgiveness is solved, in so far as it is capable of solution, inHim and in Him alone. His death somewhat explains how God is just andthe Justifier of him that believeth. High above man's thoughts thisgreat central mystery of the Gospel rises, that with God there isforgiveness and with God there is perfect righteousness. The Cross asthe basis of pardon is the central mystery of revelation; and it is notto be expected that our theories shall be able to sound the depths ofthat great act of the divine love. Perhaps our plummets do not go tothe bottom of the bottomless after all; but is it needful that weshould have gone to the rim of the heavens, and round about it on theoutside, before we rejoice in the sunshine? Is it needful that weshould have traversed the abysses of the heavens, and passed from starto star and told their numbers, before we can say that they are bright,or before we can walk in their light? We do not need to understand the'how' in order to be sure of the fact that Christ's death is ourforgiveness. Do not be in such a hurry as some people are nowadays, todeclare that the doctrine of the Cross is contrary to man'sconceptions. It surpasses them, and the very fact that it surpassesought to stop us from pronouncing that it contradicts. 'As theheavens are higher than the earth, so are My thoughts higher than yourthoughts.'

Lastly, we are taught here that God's way of dealing with sin is thevery highest point of His self-revelation. There are many glories ofthe divine nature set forth in all His ways, but the loftiest of themall is this, that He can neutralise and destroy the fact of man'stransgressing, wiping it out by pardon; and in the very act of pardonreconstituting in purity, and with a heart for all holiness, the sinfulmen whom He forgives. This is the shining apex of all that He has done,rising above creation and every other 'way' of His, as high as theloftiest heavens are above the earth.

Therefore, have a care of all forms of Christianity which do not putGod's pardoning mercy in the foreground. They are maimed, and in themmist and cloud have covered with a roof of doleful grey the low-lyingearth, and separated it from the highest heavens. The true glory of therevelation of God gathers round that central Cross; and there, in thatMan dying upon it in the dark—the sacrifice for a world's sin—is theloftiest, most heavenly revelation of the all-revealing God. Strike outthe Cross from Christianity, or weaken its aspect as a message offorgiveness and redemption, and you have quenched its brightest light,and dragged it down to be but a little higher, if any, than manyanother scheme of other moralists, philosophers, poets, and religiousteachers. The distinctive glory of Christianity is this—it tells ushow God sweeps away sin.

And so my last thought is that, if we desire to see up on the highestheavens of God's character, we must go down into the depths of theconsciousness of our own sin, and learn first, how unlike our ways andthoughts are to God, ere we can understand how high above us, and yetbeneficently arching over us, are His ways and thoughts to us. We liebeneath the heavens like some foul bog full of black ooze, rotten earthand putrid water, where there is nothing green or fair. But the promiseof the bending heavens, with their sweet influences, declares thepossibility of reclaiming even that waste, and making it rejoice andblossom as the rose. Spread yourselves out, dear friends, in lowlysubmission and penitent acknowledgment beneath the all-vivifying mercyof that shining heaven of God's pardon; and then the old promise willbe fulfilled in you: 'Truth shall spring out of the earth, andrighteousness shall look down from heaven; yea, the Lord shall givethat which is good, and our land'—barren and poisoned as it hasbeen—responding to the skyey influences, 'shall yield her increase.'

WE SURE OF TO-MORROW? A NEW YEAR'S SERMON

'To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.'—ISAIAH lvi.12.

These words, as they stand, are the call of boon companions to newrevelry. They are part of the prophet's picture of a corrupt age whenthe men of influence and position had thrown away their sense of duty,and had given themselves over, as aristocracies and plutocracies areever tempted to do, to mere luxury and good living. They are summoningone another to their coarse orgies. The roystering speaker says, 'Donot be afraid to drink; the cellar will hold out. To-day's carouse willnot empty it; there will be enough for to-morrow.' He forgetsto-morrow's headaches; he forgets that on some tomorrow the wine willbe finished; he forgets that the fingers of a hand may write the doomof the rioters on the very walls of the banqueting chamber.

What have such words, the very motto of insolent presumption andshort-sighted animalism, to do with New Year's thoughts? Only this,that base and foolish as they are on such lips, it is possible to liftthem from the mud, and take them as the utterance of a lofty and calmhope which will not be disappointed, and of a firm and lowly resolvewhich may ennoble life. Like a great many other sayings, they may fitthe mouth either of a sot or of a saint. All depends on what the thingsare which we are thinking about when we use them. There are thingsabout which it is absurd and worse than absurd to say this, and thereare things about which it is the soberest truth to say it. So lookingforward into the merciful darkness of another year, we may regard thesewords as either the expressions of hopes which it is folly to cherish,or of hopes that it is reasonable to entertain.

I. This expectation, if directed to any outward things, is an illusionand a dream.

These coarse revellers into whose lips our text is put only meant by itto brave the future and defy to-morrow in the riot of theirdrunkenness. They show us the vulgarest, lowest form which theexpectation can take, a form which I need say nothing about now.

But I may just note in passing that to look forward principally asanticipating pleasure or enjoyment is a very poor and unworthy thing.We weaken and lower every day, if we use our faculty of hope mainly topaint the future as a scene of delights and satisfactions. We spoilto-day by thinking how we can turn it to the account of pleasure. Wespoil to-morrow before it comes, and hurt ourselves, if we are moreengaged with fancying how it will minister to our joy, than how we canmake it minister to our duty. It is base and foolish to be forecastingour pleasures; the true temper is to be forecasting our work.

But, leaving that consideration, let us notice how useless suchanticipation, and how mad such confidence, as that expressed in thetext is, if directed to anything short of God.

We are so constituted as that we grow into a persuasion that what hasbeen will be, and yet we can give no sufficient reason to ourselves ofwhy we expect it. 'The uniformity of the course of nature is thecorner-stone, not only of physical science, but, in a more homely form,of the wisdom which grows with experience, We all believe that the sunwill rise to-morrow because it rose to-day, and on all the yesterdays.But there was a today which had no yesterday, and there will be ato-day which will have no to-morrow. The sun will rise for the lasttime. The uniformity had a beginning and will have an end.

So, even as an axiom of thought, the anticipation that things willcontinue as they have been because they have been, seems to rest on aninsufficient basis. How much more so, as to our own little lives andtheir surroundings! There the only thing which we may be quite sure ofabout to-morrow is that it will not be 'as this day.' Even for those ofus who may have reached, for example, the level plateau of middle life,where our position and tasks are pretty well fixed, and we have littlemore to expect than the monotonous repetition of the same dutiesrecurring at the same hour every day—even for such each day has itsown distinctive character. Like a flock of sheep they seem all alike,but each, on closer inspection, reveals a physiognomy of its own. Therewill be so many small changes that even the same duties or enjoymentswill not be quite the same, and even if the outward things remainedabsolutely unaltered, we who meet them are not the same. Littlevariations in mood and tone, diminished zest here, weakened powerthere, other thoughts breaking in, and over and above all the slow,silent change wrought on us by growing years, make the perfectreproduction of any past impossible. So, however familiar may be theroad which we have to traverse, however uneventfully the same our daysmay sometimes for long spaces in our lives seem to be, though toourselves often our day's work may appear as a mill-horse round, yet indeepest truth, if we take into account the whole sum of the minutechanges in it and in us, it may be said of each step of our journey,'Ye have not passed this way heretofore.'

But, besides all this, we know that these breathing-times when 'we haveno changes,' are but pauses in the storm, landing-places in the ascent,the interspaces between the shocks. However hope may tempt us to dreamthat the future is like the present, a deeper wisdom lies in all oursouls which says 'No.' Drunken bravery may front that darkness withsuch words as these of our text, but the least serious spirit, in itsmost joyous moods, never quite succeeds in forgetting the solemnprobabilities, possibilities, and certainties which lodge in theunknown future. So to a wise man it is ever a sobering exercise to lookforward, and we shall be nearest the truth if we take due account, aswe do today, of the undoubted fact that the only thing certain aboutto-morrow is that it will not be as this day.

There are the great changes which come to some one every day, which maycome to any of us any day, which will come to all of us some day. Someof us will die this year; on a day in our new diaries some of us willmake no entry, for we shall be gone. Some of us will be smitten down byillness; some of us will lose our dearest; some of us will losefortune. Which of us it is to be, and where within these twelve monthsthe blow is to fall, are mercifully hidden. The only thing that wecertainly know is that these arrows will fly. The thing we do not knowis whose heart they will pierce. This makes the gaze into the darknessgrave and solemn. There is ever something of dread in Hope's blue eyes.

True, the ministry of change is blessed and helpful; true, the darknesswhich hides the future is merciful and needful, if the present is notto be marred. But helpful and merciful as they are, they invest theunknown to-morrow with a solemn power which it is good, thoughsobering, for us to feel, and they silence on every lip but that ofriot and foolhardy debauchery the presumptuous words, 'To-morrow shallbe as this day, and much more abundant.'

II. But yet there is a possibility of so using the words as to makethem the utterance of a sober certainty which will not be put to shame.

So long as our hope and anticipations creep along the low levels ofearth, and are concerned with external and creatural good, theirlanguage can never rise beyond, 'To-morrow may be as this day.'Oftenest they reach only to the height of the wistful wish, 'May it beas this day!' But there is no need for our being tortured with suchslippery possibilities. We may send out our hope like Noah's dove, notto hover restlessly over a heaving ocean of change, but to light onfirm, solid certainty, and fold its wearied wings there. Forecasting isever close by foreboding. Hope is interwoven with fear, the goldenthreads of the weft crossing the dark ones of the warp, and the wholetexture gleaming bright or glooming black according to the angle atwhich it is seen. So is it always until we turn our hope away fromearth to God, and fill the future with the light of His presence andthe certainty of His truth. Then the mists and doubts roll away; we getabove the region of 'perhaps' into that of 'surely'; the future is ascertain as the past, hope as assured of its facts as memory, prophecyas veracious as history.

Looking forward, then, let us not occupy ourselves with visions whichwe know may or may not come true. Let us not feed ourselves withillusions which may make the reality, when it comes to shatter them,yet harder to bear. But let us make God in Christ our hope, and passfrom peradventures to certitudes; from 'To-morrow may be as thisday—would that it might,' to 'It shall be, it shall be, for God is myexpectation and my hope.' We have an unchanging and an inexhaustibleGod, and He is the true guarantee of the future for us. The more weaccustom ourselves to think of Him as shaping all that is contingentand changeful in the nearest and in the remotest to-morrow, and asbeing Himself the immutable portion of our souls, the calmer will beour outlook into the darkness, and the more bright will be the clearlight of certainty which burns for us in it.

To-day's wealth may be to-morrow's poverty, to-day's health to-morrow'ssickness, to-day's happy companionship of love to-morrow's achingsolitude of heart, but to-day's God will be to-morrow's God, to-day'sChrist will be to-morrow's Christ. Other fountains may dry up in heator freeze in winter, but this knows no change, 'in summer and winter itshall be.' Other fountains may sink low in their basins after muchdrawing, but this is ever full, and after a thousand generations havedrawn from it, its stream is broad and deep as ever. Other springs maybe left behind on the march, and the wells and palm-trees of each Elimon our road may be succeeded by a dry and thirsty land where no wateris, but this spring follows us all through the wilderness, and makesmusic and spreads freshness ever by our path. We can forecast nothingbeside; we can be sure of this, that God will be with us in all thedays that lie before us. What may be round the next headland we knownot; but this we know, that the same sunshine will make a broadeningpath across the waters right to where we rock on the unknown sea, andthe same unmoving mighty star will burn for our guidance. So we may letthe waves and currents roll as they list—or rather as He wills, and belittle concerned about the incidents or the companions of our voyage,since He is with us. We can front the unknown to-morrow, even when wemost keenly feel how solemn and sad are the things it may bring.

'It can bring with it nothing
But He will bear us through.'

If only our hearts be fixed on God and we are feeding our minds andwills on Him, His truth and His will, then we may be quite certainthat, whatever goes, our truest riches will abide, and whoever leavesour little company of loved ones, our best Friend will not go away.Therefore, lifting our hopes beyond the low levels of earth, and makingour anticipations of the future the reflection of the brightness of Godthrown on that else blank curtain, we may turn into the worthyutterance of sober and saintly faith, the folly of the riotoussensualist when he said, 'To-morrow shall be as this day.'

The past is the mirror of the future for the Christian; we look back onall the great deeds of old by which God has redeemed and helped soulsthat cried to Him, and we find in them the eternal laws of His working.They are all true for to-day as they were at first; they remain trueforever. The whole history of the past belongs to us, and avails forour present and for our future. 'As we have heard, so have we seen inthe city of our God.'

To-day's experience runs on the same lines as the stories of the 'yearsof old,' which are 'the years of the right hand of the Most High.'Experience is ever the parent of hope, and the latter can only buildwith the bricks which the former gives. So the Christian has to layhold on all that God's mercy has done in the ages that are gone by, andbecause He is a 'faithful Creator' to transmute history into prophecy,and triumph in that 'the God of Jacob is our refuge.'

Nor only does the record of what He has been to others come in to bringmaterial for our forecast of the future, but also the remembrance ofwhat He has been to ourselves. Has He been with us in six troubles? Wemay be sure He will not abandon us at the seventh. He is not in the wayof beginning to build and leaving His work unfinished. Remember what Hehas been to you, and rejoice that there has been one thing in yourlives which, you may be sure, will always be there. Feed your certainhopes for to-morrow on thankful remembrances of many a yesterday.'Forget not the works of God,' that you may 'set your hopes on God.'Let our anticipations base themselves on memory, and utter themselvesin the prayer, 'Thou hast been my help; leave me not, neither forsakeme, O God of my salvation.' Then the assurance that He whom we know tobe good and wise and strong will shape the future, and Himself be theFuture for us, will take all the fear out of that forward gaze, willcondense our light and unsubstantial hopes into solid realities, andset before us an endless line of days, in each of which we may gainmore of Him whose face has brightened the past and will brighten thefuture, till days shall end and time open into eternity.

III. Looked at in another aspect, these words may be taken as the vowof a firm and lowly resolve.

There is a future which we can but very slightly influence, and theless we look at that the better every way. But there is also a futurewhich we can mould as we wish—the future of our own characters, theonly future which is really ours at all—and the more clearly we set itbefore ourselves and make up our minds as to whither we wish it to betending, the better. In that region, it is eminently true that'to-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.' The law ofcontinuity shapes our moral and spiritual characters. What I am to-day,I shall increasingly be to-morrow. The awful power of habit solidifiesactions into customs, and prolongs the reverberation of every note oncesounded, along the vaulted roof of the chamber where we live. To-day isthe child of yesterday and the parent of to-morrow.

That solemn certainty of the continuance and increase of moral andspiritual characteristics works in both good and bad, but with adifference. To secure its full blessing in the gradual development ofthe germs of good, there must be constant effort and tenaciousresolution. So many foes beset the springing of the good seed in ourhearts—what with the flying flocks of light-winged fugitive thoughtsever ready to swoop down as soon as the sower's back is turned andsnatch it away, what with the hardness of the rock which the roots soonencounter, what with the thick-sown and quick-springing thorns—that ifwe trust to the natural laws of growth and neglect careful husbandry,we may sow much but we shall gather little. But to inherit the fullconsequences of that same law working in the growth and development ofthe evil in us, nothing is needed but carelessness.

Leave it alone for a year or two and the 'fruitful field will be aforest,' a jungle of matted weeds, with a straggling blossom wherecultivation had once been.

But if humbly we resolve and earnestly toil, looking for His help, wemay venture to hope that our characters will grow in goodness and inlikeness to our dear Lord, that we shall not cast away our confidencenor make shipwreck of our faith, that each new day shall find in us adeeper love, a perfecter consecration, a more joyful service, and thatso, in all the beauties of the Christian soul and in all the blessingsof the Christian life, 'to-morrow shall be as this day, and much moreabundant.' 'To him that hath shall be given.' 'The path of the just isas the shining light, that shineth more and more until the noontide ofthe day.'

So we may look forward undismayed, and while we recognise the darknessthat wraps to-morrow in regard to all mundane affairs, may feed ourfortitude and fasten our confidence on the double certainties that weshall have God and more of God for our treasure, that we shall havelikeness to Him and more of likeness in our characters. Fleetingmoments may come and go. The uncertain days may exercise their variousministry of giving and taking away, but whether they plant or root upour earthly props, whether they build or destroy our earthly houses,they will increase our riches in the heavens, and give us fullerpossession of deeper draughts from the inexhaustible fountain of livingwaters.

How dreadfully that same law of the continuity and development ofcharacter works in some men there is no need now to dwell upon. Byslow, imperceptible, certain degrees the evil gains upon them.Yesterday's sin smooths the path for to-day's. The temptation onceyielded to gains power. The crack in the embankment which lets a dropor two ooze through is soon a great hole which lets in a flood. It iseasier to find a man who has never done a wrong thing than to find aman who has done it only once. Peter denied his Lord thrice, and eachtime more easily than the previous time. So, before we know it, thethin gossamer threads of single actions are twisted into a rope ofhabit, and we are 'tied with the cords of our sins.' Let no man say,'Just for once I may venture on evil; so far I will go and no farther.'Nay, 'to-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.'

How important, then, the smallest acts become when we think of them asthus influencing character! The microscopic creatures, thousands ofwhich will go into a square inch, make the great white cliffs thatbeetle over the wildest sea and front the storm. So, permanent andsolid character is built up out of trivial actions, and this is thesolemn aspect of our passing days, that they are making us.

We might well tremble before such a thought, which would be dreadful tothe best of us, if it were not for pardoning mercy and renewing grace.The law of reaping what we have sown, or of continuing as we havebegun, may be modified as far as our sins and failures are concerned.The entail may be cut off, and to-morrow need not inherit to-day'sguilt, nor to-day's habits. The past may be all blotted out through themercy of God in Christ. No debt need be carried forward to another pageof the book of our lives, for Christ has given Himself for us, and Hespeaks to us all—'Thy sins be forgiven thee.' No evil habit needcontinue its dominion over us, nor are we obliged to carry on the badtradition of wrongdoing into a future day, for Christ lives, and 'ifany man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away,all things are become new.'

So then, brethren, let us humbly take the confidence which these wordsmay be used to express, and as we stand on the threshold of a new yearand wait for the curtain to be drawn, let us print deep on our heartsthe uncertainty of our hold of all things here, nor seek to build noranchor on these, but lift our thoughts to Him, who will bless thefuture as He has blessed the past, and will even enlarge the gifts ofHis love and the help of His right hand. Let us hope for ourselves notthe continuance or increase of outward good, but the growth of oursouls in all things lovely and of good report, the daily advance in thelove and likeness of our Lord.

So each day, each succeeding wave of the ocean of time shall cast uptreasures for us as it breaks at our feet. As we grow in years, weshall grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Saviour JesusChrist, until the day comes when we shall exchange earth for heaven.That will be the sublimest application of this text, when, dying, wecan calmly be sure that though to-day be on this side and to-morrow onthe other bank of the black river, there will be no break in thecontinuity, but only an infinite growth in our life, and heaven'sto-morrow shall be as earth's to-day, and much more abundant.

FLIMSY GARMENTS

'Their webs shall not become garments.'—ISAIAH lix. 6.

'I counsel thee to buy of me … white raiment, that thou mayest beclothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear.'—REV. iii.18.

The force of these words of the prophet is very obvious. He has beenpouring out swift, indignant denunciation on the evil-doers in Israel;and, says he, 'they hatch co*ckatrice's eggs and spin spiders' webs,'pointing, as I suppose, to the patient perseverance, worthy of a bettercause, which bad men will exercise in working out their plans. Thenwith a flash of bitter irony, led on by his imagination to say morethan he had meant, he adds this scathing parenthesis, as if he said,'Yes, they spin spiders' webs, elaborate toil and creeping contrivance,and what comes of it all! The flimsy foul thing is swept away by God'sbesom sooner or later. A web indeed! but they will never make a garmentout of it. It looks like cloth, but it is useless.' That is the oldlesson that all sin is profitless and comes to nothing.

I venture to connect with that strongly figurative declaration of theessential futility of godless living, our second text, in which Jesususes a similar figure to express one aspect of His gifts to thebelieving soul. He is ready to clothe it, so that 'being clothed, itwill not be found naked.'

I. Sin clothes no man even here.

Notice in passing what a hint there is of the toil and trouble that menare so willing to take in a wrong course. Hatching and spinning bothsuggest protracted, sedulous labour. And then the issue of it allis—nothing.

Take the plainest illustrations of this truth first—the breach ofcommon laws of morality, the indulgence, for instance, in dissipation.A man gets a certain coarse delight out of it, but what does he getbesides? A weakened body, a tyrannous craving, ruined prospects,oftenest poverty and shame, the loss of self-respect and love; of moralexcellences, of tastes for what is better. He is not a beast, and hecannot live for pure animalism without injuring himself.

Then take actual breaches of human laws. How seldom these 'pay,' evenin the lowest sense. Thieves are always poor. The same experience offutility dogs all coarse and palpable breaches of morality. It isalways true that 'He that breaketh a hedge, a serpent shall bite him.'

The reasons are not far to seek. This is, on the whole, God's world, aworld of retribution. Things are, on the whole, on the side ofgoodness. God is in the world, and that is an element not to be leftout in the calculation. Society is on the side of goodness to a largeextent. The constitution of a man's own soul, which God made, works inthe same direction. Young men who are trembling on the verge ofyouthful yieldings to passion, are tempted to fancy that they can sowsin and not reap suffering or harm. Would that they settled it in theirthoughts that he who fires a fuse must expect an explosion!

But the same rule applies to every godless form of life. Take ourManchester temptation, money or success in business. Take ambition.Take culture, literary fame. Take love and friendship. What do they allcome to, if godless? I do not point to the many failures, but supposesuccess: would that make you a happy man? If you won what you wanted,would it be enough? What 'garments' for your conscience, for your senseof sin, for your infinite longings would success in any godless courseprovide? You would have what you wanted, and what would it bring withit? Cares and troubles and swift satiety, and not seldom incapacity toenjoy what you had won with so much toil. If you gained the prize, youwould find clinging to it something that you did not bargain for, andthat took most of the dazzle away from it.

II. The rags are all stripped off some day.

Death is a becoming naked as to the body, and as to all the occupationsthat terminate with bodily life. It necessarily involves the loss ofpossessions, the cessation of activities, the stripping off ofself-deceptions, and exposure to the gaze of the Judge, withoutdefence. The godless soul will 'be found naked' and ashamed. All 'worksof darkness,' laden with rich blossom or juicy fruit though they haveseemed to be, will then be seen to be in tragic truth 'fruitless.' Alife's spinning and weaving, and not a rag to cover the toiler afterall! Is that 'productive labour'?

III. Christ will clothe you.

'White raiment.' Pure character. Covering before the Judge. Festal robeof Victory.

'Buy'—how? By giving up self.

THE SUNLIT CHURCH

'Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord isrisen upon thee. 2. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth,and gross darkness the people; but the Lord shall arise upon thee, andHis glory shall be seen upon thee. 3. And the Gentiles shall come tothy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.'—ISAIAH lx. 1-3.

The personation of Israel as a woman runs through the whole of thissecond portion of Isaiah's prophecy. We see her thrown on the earth amourning mother, a shackled captive. We hear her summoned once andagain to awake, to arise, to shake herself from the dust, to loose thebands of her neck. These summonses are prophecies of the impendingMessianic deliverance. The same circle of truths, in a somewhatdifferent aspect, is presented in the verses before us. The prophetsees the earth wrapped in a funeral pall of darkness, and a beam ofmore than natural light falling on one prostrate form. The old story isrepeated, Zion stands in the light, while Egypt cowers in gloom. Thelight which shines upon her is 'the Glory of the Lord,' the ancientbrightness that dwelt between the cherubim within the veil in thesecret place of the Most High, and is now come out into the open worldto envelop the desolate captive. Thus touched by the light she becomeslight, and in her turn is bidden to shine. There is a very remarkablecorrespondence reiterated in my text between the illuminating God andthe illuminated Zion. The word for shine is connected with the word forlight, and might fairly be rendered 'lighten,' or 'be light.' Twice thephrase 'thy light' is employed; once to mean the light which is thinebecause it shines on thee; once to mean the light which is thinebecause it shines from thee. The other word, three times repeated, forrising, is the technical word which expresses the sunrise, and it isapplied both to the flashing glory that falls upon Zion and to thelight that gleams from her. Touched by the sun, she becomes a sun, andblazes in her heaven in a splendour that draws men's hearts. So, then,if that be the fair analysis of the words before us, they present to ussome thoughts bearing on the Missionary work of the Church, and Igather them all up in three—the fact, the ringing summons, and theconfident promise.

I. Now, as to the fact.

Beneath the poetry of my text there lie very definite conceptions of avery solemn and grave character, and these conceptions are thefoundation of the ringing summons that follows, and which reposes upona double basis—viz. 'for thy light is come,' and 'for darknesscovers the earth.' There is a double element in the representation. Wehave a darkened earth, and a sunlit and a sunlike church; and unless wehold these two convictions—both of them-in firm grasp, and that notmerely as convictions that influence our understanding, but as everpresent forces acting on our emotions, our consciences, our wills, weshall not do the work which God has set us to do in the world. I neednot dwell long on the former of these, or speak of that funeral pallthat wraps the whole earth. Only remember that it is no darkness thatcame from His hand who forms the light and creates darkness, but islike the smoke that lies over our great cities—the work of many anearth-born fire, whose half-consumed foulness hides the sun from us. Ifwe take the sulphureous and smoky pall that wraps the earth, andanalyse its contents, they are these: the darkness of ignorance, thedarkness of sorrow, the darkness of sin. Of ignorance; for throughoutthe wide regions that lie beneath that covering spread over all nationsis there any certitude about God, about man, about morals, aboutresponsibilities, about eternity? Peradventures, guesses, dreams,precious fragments of truth, twisted in with the worst of lies, nobleaspirations side by side with bestial representations—these are thethings on which our brethren repose, or try to repose. We do not forgetthat light which lighteneth every man that cometh into the world.

We do not forget, of course, that everywhere there are feelings afterHim, and everywhere there are gleams and glimpses of a vanishing light,else life were impossible; but oh, dear brethren, let us not forgeteither that the people sit in darkness of ignorance, which is thesaddest darkness that can afflict men.

And it is a darkness of sorrow, for all the ills that flesh is heir topress, unalleviated and unsustained by any known helper in the heavens,upon millions of our fellows. They stand, as the great German poetdescribes himself as standing, in one of the most pathetic of hislyrics, before the marble image of the fair goddess, who has pity onher face and beauty raying from her limbs, but she has no arms. Sotears fall undried. The light-hearted savage is a fiction. What a heavygloom lies upon his past and his present, which darkens into animpenetrable mist that wraps and hides the future!

And the darkness is a darkness of sin as well as of sorrow and ofignorance. On that point I need not dwell. We all believe that all have'sinned and come short of the glory of God,' and we all believe thatidolatry, as we see it, and as it is wrought out, is an ally ofimpurity and of sin. The process is this: men make gods in their ownimage, and the gods make devils of the men. 'They that make them arelike unto them, so is every one that trusteth in them.' We need noother principle than that to account for the degradation of heathenismand for the obscenities and foul transgression within the very courtsof the temple.

Now, dear friends, that I may not dwell too long upon the A B C of ourbelief, let me urge you in one sentence to be on your guard againstpresent-day tendencies which weaken the force of this solemn, tragicalconviction as to the realities of heathendom. The new science ofcomparative religion has done much for us. I am not saying one wordagainst this pursuit, or the conclusions which are drawn from it. But Ipray you to remember that the underlying truths buried beneath thesystem that any men hold as their religion are one thing, and thepractical working of that system, as we see it in daily life, isaltogether another. The actual character of heathenism is not to belearned from the sacred books of all nations and the precious gleams ofwisdom and feeling after the Divine which we recognise in man. As asimple matter of fact, all over the world the religion of heathennations is a mass of obscenity, intertwined so closely with noblerthoughts that the two seem to be inseparable. Unalleviated sorrows,hideous foulnesses, a gross ignorance covering all the most importantrealities for men—these are the facts with which we have to grapple.Do not let us forget them.

And on the other side, remember the contrasted picture here of thesunlit and sunny church. The incarnation of Jesus Christ is thefulfilment of my text. 'We behold His glory, the glory as of the onlybegotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.' If you and I areChristians, we are bound to believe in Him as the exclusive source ofcertainty. We hear from Him no peradventure, but His word is, 'Verily,verily, I say unto you,' and on that word we rest all our knowledge ofGod, of duty, of man, and of the future. Instead of fears, doubt,perhapses, we have a living Christ and His rock-word. And in Him is alljoy, and in Him is the cleansing from all sin. And this threefoldradiance, into which the one pure light may be analysed, falls upon us.It falls all over the world as well; but they into whose hearts it hascome, they whose faces are turned to it, they receive it in a sense inwhich the unreceptive and unresponsive darkness of the world does not.The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness will have none ofit, and so it is darkness yet. The light shineth upon us, and if by Hismercy we have opened our hearts to it, then, according to the profoundteaching of this context, we are not only a sun-lighted but a sunlikeChurch, and to us the commandment comes, 'Arise, shine, for thy lightis come,' and has turned thy poor darkness into a sun too.

If we have the light we shall be light. That is but putting in apicturesque form the very central truth of Christianity. The last wordof the gospel is transformation. We become like Him if we live nearHim, and the end for which the Master became like unto us in Hisincarnation and passion was that we might become like to Him by thereception of His very own life unto our souls. Light makes many asurface on which it falls flash, but in the optics of earth it is therays which are not absorbed that are reflected; but in this loftierregion the illumination is not superficial but inward, and it is thelight which is swallowed up within us that then comes forth from us.Christ will dwell in our hearts, and we shall be like some poor littlediamond-shaped pane of glass in a cottage window which, when the sunsmites it, is visible over miles of the plain. If that sun falls uponus, its image will be mirrored in our hearts and flashing in our lives.The clouds that lie over the sunset, though in themselves they be butpoor, grey, and moist vapour, when smitten by its beneficent radiance,become not unworthy ministers and attendants upon its glory. So, mybrethren, it may be with us, for Christ comes to be our light, BecauseHe is in us and with us we are changed into His likeness, and the namesthat are most appropriate to Him He shares with us. Is He the'Son'?—we are sons. Is He 'the Light of the world'? His own lips tellus, 'Ye are the light of the world.' Is He the Christ? The Psalm says:'Touch not my Christs, and do My prophets no harm.' Critics havequarrelled over these last chapters of the Book of Isaiah, as to whomthe servant of the Lord is; whether he is the personal or collectiveIsrael, whether he is Christ or His Church. Let us take the lesson thatHe and we are so united that His office that made the union possible,wherein He was sacrificed on the Cross for us all—belongs byderivation to His servants, and that He, the Sun of Righteousness,moves in the heavens circled by many another sun.

So, dear friends, these two convictions of these two facts, the darkearth, the sunlit, sunlike church, lie at the basis of all ourmissionary work. If once we begin to doubt about them, if once we beginto think that men have got a good deal of light already, and can dovery well without much more, or if we at all are hesitant about ourpossession of the light, and the certitudes and the joys that are init, then good-bye to our missionary zeal. We shall soon begin to askthe question, 'To what purpose is this waste?'—though the lips thatfirst asked it, by the bye, did not much recommend it—and shallconsider that money and resources and precious lives are too preciousto be thrown away thus. But if we rightly appreciate the force of thesetwin principles, then we shall be ready to listen to the ringingsummons.

II. We have here, in the second place, based upon these two facts, thesummons to the Church. 'Shine, for thy light is come.' If we havelight, we are light. If we are light, we shall shine; but the shiningis not altogether spontaneous and effortless. Stars do not need to bebidden to shine nor candles either; but we need the exhortation,because there are many things that dim the brilliance of our light andinterfere with its streaming forth. True, the property of light is toshine, but we can rob the inward light of its beams. The silent witnessof a Christian life transformed into the likeness of Jesus Christ is,perhaps, the best contribution that any of us can make to the spread ofHis kingdom. It is with us as it is with the great lights in theheavens. 'There is no speech nor language; their voice is not heart,'yet, 'their line has gone through all the earth, and their words to theend of the world.' So we may quietly ray out the light in us andwitness the transforming power of our Master by the transparent purityof our lives. But the command suggests likewise effort, and that effortmust be in the direction of the specific vocal proclamation of His name.

I take both these methods of fulfilling the command into my view, inthe further remarks that I make, and I put that which I have to sayupon this into three sentences: if we are light, we shall be able toshine; if we are light, we are bound to shine; if we are light, weshall wish to shine. We shall be able to shine. And man can manifestwhat he is unless he is a coward. Any man can talk about the thingsthat are interesting to him if only they are interesting to him. Anyman that has Jesus Christ can say so; and perhaps the utterance of thesimple personal conviction is the best method of proclaiming His name.All other things are surplusage. They are good when they come, they maybe done without. Learning, eloquence, and the like of these, are theadornments of the lamp, but it does not matter whether the lamp be agorgeous affair of gilt and crystal, or whether it be a poor piece ofblock tin; the main question is: are there wick and oil in it? Thepitcher may be gold and silver, or costly china, or it may be a poorpotsherd. Never mind. If there is water in it, it will be precious to athirsty lip. And so, dear brethren, I press this upon you: everyChristian man has the power, if he is a Christian, to proclaim hisMaster, and if he has the Light he will be able to show it. I pause fora moment to say that this suggests for us the condition of all faithfuland effectual witness for Jesus Christ. Cultivate understanding and allother faculties as much as you like: but oh! you Christian ministers,as well as others in less official and public positions, remember this:the fitness to impart is to possess, and that being taken for granted,the main thing is secured. As long as the electric light is in contactwith the battery, so long does it burn. Electricians have been tryingduring the past few years to make accumulators, things in which theycan store the influence and put it away in a corner and use it so thatthe light need not be in connection with the battery; and they have notsucceeded—at least it is only a very partial success. You and I cannotstart accumulators. Let us remember that personal contact with Jesus ispower, and only that personal contact is so. Arise, shine! but if thouhast gone out of the light, thou wilt shine no more.

But again, if we are light we are bound to shine. That is an obviousprinciple. The capacity to shine is the obligation to shine, for we areall knit together by such mystical cords in this strange brotherhood ofhumanity that every one of us holds his possession as trust propertyfor the use and behoof of others, and in the present case that which wehave received, and the price at which we have received it, give an edgeto the keenness of the obligation, and add a new grip to the stringencyof the command. It is because Christ has given Himself thus to us thatthe possession of Him binds us to the imitation of His example, and theimpartation of Him to all our brethren. The obligation lies at ourdoors, and cannot be delegated or devolved.

If we have light, we shall wish to shine. What shall we say about theChristian people who never really had such a wish? God forbid that Ishould say they have no light; but this I will say, it burns verydimly. Dear brethren, there is no better test of the depth and thepurity of our personal attachment to, and possession of, our Masterthan the impulse that will spring from them to communicate Him toothers. 'Necessity is laid upon me, yea, woe is me if I preach not.'That should be the word of every one of us, and it will be so in themeasure in which we ourselves have thoroughly laid hold of JesusChrist. 'This is a day of good tidings, and we cannot hold our peace,'said the handful of lepers in the camp. 'If we are silent some mischiefwill come to us.' 'Thy word, when I shut it up in my bones and said, Iwill speak no more in Thy name, was like a fire, and was weary offorbearing and could not stay.' Brother, do you know anything of thedivine necessity to share your blessing with the men around you? Didyou ever feel what it was to carry a burden of the Lord that drove youto speech, and left you no rest until you had done what it impelled youto do? If not, I beseech you to ask yourselves whether you cannot getnearer to the sun than away out there on the very edge of its system,receiving so few of its beams, and these so impotent that they canscarcely do more than melt the surface of the thick-ribbed ice thatwarps your spirit. If we are light we shall be enabled, we shall bebound, we shall wish, to shine. Christian men and women, is this trueof you?

III. Lastly, notice here the confident promise.

'The Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness ofthy rising.' If we have the light we shall be light; if we are light weshall shine, and if we shine we shall attract. Certainly men and womenwith the light of Christ in them will draw others to them, just as manyan eye that cannot look undazzled upon the sun can look upon itmirrored upon some polished surface. A painter will fling upon hiscanvas a scene that you and I, with our purblind eyes, have looked athundreds of times, and seen no beauty; but when we gaze on the picture,then we know how fair it is. There is an attractive power in the lightof Christ shining from the face of a man. Of course, we have tomoderate our expectations. We have to remember that whilst it is truethat some men will come to the light, it is also true that some men'love the darkness, and will not come to the light because their deedsare evil'; and we have to remember that we have no right to anticipaterapid results. 'An inheritance may be begotten hastily at thebeginning, but the end thereof shall not be blessed,' said the wiseman; and the history of the Christian Church in many of its missionaryoperations is a sad commentary upon the saying. We must remember thatwe cannot estimate how long the preparation for a change, which will bedeveloped swiftly, may be. The sun on autumn mornings shines upon thefog; and the people below, because there is a fog, do not know that itis shining; but it is doing its work on the upper layer all the while,and at length eats its way through the fleecy obstruction, which thenswiftly disappears. That must be a very, very long day of which themorning twilight has been nineteen hundred years. Therefore, althoughthe vision tarries, we may fall back with unswerving confidence onthese words of my text—'The Gentiles shall come to the brightness ofthy rising.'

But after all this has been said, are you satisfied with the rate ofprogress, are you satisfied with the swiftness of the fulfilment ofsuch hopes? Whose fault is it that the rate of progress is what it is?Yours and mine and our predecessors'. There is such a thing as 'hastingthe day of the Lord,' and there is such a thing as protracting the timeof waiting. Dear brethren, the secret of our slow growth at home andabroad lies in my text. Fulfil the conditions and you will get theresult; but if you are not shining by a light which is Christ's light,who promised that it would have attraction or draw men to it? A greatdeal of the work of the Christian Church—but do not let us hideourselves in the generality of that word—a great deal of our work isartificial light, brewed out of retorts, and smelling sulphureous; anda great deal more of it is the phosphorescence that glimmers abovedecay. If the Christian Church has ceased in any measure, or in any ofits members, to be able to attract by the exhibition of its light, letthe Christian Church sit down and bethink itself of the sort of lightit gives, and perhaps it will find a reason for its failure. It isChrist, the holy Christ, the loving Christ, the Christ in us making uswise and gentle, it is the Christ manifested by word and by work, whowill draw the nations to Him.

So, men and brethren, do you keep near your Master and live close byHis side till you are drenched and saturated with His glory, and allyour cold vapours turned into visible divinity and manifested Jesus.Keep near to Him. As long as a bit of scrap-iron touches a magnet, itis a magnet: as soon as the contact is broken it ceases to attract. Ifyou live in the full sunshine of Christ and have Him, not merelyplaying upon the surface of your mind, but sinking deep down into itand transforming your whole being, then some men will, as they look atyou, be filled with strange longings, and will say: 'Come, let us walkin the light of the Lord.' So may you and I live, like the morningstar, which, from its serene altitudes, touched into radiance by thesun unseen from the darkened plains, prophesies its rising to asleeping world, and is content to be lost in the lustre of thatunsetting Light!

WALLS AND GATES

'Thou shalt call thy walls Salvation, and thy gates Praise'—ISAIAH lx.18.

The prophet reaches the height of eloquence in his magnificent pictureof the restored Jerusalem, 'the city of the Lord, the Zion of the HolyOne of Israel.' To him the city stands for the embodiment of thenation, and his vision of the future is moulded by his knowledge of thepast. Israel and Jerusalem were to him the embodiments of the divineidea of God's dwelling with men, and of a society founded on thepresence of God in its midst. We are not forcing meanings on his wordswhich they will not bear, when we see in the society of men redeemed byChrist the perfect embodiment of his vision. Nor is the prophet of theNew Testament doing so when he casts his vision of the future which isto follow Resurrection and Judgment into a like form, and shows us thenew Jerusalem coming down out of heaven.

The end of the world's history is to be, not a garden but a city, avisible community, bound together because God dwells in it, and yet nothaving lost the blessed characteristics of the Garden from which manset out on his long and devious march.

The Christian form of the prophet's vision is the Christian Society,and in that society, each individual member possesses his own portionof the common blessings, so that the great words of this text have apersonal as well as a general application. We shall best bring outtheir rich contents by simply taking them as they stand, andconsidering what is promised by the two eloquent metaphors, which likensalvation to the walls and praise to the gates of the City of God.

I. Salvation is to be the city's wall.

Another prophet foretold that the returning exiles would dwell in aJerusalem that had no walls, 'for I, saith the Lord, will be unto her awall of fire round about'; and Isaiah sang, 'We have a strong city;salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks.' There is no needfor material defences for the community or the individual whom Goddefends. Would that the Church had lived up to the height of that greatthought! Would that we each believed it true in regard to our ownlives! There are three ways in which this promise may be viewed. We maythink of 'salvation' as meaning God's purpose to save. And then thecomfort and sense of security will be derived from the thought thatwhat He intends He performs, and that nothing can traverse that purposeexcept our own rebellions self-will. They whom God designs to keep arekept; they whom God wills to save are saved, unless they oppose Hiswill, which opposition is in itself to be lost, and leads to ultimateand irreparable loss.

We may think of salvation as an actually begun work. Then the comfortand sense of security will be derived from that great work by whichsalvation has begun to be ours. The work of Christ keeps us from alldanger, and no foes can make a breach in that wall, nor reach those whostand safe behind its strong towers.

We may think of salvation as a personal experience, and then thecomfort and sense of security will be derived from that blessedconsciousness of possessing in some measure at least the spirit, not ofbondage, but of a son. The consciousness of having 'salvation' is ourbest defence against spiritual foes and our best shield againsttemporal calamities.

It is good for us to live by faith, to be thrown back on our unseenprotector, to feel with the psalmist, 'Thou, Lord, makest me to dwellin safety, though alone,' and to see the wall great and high that isdrawn round our defenceless tent pitched on the sands of the flatdesert.

II. Praise is to be the city's gate.

As to the Church, this prophecy anticipates the Apostle's teaching thatthe whole divine work of Redemption, from its fore-ordination beforethe foundation of the world, to its application to each sinful soul, is'to the end that we should be unto the praise of His glory' or, as heelsewhere expands and enriches the expression, 'to the praise of theglory of His grace.'

We are 'secretaries of His praise.' A gate is that by which the safeinhabitants go out into the region beyond, and the outgoings of theactive life of every Christian should be such as to make manifest theblessings that he enjoys within the shelter of the city's walls. Onlyif our hidden life is blessed with a begun salvation will our outwardlife be vocal with the music of praise. The gate will be praise if, andonly if, the wall is salvation.

And praise is the gate by which we should go out into the world, evenwhen the world into which we go is dark and the ways rough and hard. Ifwe have the warm glow of a realised salvation in our hearts, sorrowsthat are but for a moment will not silence the voice of praise, thoughthey may cast it into a minor key. The praise that rises from a sadheart is yet more melodious in God's ear than that which carols whenall things go well. The bird that sings in a darkened cage makes musicto its owner. 'Songs in the night' have a singular pathos and thrillthe listeners. When we 'take the cup of salvation' and call on the nameof the Lord, we shall offer to Him the sacrifices of thanksgiving,though He may recall some of the precious gifts that He gave. For Henever takes away the wall of salvation which He has built around us,and as long as that wall stands, its gates will be praise. Submission,recognition of His will, and even 'silence because Thou didst it,' arepraise to His ear.

THE JOY-BRINGER

'To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty forashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for thespirit of heaviness.'—ISAIAH lxi. 3.

In the little synagogue of Nazareth Jesus began His ministry by layingHis hand upon this great prophecy and saying, 'It is Mine! I havefulfilled it.' The prophet had been painting the ideal MessianicDeliverer, with special reference to the return from the Babyloniancaptivity. That was 'the liberty to the captives, and the opening ofthe prison to them that are bound,' and about which he was thinking.But no external deliverance of that sort could meet the needs, norsatisfy the aspirations, of a soul that knows itself and itscirc*mstances. Isaiah, or the man who goes by his name, spoke greaterthings than he knew. I am not going to enter upon questions ofinterpretation; but I may say, that no conception of Jewish prophecycan hold its ground which is not framed in the light of that greatsaying in the synagogue of Nazareth. So, then, we have here the 'Man ofSorrows,' as this very prophet calls Him in another place, presentingHimself as the Transformer of sorrow and the Bringer of joy, in regardto infinitely deeper griefs than those which sprang in the heart of thenation because of the historical captivity.

There is another beautiful thing in our text, which comes out moredistinctly if we follow the Revised Version, and read 'to give untothem a garland for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment ofpraise for the spirit of heaviness.' There we have two contrastedpictures suggested: one of a mourner with grey ashes strewed upon hisdishevelled locks, and his spirit clothed in gloom like a black robe;and to him there comes One who, with gentle hand, smoothes the ashesout of his hair, trains a garland round his brow, anoints his head withoil, and, stripping off the trappings of woe, casts about him a brightrobe fit for a guest at a festival. That is the miracle that JesusChrist can do for every one, and is ready to do for us, if we will letHim. Let us look at this wonderful transformation, and at the way bywhich it is effected.

The first point I would make is that—

I. Jesus Christ is the Joy-bringer to men because He is the Redeemer ofmen.

Remember that in the original application of my text to the deliverancefrom captivity, this gift of joy and change of sorrow into gladness wasno independent and second bestowment, but was simply the issue of theone that preceded it, viz., the gift of liberty to the captives, andthe opening of the prison to them that were bound. The gladness was agladness that welled up in the heart of the captives set free, andcoming out from the gloom of the Babylonian dungeon into the sunshineof God's favour, with their faces set towards Zion 'with songs andeverlasting joy upon their heads.'

Now you have only to keep firm hold of this connection between thesetwo thoughts to come to the crown and centre-point of this greatprophecy, as far as it applies to us, and that is that it is Christ asthe Emancipator, Christ as the Deliverer, Christ as He who brings usout of the prison of bondage of the tyranny of sin, who is the greatJoy-Giver. For there is no real, deep, fundamental and impregnablegladness possible to a man until his relations to God have beenrectified, and until, with these rectified relations, with theconsciousness of forgiveness and the divine love nestling warm at hisheart, he has turned himself away from his dread and his sin, and hasrecognised in his Father God 'the gladness of his joy.'

Of course, there are many of us who feel that life is sufficientlycomfortable and moderately happy, or at least quite tolerable, withoutany kind of reference to God at all. And in this day of growingmaterialism, and growing consequent indifference to the deepest needsof the spirit and the claims of religion, more and more men arefinding, or fancying that they find, that they can rub along somehow,and have a fair share of gladness and satisfaction, without any needfor a redeeming gospel and a forgiving Christ. But about all that kindof surface-joy the old words are true, 'even in laughter the heart issorrowful,' and hosts of us are satisfied with joys which Jesus has nopart in bringing, simply because our truest self has never onceawakened. When it does-and perhaps it will do so with some of you, likethe sleeping giant that is fabled to lie beneath the volcano whosesunny slopes are smiling with flowers—then you will find out that noone can bring real joy who does not take away guilt and sin.

Jesus Christ is the Joy-bringer, because Jesus Christ is theEmancipator. And true gladness is the gladness that springs from theconscious possession of liberty from the captivity which holds menslaves to evil and to their worst selves. Brethren, let us not fancythat these surface-joys are the joys adequate to a human spirit. Theyare ignoble, and they are infinitely foolish, because a touch of anawakened conscience, a stirring of one's deeper self, can scatter themall to pieces. So then, that is my first thought.

Let us suggest a second, that—

II. Jesus Christ transforms sorrow because He transforms the mourner.

In my text, all that this Joy-bringer and Transmuter of grief into itsopposite is represented as doing is on the man who feels the sorrow.And although, as I have said, the text, in its original position, issimply a deduction from the previous great prophecy which did point toa change of circ*mstances, and although Jesus does bring the 'joy ofsalvation' by a great change in a man's relations, yet in regard to theordinary sorrows of life, He affects these not so much by an operationupon our circ*mstances as by an operation upon ourselves, andtransforms sorrow and brings gladness, because He transforms the manwho endures it. The landscape remains the same, the difference is inthe colour of the glass through which we look at it. Instead of havingit presented through some black and smoked medium, we see it throughwhat the painter calls a 'Claude Lorraine' glass, tinged golden, andwhich throws its own lovely light upon all that it shows us. It ispossible—the eye that looks being purged and cleansed, so as to seemore clearly-that the facts remaining identical, their whole aspect andbearing may be altered, and that which was felt, and rightly felt, tobe painful and provocative of sadness and gloom, may change itscharacter and beget a solemn joy. It would be but a small thing totransform the conditions; it is far better and higher to transform us.We all need, and some of us, I have no doubt, do especially need, toremember that the Lord who brings this sudden transformation for us,does so by His operation within us, and, therefore, to that operationwe should willingly yield ourselves.

How does He do this? One answer to that question is—by giving to theman with ashes on his head and gloom wrapped about his spirit, sourcesof joy, if he will use them, altogether independent of externalcirc*mstances.' Though the fig-tree shall not blossom, and there be nofruit in the vine … yet will I rejoice in the Lord.' And everyChristian man, especially when days are dark and clouds are gathering,has it open to him, and is bound to use the possibility, to turn awayhis mind from the external occasions of sadness, and fix it on thechangeless reason for deep and unchanging joy—the sweet presence, thestrong love, the sustaining hand, the infinite wisdom, of his FatherGod.

Brethren, "the paradox of the Christian life" is, 'as sorrowful, yetalways rejoicing.' Christ calls for no hypocritical insensibility to'the ills that flesh is heir to.' He has sanctioned by His example thetears that flow when death hurts loving hearts. He commanded the womenof Jerusalem to 'weep for themselves and for their children.' He meansthat we should feel the full bitterness and pain of sorrows which willnot be medicinal unless they are bitter, and will not be curativeunless they cut deep. But He also means that whilst thus we suffer asmen, in the depths of our own hearts we should, at the same time, beturning away from the sufferings and their cause, and fixing ourhearts, quiet even then amidst the distractions, upon God Himself. Ah!it is hard to do, and because we do not do it, the promise that He willturn the sorrow into joy often seems to be a vain word for us.

It is not ours to rejoice as the world does, nor is it ours to sorrowas those who have no hope, or as those who have no God with them. Butthe two opposite emotions may, to a large extent, be harmonised andco-existent in a Christian heart, and, since they can be, they shouldbe. The Christian in sorrow should be as an island set in some stormysea, with wild waves breaking against its black, rocky coast, and thewind howling around it, but in the centre of it there is a deep andshady dell 'that heareth not the loud winds when they call,' and wherenot a leaf is moved by the tempest. In a like depth of calm and centraltranquillity it is possible for us to live, even while the stormhurtles its loudest on the outermost coasts of our being; 'assorrowful, yet always rejoicing,' because the Joy-bringer has openedfor us sources of gladness independent of externals.

And then there is another way by which, for us, if we will use ourprivileges, the sorrows of life may be transmuted, because we,contemplating them, have come to a changed understanding of theirmeaning. That is, after all, the secret charm to be commended to us atall times, but to be commended to us most when our hearts are heavy andthe days are dark around us. We shall never understand life if we classits diverse events simply under the two opposite categories ofgood—evil; prosperity—adversity; gains—losses; fulfilledexpectations—disappointed hopes, Put them all together under oneclass—discipline and education; means for growth; means forChristlikeness. When we have found out, what it takes a long while forus to learn, that the lancet and the bandage are for the same purpose,and that opposite weathers conspire to the same end, that of theharvest, the sting is out of the sorrow, the poison is wiped off thearrow. We can have, if not a solemn joy, at least a patientacquiescence, in the diversities of operation, when we learn that thesame hand is working in all for the same end, and that all thatcontributes to that end is good.

Here we may suggest a third way by which a transformation wrought uponourselves transforms the aspect of our sorrows, and that is, thatpossessing independent sources of joy, and having come to learn theeducational aspect of all adversity, we hereby are brought by JesusChrist Himself to the position of submission. And that is the mostpotent talisman to transform mourning into praise. An accepted grief isa conquered grief; a conquered grief will very soon be a comfortedgrief; and a comforted grief is a joy. By all these means Jesus Christ,here and now, is transmuting the lead and iron of our griefs into thegold of a not ignoble nor transient gladness.

And may I say one last word? My text suggests not only these two pointsto which I have already referred—viz. that Jesus Christ is theJoy-bringer because He is the Emancipator, and that He transformssorrow by transforming the mourner—but, lastly, that

III. Jesus gives joy after sorrow.

'Nevertheless, afterward' is a great word of glowing encouragement forall sad hearts. 'Fools and children,' says the old proverb, 'should notsee half-done work '; at least, they should not judge it. When theploughshare goes deep into the brown, frosty ground, the work is onlybegun. The earth may seem to be scarped and hurt, and, if one mightsay, to bleed, but in six months' time 'you scarce can see' the soilfor waving corn. Yes; and sorrow, as some of us could witness, is theforecast of purest joy. I have no doubt that there are men and womenhere who could say, 'I never knew the power of God, and the blessednessof Christ as a Saviour, until I was in deep affliction, and wheneverything else went dark, then in His light I saw light.' Do not someof you know the experience? and might we not all know it? and why do wenot know it?

Jesus Christ, even here and now, gives these blessed results of oursorrows, if they are taken to the right place, and borne in rightfashion. For it is they 'that mourn in Zion' that He thus blesses.There are some of us, I fear, whose only resource in trouble is tofling ourselves into some work, or some dissipation. There are peoplewho try to work away their griefs, as well as people who try feverishlyto drink them away. And there are some of us whose only resource fordeliverance from our sorrows is that, after the wound has bled all itcan, it stops bleeding, and the grief simply dies by lapse of time andfor want of fuel. An affliction wasted is the worst of all waste. Butif we carry our grief into the sanctuary, then, here and now, it willchange its aspect and become a solemn joy.

I say nothing about the ultimate result where every sorrow rightlyborne shall be represented in the future life by some stage in grace orglory, where every tear shall be crystallised, if I might say so, intoa flashing diamond, which flings off the reflection of the divinelight, where 'there shall be no sorrow nor sighing, nor any more pain,for the former things are passed away.' When the lesson has beenlearned, God burns the rod.

But, brethren, there is another sadder transformation. I have beenspeaking about the transformation of sorrow into joy. There is also thetransformation of joy into sorrow. I spoke a little while ago about the'laughter' in which the heart is 'sorrowful,' and the writer from whomI quoted the words goes on to say, 'The end of that mirth isheaviness.' 'Thereof cometh in the end despondency and madness.' I saw,on a hilltop, a black circle among the grass and heather. There hadbeen a bonfire there on Coronation Night, and it had all died down, andthat was the end—a hideous ring of scorched barrenness amidst theverdure. Take care that your gladnesses do not die down like that, butthat they are pure, and being pure are undying. Union with Jesus Christmakes sorrow light, and secures that it shall merge at last into 'joyunspeakable and full of joy.' I believe that separation from Christmakes joy shallow, and makes it certain that at last, instead of agarland, shall be ashes on the head, and that, instead of a festalrobe, the spirit shall be wrapped in a garment of heaviness.

THE HEAVENLY WORKERS AND THE EARTHLY WATCHERS

'For Zion's sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake Iwill not rest … I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem,which shall never hold their peace day nor night: ye that make mentionof the Lord, keep not silence, and give Him no rest'—ISAIAH lxii. 1,6, 7.

Two remarks of an expository nature will prepare the way for theconsideration of these words. The first is that the speaker is thepersonal Messiah. The second half of Isaiah's prophecies forms onegreat whole, which might be called The Book of the Servant of the Lord.One majestic figure stands forth on its pages with ever-growingclearness of outline and form. The language in which He is describedfluctuates at first between the collective Israel and the one Personwho is to be all that the nation had failed to attain. But even nearthe beginning of the prophecy we read of 'My servant whom I uphold,'whose voice is to be low and soft, and whose meek persistence is not tofail till He have 'set judgment in the earth.' And as we advance thereference to the nation becomes less and less possible, and therecognition of the person more and more imperative. At first the musicof the prophetic song seems to move uncertainly amid sweet sounds, fromwhich the true theme by degrees emerges, and thenceforward recurs overand over again with deeper, louder harmonies clustering about it, tillit swells into the grandeur of the choral close.

In the chapter before our text we read, 'The Spirit of the Lord God isupon me, because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings untothe meek.' Throughout the remainder of the prophecy, with the exceptionof one section which contains the prayer of the desolate Israel, thissame person continues to speak; and who he is was taught in thesynagogue of Nazareth. Whilst the preceding chapter, then, brings inChrist as proclaiming the great work of deliverance for which He isanointed of God, the following chapter presents Him as 'treading thewine-press alone,' which is a symbol of the future judgment by theglorified Saviour. Between these two prophecies of the earthly life andof the still future judicial energy, this chapter of our text lies,referring, as I take it, to the period between these two—that is, toall the ages of the Church's development on earth. For these Christhere promises His continual activity, and His continual bestowment ofgrace to His servants who watch the walls of His Jerusalem.

The second point to be noticed is the remarkable parallelism in theexpressions selected as the text: 'I will not hold My peace'; thewatchmen 'shall never hold their peace.' And His command to them isliterally, 'Ye that remind Jehovah—no rest (or silence) to you, andgive not rest to Him.'

So we have here Christ, the Church, and God all represented asunceasingly occupied in the one great work of establishing 'Zion' asthe centre of light, salvation, and righteousness for the whole world.The consideration of these three perpetual activities may open for ussome great truths and stimulating lessons.

I. First, then, The glorified Christ is constantly working for His
Church.

We are too apt to regard our Lord's real work as all lying in the past,and, from the very greatness of our estimate of what He has done, toforget the true importance of what He evermore does. 'Christ that died'is the central object of trust and contemplation for devout souls—andthat often to the partial hiding of Christ that is 'risen again, who iseven at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.'But Scripture sets forth the present glorious life of our ascended Lordunder two contrasted and harmonious aspects—as being rest, and asbeing continuous activity in the midst of rest. He was 'received upinto heaven, and sat on the right hand of God.' In that session on thethrone manifold and mighty truths are expressed. It proclaims the fullaccomplishment of all the purposes of His earthly ministry; itemphasises the triumphant completion of His redeeming work by Hisdeath; it proclaims the majesty of His nature, which returns to the'glory which He had with the Father before the world was'; it shows tothe world, as on some coronation day, its King on His throne, girdedwith power and holding the far-reaching sceptre of the universe; itprophesies for men, in spite of all present sin and degradation, ashare in the dominion which manhood has in Christ attained, for thoughwe see not yet all things put under Him, we see Jesus crowned withglory and honour. It prophesies, too, His final victory over all thatsets itself in unavailing antagonism to His love. It points us backwardto an historical fact as the basis of all our hopes for ourselves andfor our fellows, giving us the assurance that the world's deliverancewill come from the slow operation of the forces already lodged in itshistory by Christ's finished work. It points us forwards to a future asthe goal of all these hopes, giving us that confidence of victory whichHe has who, having kindled the fire on earth, henceforward sits atGod's right hand, waiting in the calm and sublime patience of consciousomnipotence and clear foreknowledge 'until His enemies become Hisfootstool.'

But whilst on the one side Christ rests as from a perfected work whichneeds no addition nor repetition, on the other He 'rests not day nornight.' And this aspect of His present state is as distinctly set forthin Scripture as that is. Indeed the words already quoted as embodyingthe former phase contain the latter also. For is not 'the right hand ofGod' the operative energy of the divine nature? And is not 'sitting atthe right hand of God' equivalent to possessing and wielding thatunwearied, measureless power? Are there not blended together in thispregnant phrase the ideas of profoundest calm and of intensest action,that being expressed by the attitude, and this by the locality?Therefore does the evangelist who uses the expression expand it intowords which wonderfully close his gospel, with the same representationof Christ's swift and constant activity as he had been all alongpointing out as characterising His life on earth. 'They went forth,'says he, 'and preached everywhere'—so far the contrast between theLord seated in the heavens and His wandering servants fighting on earthis sharp and almost harsh. But the next words tone it down, and weavethe two apparently discordant halves of the picture into a whole: 'theLord working with them.' Yes! in all His rest He is full of work, inall their toils He shares, in all their journeys His presence goesbeside them. Whatever they do is His deed, and the help that is doneupon the earth He doeth it all Himself.

Is not this blessed conviction of Christ's continuous operation in andfor His Church that which underlies, as has often been pointed out, thelanguage of the introduction to the Acts of the Apostles, where mentionis made of the former treatise that told 'all which Jesus began both todo and teach'? The gospel records the beginning, the Book of the Actsthe continuance; it is one biography in two volumes. Being yet presentwith them He spoke and acted. Being exalted He 'speaketh from heaven,'and from the throne carries on the endless series of His works of powerand healing. The whole history is shaped by the same conviction.Everywhere 'the Lord' is the true actor, the source of all the lifewhich is in the Church, the arranger of all the providences whichaffect its progress. The Lord adds to the Church daily. His name worksmiracles. To the Lord believers are added. His angel, His Spirit, bringmessages to His servants. He appears to Paul, and speaks to Ananias.The Gentiles turn to the Lord because the hand of the Lord is with thepreachers. The Lord calls Paul to carry the gospel to Macedonia. TheLord opens the heart of Lydia, and so throughout. Not 'the Acts of theApostles,' but 'the Acts of the Lord in and by His servants,' is theaccurate title of this book. The vision which flashed angel radiance onthe face, and beamed with divine comfort into the heart, of Stephen,was a momentary revelation of an abiding reality, and completes therepresentation of the Saviour throned beside Almighty power. He beheldhis Lord, not seated, as if careless or resting, while His servant'sneed was so sore, but as if risen with intent to help, and ready todefend—'standing on the right hand of God.'

And when once again the heavens opened to the rapt eyes of John inPatmos, the Lord whom he beheld was not only revealed as glorified inthe lustre of the inaccessible light, but as actively sustaining andguiding the human reflectors of it. He 'holdeth the seven stars in Hisright hand,' and 'walketh in the midst of the seven goldencandlesticks.'

Not otherwise does my text represent the present relation of Christ toHis Church. It speaks of a continuous forth-putting of power, which itis, perhaps, not over-fanciful to regard as dimly set forth here in atwofold form—namely, work and word. At all events, that divisionstands out clearly on the pages of the New Testament, which ever holdsforth the double truth of our Lord's constant action on, in, through,and for His Zion, and of our High Priest's constant intercession.

'I will not rest.' Through all the ages His power is in exercise. Heinspires in good men all their wisdom, and every grace of life andcharacter. He uses them as His weapons in the contest of His love withthe world's hatred; but the hand that forged, and tempered, andsharpened the blade is that which smites with it; and the axe must notboast itself against him that heweth. He, the Lord of lords, ordersprovidences, and shapes the course of the world for that Church whichis His witness: 'Yea, He reproved kings for their sake, saying, Touchnot Mine anointed, and do My prophets no harm.' The ancient legendwhich told how, on many a well-fought field, the ranks of Romediscerned through the battle-dust the gleaming weapons and white steedsof the Great Twin Brethren far in front of the solid legions, is truein loftier sense in our Holy War. We may still see the vision which theleader of Israel saw of old, the man with the drawn sword in his hand,and hear the majestic word, 'As Captain of the Lord's host am I nowcome.' The Word of God, with vesture dipped in blood, with eyes alitwith His flaming love, with the many crowns of unlimited sovereigntyupon His head, rides at the head of the armies of heaven; 'and inrighteousness doth He judge and make war.' For the single soulstruggling with daily tasks and petty cares, His help is near and real,as for the widest work of the collective whole. He sends none of ustasks in which He has no share. The word of this Master is never 'Go,'but 'Come.' He unites Himself with all our sorrows, with all ourefforts. 'The Lord also working with them' is a description of all thelabours of Christian men, be they great or small.

Nor is this all. There still remains the wonderful truth of Hiscontinuous intercession for us. In its widest meaning that wordexpresses the whole of the manifold ways by which Christ undertakes andmaintains our cause. But the narrower signification of prayer on ourbehalf is applicable, and is in Scripture applied, to our Lord. As onearth, the climax of all His intercourse with His disciples was thatdeep yet simple prayer which forms the Holy of Holies of John's Gospel,so in heaven His loftiest office for us is set forth under the figureof His intercession. Before the Throne stands the slain Lamb, andtherefore do the elders in the outer circle bring acceptable praises.Within the veil stands the Priest, with the names of the tribes blazingon the breastplate and on the shoulders of His robes, near the seat oflove, near the arm of power. And whatever difficulty may surround thatidea of Christ's priestly intercession, this at all events is impliedin it, that the mighty work which He accomplished on earth is everpresent to the divine mind as the ground of our acceptance and thechannel of our blessings; and this further, that the utterance ofChrist's will is ever in harmony with the divine purpose. Therefore Hisprayer has in it a strange tone of majesty, and, if we may so say, ofcommand, as of one who knows that He is ever heard: 'I will that theywhom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am.'

The instinct of the Church has, from of old, laid hold of an event inHis earthly life to shadow forth this great truth, and has bid us see apledge and a symbol of it in that scene on the Lake of Galilee: thedisciples toiling in the sudden storm, the poor little barque tossingon the waters tinged by the wan moon, the spray dashing over thewearied rowers. They seem alone, but up yonder, in some hidden cleft ofthe hills, their Master looks down on all the weltering storm, andlifts His voice in prayer. Then when the need is sorest, and the hopeleast, He comes across the waves, making their surges His pavement, andusing all opposition as the means of His approach, and His presencebrings calmness, and immediately they are at the land.

So we have not only to look back to the Cross, but up to the Throne.From the Cross we hear a voice, 'It is finished.' From the Throne avoice, 'For Zion's sake I will not hold My peace, and for Jerusalem'ssake I will not rest.'

II. Secondly, Christ's servants on earth derive from Him a likeperpetual activity for the same object.

The Lord, who in the former portion of these verses declares His ownpurpose of unwearied action for Zion, associates with Himself in thelatter portion the watchmen, whom He appoints and endows for functionsin some measure resembling His own, and exercised with constancyderived from Him. 'I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem,which shall never hold their peace day nor night.' On the promisefollows, as ever, a command (for all divine gifts involve theresponsibility of their use, and it is not His wont either to bestowwithout requiring, or to require before bestowing), 'Ye that remindJehovah, keep not silence.'

There is distinctly traceable before a reference to a two-fold form ofoccupation devolving on these Christ-sent servants. They are watchmen,and they are also God's remembrancers. In the one capacity as in theother, their voices are to be always heard. The former metaphor iscommon in the Old Testament, as a designation of the prophetic office,but, in the accordance with the genius of the New Testament, asexpressed on Pentecost, when the Spirit was poured out on the lowly aswell as on the high, on the young as on the old, and all prophesied, itmay be fairly extended to designated not to some selected few, but thewhole mass of Christian people. The watchman's office falls to be doneby all who see the coming peril, and have a tongue to echo it forth.The remembrancer's priestly office belongs to every member of Christ'spriestly kingdom, the lowest and least of whom has the privilege ofunrestrained entry into God's presence-chamber, and the power ofblessing the world by faithful prayer. What should we think of acitizen in a beleaguered city, who saw enemy mounting the veryramparts, and gave no alarm because that was the sentry's business? Insuch extremity every man is a soldier, and women and children can atleast keep watch and raise shrill cries of warning. The gifts, then,here promised, and the duties that flow from them, are not theprerogatives or the tasks of any class or order, but the heritage andthe burden of the Lord to every member of His Church.

Our voices should ever be heard on earth. A solemn message is committedto us, by the very fact of our belief in Jesus Christ and His work.With that faith come responsibilities of which no Christian can denudehimself. To warn the wicked man to turn from His wickedness; to blowthe trumpet when we see the sword coming; to catch ever gleaming on thehorizon, like the spears of an army through the dust of the march, theoutriders and advance-guard of the coming of Him whose coming is lifeor death to all, and to lift up our voices with strength and say,'Behold your God'; to peal into the ears of men, sunken in earthlinessand dreaming of safety, the cry which may startle and save; to ring outin glad tones to all who wearily ask, 'Watchman, what of the night?will the night soon pass?' the answer which the slow dawning east hasbreathed into our else stony lips, 'The morning cometh'; to proclaimChrist, who came once to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself, whocomes ever, through the ages, to bless and uphold the righteousnesswhich He loves and to destroy the iniquity which He hates, who willcome at the last to judge the world—this is the never-ending task ofthe watchmen on the walls of Jerusalem. The New Testament calls it'preaching,' proclaiming as a herald does. And both metaphors carry onecommon lesson of the manner in which the work should be done. Withclear loud voice, with earnestness and decision, with faithfulness andself-oblivion, forgetting himself in his message, must the herald soundout the will of his King, the largess of his Lord. And the watchman whostands on his watch-tower whole nights, and sees foemen creepingthrough the gloom, or fire bursting out among the straw-roofed cottageswithin the walls, shouts with all his might the short, sharp alarm,that wakes the sleepers to whom slumber were death. Let us ponder thepattern.

Our voices should ever be heard in heaven. They who trust God remindHim of His promises by their very faith; it is a mute appeal to Hisfaithful love, which He cannot but answer. And, beyond that, theirprayers come up for a memorial before God, and have as real an effectin furthering Christ's kingdom on earth as is exercised by theirentreaties and proclamations to men.

How distinctly these words of our text define the region within whichour prayers should ever move, and the limits which bound theirefficacy! They remind God. Then the truest prayer is that which basesitself on God's uttered will, and the desires which are born of our ownfancies or heated enthusiasms have no power with Him. The prayer thatprevails is a reflected promise. Our office in prayer is but to receiveon our hearts the bright rays of His word, and to flash them back fromthe polished surface to the heaven from whence they came.

These two forms of action ought to be inseparable. Each, if genuine,will drive us to the other, for who could fling himself into thewatchman's work, with all its solemn consequences, knowing how weak hisvoice was, and how deaf the ears that should hear, unless he couldbring God's might to his help? and who could honestly remind God of Hispromises and forget his own responsibilities? Prayerless work will soonslacken, and never bear fruit; idle prayer is worse than idle. Youcannot part them if you would. How much of the busy occupation which iscalled 'Christian work' is detected to be spurious by this simple test!How much so-called prayer is reduced by it to mere noise, no betterthan the blaring trumpet or the hollow drum!

The power for both is derived from Christ. He sets the watchmen; Hecommands the remembrancers. From Him flows the power, from His goodSpirit comes the desire, to proclaim the message. That message is thestory of His life and death. But for what He does and is we should havenothing to say; but for His gift we should have no power to say it; butfor His influence we should have no will to say it. He commands andfits us to be intercessors, for His mighty work brings us near to God;He opens for us access with confidence to God. He inspires our prayers.He 'hath made us priests to God.'

And, as the Christian power of discharging these twofold duties isdrawn from Christ, so our pattern is His manner of discharging them,and the condition of receiving the power is to abide in Him. Heproposes Himself as our Example. He calls us to no labours which He hasnot Himself shared, nor to any earnestness or continuance in prayerwhich He has not Himself shown forth. This Master works in front of Hismen. The farmer that goes first among all the sowers, and heads theline of reapers in the yellowing harvest-field, may well have diligentservants. Our Master 'went forth, weeping, bearing precious seed,' andhas left it in our hands to sow in all furrows. Our Master is the Lordof the harvest, and has borne the heat of the day before His servants.Look at the amount of work, actual hard work, compressed into thesethree short years of His ministry. Take the records of the words Hespake on that last day of His public teaching, and see what unweariedtoil they represent. Ponder upon that life till you catch the spiritwhich breathed through it all, and, like Him, embrace gladly thewelcome necessity of labour for God, under the sense of a vocationconferred upon you, and of the short space within which your servicemust be condensed. 'I must work the work of Him that sent me, while itis day: the night cometh, when no man can work.'

Christ asks no romantic impossibilities from us, but He does ask acontinuous, systematic discharge of the duties which depend on ourrelation to the world, and on our relation to Him. Let it be our life'swork to show forth His praise; let the very atmosphere in which we moveand have our being be prayer. Let two great currents set ever throughour days, which two, like the great movements in the ocean of the air,are but the upper and under halves of the one movement—that beneathwith constant energy of desire rushing in from the cold poles to bewarmed and expanded at the tropics, where the all-moving sun pours hisdirectest rays; that above charged with rich gifts from the Lord oflight, glowing with heat drawn from Him, and made diffusive by Histouch, spreading itself out beneficent and life-bringing into allcolder lands, swathing the world in soft, warm folds, and turning thepolar ice into sweet waters.

In the tabernacle of Israel stood two great emblems of the functions ofGod's people, which embodied these two sides of the Christian life. Dayby day, there ascended from the altar of incense the sweet odour, whichsymbolised the fragrance of prayer as it wreathes itself upwards to theheavens. Night by night, as darkness fell on the desert and the camp,there shone through the gloom the hospitable light of the great goldencandlestick with its seven lamps, whose steady rays outburned the starsthat paled with the morning. Side by side they proclaimed to Israel itsdestiny to be the light of the world, to be a kingdom of priests.

The offices and the honour have passed over to us, and we shall fallbeneath our obligations unless we let our light shine constantly beforemen, and let our voice rise like a fountain night and day' beforeGod—even as He did who, when every man went to his own house, wentalone to the Mount of Olives, and in the morning, when every manreturned to his daily task, went into the Temple and taught. By Hisexample, by His gifts, by the motive of His love, our resting, workingLord says to each of us, 'Ye that remind God, keep not silence.' Let usanswer, 'For Zion's sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem'ssake I will not rest.'

III. Finally, The constant activity of the servants of Christ willsecure the constant operation of God's power.

'Give Him no rest': let there be no cessation to Him. These are boldwords, which many people would not have been slow to rebuke if they hadbeen anywhere else than in the Bible. Those who remind God are not tosuffer Him to be still. The prophet believes that they can regulate theflow of divine energy, can stir up the strength of the Lord.

It is easy to puzzle ourselves with insoluble questions about theco-operation of God's power and man's; but practically, is it not truethat God reaches His end, of the establishment of Zion, through theChurch? He has not barely willed that the world should be saved, norbarely that it should be saved through Christ, nor barely that itshould be saved through the knowledge of Christ; but His will is thatthe world shall be saved, by faith in the person and work of Christ,proclaimed as a gospel by men who believe it. And, as a matter of fact,is it not true that the energy with which God's power in the gospelmanifests itself depends on the zeal and activity and prayerfulness ofthe Church? The great reservoir is always full—full to the brim;however much may be drawn from it, the water sinks not a hairsbreadth;but the bore of the pipe and the power of the pumping-engine determinethe rate at which the stream flows from it. 'He could there do nomighty works because of their unbelief.' The obstruction ofindifference dammed back the water of life. The city perishes forthirst if the long line of aqueduct that strides across the plaintowards the home of the mountain torrents be ruinous, broken down,choked with rubbish.

God is always the same—equally near, equally strong, equally gracious.But our possession of His grace, and the impartation of His gracethrough us to others, vary, because our faith, our earnestness, ourdesires, vary. True, these no doubt are also His gifts and His working,and nothing that we say now touches in the least on the great truththat God is the sole originator of all good in man; but while believingthat, as no less sure in itself than blessed in its message ofconfidence and consolation to us, we also have to remember, 'If any manopen the door, I will come in to him.' We may have as much of God as wewant, as much as we can hold, far more than we deserve. And if ever thevictorious power of His Church seems to be almost paling to defeat, andHis servants to be working no deliverance upon the earth, the cause isnot to be found in Him who is 'without variableness,' nor in His gifts,which are 'without repentance,' but solely in us, who let go our holdof the Eternal Might. No ebb withdraws the waters of that great ocean;and if sometimes there be sand and ooze where once the flashing floodbrought life and motion, it is because careless warders have shut thesea-gates.

An awful responsibility lies on us. We can resist and refuse, or we canopen our hearts and draw into ourselves His strength. We can bring intooperation those energies which act through faithful men faithfullyproclaiming the faithful saying; or we can limit the Holy One ofIsrael. 'Why could not we cast him out?' 'Because of your unbelief.'

With what grand confidence, then, may the weakest of us go to his task.We have a right to feel that in all our labour God works with us; that,in all our words for Him, it is not we that speak, but the Spirit ofour Father that speaks in us; that if humbly and prayerfully, withself-distrust and resolute effort to crucify our own intrusiveindividuality, we wait for Him to enshrine Himself within us, strengthwill come to us, drawn from the deep fountains of God, and we too shallbe able to say, 'Not I, but the grace of God in me.'

How this sublime confidence should tell on our characters, destroyingall self-confidence, repressing all pride, calming all impatience,brightening all despondency, and ever stirring us anew to deeds worthyof the 'exceeding greatness of the power which worketh in us'—I canonly suggest.

On all sides motives for strenuous toil press in upon us—chiefly thosegreat examples which we have now been contemplating. But, besidesthese, there are other forms of activity which may point the samelesson. Look at the energy around us. We live in a busy time. Lifegoes swiftly in all regions. Men seem to be burning away faster thanever before, in an atmosphere of pure oxygen. Do we work as hard forGod as the world does for itself? Look at the energy beneath us: howevil in every form is active; how lies and half-truths propagatethemselves quick as the blight on a rose-tree; how profligacy, andcrime, and all the devil's angels are busy on his errands. If we aresitting drowsy by our camp-fires, the enemy is on the alert. You canhear the tramp of their legions and the rumble of their artillerythrough the night as they march to their posts on the field. It is notime for God's sentinels to nod. If they sleep, the adversary does not,but glides in the congenial darkness, sowing his baleful tares. Do wework as hard for God as the emissaries of evil do for their master?Look at the energy above us. On the throne of the universe is theimmortal Power who slumbereth not nor sleepeth. Before the altar of theheavens is the Priest of the world, the Lord of His Church, 'who everliveth to make intercession for us.' Round Him stand perfected spirits,the watchmen on the walls of the New Jerusalem, who 'rest not day andnight, saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.' From His presencecome, filling the air with the rustle of their swift wings and thelight of their flame-faces, the ministering spirits who evermore 'doHis commandments, hearkening to the voice of His word.' And we,Christian brethren, where are we in all this magnificent concurrence ofactivity, for purposes which ought to be dear to our hearts as they areto the heart of God? Do we work for Him as He and all that are with Himdo? Is His will done by us on earth, as it is heaven?

Alas! alas! have we not all been like those three apostles whose eyeswere heavy with sleep even while the Lord was wrestling with thetempter under the gnarled olives in the pale moonlight of Gethsemane?Let us arouse ourselves from our sloth. Let us lift up our cry to God:'Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord, as in the ancientdays in the generations of old'; and the answer shall sound from theheavens to us as it did to the prophet, an echo of his prayer turnedinto a command, 'Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion.'

MIGHTY TO SAVE

'Mighty to save.'—ISAIAH lxiii. 1.

We have here a singularly vivid and dramatic prophecy, thrown into theform of a dialogue between the prophet and a stranger whom he sees fromafar striding along from the mountains of Edom, with elastic step, anddyed garments. The prophet does not recognise him, and asks who he is.The Unknown answers, 'I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save.'Another question follows, seeking explanation of the splashed crimsongarments of the stranger, and its answer tells of a tremendous act ofretributive destruction which he has recently launched at the nationshostile to 'My redeemed.'

Now we note that this prophecy follows, both in the order of the bookand in the evolution of events, on those in chapter lxi., whichreferred to our Lord's work on earth, and in chapter lxii, which hasfor part of its theme His intercession in heaven. And we are entitledto take the view that the place as well as the substance of thisprophecy referred to the solemn act of final Judgment in which thereturning Lord will manifest Himself. Very significant is it that theprophet does not recognise in this Conqueror, with blood-bespatteredrobes, the meek sufferer of chapter liii., or Him who in chapter lxi.came to bind up the broken-hearted. And very instructive is it that thetitle in our text comes from the stranger's own lips, as relevant tothe tremendous act of judgment from which He is seen returning. Thetitle might seem rather to look back to the former manifestation of Himas bearing our griefs and carrying our sorrows. It does indeed, thankGod, look back to that never-to-be-forgotten miracle of mercy andpower, but it also brings within the sweep of His saving might thejudgment still to come.

I. The mighty Saviour as made known in the past and present.

We think much of the meek and gentle side of Christ's character.Perhaps we do not think enough of the strength of it. We trace Hisgreat sacrifice to His love, and we can never sufficiently adore thatincomparable manifestation of a love deeper than our plummets canfathom. But probably we do not sufficiently realise what giganticstrength went to the completion of that sacrifice. We know the solemnimagining of a great artist who has painted a colossal Deathoverbearing the weak resistance of a puny Love; but here love is thegiant, and his sovereign command brings Death obedient to it, to do hiswork. Yes, that weak man hanging on the Cross is therein revealed as'the power of God.' Strange clothing of weakness which yet cannot hidethe mighty limbs that wear it!

And if we think of our Lord's life we see the same combination ofgentleness and power. His very name rings with memories of the captainwhose one commanded duty was to 'be strong and of a good courage.'

In Him was all strength of manhood—inflexible, iron will, unchangingpurpose, strength from consecration, strength from righteousness. InHim was the heroism of prophets and martyrs in supreme degree.

In Him was the strength of indwelling Divinity. He fought and conqueredall man's enemies, routed sin, and triumphed over Death.

In the Cross we see divine power in operation in its noblest form, inits intensest energy, in its widest sweep, in its most magnificentresult. He is able to save, to save all, to save any.

He is mighty to save, and is able to save unto the uttermost, because
He lives for ever, and His power is eternal as Himself.

II. The mighty Saviour as to be manifested in the future.

Clearly the imagery of the context describes a tremendous act ofjudgment. And as clearly the Apocalyptic Seer understood this prophecyas not only pointing to Christ, but as to be fulfilled in the final actof judgment. He quotes its words when he paints his magnificent visionof the Conqueror riding forth on his white horse, with garmentssprinkled with blood and treading the 'winepress of the fierceness andwrath of Almighty God.' And the vision is interpreted unmistakably whenwe read that, though this Conqueror had a name unknown to any butHimself, 'His name is called the Word of God.' So the unity of personin the Word made flesh who dwelt among us, full of grace and of thisMighty One girt for battle, is taught.

Keeping fast hold of this clue, the contrast between thecharacteristics of the historical Jesus and of the rider on the whitehorse becomes solemn and full of warning. And the contrast between theerrand of the historical Jesus and that of the Conqueror bids us ponderon the possibilities that may sleep in perfect love. We have to widenour conceptions, if we have thought of our Jesus only as love, and havethought of love as shallow, as most men do. We are sometimes told thatthese two pictures, that of the Christ of the Gospels and that of theChrist of the Apocalypse, are incapable of being fused together in oneoriginal. But they can be stereoscoped, if we may say so. And they mustbe, if we are ever to understand the greatness of His love or theterribleness of His judgments. 'The wrath of the Lamb' sounds animpossibility, but if we ponder it, we shall find depths ofgraciousness as well as of awe in it.

Let us learn that the righteous Judge is logically and chronologicallythe completion of the picture of the merciful Saviour. In this agethere is a tendency to treat sin with too much pity and too littlecondemnation. And there is not a sufficiently firm grasp of the truththat divine love must be in irreconcilable antagonism with human sin,and can do nothing but chastise and smite it.

III. The saving purpose of even that destructive might.

Through the whole Old Testament runs the longing that God would 'awake'to smite evil.

The tragedy of the drowned hosts in the Red Sea, and Miriam and hermaidens standing with their timbrels and shrill song of triumph on thebank, is a prophecy of what shall be. 'Ye shall have a song as in thenight a holy feast is kept, and gladness of heart as when one goethwith a pipe to come unto the mountain of the Lord.' And at the thoughtof that solemn act of judgment they who love the Judge, and have longknown Him, 'may lift up their heads' in the confidence that 'theirredemption draweth nigh.' That is the last, and in some sense themightiest, greatest act by which He shows Himself 'mighty to save Hisredeemed.'

So we may, like the prophet, see that swift form striding nearer andnearer, but, unlike the prophet, we need not to ask, 'Who is this thatcometh?' for we have known Him from of old, and we remember the voicethat said, 'This same Jesus shall so come in like manner as ye haveseen Him go into heaven.' 'Herein is our love made perfect, that we mayhave boldness before Him in the day of judgment.'

THE WINEPRESS AND ITS TREADER

'Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments like himthat treadeth in the winefat? I have trodden the winepressalone.'—ISAIAH lxiii. 2, 3.

The structure of these closing chapters is chronological, and this isthe final scene. What follows is epilogue. The reference of thismagnificent imagery to the sufferings of Jesus is a completemisapprehension. These sufferings were dealt with once for all inchapter liii., and it is Messiah triumphant who has filled theprophet's vision since then.

I. The treading of the winepress.

The nations are flung into the press, as ripe grapes. The picture isplainly a figure of some tremendous judgment in which the powers thatoppose the majestic march of the triumphant Messiah will be crushed andtrampled to ruin. They are trodden 'in Mine anger, and their life-bloodis sprinkled on My garments.' It is He who crushes, not He who iscrushed. The winepress which He treads is the 'winepress of the wrathof Almighty God,' and His treading of it is His executing of God'sjudgments on those whose antagonism to Him and to His 'redeemed' hasbrought them within their sweep. The prophetic imagination kindles andcasts its thought into that terrible picture, which some fastidiouspeople would think coarse, of a peasant standing up to his knees in avat heaped with purple clusters, and fiercely trampling them down,while the red juice splashes upon his girt-up clothes.

The prophet does not date his vision. It has been realised many a time,and will be many a time still. Wherever opposition to Christ and Hiskingdom has reached ripeness, wherever antagonistic tendencies haveborne fruit which has matured, the winepress is set up and the treadingbegins. 'Wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gatheredtogether.' 'Immediately he putteth in the sickle because the harvest isdone.' The judgments tarry long, and Christ's servants, oppressed orhard pressed, get impatient, and cry 'How long, O Lord, dost Thou notjudge? It is time for Thee to work.' But long patience precedes thedivine awaking, for it is not God's way nor Christ's to cut down even acumbering tree, until the possibility of its bearing fruit is plainlyended, and the last use that He makes of anything is to burn it. Therepeated settings up of Christ's winepress have all been one inprinciple, and they all point onwards to a final one. There have beenmany 'days of the Lord,' and if men were wise and 'observed thesethings,'—which most of them are not,—they would see that these lesser'days' made a 'final great and terrible day of the Lord' supremelyprobable, and in perfect analogy with all that experience and historyhave testified as to the method of the divine government.

Surely it is strange that the groundless expectation of the unbrokencontinuance of the present order should be so strong that many shouldutterly ignore the truth taught by such teachers as these, andreiterated by science, which declares that the physical universe had abeginning and will have an end, and confirmed by Jesus Himself. Therewill come a to-morrow when the sun will not rise. There will come ato-morrow which will be 'the day of the Lord,' of which all theseearlier and partial epochs of judgment were but precursors and prophets.

II. The Treader of the Winepress.

The context clearly shows that, in the prophet's view, the sufferingMessiah in His exalted royalty is the agent of this, as of all divineacts. He is clothed with majesty, and it is 'in His hand,' or throughHis agency, that all 'the pleasure of the Lord' is brought to pass. Thecontrast with the figure in chap. liii. is ever to be kept in view. Thelowliness, the weales and bruises, the form without comeliness aregone, and for these we see a conqueror, glorious in apparel andstriding onwards in conscious strength.

But the access of majesty does not imply the putting off of lowlinessand meekness. There is much that is severe and terrible in the figurethat rises here before the prophet's vision, but both aspects equallybelong to the glorified Christ, and that duality in His character makeseach element more impressive. His long-suffering mercy and more thanhuman tenderness do not hamper His arm when it is bared to smite; Hisjudicial severity does not dam up the flow of His mercy and tenderness.When He was on earth, He wept over Jerusalem, but His tears did nothinder His pronouncing woe on the city. His love leads Him to warnbefore He smites, but it does not contradict His threatenings, noraugur our impunity. Nay rather, love compels Him to smite. And, moreterrible still, it is His very love that smites most severely heartsthat have rejected it and learn their folly and sin too late.

III. Why the winepress is trodden.

The context tells us. The triumphant figure, seen by the prophetstriding onwards from Edom, answers the question as to His identitywith, 'I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save.' Then thetreading of the winepress, from which He is represented as coming, isregarded as an exemplification of both these characteristics. It is agreat act of righteousness. It is a great act of salvation. Similarly,He is represented as having been moved to that destructive judgment bythe 'vengeance' that burned in His heart, and by His seeing that therewere none to help His 'redeemed.'

So, then, the destructive act is a manifestation of Righteousness,which in such a connection means retributive justice. Awe-inspiring asit may be, the thunderstorm brings relief to a world sweltering in astagnant atmosphere, and each blinding flash freshens the air. 'Whenthe wicked perish, there is shouting.' The destruction of some hoaryevil that has long afflicted humanity and blocked the progress of thekingdom which is 'righteousness and peace and joy,' is a good. Christ's'terrible things' are all 'in righteousness,' and meant to set Himforth as 'the confidence of all the ends of the earth.' To clear Hischaracter and government from all suspicion of moral indifference, todemonstrate by facts which the blindest can see, that it is not all thesame to Him whether men are good or bad, to write in great letterswhich, like the capitals on a map, stretch across a whole land, 'TheJudge of all the earth shall do right'—surely these are worthy ends tomove even the loving Christ to tread the winepress.

Further, His destructive judgments, however terrible, will always beaccurately measured by righteousness. They are not outbursts offeeling; they are in exact correspondence with the evils that bringthem down. The lava flows according to its own density and the lie ofthe land which it covers. These judgments are deformed by no undueseverity; no base elements of temper, no errors as to the degree ofcriminality mar them. They are calm and absolutely accurate judgmentsof Him who is not only just but Justice.

But the context further teaches us that the true point of view fromwhich to regard Christ's treading of the winepress is to think of it asredemptive and contributory to the salvation of 'My redeemed.'Therefore there follows immediately on this picture of the conquerortreading the peoples in His fury and pouring their life-blood on theearth, the song of the delivered. Up through the troubled air, heavywith thunder-clouds, soars their praise, as a lark might rise and pourits strains above a volcano in eruption—'I will mention the lovingkindness of the Lord, and the praises of the Lord, according to allthat the Lord hath bestowed on us and the great goodness toward thehouse of Israel which He hath bestowed on them, according to Hismercies, and according to the multitude of His loving kindnesses.'Pharaoh is drowned in the Red Sea; Miriam and her maidens on the bankclash their cymbals, and lift shrill voices in their triumphant hymn.Babylon sinks like a millstone in the great waters—'and I heard as itwere a great voice of a great multitude in heaven saying, Hallelujah;salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for true and righteousare His judgments.' The innermost impulse of judgment is love.

THE SYMPATHY OF GOD

'In all their afflictions He was afflicted, and the angel of Hispresence saved them'—ISAIAH lxiii. 9.

I. The wonderful glimpse opened here into the heart of God.

It is not necessary to touch upon the difference between the text andmargin of the Revised Version, or to enter on the reason for preferringthe former. And what a deep and wonderful thought that is, of divinesympathy with human sorrow! We feel that this transcends the prevalenttone of the Old Testament. It is made the more striking by reason ofthe other sides of the divine nature which the Old Testament gives sostrongly; as, for instance, the unapproachable elevation and absolutesovereignty of God, and the retributive righteousness of God.

Affliction is His chastisem*nt, and is ever righteously inflicted. Buthere is something more, tender and strange. Sympathy is a necessarypart of love. There is no true affection which does not put itself inthe place and share the sorrows of its objects. And His sympathy isnone the less because He inflicts the sorrow. These afflictions whereinHe too was afflicted, were sent by Him. Like an earthly father whosuffers more than the child whom he chastises, the Heavenly Fatherfeels the strokes that He inflicts.

That sympathy is consistent with the blessedness of God. Even in thepain of our human sympathy there is a kind of joy, and we may be surethat in His nature there is nothing else.

Contrast with other thoughts about God.

The vague agnosticism of the present day, which knows only a dim
Something of which we can predicate nothing.

The God of the philosophers—whom we are bidden to think of aspassionless and unemotional. No wave of feeling ever ripples thattideless sea. The attribute of infinitude or sovereign completeness isdwelt on with such emphasis as to obscure all the rest.

The gods of men's own creation are careless in their happiness, andcruel in their vengeance. But here is a God for all the weary and thesorrowful. What a thought for us in our own burdened days!

II. The mystery of the divine salvation.

Of course the salvation here spoken of is the deliverance from Egyptianbondage. This is a summary of the Exodus. But we must mark well thatsignificant expression, 'the angel of His face' or 'presence.' We canonly attempt a partial and bald enumeration of some of the veryremarkable references to that mysterious person, 'the angel of the Lord'or 'of the presence.' The dying Jacob ascribed his being 'redeemedfrom all evil' to 'the Angel,' and invoked his blessing on 'the lads.''The angel of the Lord' appeared to Moses out of the midst of theburning bush. On Sinai, Jehovah promised to send an 'angel' in whom wasHis own name, before the people. The promise was renewed after Israel'ssin and repentance, and was then given in the form, 'My presenceshall go with thee.' Joshua saw a man with a drawn sword in his hand,who declared himself to be the Captain of the Lord's host. 'The angelof the Lord' appeared to Manoah and his wife, withheld his name fromthem because it was 'wonderful' or 'secret,' accepted their sacrifice,and went up to heaven in its flame. Wherefore Manoah said, 'We haveseen God.' Long after these early visions, a psalmist knows himselfsafe because 'the angel of the Lord encampeth round about them thatfear Him.' Hosea, looking back on the story of Jacob's wrestling atPeniel, says, first, that 'he had power with God, yea, he had powerover the angel,' and then goes on to say that 'there He spake withus, even Jehovah.' And Malachi, on the last verge of Old Testamentprophecy, goes furthest of all in seeming to run together theconceptions of Jehovah and the Angel of Jehovah, for he says, 'The Lordwhom ye seek shall suddenly come to His temple; and the angel of thecovenant … behold, he cometh.' From this imperfect resume, we seethat there appears in the earliest as in the latest books of the OldTestament, a person distinguished from the hosts of angels, identifiedin a very remarkable manner with Jehovah, by alternation of names, inattributes and offices, and in receiving worship, and being the organof His revelation. That special relation to the divine revelation isexpressed by both the representation that 'Jehovah's name is in him,'and by the designation in our text, 'the angel of His presence,' orliterally, 'of His face.' For 'name' and 'face' are in so farsynonymous that they mean the side of the divine nature which is turnedto the world.

For the present I go no further than this. It is clear, then, that ourtext is at all events remarkable, in that it ascribes to this 'angel ofHis presence' the praise of Jehovah's saving work. The loving heart,afflicted in all their afflictions, sends forth the messenger of Hisface, and by Him is salvation wrought. The whole sum of the deliveranceof Israel in the past is attributed to Him. Surely this must have beenfelt by a devout Jew to conceal some great mystery.

III. The crowning revelation both of the heart of God and of His savingpower.

(a) Jesus Christ is the true 'angel of the face.'

I do not need to enter on the question of whether in the Old Testamentthe angel of the Covenant was indeed a pre-manifestation of the eternalSon. I am disposed to answer it in the affirmative. But be that as itmay, all that was spoken of the angel is true of Him. God's name is inHim, and that not in fragments or half-syllables but complete. The faceof God looks lovingly on men in Him, so that Jesus could declare, 'Hethat hath seen Me hath seen the Father.' His presence brings God'spresence, and He can venture to say, 'We will come and make our abodewith Him.' He is the agent of the divine salvation.

The identity and the difference are here in their highest form.

(b) The mystery of God's sharing our sorrows is explained in Him.

We may find a difficulty in the thought of a suffering and sympathisingGod. But if we believe that 'My name is in Him,' then the sympathy andgentleness of Jesus is the compassion of God. This is a truerevelation. So tears at the grave sighs in healing, and all the sorrowswhich He bore are an unveiling of the heart of God.

That sharing our sorrows is the very heart of His work. We might almostsay that He became man in order to increase His power of sympathy, as aprince might temporarily become a pauper. But certainly He became manthat He might bear our burdens. 'Himself took our infirmities.''Forasmuch as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He himselfalso likewise took part of the same.'

The atoning death is the climax of Christ's being afflicted with ourafflictions. His priestly sympathy flows out now and for ever to us all.

So complete is His unity with God, that He works the salvation which isGod's, and that God's name is in Him. So complete is His union with us,that our sorrows touch Him and His life becomes ours. 'Ye have done itunto Me.' 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?'

For us in all our troubles there are no darker rooms than Christ hasbeen in before us. We are like prisoners put in the same cell as somegreat martyr. He drank the cup, and we can put the rim to our lips atthe place that His lips have touched. But not only may we have oursufferings lightened by the thought that He has borne the same, andthat we know the 'fellowship of Christ's sufferings,' but we have thefurther alleviation of being sure that He makes our afflictions His byperfect sympathy, and, still more wonderful and blessed, that there issuch unity of life and sensation between the Head and the members thatour afflictions are His, and are not merely made so.

'Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Saviour is not by;
Think not thou canst shed a tear
And thy Saviour is not near.'

Do not front the world alone. In all our afflictions He is with us;out of them all He saves.

HOW TO MEET GOD

'Thou meetest him that rejoiceth and worketh righteousness, those thatremember Thee in Thy ways.'—ISAIAH lxiv. 5.

The prophet here shows us how there is a great staircase which weourselves build, which leads straight from earth to heaven, and how wecan secure that we shall meet with God and God with us. 'Isaiah' isoften called the evangelical prophet. He is so, not only because of hispredictions of the suffering Servant of Jehovah which are 'fulfilled'in Christ, but because his conceptions of the religious life tremble onthe very verge of the full-orbed teaching of the New Testament. Inthese ancient words of my text, in very different phraseology indeed,we see a strikingly accurate and full anticipation of the very centralteaching of Paul and his brother apostles, as to the way by which Godand man come into union with one another. 'Thou meetest him thatrejoiceth'; that joy is to be manifested by 'working righteousness,'but the joy which is the parent of righteousness is the child ofsomething else—'those that remember Thee in Thy ways.' If we ponderthese words, and carefully mark their relation to each other, we maydiscern, as it were, a great staircase with three flights in it, and atthe top God's face.

We have to begin with the last clause of our text—'Thou meetest him… that remembers Thee in Thy ways.'

The first stage on the road which will bring any man into, and keep anyman in, contact with God, and loving fellowship with Him, is thecontemplation of His character as it is made known to us by His acts.God, like man, is known by His 'fruits.' You cannot get at a clearconception of God by speculation, or by thinking about Him or aboutwhat He is in Himself. Lay hold of the clue of His acts, and it leadsyou straight into His heart. But the act of acts, in which the wholeGodhead concurs, in which all its depths and preciousness areconcentrated, like wine in a golden cup, is the incarnation and lifeand death of Jesus Christ our Lord. There, and not in the thoughts ofour own hearts nor the tremors of our own consciences, nor in theenigmatical witness of Providence—which is enigmatical until it isinterpreted in the light of the Incarnation and the Crucifixion—therewe see most clearly the 'ways' of God, the beaten, trodden path bywhich He is wont to come forth out of the thick darkness into which nospeculation can peer an inch, and walk amongst men. The cross ofChrist, and, subordinately, His other dealings with us, as interpretedthereby, is the 'way of the Lord,' from everlasting to everlasting. Andit is by a loving gaze upon that 'way' that we learn to know Him forwhat He is. It is there, and there only, that the thick darkness passesinto glorious light. It is at that point alone that the closed circleof the Infinite nature of Deity opens so as that a man can press intothe very centre of the glory, and feel himself at home in the blaze. Itis 'those that remember Thee in Thy ways,' and especially in that wayof righteousness and peace, the way of the cross—it is they who havebuilt the first flight of the solemn staircase that leads up from thelownesses and darknesses of earth into the loftinesses and lights ofheaven.

But note that word 'Remember,' for it suggests the warning that suchcontemplation of the ways of the Lord will not be realised by uswithout effort. We shall forget, assuredly, unless we earnestly try to'remember.' There are so many things within us to draw us away, theduties, and the joys, and the sorrows of life so insist upon having aplace in our hearts and thoughts, that assuredly, unless by resoluteeffort, frequently repeated, we clear a space in this crowded andchattering market-place, where we can stand and gaze on the whitesummits far beyond the bustling crowd, we shall never see them, thoughthey are visible from every place. Unless you try to remember, you willcertainly forget.

Many voices preach to-day many duties for Christians. Let me plead fortimes of quiet, for times of 'doing' nothing, for fruitful times ofgrowth, for times when we turn all the rout and rabble of earthlythings, and even the solemn company of pressing duties, out of ourhearts and thoughts, and shut up ourselves alone with God. Be sure youwill never build even the first step of the staircase unless you knowwhat it is to go into the secret place of the Most High, and, alonewith God, to summon to 'the sessions of sweet, silent thought' Hisways, and especially Him who is 'the Way,' both of God to us, and of usto God.

Now, the second flight of this great staircase is pointed out in thefirst clause of my text: 'Thou meetest him that rejoiceth.'

That meditative remembrance of the ways of God will be the parent ofholy joy which will bring God near to our heart. Alas! it is too oftenthe very opposite of true that men's joys are such as to bring God tothem. The excitement, and often the impure elements, that mingle withwhat the world calls 'joy,' are such as to shut Him out from us. Butthere is a gladness which comes from the contemplation of Him as He is,and as He is known by His 'ways' to be, which brings us very near toGod, and God very near to us. It is that joy which was spoken of in anearlier part of this context: 'I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, Mysoul shall be joyful in my God; for He hath clothed me with thegarments of salvation.' Here, then, is the second stage—gladness,deep, pure, based upon the contemplation of God's character asmanifested in His work. I do not think that the ordinary type of modernChristianity is half joyful enough. And I think that we have largelylost the very thought that gladness is a plain Christian duty, to bestriven after in the appropriate manner which my text suggests, andcertainly to be secured if we seek it in the right way. We all know howoutward cares, and petty annoyances, and crushing sorrows, and dailyanxieties, and the tear and wear of work, and our own restlessness andungovernableness, and the faults that still haunt our lives, andsometimes make us feel as if our Christianity was all a sham—how allthese things are at enmity with joy in God. But in face of them all, Iwould echo the old grand words of the epistle of gladness written bythe apostle in prison, and within hail of his death: 'Rejoice in theLord alway, and again I say rejoice.' Recognise it as your duty to beglad, and if it is hard to be so, ask yourselves whether you are doingwhat will make you so, remembering 'Thee in Thy ways.' That is thesecond flight of the staircase.

The third stage is working righteousness because of such joy. 'Thoumeetest him that rejoiceth, and '—because he does—'workethrighteousness.' Every master knows how much more work can be got out ofa servant who works with a cheery heart than out of one that is drivenreluctantly to his task. You remember our Lord's parable where Hetraces idleness to fear: 'I knew thee that thou wast an austere man,gathering where thou didst not strew, and I was afraid, and I went andhid thy talent.' No work was got out of that servant because there wasno joy in him. The opposite state of mind—diligence in righteous work,inspired by gladness which in its turn is inspired by the remembranceof God's ways—is the mark of a true servant of God. The prophet'swords have the germ of the full New Testament doctrine that the firststep to all practical obedience and righteous living is the recognitionof the great truth of Christ's death for us on the Cross; that thesecond step is the acceptance of that great work, and the gladness thatcomes from the assurance of forgiveness and acceptance with God, andthat the issue of both these things, the preached gospel and the faiththat grasps it and the love by which the faith is followed, isobedience, instinct with willingness and buoyant with joyfulness, andtherefore tending to be perfect in degree and in kind. The work that isworth doing, the work which God regards as 'righteous,' comes, andcomes only, from the motives of 'remembering Thee in Thy ways,' andrejoicing because we do remember.

And the gladness which is wholesome and blessed, and is 'joy in theLord,' will manifest itself by efflorescing into all holiness and allloftiness and largeness of obedience. You may try to frighten men intorighteousness, you will never succeed. You may try to coerce theirwills, and your strongest bands will be broken as the iron chains wereby the demoniac. But put upon them the silken leash of love, and youmay lead them where you will. You cannot grow grapes on an iceberg, andyou cannot get works of righteousness out of a man that has a dread ofGod at the back of his heart, killing all its joy. But let the springsunshine come, and then all the frost-bound earth opens and softens,and the tender green spikelets push themselves up through the brownsoil, and in due time come 'the blade, and the ear, and the full cornin the ear.' Isaiah anticipated Paul when he said, 'Thou meetest himthat rejoiceth and worketh righteousness.'

Lastly, we have the landing-place to which the stair leads. God comesto such a man. He meets him indeed at all the stages, for there is ablessed communion with God, that springs immediately from rememberingHim in His ways, and a still more blessed one that springs fromrejoicing in His felt friendship and Fatherhood, and a yet more blessedone that comes from practical righteousness. For if there is anythingthat breaks our communion with God, it is that there linger in ourlives evils which make it impossible for God and us to come closetogether. The thinnest film of a non-conductor will stop the flow ofthe strongest electric current, and an almost imperceptible film ofself-will and evil, dropped between oneself and God, will make abarrier impermeable except by that divine Spirit who worketh upon aman's heart and who may thin away the film through his repentance, andthen the Father and the prodigal embrace. 'Thou meetest him,' not only'that worketh righteousness,' but that hates his sin.

Only remember, if there is the practice of evil, there cannot be thesunshine of the Presence of God. But remember, too, that the commonest,homeliest, smallest, most secular tasks may become the very higheststeps of the staircase that brings us into His Presence. If we go aboutour daily work, however wearisome and vulgar and commonplace it oftenseems to us, and make it a work of righteousness resting on the joy ofsalvation, and that reposing on the contemplation of God as He isrevealed in Jesus Christ, our daily work may bring us as close to Godas if we dwelt in the secret place of the Most High, and the market andthe shop may be a temple where we meet with Him.

Dear brethren, there are two kinds of meeting God: 'Thou meetest himthat rejoiceth and worketh righteousness,' and that is blessed, as whenChrist met the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. There is anotherkind of meeting with God. 'Who, making war, sitteth not down first, andconsulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that comethagainst him with twenty thousand?'

'THE GOD OF THE AMEN'

'He who blesseth himself in the earth shall bless himself in the God oftruth; and he that sweareth in the earth shall swear by the God oftruth.'—ISAIAH lxv. 16.

The full beauty and significance of these remarkable words are onlyreached when we attend to the literal rendering of a part of them whichis obscured in our version. As they stand in the original they have, inboth cases, instead of the vague expression, 'The God of truth,' thesingularly picturesque one, 'The God of the Amen.'

I. Note the meaning of the name. Now, Amen is an adjective, whichmeans literally firm, true, reliable, or the like. And, as we know, itsliturgical use is that, in the olden time, and to some extent in thepresent time, it was the habit of the listening people to utter it atthe close of prayer or praise. But besides this use at the end of someone else's statement, which the sayer of the 'Amen' confirms by itsutterance, we also find it used at the beginning of a statement, by thespeaker, in order to confirm his own utterance by it.

And these two uses of the expression reposing on its plain meaning, inthe first instance signifying, 'I tell you that it is so'; and in thesecond instance signifying, 'So may it be!' or, 'So we believe it is,'underlie this grand title which God takes to Himself here, 'the God ofthe Amen,' both His Amen and ours. So that the thought opens up verybeautifully and simply into these two, His truth and our faith.

First, it emphasises the absolute truthfulness of every word that comesfrom His lips. There is implied in the title that He really hasspoken, and declared to man something of His will, something of Hisnature, something of His purposes, something of our destiny. And now Heputs, as it were, the broad seal upon the charter and says, 'Amen!Verily it is so, and My word of Revelation is no man's imagination, andMy word of command is the absolute unveiling of human duty and humanperfectness, and My word of promise is that upon which a man may restall his weight and be safe for ever.' God's word is 'Amen!' man's wordis 'perhaps.' For in regard to the foundation truths of man's beliefand experience and need, no human tongue can venture to utter its ownasseverations with nothing behind them but itself, and expect men toaccept them; but that is exactly what God does, and alone has the rightto do. His word absolutely, and through and through, in every fibre ofit, is reliable and true.

Now do not forget that there was one who came to us and said, 'Amen!Amen! I say unto you.' Jesus Christ, in all His deep and wonderfulutterances, arrogated to Himself the right which God here declares tobe exclusively His, and He said, 'I too have, and I too exercise, theright and the authority to lay My utterances down before you, andexpect you to take them because of nothing else than because I saythem.' God is the God of the Amen! The last book of Scripture, when itdraws back the curtain from the mysteries of the glorified session ofJesus Christ at the right hand of God, makes Him say to us, 'Thesethings saith the Amen!' And if you want to know what that means, itsexplanation follows in the next clause, 'the faithful and true witness.'

But then, on the other hand, necessarily involved in this title, thoughcapable of being separately considered, is not only the absolutetruthfulness of the divine word, but also the thorough-going reliance,on our parts, which that word expects and demands. God's 'Amen,' and'Verily,' of confirmation, should ever cause the 'Amen' of acceptanceand assent to leap from our lips. If He begins with that mighty word,so soon as the solemn voice has ceased its echo should rise from ourhearts. The city that cares for the charter which its King has given itwill prepare a fitting, golden receptacle in which to treasure it. Andthe men who believe that God in very deed has spoken laws thatilluminate, and commandments that guide, and promises that calm andstrengthen and fulfil themselves, will surely prepare in their heartsan appropriate receptacle for those precious and infallible words.God's truth has corresponding to it our trust. God's faithfulnessdemands, and is only adequately met by, our faith. If He gives us thesure foundation to build upon, it will be a shame for us to bring wood,hay, stubble, and build these upon the Rock of Ages. The buildingshould correspond with its foundation, and the faith which grasps thesure word should have in it something of the unchangeableness andcertainty and absoluteness of that word which it grasps. If Hisrevelation of Himself is certain, you and I ought to be certain of Hisrevelation of Himself. Our certitude should correspond to its certainty.

Ah! my friend, what a miserable contrast there is between the firm,unshaken, solid security of the divine word upon which we say that wetrust, and the poor, feeble, broken trust which we build upon it. 'Letnot that man think that He shall receive anything of the Lord'; but letus expect, as well as 'ask, in faith, nothing wavering'; and let our'Amen!' ring out in answer to God's.

The Apostle Paul has a striking echo of the words of my text in thesecond Epistle to the Corinthians: 'All the promises of God in Him areyea! and through Him also is the Amen!' The assent, full, swift,frank—the assent of the believing heart to the great word of God comesthrough the same channel, and reaches God by the same way, as God'sword on which it builds comes to us. The 'God of the Amen,' in bothsenses of the word, is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, whois the seal as well as the substance of the divine promises, and whosevoice in us is the answer to, and the grasp of, the promises of whichHe is the substance and soul.

II. Now notice, next, how this God of the Amen is, by reason of thatvery characteristic, the source of all blessing.

'He who blesseth himself in the earth shall bless himself in the God ofTruth.' That phrase of blessing oneself in, which is a frequent OldTestament expression, is roughly equivalent to invoking, and thereforereceiving, blessing from. You find it, for instance, in theseventy-second Psalm, in that grand burst which closes one of the booksof the Psalter and hails the coming of the Messianic times, of which mytext also is a prediction. 'Men shall be blessed in Him,' or rather,'shall bless themselves in Him,' which is a declaration, that allneedful benediction shall come down upon humanity through the comingMessias, as well as that men shall recognise in that Messias the sourceof all their blessing and good. So the text declares that, in thosedays that are yet to come, the whole earth shall be filled with menwhose eyes have been purged from ignorance and sin, and from theillusions of sense and the fascinations of folly, and who have learnedthat only in the God of the Amen is the blessing of their life to befound.

Of course it is so. For only on Him can I lean all my weight and besure that the stay will not give. All other bridges across the greatabysses which we have to traverse or be lost in them, are like thosesnow-cornices upon some Alp, which may break when the climber is on thevery middle of them, and let him down into blackness out of which hewill never struggle. There is only one path clear across the deepestgulf, which we poor pilgrims can tread with absolute safety that itwill never yield beneath our feet. My brother! there is one supportthat is safe, and one stay upon which a man can lean his whole weightand be sure that the staff will never either break or pierce his palm,and that is the faithful God, in whose realm are no disappointments,amongst whose trusters are no heart-broken and deceived men, but whogives bountifully, and over and above all that we are able to ask orthink. They who have made experience, as we have all made experience,of the insufficiency of earthly utterances, of the doubtfulness of theclearest words of men, of the possible incapacity of the most loving,to be what they pledge themselves to be, and of the certainty that evenif they are so for a while they cannot be so always—have surelylearned one half, at least, of the lesson that life is meant to teachus; and it is our own fault if we have not bettered it with the betterhalf, having uncoiled the tendrils of our hearts from the rotten propsround which they have been too apt to twine themselves, and wreathedthem about the pillars of the eternal throne, which can never shake norfail. 'He that blesseth himself in the earth shall blesshimself'—unless he is a fool—'in the God of the Amen!' and not in theman of the 'peradventure.'

III. Lastly, note how the God of the Amen should be the pattern of Hisservants.

'He that sweareth in the earth shall swear by the God of truth,' or,'of the Amen.' The prophet deduces from the name the solemn thoughtthat those who truly feel its significance will shape their wordsaccordingly, and act and speak so that they shall not fear to call Hispure eyes to witness that there are neither, hypocrisy, norinsincerity, nor vacillation, nor the 'hidden things of dishonesty' norany of the skulking meannesses of craft and self-seeking in them. 'Iswear by the God of the Amen, and call Thy faithfulness to witness thatI am trying to be like Thee,' that is what we ought to do if we callourselves Christians. If we have any hold at all of Him, and of Hislove, and of the greatness and majesty of His faithfulness, we shalltry to make our poor little lives, in such measure as the dewdrops maybe like the sun, radiant like His, and of the same shape as His, forthe dewdrop and the sun are both of them spheres. That is exactly whatthe apostle does, in that same chapter in 2 Cor., to which I alreadyreferred. He takes these very thoughts of my text, and in their doubleaspect too, and says, 'Just because God is faithful, do you Corinthiansthink that, when I told you that I was coming to see you, I did notmean it?' He brings the greatest thought that He can find about God andGod's truth, down to the settlement of this very little matter, thevindication of Himself from the charge, on the one hand, of facile andinconsiderate vacillation, and, on the other hand, of insincerity. So,we may say, the greatest thoughts should regulate the smallest acts.Though our maps be but a quarter of an inch to a hundred miles, let ussee that they are drawn to scale. Let us see that He is our Pattern;and that the truthfulness, the simplicity, and faithfulness, which werest upon as the very foundation of our intellectual as well as ourmoral and religious being, are, in our measure, copied in ourselves.'As God is faithful,' said Paul, 'our word to you was not yea! andnay!' And they who are trusting to the God of the Amen! will live inall simplicity and godly sincerity; their yea will be yea, and theirnay, nay.

THE BOOK OF JEREMIAH

GOD'S LAWSUIT

'Wherefore I will yet plead with you, saith the Lord, and with yourchildren's children will I plead.'—JER. ii. 9.

Point out that 'plead' is a forensic term. There is a great lawsuit inwhich God is plaintiff and men defendants. The word is frequent inIsaiah.

I. The reason for God's pleading.

The cause—'wherefore.' Our transgression does not make Him turn awayfrom us. It does profoundly modify the whole relation between us. Itdoes give an aspect of antagonism to His dealings.

II. The manner.

The whole history of the world and of each individual. All outwardprovidences. All the voice of Conscience. Christ. Spirit, who convincesthe world of Sin.

III. The purpose.

Wholly our being drawn from our evil. The purely reformatory characterof all punishment here. The sole object to win us back to Himself. Heconquers in this lawsuit when we come to love Him.

IV. The patience.

That merciful pleading—'I will yet'—runs on through all sin, and isonly made more earnest by deepening hostility. After rejections stilllingers. Extends over a thousand generations. Is exercised even whereHe foresees failure.

STIFF-NECKED IDOLATERS AND PLIABLE CHRISTIANS

'Hath a nation changed their gods, which are yet no gods? but My peoplehave changed their glory for that which doth not profit.'—JER. ii. 11.

The obstinacy of the adherents of idolatry is in striking contrast withIsrael's continual tendency to forsake Jehovah. It reads a scarcelyless forcible lesson to many nominal and even to some real Christians.

I. That contrast carries with it a disclosure of the respective originsof the two kinds of Religion.

The strangeness of the contrasted conduct is intensified when we takeinto account the tremendous contrast between the two Objects ofworship. Israel's God was Israel's 'Glory'; the idol-worshipper boweddown before 'that which doth not profit,' and yet no experience of Godcould bind His fickle worshippers to Him, and no experience of theimpotence of the idol could shake its votaries' devotion. They criedand were not heard. They toiled and had no results. They broke theirteeth on 'that which is not bread,' and filled their mouths with grittyashes that mocked them with a semblance of nourishment and left themwith empty stomachs and excoriated gums, yet by some strangehallucination they clung to 'vanities,' while Israel was alwayshankering after opportunity to desert Jehovah. The stage ofcivilisation partly accounts for the strange fascination of idolatryover the Israelites. But the deeper solution lies in the fact that theone religion rises from the hearts of men, corresponds to their moralcondition, and is largely moulded by their lower nature; while theother is from above, corresponds, indeed, with the best and deepestlongings and needs of souls, but contravenes many of their most clamantwishes, and necessarily sets before them a standard high and difficultto reach. Men make their gods in their own image, and are conscious ofno rebuke nor stimulus to loftier living when they gaze on them. TheGod of Revelation bids men remake themselves in His image, and thatcommand requires endless effort. The average man has to put a strain onhis intellect in order to rise to the apprehension of God, and a stillmore unwelcome strain on his moral nature to rise to the imitation ofGod. No wonder, then, if the dwellers on the low levels should cleaveto them, and the pilgrims to the heights should often weary of theirtoil and be distressed with the difficulty of breathing the thin air upthere, and should give up climbing and drop down to the flats once more.

II. That contrast carries with it a rebuke.

Many voices echo the prophet's contrast nowadays. Our travellingcountrymen, especially those of them who have no great love for earnestreligion, are in the habit of drawing disparaging contrasts betweenBuddhists, Brahmins, Mohammedans, any worshippers of other gods andChristians. One may not uncharitably suspect that a more earnestChristianity would not please these critics much better than does thetepid sort, and that the pictures they draw both of heathenism and ofChristianity are coloured by their likes and dislikes. But it is wellto learn from an enemy, and caricatures may often be useful in callingattention to features which would escape notice but for exaggeration.So we may profit by even the ill-natured and distorted likenesses ofourselves as contrasted with the adherents of other religions which somany 'liberal-minded' writers of travels delight to supply.

Think, then, of the rebuke which the obstinate adherence of idolatersto their idols gives to the slack hold which so many professingChristians have on their religion.

Think of the way in which these lower religions pervade the whole lifeof their worshippers, and of how partial is the sway over a littleterritory of life and conduct which Christianity has in many of itsadherents. The absorption in worship shown by Mohammedans, who willspread their prayer carpets anywhere and perform their drill of prayerswithout embarrassment or distraction in the sight of a crowd, or therapt 'devotion' of fakirs, are held up as a rebuke to us 'Christians'who are ashamed to be caught praying. One may observe, in mitigation,that the worship which is of the heart is naturally more sensitive tosurrounding distractions than that which is a matter of posturing andrepetition by rote. But there still remains substance enough in thecontrast to point a sharp arrow of rebuke.

And there is no denying that in these 'heathen' religions, religion isintertwined with every act of life in a fashion which may well put toshame many of us. Remember how Paul had to deal at length with the dutyof the Corinthians in view of the way in which every meal was asacrifice to some god, and how the same permeation of life withreligion is found in all these 'false faiths.' The octopus has coiledits tentacles round the whole body of its victim. Bad and sad and madas idolatry is, it reads a rebuke to many of us, who keep life andreligion quite apart, and lock up our Christianity in our pews with ourprayer-books and hymnaries.

Think of the material sacrifices made by idolaters, in costlyofferings, in painful self-tortures, and in many other ways, and thenigg*rdliness and self-indulgence of so many so-called Christians.

III. The contrast suggests the greatness of the power which canovercome even such obstinate adherence to idols.

There is one, and only one, solvent for that rock-like obstinacy—theGospel. The other religions have seldom attempted to encroach on eachother's territory, and where they have, their instrument of conversionhas generally been the sword. The Gospel has met and mastered them all.It, and it only, has had power to draw men to itself out of everyfaith. The ancient gods who bewitched Israel, the gods of Greece, thegods of our own ancestors, the gods of the islands of the South Seas,lie huddled together, in undistinguished heaps, like corpses on abattlefield, and the deities of India and the East are wounded andslowly bleeding out their lives. 'Bel boweth down, Nebo stoopeth, theidols are upon the beasts,' all packed up, as it were, and ready to becarried off.

The rate of progress in dethroning them varies with the varyingnational conditions. It is easier to cut a tunnel through chalk thanthrough quartz.

IV. That contrast carries with it a call for Christian effort to spreadthe conquering Gospel.

FOUNTAIN AND CISTERNS

'They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed themout cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water'—JER. ii. 13.

The proclivity of the Jews to idolatry is an outstanding fact allthrough their history. That persistent national tendency surely compelsus to recognise a divine inspiration as the source of the propheticteaching and of the lofty spiritual theology of the Old Testament,which were in sharpest unlikeness and opposition to the whole trend ofthe people's thoughts.

It is this apostasy which is referred to here. The false gods made bymen are the broken cisterns. But the text embodies a general truth.

I. The irksomeness of a godless life.

The contrast is between the springing fountain, there in the desert,with the lush green herbage round about, where a man has only to stoopand drink, and the painful hewing of cisterns.

This emblem of the fountain beautifully suggests the great thought ofGod's own loving will as the self-originated impulse by which He poursout all good. Apart from all our efforts, the precious gift is providedfor us. Our relation is only that of receivers.

We have the contrast with this in the laborious toils to which theycondemn themselves who seek for created sources of good. 'Hewn outcisterns'—think of a man who, with a fountain springing in hiscourtyard, should leave it and go to dig in the arid desert, or to hewthe live rock in hopes to gain water. It was already springing andsparkling before him. The conduct of men, when they leave God and seekfor other delights, is like digging a canal alongside a navigableriver. They condemn themselves to a laborious and quite superfluoustask. The true way to get is to take.

Illustrations in religion. Think of the toil and pains spent inidolatry and in corrupt forms of Christianity.

Illustrations in common life. Your toils—aye, and even yourpleasures—how much of them is laboriously digging for the water whichall the while is flowing at your side.

II. The hopelessness of a godless life.

The contrast further is between living waters and broken cisterns. Godis the fountain of living waters; in other words, in fellowship withGod there is full satisfaction for all the capacities and desires ofthe soul; heart—conscience—will—understanding—hope and fear.

The contrast of the empty cisterns. What a deep thought that with alltheir work men only make 'cisterns,' i.e. they only providecirc*mstances which could hold delights, but cannot secure that watershould be in them! The men-made cisterns must be God-filled, if filledat all. The true joys from earthly things belong to him who has madeGod his portion.

Further, they are 'broken cisterns,' and all have in them some flaw orcrack out of which the water runs. That is a vivid metaphor for thefragmentary satisfaction which all earthly good gives, leaving a deepyearning unstilled. And it is temporary as well as partial. 'He thatdrinketh of this water shall thirst again'—nay, even as with those whoindulge in intoxicating drinks, the appetite increases while the powerof the draught to satisfy it diminishes. But the crack in the cisternpoints further to the uncertain tenure of all earthly goods and thecertain leaving of them all.

All godless life is a grand mistake.

III. The crime of a godless life.

It is right to seek for happiness. It is sin to go away from God. Youare thereby not merely flinging away your chances, but aretransgressing against your sacredest obligations. Our text is not onlya remonstrance on the grounds of prudence, showing God-neglecting menthat they are foolish, but it is an appeal to conscience, convincingthem that they are sinful. God loves us and cares for us. We are boundto Him by ties which do not depend on our own volition. And so there ispunishment for the sin, and the evils experienced in a godless life arepenal as well as natural.

We recall the New Testament modification of this metaphor, 'The waterthat I shall give him shall be in him a fountain of water.' Arabs indesert round dried—up springs. Hagar. Shipwrecked sailors on a reef.Christ opens 'rivers in the wilderness and streams in the desert.'

FORSAKING JEHOVAH

'Know therefore, and see, that it is an evil thing and bitter, thatthou hast forsaken the Lord thy God, and that My fear is not in thee,saith the Lord God of hosts.'—JER. ii. 19.

Of course the original reference is to national apostasy, which wasaggravated by the national covenant, and avenged by national disasters,which are interpreted and urged by the prophet as God's mercifulpleading with men. But the text is true in reference to individuals.

I. The universal indictment.

This is not so much a charge of isolated overt acts, as of departurefrom God. That departure, itself a sin, is the fountain of all othersins. Every act which is morally wrong is religiously a departure fromGod; it could not be done, unless heart and will had moved away fromtheir allegiance to Him. So the solemn mystery of right and wrongbecomes yet more solemn, when our personal relation to the personal Godis brought in.

Then—consider what this forsaking is-at bottom aversion of will, orrather of the whole nature, from Him.

How strange and awful is that power which a creature possesses ofclosing his heart against God, and setting up a quasi-independence!

How universal it is-appeal to each man's own consciousness.

II. The special aggravation.

'Thy God '—-the original reference is to Israel, whom God had takenfor His and to whom He had given Himself as theirs, by His choice fromof old, by redemption from Egypt, by covenant, and by centuries ofblessings. But the designation is true in regard to God and each of us.It points to the personal relation which we each sustain to Him, and sois a pathetic appeal to affection and gratitude.

III. The bitter fruit.

6 Evil' may express rather the moral character of forsaking God, while'bitter' expresses rather the consequences of it, which are sorrows.

So the prophet appeals to experience. As the Psalmist confidentlyinvites to 'taste and see that God is good,' so Jeremiah boldly bidsthe apostates know and see that departing is bitter.

It is so, for it leaves the soul unsatisfied.

It leads to remorse.

It drags after it manifold bitter fruits. 'The wages of sin is death.'

Sin without consequent sorrow is an impossibility if there is a God.

IV. The loving appeal.

The text is not denunciation, but tender, though indignant, pleading,in hope of winning back the wanderers. The prophet has just beenpointing to the sorrowful results which necessarily follow on thenation's apostasy, and tells Israel that its own wickedness shallcorrect it, and then, in the text, he beseeches them not to be blind tothe meaning of their miseries, but to let these teach them how sinfuland how sorrowful their apostasy is. Men's sorrows are a mystery, butthat sinners should not have sorrows were a sadder mystery still. AndGod pleads with us all not to lose the good of our experiences of thebitterness of sin by our levity or our blindness to their meaning. ByHis providences, by His Spirit working on us, by the plain teachingsand loving pleadings of His word, He is ever striving to open our eyesthat we may see Good and Evil, and recognise that all Good is bound upfor us with cleaving to God, and all Evil with departing from Him. Whenwe turn our backs on Him we are full front with the deformed figure ofEvil; when we turn away from it, we are face to face with Him, and inHim, with all Good.

A COLLOQUY BETWEEN A PENITENT AND GOD

'A voice was heard upon the high places, weeping and supplications ofthe children of Israel: for they have perverted their way, and theyhave forgotten the Lord their God. Return, ye backsliding children, andI will heal your backslidings. Behold, we come unto Thee; for Thou artthe Lord our God.'—-JER. iii. 21, 22.

We have here a brief dramatic dialogue. First is heard a voice from thebare heights, the sobs and cries of penitence, produced by theprophet's earnest remonstrance. The penitent soul is absorbed in thethought of its own evil. Its sin stands clear before it. Israel seesits sin in its two forms. 'They have perverted their way,' or have leda wrong outward life of action, and the reason is that 'they haveforgotten God,' or have been guilty of inward alienation and departurefrom Him. Here is the consciousness of sin in its essential character,and that produces godly sorrow. The distinction between mere remorseand repentance is here already, in the 'weeping and supplication.'

I. So we have here a consciousness of sin in its true nature, asembracing both deeds and heart, as originating in departure from God,and manifested in perverted conduct.

Further, we have here sorrow. There may be consciousness of sin in itstrue nature without any sorrow of heart. It is fatal when a man looksupon his evil, gets a more or less clear sight of it, and is not sorryand penitent. It is conceivable that there should be perfect knowledgeof sin and perfect insensibility in regard to it.

A sinful man's true mood should be sorrow—not flinging the blame onothers, or on fate, or circ*mstances; not regarding his sin asmisfortune or as inevitable or as disease.

Conscience is meant to produce that consciousness and that sorrow: butconscience may be dulled or silenced. It cannot be anyhow induced tocall evil good, but it may be mistaken in what is evil. The gnomon istrue, but a veil of cloud may be drawn over the sky.

Further, we have here supplication. These two former may both beexperienced, without this third. There may be consciousness of sin andsorrow which lead to no blessing. 'My bones waxed old through myroaring.' Sorrow after a godly sort may be hindered by false notions ofGod's great love, or by false notions of what a man ought to do when hefinds he has gone wrong. It may be hindered by cleaving, subtle love ofsin, or by self-trust. But where all these have been overcome there istrue repentance.

II. The loving divine answer.

Another ear than the prophet's has heard the plaint from the bareheights. Many a frenzied shriek had gone up from these shrines ofidolatrous worship, and as with Baal's prophets, it had brought noanswer, nor had there been any that regarded. But this weeping reachesthe ear that is never closed. Contrast with verse 23: 'Truly in vain isthe help that is looked for from the hills, the shouting (ofidol-worshippers) on the mountains.'

The instantaneousness of God's answer is very beautiful. It is like theaction of the father in the parable of the prodigal son, who saw hisrepentant boy afar off and ran and kissed him.

There seems to be, in both the invitation to return and in the promiseto hear the backslidings, a quotation from Hosea xiv. (1-4). We seehere how God meets the penitent with a love that recognises all his sinand yet is love. It is not rebuke or reproach that lies in thatdesignation, 'backsliding children.' It is tenderest mercy that lets ussee that He knows exactly what we are, and yet promises His love andforgiveness. He loves us sinners with a love that beckons us back toHimself, with a love that promises healing. The truth which should betaken into the mind and heart of the man conscious of sin is God'sknowledge of it all already and yet His undiminished love, God'swelcome of him back, God's ready pardon. All this is true for the worldin Christ, and is true for every individual soul.

The answer and the invitation here are immediate.

There is often a long period of painful struggle. It looks as if theanswer were not immediate. But that is because we do not listen to it.

III. The happy response of the returning soul.

That too is immediate. The soul believes God's promises. It recognisesGod's claim. It returns to Him. We are attracted by His grace. Thesunflower turns to the sun. The penitent is not driven only, butdrawn—God's own loving self-revelation in Christ is His true power.'I, if I am lifted up, will draw all men unto Me.'

The consciousness of sin remains and is even deepened (subsequentverses), and yet is different. A light of hope is in it. The very senseof sin brings us to Him, to hide our faces on His heart like a child inits mother's lap.

This response of the soul may be instantaneous. If it is not immediate,it too probably will never be at all.

A QUESTION FOR THE BEGINNING

'What will ye do in the end?'—JER. v. 31.

I find that I preached to the young from this text just thirty yearssince—nearly a generation ago. How few of my then congregation arehere to-night! how changed they and I are! and how much nearer theclose we have drifted! How many of the young men and women of thatevening have gone to meet the end, and how many of them have wreckedtheir lives because they would not face and answer this question!

Ah, dear young friends, if I could bring some of the living and some ofthe dead, and set them to witness here instead of me, they would burnin on you, as my poor words never can do, the insanity of livingwithout a satisfactory and sufficient reply to the question of my text,'What will ye do in the end?'

In its original application these words referred to a condition ofreligious and moral corruption in which a whole nation was involved.The men that should have spoken for God were 'prophesying lies.' Thepriests connived at profitable falsehoods because by these their rulewas confirmed. And the deluded populace, as is always the case,preferred smooth falsehoods to stern truths. So the prophet turns roundindignantly, and asks what can be the end of such a welter and carnivalof vice and immorality, and beseeches his contemporaries to mend theirways by bethinking themselves of what their course led to.

But we may dismiss the immediate application of the words for the sakeof looking at the general principle which underlies them. It is a veryfamiliar and well-worn one. It is simply this, that a large part of thewise conduct of life depends on grave consideration of consequences. Itis a sharp-pointed question, that pricks many a bubble, and brings muchwisdom down into the category of folly. There would be less misery inthe world, and fewer fair young lives cast away upon grim rocks, if thequestion of my text were oftener asked and answered.

I. I note, first, that here is a question which every wise man will askhimself.

I do not mean to say that the consideration of consequences is thehighest guide, nor that it is always a sufficient one; nor that it is,by any means, in every case, an easily applied one. For we can allconceive of circ*mstances in which it is the plainest duty to take acertain course of action, knowing that, as far as this life isconcerned, it will bring down disaster and ruin. Do right! and faceany results therefrom. He who is always forecasting possible issueshas a very leaden rule of conduct, and will be so afraid of resultsthat he will not dare to move; and his creeping prudence will oftenturn out to be the truest imprudence.

But whilst all that is true, and many deductions must be made from theprinciple which I have laid down, that the consideration ofcirc*mstances is a good guide in life, yet there are regions in whichthe question comes home with direct and illuminating force. Let me justillustrate one or two of these.

Take the lower application of the question to nearer ends in life. Nowthis awful life that we live is so strangely concatenated of causes andeffects, and each little deed drags after it such a train of eternaland ever-widening consequences, that a man must be an idiot if he neverlooks an inch beyond his nose to see the bearing of his actions. Ibelieve that, in the long-run, and in the general, condition is theresult of character and of conduct; and that, whatsoever deductions maybe necessary, yet, speaking generally, and for the most part, men arethe architects of their own condition, and that they make the housesthat they dwell in to fit the convolutions of the body that dwellswithin them. And, that being so, it being certain that 'whatsoever aman soweth, that shall he also reap,' and that no deed, be it ever sosmall, be it ever so evanescent, be it ever so entirely confined withinour own inward nature, and never travelling out into visibility in whatmen call actions—that every one of such produces an eternal, though itmay be an all but imperceptible effect, upon ourselves; oh, surelythere can be nothing more ridiculous than that a man should refrainfrom forecasting the issue of his conduct, and saying to himself? 'Whatam I to do in the end?'

If you would only do that in regard to hosts of things in your dailylife you could not be the men and women that you are. If the lazystudent would only bring clearly before his mind the examination-room,and the unanswerable paper, and the bitter mortification when thepass-list comes out and his name is not there, he would not trifle anddawdle and seek all manner of diversions as he does, but he would bindhimself to his desk and his task. If the young man who begins to tamperwith purity, and in the midst of the temptations of a great city togratify the lust of the eye and the lust of the flesh, because he isaway from the shelter of his father's house, and the rebuke of hismother's purity, could see, as the older of us have seen, men withtheir bones full of the iniquity of their youth, or drifted away fromthe city to die, down in the country like a rat in a hole, do you thinkthe temptations of the streets and low places of amusem*nt would not bestripped of their fascination? If the man beginning to drink were tosay to himself, 'What am I to do in the end?' when the craving becomesphysical, and volition is suspended, and anything is sacrificed inorder to still the domineering devil within, do you think he wouldbegin? I do not believe that all sin comes from ignorance, but sure Iam that if the sinful man saw what the end is he would, in nine casesout of ten, be held back. 'What will ye do in the end?' Use thatquestion, dear friends, as the Ithuriel spear which will touch thesquatting tempter at your ear, and there will start up, in its ownshape, the fiend.

But the main application that I would ask you to make of the words ofmy text is in reference to the final end, the passing from life. Death,the end, is likewise Death, the beginning. If it were an absolute end,as coarse infidelity pretends to believe it is, then, of course, such aquestion as my text would have no kind of relevance. 'What will ye doin the end?' 'Nothing! for I shall be nothing. I shall just go back tothe nonentity that I was. I do not need to trouble myself.' Ah, butJanus has two faces, one turned to the present and one to the future.His temple has two gates, one which admits from this lower level, andone, at the back, which launches us out on to the higher level. The endis a beginning, and the beginning is retribution. The end of sowing isthe beginning of harvest. The man finishes his work and commences tolive on his wages. The brewing is over, and the drinking of the brewstcommences.

And so, brother, 'What will ye do in the end—which is not an end, butwhich is a beginning? 'Surely every wise man will take that questioninto consideration. Surely, if it be true that we all of us aresilently drifting to that one little gateway through which we have topass one by one, and then find ourselves in a region all full ofconsequences of the present, he has a good claim to be counted a princeof fools who 'jumps the life to come,' and, in all his calculations ofconsequences, which he applies wisely and prudently to the trifles ofthe present, forgets to ask himself, 'And, after all that is done, whatshall I do then?' You remember the question in the old ballad:

"'What good came of it at last?' …
'Nay, that I cannot tell,' quoth he;
But 'twas a famous victory.'"

Ay, but what came of it at the last? Oh brother, that one question,pushed to its issues, condemns the wisdom of this world as folly, andpulverises into nothingness millions of active lives and successfulschemes. What then? What then? 'I have much goods laid up for manyyears.' Well and good, what then? 'I will say to my soul, Take thineease, eat, drink, and be merry.' Yes, what then? 'This night thy soulshall be required of thee.' He never thought of that! And so hisepitaph was 'Thou fool!'

II. So, secondly, mark, here is a question which a great many of usnever think about.

I do not mean, now, so much in reference to the nearer ends compassedin this life, though even in regard to them it is only too true; I meanrather in regard to that great and solemn issue to which we are alltending. But in regard of both, it seems to me one of the strangestthings in all the world that men should be content so commonly to beignorant of what they perfectly well know, and never to give attentionto that of which, should they bethink themselves, they are absolutelycertain.

'What will ye do in the end?' Why! half of us put away that questionwith the thought in our minds, if not expressed, at least mostoperative, 'There is not going to be any end; and it is always going tobe just like what it is to-day.' Did you ever think that there is nogood ground for being sure that the sun will rise to-morrow; that itrose for the first time once; that there will come a day when it willrise for the last time? The uniformity of Nature may be a postulate,but you cannot find any logical basis for it. Or, to come down fromheights of that sort, have you ever laid to heart, brother, that theonly unchangeable thing in this world is change, and the only thingcertain, that there is no continuance of anything; and that, therefore,you and I are bound, if we are wise, to look that fact in the face, andnot to allow ourselves to be befooled by the difficulty of imaginingthat things will ever be different from what they are? Oh! many ofus—I was going to say most of men, I do not know that it would be anexaggeration—are like the careless inhabitants of some of those sunny,volcanic isles in the Eastern Ocean, where Nature is prodigallyluxuriant and all things are fair, but every fifty years or so therecomes a roar and the island shakes, and half of it, perhaps, isoverwhelmed, and the lava flows down and destroys gleaming houses andsmiling fields, and heaven is darkened with ashes, and then everythinggoes on as before, and people live as if it was never going to happenagain, though every morning, when they go out, they see the conetowering above their houses, and the thin column of smoke, pale againstthe blue sky.

It is not altogether sinful or bad that we should live, to some extent,under the illusion of a fixity and a perpetuity which has no realexistence, for it helps to concentrate effort and to consolidate habit,and to make life possible. But for men to live, as so many of us do,never thinking of what is more certain than anything else about us,that we shall slide out of this world, and find ourselves in another,is surely not the part of wisdom.

Another reason why so many of us shirk this question is the lamentablewant of the habit of living by principle and reflection. Most men neversee their life steadily, and see it whole. They live from hand tomouth, they are driven this way and that way; they adapt means to endsIn regard to business or the like, but in the formation of theircharacter, and in the moulding of their whole being, crowds of themlive a purely mechanical, instinctive, unreflective life. There isnothing more deplorable than the small extent to which reflection andvolition really shape the lives of the bulk of mankind. Most of us takeour cue from our circ*mstances, letting them dominate us. They tell usthat in Nature there is such a thing as protective mimicry, as it iscalled-animals having the power—some of them to a much larger extentthan others—of changing their hues in order to match the gravel of thestream in which they swim or the leaves of the trees on which theyfeed. That is like what a great many of us do. Put us into a placewhere certain forms of frivolity or vice are common, and we go in forthem. Take us away from these and we change our hue to something alittle whiter. But all through we never know what it is to put forth agood solid force of resistance and to say, 'No! I will not!' or, whatis sometimes quite as hard to say, 'Yes! though,' as Luther said in hisstrong way, 'there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles onthe housetops, I will!' If people would live more by reflection and bythe power of a resisting will, this question of my text would comeoftener to them.

And there is another cause that I must touch on for one moment, why somany people neglect this question, and that is because they areuneasily conscious that they durst not face it. I know of no strangerpower than that by which men can ignore unwelcome questions; and I knowof nothing more tragical than the fact that they choose to exercise thepower. What would you think of a man who never took stock because heknew that he was insolvent, and yet did not want to know it? And whatdo you think of yourselves if, knowing that the thought of passing intothat solemn eternity is anything but a cheering one, and that you haveto pass thither, you never turn your head to look at it? Ah, brother,if it be true that this question of my text is unpleasant to you tohear put, be sure that that is the strongest reason why you should putit.

III. Thirdly, here is a question especially directed to you young folk.

It is so because you are specially tempted to forget it. It may seem asif there were no people in the world that had less need to be appealedto, as I have been appealing to you, by motives drawn from the end oflife, than you who are only standing at its beginning. But it is notso. An old rabbi was once asked by his pupil when he should fulfil acertain precept of the law, and the answer was, 'The day before youdie.' 'But,' said the disciple, 'I may die to-morrow.' 'Then,' said themaster, 'do it to-day.' And so I say to you, do not make sure that thebeginning at which you stand is separated by a long tract of years fromthe end to which you go. It may be, but it may not be. I know thatarguments pleading with men to be Christians, and drawn from theconsideration of a future life, are not fashionable nowadays, but I ampersuaded that that preaching of the Gospel is seriously defective, andwill be lamentably ineffective, which ignores this altogether. And,therefore, dear friends, I say to you that, although in all humanprobability a stretch of years may lie between you and the end of life,the question of my text is one specially adapted to you.

And it is so because, with your buoyancy, with your necessarily limitedexperience, with the small accumulation of results that you havealready in your possession, and with the tendencies of your age to liverather by impulse than by reflection, you are specially tempted toforget the solemn significance of this interrogation. And it is aquestion especially for you, because you have special advantages in thematter of putting it. We older people are all fixed and fossils, as youare very fond of telling us. The iron has cooled and gone into rigidshapes with us. It is all fluent with you. You may become pretty nearlywhat you like. I do not mean in regard to circ*mstances: otherconsiderations come in to determine these; but circ*mstances aresecond, character is first; and I do say, in regard to character, youyoung folk have all but infinite possibilities before you; and, Irepeat, may become almost anything that you set yourselves to be. Youhave no long, weary trail of failures behind you, depressing andseeming to bring an entail of like failure with them for the future.You have not yet acquired habits—those awful things that may be ourworst foes or our best friends—you have not yet acquired habits thatalmost smother the power of reform and change. You have, perhaps, yearsbefore you in which you may practise the lessons of wisdom andself-restraint which this question fairly fronted would bring. And so Ilay it on your hearts, dear young friends. I have little hope of theold people. I do not despair of any, God forbid! but the fact remainsthat the most of the men who have done anything for God and the worldworth doing have been under the influence of Christian principle intheir early days. And from fifteen to one or two and twenty is theperiod in which you get the set which, in all likelihood, you willretain through eternity. So, 'What will ye do in the end?' Answer thequestion whilst yet it is possible to answer it, with a stretch ofyears before you in which you may work out the conclusions to which theanswer brings.

IV. And that leads me to say, last of all, and but a word, that here isa question which Jesus Christ alone enables a man to answer with calmconfidence.

As I have said, the end is a beginning; the passage from life is theentrance on a progressive and eternal state of retribution. And JesusChrist tells us two other things. He tells us that that state has twoparts; that in one there is union with Him, life, blessedness for ever;and that in the other there is darkness, separation from Him, death,and misery. These are the facts, as revealed by the incarnate Word ofGod, on which answers to this question must be shaped.

'What will ye do in the end?' If I am trusting to Him; if I havebrought my poor, weak nature and sinful soul to Him, and cast them uponHis merciful sacrifice and mighty intercession and life-giving Spirit,then I can say: 'As for me, I shall behold Thy face in righteousness; Ishall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness.' Ay, and what aboutthose who do not take Him for their Prince and their Saviour? 'Whatwill ye do in the end?' When life's illusions are over, when all itsbubbles are burst, when conscience awakes, and when you stand to givean account of yourself to God, 'What will ye do in the end' which is abeginning? 'Can thy heart endure and thy hand be strong in the day thatI shall deal with thee?' Oh brother, do not turn away from that Christwho is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the ending! If youwill cleave to Him, then you may let the years and weeks slip awaywithout regret; and whether the close be far off or near, death will berobbed of all its terrors, and the future so filled with blessedness,that of you the wise man's paradox will be true: 'Better is the end ofa thing than the beginning, and the day of death than the day of birth.'

POSSESSING AND POSSESSED

'The portion of Jacob is not like them—for He is the former of allthings: and Israel is the tribe of His inheritance. The Lord of Hostsis His name.'—JER. x. 16, R.V.

Here we have set forth a reciprocal possession. We possess God, Hepossesses us. We are His inheritance, He is our portion. I am His; Heis mine.

This mutual ownership is the very living centre of all religion.Without it there is no relation of any depth between God and us. Howmuch profounder such a conception is than the shallow notions aboutreligion which so many men have! It is not a round of observance; not apainful effort at obedience, not a dim reverence for some vaguesupernatural, not a far-off bowing before Omnipotence, not the mereacceptance of a creed, but a life in which God and the soul blend inthe intimacies of mutual possession.

I. The mutual possession.

God is our portion.

That thought presupposes the possibility of our possessing God. Itpresupposes the fact that He has given Himself to us, and the answeringfact that we have taken Him for ours.

We are God's inheritance.

We give ourselves to Him—we do so where we apprehend that He has givenHimself to us; it is His giving love that moves men to yield themselvesto God. He takes us for His. What a wonderful thought that He delightsin possessing us! The all-sufficiency of our portion is guaranteedbecause He is 'the former of all things.' The safety of His inheritanceis secured because 'the Lord of Hosts is His name.' And that nameaccentuates the wonder that He to whom all the ordered armies of theuniverse submit and belong should still take us for His inheritance.

Mark the contrast of this true possession with the false and merelyexternal possessions of the world. Those outward things which a man hasstand in no real relation with him. They fade and fleet away, or haveto be left, and, even while they last, are not his in any real sense.Only what has indissolubly entered into, and become one with, our veryselves is truly ours.

Our possession of God suggests a view of our blessedness and ourobligation. It secures blessedness—for we have in Him anall-sufficient object and a treasure for all our nature. It imposes theobligation to let our whole nature feed upon, and be filled by, Him, tosee that the temple where He dwells is clean, and not to fling away ourtreasure.

His possession of us suggests a corresponding view of our blessednessand our obligation.

We are His—as slaves are their owners' property. So we are bound tosubmission of will. To be owned by God is an honour. The slave's goodsand chattels belong to the master.

His possession of us binds us to consecrate ourselves, and so toglorify Him in 'body and spirit which are His.'

It ensures our safety. How constantly this calming thought is dwelt onin Scripture—that they who belong to Him need fear nothing. 'Fear not,I have called thee by thy name, them art Mine.' God does not hold Hispossessions with so slack a grasp as to lose them or to suffer them tobe wrenched away. A psalmist rose to the hope of immortality bymeditating on what was involved in his being God's possession here andnow. He was sure that even Death's bony fingers could not keep theirhold on him, and so he sang, 'Thou wilt not suffer Thine Holy One tosee corruption.' The seal on the foundation of God which guarantees itsstanding sure is, 'The Lord knoweth them that are His.' 'They shall beMine in the day that I do make, even a peculiar treasure,' is His ownassurance, on which resting, a trembling soul may 'have boldness in theday of judgment.'

II. The human response by which God becomes ours and we His.

That response is first the act of faith, which is an act of both reasonand will, and then the act of love and self-surrender which followsfaith, and then the continuous acts of communion and consecration.

All must commence with recognition of His free gift of Himself to us inChrist. We come empty-handed. That gift recognised and accepted movesus to give ourselves to Him. When we give ourselves to Him we find thatwe possess Him.

Further, there must be continuous communion. This mutual possessiondepends on our occupation of mind and heart with Him. We possess Himand are possessed by Him, when our wills are kept in harmony with, andsubmission to, Him, when our thoughts are occupied with Him and Histruth, when our affections rest in Him, when our desires go out to Him,when our hopes are centred in Him, when our practical life is devotedto Him.

III. The blessedness of this mutual possession.

To possess God is to have an all-sufficient object for all our nature.He who has God for his very own has the fountain of life in himself,has the spring of living water, as it were, in his own courtyard, andneeds not to go elsewhere to draw. He need fear no loss, for his wealthis so engrained in the very substance of his being that nothing can robhim of it but himself, and that whilst he lasts it will last with,because in, him.

How marvellous that into the narrow room of one poor soul He shouldcome whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain! Solomon said, 'How muchless this house which I have built,'—well may we say the same of ourlittle hearts. But He can compress Himself into that small compass andexpand His abode by dwelling in it.

Nor is the blessedness of being possessed by Him less than theblessedness of possessing Him. For so long as we own ourselves we areburdens to ourselves, and we only own ourselves truly when we giveourselves away utterly. Earthly love, with its blessed mysteries ofmutual possession, teaches us that. But all its depth and joy are asnothing when set beside the liberty, the glad peace, the assuredpossession of our enriched selves, which are ours when we giveourselves wholly to God, and so for the first time are truly lords ofourselves, and find ourselves by losing ourselves in Him.

Nor need we fear to say that God, too, delights in that mutualpossession, for the very essence of love is the desire to impartit*elf, and He is love supreme and perfect. Therefore is He glad whenwe let Him give Himself to us, and moved by 'the mercies of God, yieldourselves to Him a sacrifice of a sweet smell, acceptable to God.'

CALMS AND CRISES

'If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, thenhow canst thou contend with horses? and though in a land of peace thouart secure, yet how wilt thou do in the pride of Jordan?'—JER. xii. 5,R.V.

The prophet has been complaining of his persecutors. The divine answeris here, reproving his impatience, and giving him to understand thatharder trials are in store for him.

Both clauses mean substantially the same thing, and are of a parabolicnature. The one adduces the metaphor of a race: 'Footmen have beatenyou, have they? Then how will you run with cavalry?' The other is moreclear in the Revised Version rendering: 'Though in a land of peace youare secure, what will you do in Jordan when it swells?' The 'swellingof Jordan' is a figure for extreme danger.

The questions may be taken as referring to our own lives. Note how theone refers more to strength for duties, the other to peace and safetyin dangers. They both recognise that life has great alternations as tothe magnitude of its tasks and trials, and they call on experience toanswer the question whether we are ready for times of stress and peril.

I. Think of what may come to us.

We all have had the experience of how in our lives there are longstretches of uneventful days, and then, generally without warning, somecrisis is sprung on us, which demands quite a different order ofqualities to cope with it. Our typhoons generally come without anywarning from a falling barometer.

We may at any moment be confronted with some hard duty which will taskour utmost energy.

We may at any moment be plunged in some great calamity to which thequiet course of our lives for years will be as the still flow of theriver between smiling lawns is to the dash and fierce currents of therapids in a grim canyon.

The tasks that may come on us and the tasks that must come, the dangersthat may beset us and the dangers that must envelop us, thepossibilities that lie hidden in the future, and the certainties thatwe know to be shrouded there, should surely sometimes occupy a wiseman's thoughts. It is but living in a fool's paradise to sootheourselves with the assurance which a moment's thought will shatter:'To-morrow shall be as this day.' We shall not always have the easycompetition with footmen; there will some time come a call to strainour muscles to keep up with the gallop of cavalry. We shall have tostruggle to keep our feet in the swelling of Jordan, and must notexpect to have a continual leisurely life in 'a land of peace.'

II. Think of what experience tells us as to our power to meet thesecrises.

The footmen have wearied you. The small tasks have been more than yourpatience and strength could manage. No doubt great exigencies oftencall forth great powers that were dormant in the humdrum of ordinarylife. But the man who knows himself best will be the most ready toshrink with distrust from the dread possibilities of duty.

If we think of the 'footmen' with whom we have contended asrepresenting the smaller faults that we have tried to overcome, doesour success in conquering some small bad habit, some 'little sin,'encourage the hope that we could keep our footing when some greattemptation of a lifetime came down on us with a rush like the charge ofa battalion of horsem*n? Or, if we cast our eyes forward to thecalamities that lie still 'on the knees of the gods' for us, do we feelready to meet the hours of desolating disaster, the 'hour of death andthe day of judgment'? Even in a land of peace we have all had alarms,perturbations, and defeats enough, and our security has been at themercy of marauders so often that if we are wise, and take due heed ofwhat experience has to say to us of our reserve of force, we shall notbe hopeful of keeping our footing in the whirling currents of a riverin full flood.

III. Think of the power that will fit us for all crises.

With the power of Jesus in our spirits we shall never have to attempt aduty for which we are not strengthened, nor to front a danger from andin which He will not defend us. With His life in us we shall be readyfor the long hours of uneventful, unexciting duties, and for the shortspurts that make exacting calls on us. We 'shall run and not be weary;we shall walk and not faint.' If we live in Jesus we shall always be in'a land of peace,' and no 'plague shall come nigh our dwelling.' Evenwhen the soles of our feet rest in the waters of Jordan, the waters ofJordan shall be cut off, and we shall pass over on dry ground into theland of peace, where they that would swallow us up shall be far awayfor ever.

AN IMPOSSIBILITY MADE POSSIBLE

'Can the Ethiopian change his skin?'—JER. xiii. 23. 'If any man be inChrist, he is a new creature.'—2 COR. v. 17. 'Behold, I make allthings new.'—REV. xxi. 5.

Put these three texts together. The first is a despairing question towhich experience gives only too sad and decisive a negative answer. Itis the answer of many people who tell us that character must beeternal, and of many a baffled man who says, 'It is of no use—I havetried and can do nothing.' The second text is the grand Christiananswer, full of confidence. It was spoken by one who had no superficialestimate of the evil, but who had known in himself the power of Christto revolutionise a life, and make a man love all he had hated, and hateall he had loved, and fling away all he had treasured. The last textpredicts the completion of the renovating process lying far ahead, butas certain as sunrise.

I. The unchangeableness of character, especially of faults.

We note the picturesque rhetorical question here. They wereoccasionally accustomed to see the dark-skinned, Ethiopian, whether wesuppose that these were true negroes from Southern Egypt or dark Arabs,and now and then leopards came up from the thickets on the Jordan, orfrom the hills of the southern wilderness about the Dead Sea. The blackhue of the man, the dark spots that starred the skin of the fiercebeast, are fitting emblems of the evil that dyes and speckles the soul.Whether it wraps the whole character in black, or whether it only spotsit here and there with tawny yellow, it is ineradicable; and a man canno more change his character once formed than a negro can cast hisskin, or a leopard whiten out the spots on his hide.

Now we do not need to assert that a man has no power ofself-improvement or reformation. The exhortations of the prophet torepentance and to cleansing imply that he has. If he has not, then itis no blame to him that he does not mend. Experience shows that we havea very considerable power of such a kind. It is a pity that someChristian teachers speak in exaggerated terms about the impossibilityof such self-improvement.

But it is very difficult.

Note the great antagonist as set forth here—Habit, that solemn andmystical power. We do not know all the ways in which it operates, butone chief way is through physical cravings set up. It is strange howmuch easier a second time is than a first, especially in regard to evilacts. The hedge once broken down, it is very easy to get through itagain. If one drop of water has percolated through the dyke, there willbe a roaring torrent soon. There is all the difference between once andnever; there is small difference between once and twice. By habit wecome to do things mechanically and without effort, and we all likethat. One solitary footfall across the snow soon becomes a beaten way.As in the banyan-tree, each branch becomes a root. All life is heldtogether by cords of custom which enable us to reserve conscious effortand intelligence for greater moments. Habit tends to weigh upon us witha pressure 'heavy as frost, and deep almost as life.' But also it isthe ally of good.

The change to good is further made difficult because liking too oftengoes with evil, and good is only won by effort. It is a proof of man'scorruption that if left alone, evil in some form or other springsspontaneously, and that the opposite good is hard to win. Uncultivatedsoil bears thistles and weeds. Anything can roll downhill. It is alwaysthe least trouble to go on as we have been going.

Further, the change is made difficult because custom blinds judgmentand conscience. People accustomed to a vitiated atmosphere are notaware of its foulness.

How long it takes a nation, for instance, to awake to consciousness ofsome national crime, even when the nation is 'Christian'! And how menget perfectly sophisticated as to their own sins, and have all mannerof euphemisms for them!

Further, how hard it is to put energy into a will that has beenenfeebled by long compliance. Like prisoners brought out of theBastille.

So if we put all these reasons together, no wonder that suchreformation is rare.

I do not dwell on the point that it must necessarily be confined withinvery narrow limits. I appeal to experience. You have tried to cure sometrivial habit. You know what a task that has been—how often youthought that you had conquered, and then found that all had to be doneover again. How much more is this the case in this greater work! Oftenthe efforts to break off evil habits have the same effect as thestruggles of cattle mired in a bog, who sink the deeper for plunging.The sad cry of many a foiled wrestler with his own evil is, 'O wretchedman that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?' We donot wish to exaggerate, but simply to put it that experience shows thatfor men in general, custom and inclination and indolence and the lackof adequate motive weigh so heavily that a thorough abandonment ofevil, much more a hearty practice of good, are not to be looked forwhen once a character has been formed. So you young people, take care.And all of us listen to—-

II. The great hope for individual renewal.

The second text sets forth a possibility of entire individual renewal,and does so by a strong metaphor.

'If any man be in Christ he is a new creature,' or as the words mightbe rendered, 'there is a new creation,' and not only is he renewed, butall things are become new. He is a new Adam in a new world.

Now (a) let us beware of exaggeration about this matter. There areoften things said about the effects of conversion which are very far inadvance of reality, and give a handle to caricature. The great law ofcontinuity runs on through the change of conversion. Take a man who hasbeen the slave of some sin. The evil will not cease to tempt, nor willthe effects of the past on character be annihilated. 'Whatsoever a mansoweth, that shall he also reap,' remains true. In many ways there willbe permanent consequences. There will remain the scars of old wounds;old sores will be ready to burst forth afresh. The great outlines ofcharacter do remain.

(b) What is the condition of renewal?

'If any man be in Christ'—how distinctly that implies something morethan human in Paul's conception of Christ. It implies personal unionwith Him, so that He is the very element or atmosphere in which welive. And that union is brought about by faith in Him.

(c) How does such a state of union with Christ make a man over again?

It gives a new aim and centre for our lives. Then we live not untoourselves; then everything is different and looks so, for the centre isshifted. That union introduces a constant reference to Him andcontemplation of His death for us, it leads to self-abnegation.

It puts all life under the influence of a new love. 'The love of Christconstraineth.' As is a man's love, so is his life. The mightiestdevolution is to excite a new love, by which old loves and tastes areexpelled. 'A new affection' has 'expulsive power,' as the new saprising in the springtime pushes off the lingering withered leaves. Sounion with Him meets the difficulty arising from inclination stillhankering after evil. It lifts life into a higher level where thenoxious creatures that were proper to the swamps cannot live. The newlove gives a new and mighty motive for obedience.

That union breaks the terrible chain that binds us to the past. 'Alldied.' The past is broken as much as if we were dead. It is broken bythe great act of forgiveness. Sin holds men by making them feel as ifwhat has been must be—an awful entail of evil. In Christ we die toformer self.

That union brings a new divine power to work in us. 'I live, yet not I,but Christ liveth in me.'

It sets us in a new world which yet is the old. All things are changedif we are changed. They are the same old things, but seen in a newlight, used for new purposes, disclosing new relations and powers.Earth becomes a school and discipline for heaven. The world isdifferent to a blind man when cured, or to a deaf one,—there are newsights for the one, new sounds for the other.

All this is true in the measure in which we live in union with Christ.

So no man need despair, nor think, 'I cannot mend now.' You may havetried and been defeated a thousand times. But still victory ispossible, not without effort and sore conflict, but still possible.There is hope for all, and hope for ME.

III. The completion in a perfectly renewed creation.

The renovation here is only partial. Its very incompleteness isprophetic. If there be this new life in us, it obviously has notreached its fulness here, and it is obviously not manifested here forall that even here it is.

It is like some exotic that does not show its true beauty in ourgreenhouses. The life of a Christian on earth is a prophecy by both itsgreatness and its smallness, by both its glory and its shame, by bothits brightness and its spots. It cannot be that there is always to bethis disproportion between aspiration and performance, between willingand doing. Here the most perfect career is like a half-lighted street,with long gaps between the lamps.

The surroundings here are uncongenial to the new creatures. 'Foxes haveholes'—all creatures are fitted for their environment; only man, andeminently renewed man, wanders as a pilgrim, not in his home. Thepresent frame of things is for discipline. The schooling over, we burnthe rod. So we look for an external order in full correspondence withthe new nature.

And Christ throned 'makes all things new.' How far the old is renewedwe cannot tell, and we need not ask. Enough that there shall be auniverse in perfect harmony with the completely renewed nature, that weshall find a home where all things will serve and help and gladden andfurther us, where the outward will no more distract and clog the spirit.

Brethren, let that mighty love constrain you; and look to Christ torenew you. Whatever your old self may have been, you may bury it deepin His grave, and rise with Him to newness of life. Then you may walkin this old world, new creatures in Christ Jesus, looking for theblessed hope of entire renewal into the perfect likeness of Him, theperfect man, in a perfect world, where all old sorrows and sins havepassed away and He has made all things new. Through eternity, new joys,new knowledge, new progress, new likeness, new service will beours—and not one leaf shall ever wither in the amaranthine crown, nor'the cup of blessing' ever become empty or flat and stale. Eternitywill be but a continual renewal and a progressive increase of everfresh and ever familiar treasures. The new and the old will be one.

Begin with trusting to Him to help you to change a deeper blacknessthan that of the Ethiopian's skin, and to erase firier spots than stainthe tawny leopard's hide, and He will make you a new man, and set youin His own time in a 'new heaven and earth, where dwellethrighteousness.'

TRIUMPHANT PRAYER

'O Lord, though our iniquities testify against us, do Thou it for Thyname's sake: for our backslidings are many; we have sinned againstThee. 8. O the hope of Israel, the saviour thereof in time of trouble,why shouldest Thou be as a stranger in the land, and as a wayfaring manthat turneth aside to tarry for a night? 9. Why shouldest Thou be as aman astonied, as a mighty man that cannot save? yet Thou, O Lord, artin the midst of us, and we are called by Thy name; leave us not.'—JER.xiv. 7-9.

My purpose now carries me very far away from the immediate occasion ofthese words; yet I cannot refrain from a passing reference to thewonderful pathos and picturesque power with which the long-forgottencalamity that evoked them is portrayed in the context. A terribledrought has fallen upon the land, and the prophet's picture of it is,if one might say so, like some of Dante's in its realism, in itstenderness, and in its terror. In the presence of a common calamity alldistinctions of class have vanished, and the nobles send their littleones to the well, and they come back with empty vessels and droopingheads instead of with the gladness that used to be heard in the placeof drawing of water. The ploughmen are standing among the crackedfurrows, gazing with despair on the brown chapped earth, and in thefield the very dumb creatures are sharing in the common sorrow, and theimperious law of self-preservation overpowers and crushes the maternalinstincts. 'Yea, the hind also calved in the field, and forsook it,because there was no grass.' And on every little hilltop where coolerair might be found, the once untamable wild asses are standing withopen nostrils panting for the breeze, their filmy eyes failing them,gazing for the rain that will not come. And then, from contemplatingall that sorrow, the prophet turns to God with a wondrous burst ofstrangely blended confidence and abasem*nt, penitence and trust, andfuses together the acknowledgment of sin and reliance upon theestablished and perpetual relation between Israel and God, pleadingwith Him about His judgments, presenting before Him the mysteriouscontradiction that such a calamity should fall on those with whom Goddwelt, and casting himself lowly before the throne, and pleading theancient name: 'Do Thou it! Leave us not.'

It is to the wonderful fulness and richness of this prayer that I askyour attention in these few remarks. Expositors have differed as towhether the drought that forms its basis was a literal one, or is theprophet's way of putting the sore calamities that had fallen on Israel.Be that as it may, I need not remind you how often in Scripture thatmetaphor of the 'rain that cometh down from heaven and watereth theearth' is the symbol for God's divine gift of His Spirit, and how, onthe other hand, the picture of the 'dry and thirsty land where no wateris' is the appropriate figure for the condition of the soul or of theChurch void of the divine presence. And I think I shall not mistake ifI say that though we have much to make us thankful, yet you and I, dearbrethren, and all our Churches and congregations, are suffering underthis drought, and the merciful 'rain, wherewith Thou dost confirm Thineinheritance when it is weary' has not yet come as we would have it. Maywe find in these words some gospel for the day that may help us to cometo the temper of mind into which there shall descend the showers to'make soft the earth and bless the springing thereof!'

Glancing over these clauses, then, and trying to put them intosomething like order for our purpose, there are four things that Iwould have you note. The first is the mysterious contradiction betweenthe ideal Israel and the actual state of things; the second is theearnest inquiry as to the cause; the third the penitent confession ofour sinfulness; and the last, the triumphant confidence of believingprayer.

I. First of all, then, look at the illustration given to us by thesewords of the mysterious contradiction between the ideal of Israel andthe actual condition of things.

Recur, for the sake of illustration, to the historical event upon whichour text is based. The old prophet had said, 'The Lord thy God giveththee a good land, a land full of brooks and water, rivers and depths, aland wherein thou shalt eat bread without scarceness, thou shalt notlack anything in it'; and the startling fact is, that these men sawaround them a land full of misery for want of that very gift which hadbeen promised. The ancient charter of Israel's existence was that Godshould dwell in the midst of them, and what was it that they beheld?'As things are,' says the prophet, 'it looks as if that perennialpresence which Thou hast promised had been changed into visits, shortand far between. Why shouldest Thou be as a stranger in the land, andas a wayfaring man, that turneth aside to tarry for a night?'

Now, I suppose there are two ideas intended to be conveyed—the brief,transitory, interrupted visits, with long, dreary stretches of absencebetween them; and the indifference of the visitant, as a man whopitches his tent in some little village to-night cares very littleabout the people that he never saw before this afternoon's march, andwill never see after to-morrow morning. And not only is it so, but,instead of the perpetual energy of this divine aid that had beenpromised to Israel, as things are now, it looks as if He was a mightyman astonied, a hero that cannot save—some warrior stricken by panicfear into a paralysis of all his strength—a Samson with his locksshorn. The ideal had been so great—perpetual gifts, perpetualpresence, perpetual energy; the reality is chapped ground and parchedplaces, occasional visitations, like vanishing gleams of sunshine in awinter's day, and a paralysis, as it would appear, of all the ancientmight.

Dear Christian friends, am I exaggerating, or dealing only with one setof phenomena, and forgetting the counterpoising ones on the other side,when I say, Change the name, and the story is told about us? God bethanked we have much that shows us that He has not left us, but yet,when we think of what we are, and of what God has promised that weshould be, surely we must confess that there is the most sad, and, butfor one reason, the most mysterious contradiction between the divineideal and the actual facts of the case. Need we go further to learnwhat God meant His Church to be, than the last words that Jesus Christsaid to us—'Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world'?Need we go further than those metaphors which come from His lips asprecepts, and, like all His precepts, are a commandment upon thesurface, but a promise in the sweet kernel—'Ye are the salt of theearth,' 'ye are the light of the world'—or than the prophet's visionof an Israel which 'shall be in the midst of many people as a dew fromthe Lord'? Is that the description of what you and I are? Have not weto say, 'We have not wrought any deliverance in the earth, neither havethe inhabitants of the world fallen'? 'Salt of the earth,' and we canhardly keep our own souls from going putrid with the corruption that isround about us. 'Light of the world,' and our poor candles burnt lowdown into the socket, and sending up rather stench and smoke thananything like a clear flame. The words sound like irony rather thanpromises, like the very opposite of what we are rather than the idealstowards which our lives strive. In our lips they are presumption, andin the lips of the world, as we only too well know, they are a notundeserved scoff, to be said with curved lip, 'The salt of the earth,'and 'the light of the world'!

And look at what we are doing: scarcely holding our own numerically.Here and there a man comes and declares what God has done for his soul.But what is the Church, what are the Christian men of England, with alltheir multifarious activities, performing? Are we leavening thenational mind? Are we breathing a higher godliness into trade, a morewholesome, simple style of living into society? And as for expansion,why, the Church at home does not keep up with the actual increase ofthe population; and we are conquering heathendom as we might hope todrain the ocean by taking out thimblefuls at a time. Is that what theLord meant us to do? Our Father with us; yes, but oh! as a 'mighty man,astonied,' as He might well be, 'that cannot save' for the old, oldreason, 'He did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief.'No wonder that on the other side men are saying—and it is not such avery presumptuous thing to say, if you have regard only to the factsthat appear on the surface—men are saying, 'wait a little while, andall these organisations will come to nothing; these Christian churches,as they are called,' and everything that you and I regard asdistinctive of Christianity, 'will be gone and be forgotten.' Webelieve ourselves to be in possession of an eternal light; the worldlooks at us and sees that it is like a flickering flame in a dyinglamp. Dear brethren, if I think of the lowness of our own religiouscharacters, the small extent to which we influence the society in whichwe live, of the slow rate at which the Gospel progresses in our land, Ican only ask the question, and pray you to lay it to heart, which theold prophet asked long ago: 'O Thou that art named the house of Jacob,is the Spirit of the Lord straitened? Are these His doings? Do not mywords do good to them that walk uprightly?' 'Why shouldest Thou be as amighty man that cannot save?'

II. Let me ask you to look at the second thought that I think mayfairly be gathered from these words, namely, that this consciousness ofour low and evil condition ought to lead to very earnest and seriousinquiry as to its cause.

The prophet having acknowledged transgression yet asks a question, 'Whyshouldest Thou leave us? Why have all these things come upon us?' Andhe asks it not as ignorant of the answer, but in order that the answermay be deepened in the consciences and perceptions of those that listento him, and that they together may take the answer to the Throne ofGod. There can be no doubt in a Christian mind as to the reason, andyet there is an absolute necessity that the familiar truth as to thereason should be driven home to our own consciences, and made part ofour own spiritual experience, by our own honest reiteration of it andreflection upon it.

'Why shouldest Thou leave us?' Now, I need not spend time by takinginto consideration answers that other people might give. I suppose thatnone of us will say that the reason is in any variableness of thatunalterable, uniform, ever present, ever full, divine gift of God'sSpirit to His children. We do not believe in any arbitrary sovereigntythat withdraws that gift; we do not believe that that gift rises andfalls in its fulness and its abundance. We believe that the greatreservoir is always full, and that, if ever our small tanks be empty,it is because there is something choking the pipe, not because there isanything less in the centre storehouse. We believe, if I may takeanother illustration, that it is with the seasons and the rotation ofday and night in the religious experience as it is with them in thenatural world. Summer and winter come and go, not because of anyvariableness in the centre orb, but because of the variation in theinclination of the circling satellite; day and night come not by reasonof any 'shadow cast by turning' from the sun that revolves not atall—but by reason of the side that is turned to his life-giving andquickening beams. We believe that all the clouds and mist that comebetween us and God are like the clouds and mist of the sky, not droppedupon us from the blue empyrean above, but sucked up from the undrainedswamps and poisonous fens of the lower earth. That is to say, if therebe any change in the fulness of our possession of the divine Spirit,the fault lies wholly within the region of the mutable and of thehuman, and not at all in the region of the perennial and divine.

Nor do we believe, I suppose, any of us, that we are to look for anypart of the reason in failure of the adaptation of God's work and God'sordinances to the great work which they have to do. Other people maytell us, if they like—it will not shake our confidence—that the firethat was kindled at Pentecost has all died down to grey ashes, and thatit is of no use trying to cower over the burnt-out embers any more inorder to get heat out of them. They may, and do, tell us that the'rushing, mighty wind that filled the house' obeys the law of cycles asthe wind of the natural universe, and will calm into stillness after awhile, and then set in and blow from the opposite quarter. They maytell us, and they do tell us, that the 'river of the water of life thatflows from the Throne of God and of the Lamb' is lost in the sands oftime, like the streams in the great Mongolian plateau. We do notbelieve that. Everything stands exactly as it always has been in regardto the perennial possession of Christ's Spirit as the strength andresource of His Church; and the fault, dear friends, lies only here: 'OLord, our iniquities testify against us; our backslidings are many; wehave sinned against Thee.'

Oh, let me urge upon you, and upon myself, that the first thing whichwe have to do is prayerfully and patiently and honestly to search afterthis cause, and not look to superficial trifles such as possiblevariations and improvements in order and machinery, and polity orcreed, or anything else, as the means of changing and bettering thecondition of things, but to recognise this as being the one sole causethat hinders—the slackness of our own hold on Christ's hand, and thefeebleness and imperfection of our own spiritual life. Dear brethren,there is no worse sign of the condition of churches than the calmindifference and complacency in the present condition of things whichvisits very many of us; it is like a deadly malaria wherever it is tobe found, and there is no more certain precursor of a blessed changethan a widespread dissatisfaction with what we are, and an honest,earnest search after the cause. The sleeper that is restless, andtosses and turns, is near awakening; and the ice that cracks, andcrumbles, and groans, and heaves, is on the point of breaking up. WhenChristian men and women are aroused to this, the startled recognitionof how far beneath the ideal—no, I should not say how far beneath, butrather how absolutely opposed to, the ideal—so much of our Christianlife and work is, and when further they push the inquiry for the cause,so as to find that it lies in their own sin, then we shall be near thetime, yea, the 'set time, to favour Zion.'

III. And so let me point you, in the next place—and but a word or twoon that matter—to the consideration that the consciousness of the evilcondition and knowledge of its cause leads on to lowly penitence andconfession.

I dwell upon that for a moment for one reason mainly. I suppose that itis a very familiar observation with us all that when, by God's mercy,any of us individually, or as communities, are awakened to a sense ofour own departure from what He would have us be, and the feebleness ofall our Christian work, we are very apt to be led away upon the wrongscent altogether, and instead of seeking improvement and revivificationin God's order, we set up an order of our own, which is a great dealmore pleasing to our own natural inclinations. For instance, to bringthe thing to a practical illustration, suppose I were, after theseremarks of mine, as a kind of corollary from them, to ask forvolunteers for some new form of Christian work, I believe I should gettwenty for one that I should get if I simply said, 'Brethren, let us gotogether and confess our sins before God, and ask Him not to leave us.'We are always tempted to originate some new kind of work, tomanufacture a revival, to begin by bringing together the outcasts intothe fold, instead of to begin by trying to deepen our own Christiancharacter, and purifying our own hearts, and getting more and more ofthe life of God into our own spirits, and then to let the increase fromwithout come as it may. The true law for us to follow is to begin withlowly abasem*nt at His footstool, and when we have purged ourselvesfrom faults and sins in the very act of confessing them, and of shakingthem from us, then when we are fit for growth, external growth, weshall get it. But the revival of the Church is not what people fancy itto be so often nowadays, the gathering in of the unconverted into itsfold—that is the consequence of the revival. The revival comes by thepath of recognition of sin, and confession of sin, and forsaking ofsin, and waiting before Him for His blessing and His Spirit. Let me putall that I would say about this matter into the one remark, that thelaw of the whole process is the old one which was exemplified on theday of Pentecost. 'Sanctify a fast, call a solemn assembly; gather thepeople, assemble the elders; let the bridegroom go forth of hischamber, and the bride out of her closet; let the priests, theministers of the Lord, weep between the porch and the altar. Yea, theLord will be zealous for His land, and will pity His people; and I willpour out My Spirit upon all flesh.' Brethren, to our knees and toconfessions! Let us see to it that we are right in our own inmosthearts.

IV. And so, finally, look at the wonderful way in which in this text ofours the prophet fuses together into one indistinguishable and yet notconfused whole, confession, and pleading remonstrance and also theconfidence of triumphant prayer.

I cannot touch upon the various points of that as I would gladly do;but I must suggest one or two of them for your consideration. Look atthe substance of his petition: 'Do Thou it for Thy name's sake.' 'Leaveus not.' That is all he asks. He does not prescribe what is to be done.He does not ask for the taking away of the calamity, he simply asks forthe continual presence and the operation of the divine hand, sure thatGod is in the midst of them, and working all things right. Let us shapeour expectations in like fashion, not being careful to discover pathsfor Him to run in; but contented if we can realise the sweetness andthe strength of His calming and purging presence, and willing to leavethe manner of His working in His own hand.

Then, look at what the text suggests as pleas with God, and grounds ofconfidence for ourselves. 'Do Thou it for Thy name's sake, the hope ofIsrael, the Saviour thereof in time of trouble. Thou art in the midstof us, we are called by Thy name.' There are three grounds upon whichwe may base our firm confidence. The one is the name—all the ancientmanifestations of Thy character, which have been from of old, andremain for our perpetual strength. 'As we have heard, so have we seenin the city of the Lord of Hosts.' 'That which is Thy memorial unto allgenerations pledges Thee to the constant reiteration and reproduction,hour by hour, according to our necessity, of all the might, and themiracles, and the mercies of the past. Do Thou it for Thy name's sake.'

And then Jeremiah turns to the throne of God with another plea—'thehope of Israel'—and thereby fills his mouth with the argument drawnfrom the fact that the confidence of the Church is fixed upon Him, andthat it cannot be that He will disappoint it. 'Because Thou hast givenus Thy name, and because Thy name, by Thy grace, has become, throughour faith, our hope, Thou art doubly bound—bound by what Thou art,bound by what we expect—to be with us, our strength and ourconfidence.'

And the final plea is the appeal to the perennial and essentialrelationship of God to His Church. 'We are called by Thy name'—'webelong to Thee. It were Thy concern and ours that Thy Gospel shouldspread in the world, and the honour of our Lord should be advanced.Thou hast not surely lost Thy hold of Thine own, or Thy care for Thineown property.' The psalmist said, 'Thou wilt not suffer him that isdevoted to Thee to see corruption.' And what his faith felt to beimpossible in regard to the bodily life is still more unthinkable inregard to the spiritual. It cannot be that that which belongs to Himshould pass and perish. 'We are called by Thy name, and Thou, Lord, artin the midst of us'—not a Samson shorn of his locks; not a wayfaringman turning aside to delay for a night; but the abiding Presence whichmakes the Church glad.

Dear brethren, calm and confident expectation should be our attitude,and lowly repentance should rise to triumphant believing hope, becauseGod is moving round about us in this day. Thanks be to His name, thereis spread through us all an expectation of great things. Thatexpectation brings its own fulfilment, and is always God's way ofpreparing the path for His own large gifts, like the strange,indefinable attitude of expectation which we know filled the civilisedworld before the birth of Jesus Christ—like the breath of the morningthat springs up before the sun rises, and says, 'The dawn; the dawn,'and dies away. The expectation is the precursor of the gift, and theprayer is the guarantee of the acceptance. Take an illustration. Thosegreat lakes in Central Africa that are said to feed the Nile are filledwith melting snows weeks and weeks before the water rises away down inEgypt, and brings fertility across the desert that it makes to glistenwith greenness, and to rejoice and blossom as the rose. And so insilence, high up upon the mountains of God, fed by communion withHimself, the expectation rises to a flood-tide ere it flows downthrough all the channels of Christian organisation and activity, andblesses the valleys below. It is not for us to hurry the work of God,nor spasmodically to manufacture revivals. It is not for us, under thepretence of waiting for Him, to be cold and callous; but it is for usto question ourselves wherefore these things have come upon us, withlowly, penitent confession to turn to God, and ask Him to bless us. Oh,if we were to do this, we should not ask in vain! Let us take theprayer of our context, and say, 'We acknowledge, O Lord, ourwickedness, and the iniquity of our fathers; for we have sinned againstThee. Are there any among the vanities of the Gentiles that can causerain? or can the heavens give showers? art not Thou He, O Lord, ourGod? Therefore we will wait upon Thee.' Be sure that the old mercifulanswer will come to us, 'I will pour rivers of water upon him that isthirsty, and floods upon the dry ground; and I will pour My Spirit uponthy seed, and My blessing upon thine offspring.'

SIN'S WRITING AND ITS ERASURE

'The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron, and with the point ofa diamond: it is graven upon the table of their heart, and upon thehorns of your altars.'—JER. xvii. 1.

'Ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ ministered byus, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not intables of stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart.'-2 COR. iii. 3.

'Blotting out the handwriting that was against us.'—-COL .ii. 14.

I have put these verses together because they all deal withsubstantially the same metaphor. The first is part of a prophet'ssolemn appeal. It describes the sin of the nation as indelible. It iswritten in two places. First, on their hearts, which reminds us of thepromise of the new covenant to be written on the heart. The'red-leaved tablets of the heart' are like waxen tables on which aniron stylus makes a deep mark, an ineradicable scar. So Judah's sinis, as it were, eaten into their heart, or, if we might so say,tattooed on it. It is also written on the stone horns of the altar,with a diamond which can cut the rock (an illustration of ancientknowledge of the properties of the diamond). That sounds a strangeplace for the record of sin to appear, but the image has profoundmeaning, as we shall see presently.

Then the two New Testament passages deal with other applications of thesame metaphor. Christ is, in the first, represented as writing on thehearts of the Corinthians, and in the second, as taking away 'thehandwriting contrary to us.' The general thought drawn from all is thatsin's writing on men's hearts is erased by Christ and a new inscriptionsubstituted.

I. The handwriting of sin.

Sin committed is indelibly written on the heart of the doer.

'The heart,' of course, in Hebrew means more than merely the supposedseat of the affections. It is figuratively the centre of the spirituallife, just as physically it is the centre of the natural. Thoughts andaffections, purposes and desires are all included, and out of it are'the issues of life,' the whole outgoings of the being. It is thefountain and source of all the activity of the man, the central unityfrom which all comes. Taken in this wide sense it is really the wholeinner self that is meant, or, as is said in one place, 'the hidden manof the heart.' And so the thought in this vigorous metaphor may beotherwise put, that all sin makes indelible marks on the whole inwardnature of the man who does it.

Now to begin with, think for a moment of that truth that everythingwhich we do reacts on us the doers.

We seldom think of this. Deeds are done, and we fancy that when done,they are done with. They pass, as far as outward seeming goes, andtheir distinguishable consequences in the outward world, in the vastmajority of cases, soon apparently pass. All seems evanescent andirrecoverable as last year's snows, or the water that flowed over thecataract a century ago. But there is nothing more certain than that allwhich we do leaves indelible traces on ourselves. The mightiest effectof a man's actions is on his own inward life. The recoil of the gun ismore powerful than the blow from its shot. Our actions strike inwardsand there produce their most important effects. The river runsceaselessly and its waters pass away, but they bring down soil, whichis deposited and makes firm land, or perhaps they carry down grains ofgold.

This is the true solemnity of life, that in all which we do we arecarrying on a double process, influencing others indeed, butinfluencing ourselves far more.

Consider the illustrations of this law in regard to our sins.

Now the last thing people think of when they hear sermons about 'sin'is that what is meant is the things that they are doing every day. Ican only ask you to try to remember, while I speak, that I mean thoselittle acts of temper, or triflings with truth, or yieldings to passionor anger, or indulgence in sensuality, and above all, the livingwithout God, to which we are all prone.

(a) All wrong-doing makes indelible marks on character. It makes itsown repetition easier. Habit strengthens inclination. Peter founddenying his Lord three times easier than doing it once. It weakensresistance. In going downhill the first step is the only one that needsan effort; gravity will do the rest.

It drags after it a tendency to other evil. All wrong things have somuch in common that they lead on to one another. A man with only onevice is a rare phenomenon. Satan sends his apostles forth two by two.Sins hunt in couples, or more usually in packs, like wolves, only nowand then do they prey alone like lions. Small thieves open windows forgreater ones. It requires continually increasing draughts, likeindulgence in stimulants. The palate demands cayenne tomorrow, if ithas had black pepper to-day.

So, whatever else we do by our acts, we are making our own characters,either steadily depraving or steadily improving them. There will come aslight slow change, almost unnoticed but most certain, as a dim filmwill creep over the peach, robbing it of all its bloom, or somemicroscopic growth will steal across a clearly cut inscription, or abreath of mist will dim a polished steel mirror.

(b) All wrong-doing writes indelible records on the memory, that awfuland mysterious power of recalling past things out of the oblivion inwhich they seem to lie. How solemn and miserable it is to defile itwith the pictures of things evil! Many a man in his later years hastried to 'turn over a new leaf,' and has never been able to get thefilth out of his memory, for it has been printed on the old page insuch strong colours that it shines through. I beseech you all, andespecially you young people, to keep yourselves 'innocent of muchtransgression,' and 'simple concerning evil'—to make your memorieslike an illuminated missal with fair saints and calm angels borderingthe holy words, and not an Illustrated Police News. Probably thereis no real oblivion. Each act sinks in as if forgotten, gets overlaidwith a multitude of others, but it is there, and memory will one daybring it to us.

And all sin pollutes the imagination. It is a miserable thing to haveone's mind full of ugly foul forms painted on the inner walls of ourchamber of imagery, like the hideous figures in some heathen temple,where gods of lust and murder look out from every inch of space on thewalls.

(c) All wrong-doing writes indelible records on the conscience. It doesso partly by sophisticating it—the sensibility to right and wrongbeing weakened by every evil act, as a cold in the head takes away thesense of smell. It brings on colour-blindness to some extent. One doesnot know how far one may go towards 'Evil! be thou my good'—or how fartowards incapacity of distinguishing evil. But at all events thetendency of each sin is in that direction. So conscience may becomeseared, though perhaps never so completely as that there are nointervals when it speaks. It may long lie dormant, as Vesuvius did,till great trees grow on the floor of the crater, but all the while thecommunication with the central fires is open, and one day they willburst out.

The writing may be with invisible ink, but it will be legible one day.So, then, all this solemn writing on the heart is done by ourselves.What are you writing? There is a presumption in it of a futureretribution, when you will have to read your autobiography, withclearer light and power of judging yourselves. At any rate there isretribution now, which is described by many metaphors, such as sowingand reaping, drinking as we have brewed, and others—but this one ofindelible writing is not the least striking.

Sin is graven deep on sinful men's worship.

The metaphor here is striking and not altogether clear. The questionrises whether the altars are idolatrous altars, or Jehovah's. If theformer, the expression may mean simply that the Jews' idolatry, whichwas their sin, was conspicuously displayed in these altars, and had, asit were, its most flagrant record in their sacrifices. The altar wasthe centre point of all heathen and Old Testament worship, and altarsbuilt by sinners were the most conspicuous evidences of their sins.

So the meaning would be that men's sin shapes and culminates in theirreligion; and that is very true, and explains many of the profanationsand abominations of heathenism, and much of the formal worship ofso-called Christianity.

For instance, a popular religion which is a mere Deism, a kind of vaguebelief in a providence, and in a future state where everybody is happy,is but the product of men's sin, striking out of Christianity all whichtheir sin makes unwelcome in it. The justice of God, punishment,sinfulness of sin, high moral tone, are all gone. And the very horns oftheir altars are marked with the signs of the worshippers' sin.

But the 'altars' may be God's altars, and then another idea will comein. The horns of the altar were the places where the blood of thesacrifice was smeared, as token of its offering to God. They were thena part of the ritual of propitiation. They had, no doubt, the samemeaning in the heathen ritual. And so regarded, the metaphor means thata sense of the reality of sin shapes sacrificial religion.

There can be no doubt that a very real conviction of sin lies at thefoundation of much, if not all, of the system of sacrifices. And it isa question well worth considering whether a conviction so widespread isnot valid, and whether we should not see in it the expression of a truehuman need which no mere culture, or the like, will supply.

At all events, altars stand as witnesses to the consciousness of sin.And the same thought may be applied to much of the popular religion ofthis day. It may be ineffectual and shallow but it bears witness to aconsciousness of evil. So its existence may be used in order to urgeprofounder realisation of evil on men. You come to worship, you join inconfessions, you say 'miserable sinners'—do you mean anything by it?If all that be true, should it not produce a deeper impression on you?

But another way of regarding the metaphor is this. The horns of thealtar were to be touched with the blood of propitiation. But look! theblood flows down, and after it has trickled away, there, deep carven onthe horns, still appears the sin, i.e. the sin is not expiated by thesinner's sacrifice. Jeremiah is then echoing Isaiah's word, 'Bring nomore vain oblations.' The picture gives very strikingly thehopelessness, so far as men are concerned, of any attempt to blot outthis record. It is like the rock-cut cartouches of Egypt on which timeseems to have no effect. There they abide deep for ever. Nothing thatwe can do can efface them. 'What I have written, I have written.'Pen-knives and detergents that we can use are all in vain.

II. Sin's writing may be erased, and another put in its place.

The work of Christ, made ours by faith, blots it out.

(a) Its influence on conscience and the sense of guilt. The accusationsof conscience are silenced. A red line is drawn across the indictment,or, as Colossians has it, it is 'nailed to the cross.' There is powerin His death to set us free from the debt we owe.

(b) Its influence on memory. Christ does not bring oblivion, but yettakes away the remorse of remembrance. Faith in Christ makes memory nolonger a record which we blush to turn over, or upon which we gloatwith imaginative delight in guilty pleasures past, but a record of ourshortcomings that humbles us with a penitence which is not pain, butserves as a beacon and warning for the time to come. He who has a clearbeam of memory on his backward track, and a bright light of hope on hisforward one, will steer right.

(c) Its influence on character.

We attain new hopes and tastes. 'We become epistles of Christ known andread of all men,' like palimpsests, Homer or Ovid written over with theNew Testament gospels or epistles.

Christ's work is twofold, erasure and rewriting. For the one, 'I willblot out as a cloud their transgressions.' None but He can removethese. For the other, 'I will put My law into their minds and willwrite it on their hearts.' He can impress all holy desires on, and canput His great love and His mighty spirit into, our hearts.

So give your hearts to Him. They are all scrawled over with hideous andwicked writing that has sunk deep into their substance. Graven as if onrock are your sins in your character. Your worship and sacrifices willnot remove them, but Jesus Christ can. He died that you might beforgiven, He lives that you may be purified. Trust yourself to Him, andlean all your sinfulness on His atonement and sanctifying power, andthe foul words and bad thoughts that have been scored so deep into yournature will be erased, and His own hand will trace on the page, poorand thin though it be, which has been whitened by His blood, the fairletters and shapes of His own likeness. Do not let your hearts be thedevil's copybooks for all evil things to scrawl their names there, asboys do on the walls, but spread them before Him, and ask Him to makethem clean and write upon them His new name, indicating that you nowbelong to another, as a new owner writes his name on a book that he hasbought.

THE HEATH IN THE DESERT AND THE TREE BY THE RIVER

'He shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when goodcometh; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, a saltland and not inhabited…He shall be as a tree planted by the waters,and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see whenheat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful inthe year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.'—JER.xvii. 6, 8.

The prophet here puts before us two highly finished pictures. In theone, the hot desert stretches on all sides. The fierce 'sunbeams likeswords' slay every green thing. The salt particles in the soil glitterin the light. No living creature breaks the melancholy solitude. It isa 'waste land where no one came, or hath come since the making of theworld.' Here and there a stunted, grey, prickly shrub struggles tolive, and just manages not to die. But it has no grace of leaf, norprofitableness of fruit; and it only serves to make the desolation moredesolate.

The other carries us to some brimming river, where everything livesbecause water has come. The pictures are coloured by Easternexperience. For in those lands more than beneath our humid skies andweaker sunshine, the presence or absence of running water makes thedifference between barrenness and fertility. Dipping their boughs inthe sparkling current, and driving their roots through the moist soil,the bordering trees lift aloft their pride of foliage and bear fruitsin their season.

So, says Jeremiah, the two pictures represent two sets of men; the one,he who diverts from their true object his heart-capacities of love andtrust, and clings to creatures and to men, 'making flesh his arm anddeparting from the living God'; the other, he who leans the wholeweight of his needs and cares and sins and sorrows upon God. We canmake choice of which shall be the object of our trust, and according aswe choose the one or the other, the experience of these vivid pictureswill be ours.

Let me briefly, then, draw out the points of contrast in these twocompanion sketches.

I. The one is in the desert, the other by the river.

Underneath the pictures there lies this thought, that the direction ofa man's trust determines the whole cast of his life, because itdetermines, as it were, the soil in which he grows. We can alter ourhabitat. The plant is fixed; but 'I saw men as trees—yes! but as'trees walking.' We can walk, and can settle where we shall be rootedand whence we shall draw our inspiration, our confidence, our security.The man that chooses-for it is a matter of choice—to trust in anycreature thereby wills, though he does not know it, that he shall dwellin a 'salt land and not inhabited.' The man that chooses to cast hiswhole self into the arms of God, and in a paroxysm of self-distrust torealise the divine helpfulness and presence, that man will soon knowthat he is 'planted by the river.'

Now, the poor, little dusty shrub in the desert, whose very leaves havebeen modified into prickles, is fit for the desert, and is as much athome there as are the willows by the water-courses with their lushvegetation in their moist bed. But if a man makes that fatal choicewhich so-many of us are making, of shutting out God from his confidenceand his love, and squandering these upon earth and upon creatures, heis as fatally out of harmony with the place which he has chosen forhimself, and as much away from his natural soil, as a tropical plantwould be amongst the snows of Arctic glaciers, or a water-lily in theSahara.

Considering all that I am and need, what and where is my true home andthe soil in which I can grow securely, and fear no evil? Brethren,there is only one answer to that question. The very make of a man'sspirit points to God, and to God alone, as the natural place for him toroot and grow in. You, I, the poorest and humblest of men, will neverbe right, never feel that we are in our native soil, and compassed withthe appropriate surroundings, until we have laid our hearts and ourhands on the breast of God, and rested ourselves on Him. Not moresurely do gills and fins proclaim that the creature that has them ismeant to roam through the boundless ocean, nor the anatomy and wings ofthe bird witness more plainly to its destination to soar in the openheavens than the make of your spirits testifies that God, and none lessor lower, is your portion. We are built for God, and unless werecognise and act upon that conviction, we are like the prickly shrubin the desert, whatever good may be around us; and if we do recogniseand act upon it, whatever parched ground may seem to stretch on allsides, there will be soil moist enough for us to draw refreshment andvitality from it.

If that be so, brethren, what insanity the lives of multitudes of usare! As well might bees try to suck honey from a vase of wax flowers aswe to draw what we need from creatures, from ourselves, from visibleand material things.

What would you business men think of some one who went and sold out allhis stock of Government or other sound securities, and then flung theproceeds down a hole in South Africa, out of which no gold will evercome? He would be about as wise as are the people who fancy that thesehearts of theirs will ever be at home except they find a home in God.

Where else will you find love that will never fail, nor change, nordie? Where else will you find an object for the intellect that willyield inexhaustible material of contemplation and delight? Where elseinfallible direction for the will? Where else shall weakness findunfailing strength, or sorrow, adequate consolation, or hope, certainfulfilment, or fear, a safe hiding-place? Nowhere besides. Oh! then,brethren, do, I beseech you, turn away your heart's confidence and lovefrom earth and creatures; for until the roots of your life go down intoGod, and you draw your life from Him, you are not in your right soil.

II. The one can take in no real good; the other can fear no evil.

One verse of our text says, 'He shall not see when good cometh'; theother one, according to our Authorised Version, 'He shall not see whenheat cometh.' But a very slight alteration of one word in the originalgives a better reading, which is adopted in the Revised Version, wherewe have, 'and shall not fear when heat cometh.' That alteration isobviously correct, because there follows immediately a parallel clause,'and shall not be careful'—or anxious—'in the year of drought.' Inboth these clauses the metaphor of the tree is a little let go; and theman who is signified by it comes rather more to the front than in theremainder of the picture. But that is quite natural.

So look at these two simple thoughts for a moment. He whose trust isset upon creatures is thereby disabled from recognising what is hishighest good. His judgment is perverted. There is the explanation ofthe fact that men are contented with the partial and evanescentblessedness that may be drawn from human loves and companionship andmaterial things. It is because they have gone blind, and the falsedirection of their confidence, has put out their eyes. And if any of myhearers are living careless about God, and all that comes from Him, andperfectly contented with that which they find in this visible, diurnalsphere, that is not because they have the good which they need, butbecause they do not know that good when they see it, and have lost thepower of discerning what is really for their benefit and blessedness.

There is nothing sadder in this world than the conspiracy into whichmen seem to have entered to ignore the highest good, and to professthemselves contented with the lowest. I remember a rough parable ofLuther's—the roughness of which may be pardoned for the force andvividness of it—which bears on this matter. He tells how a company ofswine were offered all manner of dainty and refined foods, and how,with a unanimous swinish grunt, they answered that they preferred thewarm, reeking 'grains' from the mash-tub. The illustration is coarse,but it is not an unfair representation of the choice that some of usare making.

'He cannot see when good cometh.' God comes, and I would rather havesome more money. God comes, and I prefer some woman's love. God comes,and I would rather have a prosperous business. God comes, and I preferbeer. So I might go the whole round. The man that cannot see good whenit is there before his face, because the false direction of hisconfidence has blinded his eyes, cannot open his heart to it. It comes,but it does not come in. It surrounds him, but it does not enter intohim. You are plunged, as it were, in a sea of possible felicity, whichwill be yours if your heart's direction is towards God, and thesurrounding ocean of blessedness has as little power to fill your heartas the sea has to enter some hermetically sealed flask, dropped intothe middle of the Atlantic. 'He cannot see when good cometh.' Blind,blind, blind! are multitudes of us.

Turn to the other side. 'He shall not fear when heat cometh,' which isevil in those Eastern lands, 'and shall not be careful in the year ofdrought.' The tree, that sends its roots towards a river that neverfails, does not suffer when all the land is parched. The man who hasdriven his roots into God, and is drawing from that deep source what isneedful for his life and fertility, has no occasion to dread any evil,nor to gnaw his heart with anxiety as to what he is to do in parcheddays. Troubles may come, but they do not go deeper than the surface. Itmay be all cracked and caked and dry, 'a thirsty land where no wateris,' and yet deep down there may be moisture and coolness.

Faith, which is trust, and fear are opposite poles. If a man has theone, he can scarcely have the other in vigorous operation. He that hashis trust set upon God does not need to dread anything except theweakening or the paralysing of that trust; for so long as it lasts itis a talisman which changes evil into good, the true philosopher'sstone which transmutes the baser metals into gold; and, so long as itlasts, God's shield is round him and no evil can befall him.

Brethren, if our trust is in God, it is unworthy of it and of us tofear, for all things are His, and there is no evil in evil as men callit, so long as it does not draw away our hearts from our Father and ourHope. Therefore, he that fears let him trust; he that trusts let himnot be afraid. He that sets his heart and anchors his hopes of safetyon any except God, let him be afraid, for he is in a very stern world,and if he is not fearful he is a fool.

So the direction of our trust, if it is right, shuts all real evil outfrom us, and if it is wrong, shuts us out from all real good.

III. The one is bare, the other clothed with the beauty of foliage.

The word which is translated 'heat' has a close connection with, if itdoes not literally mean, 'naked' or 'bare.' Probably, as I have said,it designates some inconspicuously leaved desert shrub, the particularspecies not being ascertainable or a matter of any consequence. Leaves,in Scripture, have a recognised symbolical meaning. 'Nothing butleaves' in the story of the fig-tree meant only beautiful outwardappearance, with no corresponding outcome of goodness of heart, in theshape of fruit. So I may venture here to draw a distinction betweenleafa*ge and fruit, and say that the one points rather to a man'scharacter and conduct as lovely in appearance, and in the other asmorally good and profitable.

This is the lesson of these two clauses—misdirected confidence increatures strips a man of much beauty of character, and true faith inGod adorns a soul with a leafy vesture of loveliness. Now, I have nodoubt that there start up in your minds at once two objections to thatstatement: first, that a great many godless men do present fair andattractive features of character; and secondly, that a great manyChristian men do not. I admit both things frankly, and yet I say that,for the highest good, the perfect crowning beauty of any humancharacter, this is needed, that it should cling to God. 'Whatsoeverthings are lovely and of good report' lack their supreme excellence,the diamond on the top of the royal crown, the glittering gold on thesummit of the campanile, unless there is in them a distinct referenceto God.

I believe that I am speaking to some who would not profess themselvesto be religious men, and who yet are truly desirous of cultivating intheir character the Fair and the Good. To them I would venture tosay—brethren, you will never be so completely, so refinedly, so truly,graceful as you might be, unless the roots of your character 'are hidwith Christ in God.'

'A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine,'

said good old George Herbert. And any act, however humble, on which thelight from God falls, will gleam with a lustre else unattainable, likesome piece of broken glass in the furrows of a ploughed field.

Sure I am that if we Christian people had a deeper faith, we shouldhave fairer lives. And I beseech you, my fellow-believers in JesusChrist, not to supply the other side with arguments againstChristianity, by showing that it is possible for a man to say and tosuppose that he sets his heart on God, and yet to bear but littleleafa*ge of beauty or grace of character. Goodness is beauty; beauty isgoodness. Both are to be secured by communion and union with Him who isfairer than the children of men. Dip your roots into the fountain oflife—it is the fountain of beauty as well as of life, and your liveswill be green.

IV. Lastly, the one is sterile, the other fruitful.

I admit, as before, that this statement often seems to be contradicted,both by the good works of godless men, and by the bad works of godlyones. But for all that, I would urge you to consider that the onlyworks of men worth calling 'fruit,' if regard is had to theircapacities, relations, and obligations, are those done as the outcomeand consequence of hearts trusting in the Lord. The rest of the man'sactivities may be busy and multiplied, and, from the point of view of agodless morality, many may be fair and good; but if we think of him asbeing destined, as his chief end, 'to glorify God, and (so) to enjoyHim for ever,' what correspondence between such a creature and actsthat are done without reference to God can there ever be? They are notworth calling 'fruit.' At the most they are 'wild grapes,' and therecomes a time when they will be tested and the axe laid to the root ofthe trees, and these imperfect deeds will shrivel up and disappear.

Trust will certainly be fruitful. In so saying we are upon Christianground, which declares that the outcome of faith is conduct inconformity with the will of Him in whom we trust, and that theproductive principle of all good in man is confidence in God manifestto us in Jesus Christ.

So we have not to begin with work; we have to begin with character.'Make the tree good,' and its fruit will be good. Faith will give powerto bring forth such fruit; and faith will set agoing the motive of lovewhich will produce it. Thus, dear brethren, we come back to this—theprime thing about a man is the direction which his trust takes. Is itto God? Then the tree is good; and its fruit will be good too. If youwill trust yourselves to 'God manifest in the flesh,' to Jesus Christand His work for you and in you, then you will be as if 'planted by therivers of water,' you will be able to receive into yourselves, and willreceive, all good, and be masters of all evil, will exhibit graces ofcharacter else impossible, and will bring forth 'fruit that shallremain.' Separated from Him we are nothing, and can bring forth nothingthat will stand the light of that last moment.

Brother, turn your trust to that dear Lord, and then you will have your'fruit unto holiness, and the end shall be everlasting life,' when thetransplanting season comes, and they that have been 'planted in thehouse of the Lord' below shall 'flourish in the courts of our God'above, and grow more green and fruitful, beside the 'river of the waterof life that proceedeth from the throne of God and of the Lamb.'

A SOUL GAZING ON GOD

'A glorious high throne from the beginning is the place of oursanctuary.'—JER. xvii. 12.

I must begin by a word or two of explanation as to the language of thispassage. The word 'is' is a supplement, and most probably it ought tobe omitted, and the verse treated as being, not a statement, but aseries of exclamations. The next verse runs thus, 'O Lord! the hope ofIsrael, all that forsake Thee shall be ashamed'; and the most naturaland forcible understanding of the words of my text is reached byconnecting them with these following clauses: 'O Lord! the hope ofIsrael,' and, regarding the whole as one long exclamation of adoringcontemplation, 'A glorious throne,' or 'Thou glorious throne, highfrom the beginning; the place of our sanctuary, O Lord! the hope ofIsrael.'

I. If we look at the words so, we have here, to begin with, a wonderfulvision of what God is.

'A glorious throne,' or, as the original has it, 'a throne ofglory,'—which is not quite the same thing—' high from the beginning,the place of our sanctuary.' There are three clauses. Now they all seemto me to have reference to the Temple in Jerusalem, which is taken, bya very natural figure of speech, as a kind of suggestive description ofHim who is worshipped there. There is the same kind of use of the nameof a place to stand for the person who occupies or inhabits it, in manyfamiliar phrases. For instance, 'The Sublime Porte' is properly thename of a lofty gateway which belonged to the palace in Constantinople,and so has come to mean the Turkish Government if Government it can becalled. So we talk of the 'Papal See' having done this or that, andscarcely remember that a 'see' is a bishop's seat, or, again, thedecision of 'the Chair' is final in the House of Commons. Or, if youwill accept a purely municipal parallel, if any one were told that 'theTown Hall' had issued a certain order, he would know that ourauthorities, the Mayor and Corporation, had decreed so and so. So, inprecisely the same way here, the prophet takes the outward facts of theTemple as symbolising great and blessed spiritual thoughts of the Godthat filled the Temple with His own lustre.

'A glorious throne'—that is grand, but that is not what Jeremiahmeans—'A throne of glory' is the true rendering. And to what does thatrefer? Now, in the greater number of cases, you will find that in theOld Testament, where 'glory' is ascribed to God, the word has a verydistinct and specific meaning, viz. the light which was afterwardscalled the 'Shekinah,' and dwelt between the cherubim, and was thesymbol of the divine presence and the assurance that that presencewould be self-revealing and would manifest Himself to His people. Sohere the throne on which glory rests is what we call the mercy-seatwithin the veil, where, above the propitiatory table on which once ayear the High Priest sprinkled the blood of sacrifice, and beneathwhich were shut up the tables of the covenant which constituted thebond between God and Israel, shone the Light in the midst of thedarkness of the enclosed inner shrine, the token of the divinepresence. The throned glory, the glory that reigns and rules as King inIsrael, is the idea of the words before us. It is the same throne thata later writer in the New Testament speaks of when he says, 'Let uscome boldly to the Throne of Grace.' For that light of a manifesteddivine presence was no malign lustre that blinded or slew those whogazed upon it, but though no eye but that of the High Priest dared ofold to look, yet he, the representative and, as it were, theconcentration of the collective Israel, could stand, unshrinking andunharmed, before that piercing light, because he bore in his hand theblood of sacrifice and sprinkled it on the mercy-seat. So was it ofold, but now we all can draw near, through the rent veil, and wallrejoicingly in the light of the Lord. His glory is grace; His grace isglory.

This, then, is the first of Jeremiah's great thoughts of God, and itmeans—'The Lord God omnipotent reigneth,' there is none else but He,and His will runs authoritative and supreme into all corners of theuniverse. But it is 'glory' that is throned. That is equivalent to thedeclaration that our God has never spoken in secret, in the dark placesof the earth, nor said to any seeking heart, 'Seek ye My face in vain.'For the light which shone in that Holy Place as His symbol, had for itsmessage to Israel the great thought that, as the sun pours out itslustre into all the corners of its system, so He, by theself-communication which is inherent in His very nature, manifestsHimself to every gazing eye, and is a God who is Light, 'and in whom isno darkness at all.'

But reigning glory is also redeeming grace. For the light of the brightcloud, which is the glory of the Lord, shines still, with no thunder inits depths, nor tempests in its bosom, above the mercy-seat, wherespreads the blood of sprinkling by which Israel's sins are all takenaway. Well may the prophet lift up his heart in adoring wonder, andtranslate the outward symbol into this great word, 'The throne ofglory; Jehovah, the hope of Israel.'

Then the next clause is, I think, equally intelligible by the sameprocess of interpretation—' High from the beginning.' It was a pieceof the patriotic exaggeration of Israel's prophets and psalmists thatthey made much of the little hill upon which the Temple was set. Weread of the 'hill of the Lord's house' being 'exalted above the tops ofthe mountains.' We read of it being a high hill, 'as the hill ofBashan.' And though to the eye of sense it is a very modest elevation,to the eye of faith it was symbolical of much. Jeremiah felt it to be amaterial type, both of the elevation and of the stable duration of theGod whom he would commend to Israel's and to all men's trust. 'Highfrom the beginning,' separated from all creatural limitation andlowness, He whose name is the Most High, and on whose level no otherbeing can stand, towers above the lowness of the loftiest creature, andfrom that inaccessible height He sends down His voice, like the trumpetfrom amidst the darkness of Sinai, proclaiming, 'I am God, and there isnone beside Me.' Yet while thus 'holy'—that is, separate fromcreatures—He makes communion with Himself possible to us, and drawsnear to us in Christ, that we in Christ may be made nigh to Him.

And the loftiness involves, necessarily, timeless and changeless Being;so that we can turn to Him, and feel Him to be 'the same yesterday, andto-day, and for ever.' No words are needed, and no human words areanything but tawdry attempts to elaborate, which only result inweakening, these two great thoughts. 'High—from the beginning.'

The last of this series of symbols, even more plainly than the othertwo, refers originally to the Temple upon the hill of Zion; andsymbolically, to the God who filled the Temple. He is 'the place of oursanctuary.' That is as though the prophet would point, as the wonderfulclimax of all, to the fact that He of whom the former things were trueshould yet be accessible to our worship; that, if I might so say, ourfeet could tread the courts of the great Temple; and we draw near toHim who is so far above the loftiest, and separate from all themagnificences which Himself has made, and who yet is 'our sanctuary,'and accessible to our worship.

Ay! and more than that—'Lord! Thou hast been our dwelling-place inall generations.' In old days the Temple was more than a place ofworship. It was a place where a man coming had, according to ancientcustom, guest rights with God; and if he came into the Temple of theMost High as to an asylum, he dwelt there safe and secure from avengersor foes.

'The place of our sanctuary,' then, declares that God Himself, likesome ancestral dwelling-place in which generation after generation offathers and children have abode, whence they have been carried, andwhere their children still live, is to all generations their home andtheir fortress. The place of our sanctuary implies access to theinaccessibly High, communion with the infinitely Separate, security andabode in God Himself. He that dwelleth in God dwelleth in peace. These,then, are the points of the prophet's vision of God.

II. Note, further, the soul rapt in meditation and this vision of God.

To me, this long-drawn-out series of linked clauses without grammaticalconnection, this succession of adoring exclamations of rapture, wonder,and praise, is very striking. It suggests the manner in which we shouldvivify all our thoughts of God, by turning them into material fordevout reverence; awe-struck, considering meditation. There is nothingtold us in the Bible about God simply in order that we may know it. Itis all meant to be fuel to the fire of our divine affection; to kindlein us the sentiments of faith and love and rapturous adoration. It iseasy to know the theology of the Old and the New Testaments, and a manmay rattle over the catalogue of the divine 'attributes,' as they arecalled, with perfect accuracy, and never be a hair the better forknowing all of them. So I urge, on you and on myself, the necessity ofwarming our thoughts and kindling our conceptions of what God is untilthey melt us into fluidity and adoration and love.

I believe that there are few things which we Christian people more lackin this generation, and by the lack of which we suffer more, than thecomparative decay of the good old habit of frequent and patientmeditation on the things that we most surely believe. We are so busy inadding to our stock of knowledge, in following out to their latestconsequence the logical effects of our Christianity, and in defendingit, or seeking to be familiar with the defences, against modernassaults, or in practical work on its behalf, that the last thing thata great many of us do is to feed upon the truth which we know already.We should be like ruminant animals who first crop the grass—which,being interpreted, means, get Scripture truth into our heads—and thenchew the cud, which being interpreted is, then put these truths througha second process by meditation on them, so that they may turn intonourishment and make flesh. 'He that eateth Me,' said Jesus Christ (andHe used there the word which is specially applied to rumination),'shall live by Me.' It does us no good to know that God is 'the Throneof Glory, high from the beginning, the place of our sanctuary,' unlesswe turn theology into devotion by meditation upon it. 'Suffer the wordof exhortation '—in busy, great communities like ours, where we areall driven so hard, there is need for some voices sometimes to belifted up in pressing upon Christian people the duty of quietrumination upon the truths that they have.

III. We may see in our text, further, the meditative soul going out tograsp God thus revealed, as its portion and hope.

As I have already said, the text is best understood as part of a seriesof exclamations which extends into the following verse. If we takeaccount of the whole series, and regard the subsequent part of it asled up to, by the part which is our text, we get an important thoughtas to what should be the outcome of the truths concerning God, and ofour meditative contemplation of them.

My relation to these truths is not exhausted even when I have meditatedupon them, and they have touched me into a rapture of devotion. I canconceive that to have been done, and yet the next necessary step not tohave been taken. What is that step? The next verse tells us, when itgoes on to exclaim, 'O Lord! the hope of Israel.' I must cast myselfupon Him by faith as my only hope, and turn away from all otherconfidences which are vain and impotent. So we are back upon thatfamiliar Christian ground, that the bond which knits a man to God, andby which all that God is becomes that man's personal property, andavailable for the security and the shaping of his life, is the simpleflinging of himself into God's arms, in sure and certain trust. Then,every one of these characteristics of which I have been speaking willcontribute its own special part to the serenity, the security, thegodlikeness, the blessedness, the righteousness, the strength of theman who thus trusts.

But such confidence which makes all these things my own possessions,which makes Him 'a throne of glory,' to which I have access; whichmakes Him a place in which I dwell by this exercise of personal faith;which makes Him my hope, has for its other side the turning away fromall other grounds of confidence and security. The subsequent contexttells us how wise it is thus to turn away, and what folly it is to makeanything else our hope except that 'throne of glory.' 'They that departfrom Me shall be written in the earth,' because 'they have forsaken theLord, the fountain of living waters.' If we say, 'O Lord! Thou art myhope,' we shall have the 'anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, whichentereth within the veil,' and fixes on Him who is within it, thethroned Grace between the cherubim, our Brother and our Hope. So we maydwell in God, and from the secure height of our house look downserenely on impotent foes, and never know the bitterness of vain hopes,nor remove from the safe asylum of our home in God.

TWO LISTS OF NAMES

'They that depart from Me shall be written in the earth'—JER. xvii.13. 'Rejoice that your names are written in heaven.'—LUKE x. 20.

A name written on earth implies that the bearer of the name belongs toearth, and it also secondarily suggests that the inscription lasts butfor a little while. Contrariwise, a name written in heaven implies thatit* bearer belongs to heaven, and that the inscription will abide.

We find running throughout Scripture the metaphor of books in whichmen's names are written. Moses thought of a book which God has written,and in which his name was enrolled. A psalmist speaks of the 'book ofthe living,' and Isaiah of those who are 'written among the living inJerusalem.' Ezekiel threatens the prophets who speak lies in Jehovah'sname that they 'shall not be written in the writing of the house ofIsrael.' The Apocalypse has many references to the book which isdesignated as 'the Lamb's book of life,' and which is opened at thefinal judgment along with the books in which each man's life-history iswritten, and only 'they who are written in the Lamb's book of life'enter into the city that comes down out of heaven.

I. The principle on which the two lists are made up.

It is commonly supposed that the idea of unconditional predestinationis implied in the writing of the names in the book of life. There isnothing in the figure itself to lead to that, and the text fromJeremiah suggests, on the contrary, that the voluntary attitude of mento God determines their being or not being inscribed in the book ofheaven, since it is 'they who depart from God' whose 'names are writtenon earth.'

Then, since in the New Testament the book of life is called 'theLamb's,' we are led to think of Christ as writing in it, and hence ofour faith in Him as being the condition of enrolling our names.

II. The significance of the lists.

They are lists of the living and of the dead.

True life is in fellowship with God. The other is the register of theburials in a graveyard.

They are lists of the citizens of two cities.

The idea is that the one class have relations and affinities with thecelestial, are 'fellow-citizens with the saints,' and have heaven astheir metropolis, their mother city. Therefore they are but as alienshere, and should not wish to be naturalised. The other class arecitizens of the earthly, belonging to the present, with all theirthoughts and desires bounded by this visible diurnal sphere.

They are lists of those who shall be forgotten, and their worksannihilated, and of those who shall be remembered and their workcrowned.

The names written on earth are swiftly obliterated, like a child'sscrawl on the sand which is washed away by the next tide, or covered upby the next storm that blows about the sand-hills. What a contrast isthat of the names written on the heavens, high up above all earthlymutations!

In one sense oblivion soon seizes on us all. In another none of us isever forgotten by God, but good and bad alike live in His thought.Still this idea of a special remembrance has place, as suggesting that,however unnoticed or forgotten on earth, God's children live in thetrue 'Golden Book.' Their names are in the book of life. 'Of so muchfame, in heaven expect the meed.' Ay, and as, too, suggesting how briefafter all is the honour that comes from men.

Also, there will be annihilation or perpetuation of their life's work.Nothing lasts but the will of God. Men who live godless lives areengaged in true Sisyphean labour. They are running counter to the wholestream of things, and what can be left at the end but frustratedendeavours covered with a gloomy pall?

Is your life to be wasted?

They are lists of those who are accepted in judgment, and of those whoare not.

Rev. xx. 12, 15; xxi. 27.

The books of men's lives are to be opened, and also the book of life.What is written in the former can only bring condemnation. If our namesare written in the latter, then He will 'confess our names before HisFather and the holy angels.' And He will joyfully inscribe them thereif we say to Him, like the man in Pilgrim's Progress, 'Set down myname.' He will write them not only there, but on the palms of His handsand the tablets of His heart.

YOKES OF WOOD AND IRON

'Go and tell Hananiah, saying, Thus saith the Lord; Thou hast brokenthe yokes of wood; but thou shalt make for them yokes of iron.'—JER.xxviii. 13.

I suppose that I had better begin by a word of explanation as to theoccasion of this saying. One king of Judah had already been carried offto Babylon, and the throne refilled by his brother, a puppet of theconquerors. This shadow of a king, with the bulk of the nation, waseager for revolt. Jeremiah had almost single-handed to stem the tide ofthe popular wish. He steadfastly preached submission, not so much toNebuchadnezzar as to God, who had sent the invaders as chastisem*nt.The lesson was a difficult one to learn, and the people hated theteacher. In the Jerusalem of Jeremiah's day, as in other places and atother times, a love of country which is not blind to its faults andprotests against a blatant militarism, was scoffed at as 'unpatriotic,''playing into the hands of the enemy,' 'seeking peace at any price,'whilst an insane eagerness to rush to arms without regard to resourcesor righteousness was called a 'spirited foreign policy.' So Jeremiahhad plenty of enemies.

He had adopted a strange way of enforcing his counsel, which would beridiculous to-day, but was natural and impressive then and there. Heconstantly for months went about with an ox-yoke on his neck, as asymbol of the submission which he advocated. One day, in the temple,before a public assembly, a certain Hananiah, a member of the oppositefaction, made a fierce attack on the prophet and his teaching, anduttered a counter-prophecy to the effect that, in two years, theforeign invasion would be at an end, and all would be as it used to be.Our prophet answered very quietly, saying in effect, 'I hope to Godthat it may be true; the event will show.' And then Hananiah,encouraged by his meekness, proceeded to violence, tore the yoke offhis shoulders and snapped it in two, reiterating his prophecy. ThenJeremiah went away home.

Soon after, the voice which he knew to be God's, and not his ownthoughts, spoke within him, and gave a much sharper answer. Goddeclared, through Jeremiah, the plain truth that, for a tiny kingdomlike Judah to perk itself up in the face of a world-conquering powerlike Babylon, could only bring down greater severity from theconqueror. And then he declared that Hananiah, for rebellion—notagainst Babylon, but against God, the true King of Israel—would betaken from the earth. He died in a couple of months.

My text forms the first word of this divine message. I have nothingmore to do with its original application. It gives a picturesquesetting to a very impressive and solemn truth; very familiar, no doubt,but none the less because of its familiarity needing to be dinned intopeople's ears. It is that to throw off legitimate authority is to bindon a worse tyranny. To some kind of yoke all of us must bend our necks,and if we slip them out we do not thereby become independent, butsimply bring upon ourselves a heavier pressure of a harder bondage. Theremainder of my remarks will simply go to illustrate that principle intwo or three cases of ascending importance. I begin at the bottom.

I. We have the choice between the yoke of law and the iron yoke oflawlessness.

We all know that society could not be held together without some kindof restraints upon what is done, and some stimulus to do what is apt tobe neglected. Even a band of brigands, or a crew of pirates, must havesome code. I have read somewhere that the cells in a honeycomb arecircles squeezed by the pressure of the adjacent cells into thehexagonal shape which admits of contiguity. If they continued circlesthere would be space and material lost, and no complete continuity. So,in like manner, you cannot keep five men together without some mutuallimitations which are shaped into a law. Now, as long as a man keepsinside it, he does not feel its pressure. A great many of us, forinstance, who are in the main law-abiding people, do not ever rememberthat there is such a thing as restrictions upon our licence, or asobligations to perform certain duties; for we never think either oftaking the licence or of shirking the duties. The yoke that is acceptedceases to press. Once let a man step outside, and what then? Why, then,he is an outlaw; and the rough side of the law is turned to him, andall possible terrors, which people within the boundary have nothing todo with, gather themselves together and frown down upon him. The sheepthat stops inside the pasture is never torn by the barbed wires of thefence. If you think of the life of a criminal, with all its tricks andevasions, taking 'every bush to be an officer,' as Shakespeare says; oras the first of the brood who was the type of them all said, 'Every manthat seeth me shall kill me': if you think of the sword that hangs overthe head of every law-breaker, and which he knows is hanging by a hair;if you think of men in counting-houses who have manipulated the booksof the firm, and who durst not be away from their desks for a day lestall should come to light; and if you think of the punishment thatfollows sooner or later, you will see that it is better to bear thelight yoke of the law than the heavy yoke of crime. Some men buy theirruin very dearly.

So much for the individual. But there is another aspect of this sameprinciple on which I venture to say a word, although it is only a word,in passing. I do not suppose that there are many of my hearers who arelikely to commit overt breaches of the law. But there are a great manyof us who are apt to neglect the obligations of citizenship. In acommunity like ours, laziness, fastidiousness, absorption in our ownoccupations, and a number of other more or less reputable reasons,tempt many to stand aloof from the plain imperative obligations ofevery citizen in a free country. Every man who thus neglects to do hispart for the common weal does his part in handing over the rule of thecommunity to the least worthy. You will find—as you see in somedemocratic countries to-day, where the cultivated classes, and theclasses with the sternest morality, have withdrawn in disgust from theturmoil—the mob having the upper hand, the least worthy scramblinginto high places, and the community suffering, and bearing a heavieryoke, by reason of the unwillingness of some to bear the yoke and dothe duty of a citizen. Vice lifts up its head, morality is scouted,self-interest is pursued unblushingly, and the whole tone of publicopinion is lowered. Christian men and women, remember that you aremembers of a community, and you bear the yoke of responsibilitytherefore; and if you do not discharge your obligation, then you willhave a heavier burden still to bear.

I need not remind you, I suppose, of how this same thesis—that we haveto choose between the yoke of law and the iron yoke of lawlessness—isillustrated in the story of almost all violent revolutions. They runthe same course. First a nation rises up against intolerableoppression, then revolution devours its own children, and the scumrises to the top of the boiling pot. Then comes, in the language of thepicturesque historian of the French Revolution, the type of themall—then comes at the end 'the whiff of grapeshot' and the despot.First the government of a mob, and then the tyranny of an emperor,crush the people that shake off the yoke of reasonable law. That is myfirst point.

II. Let me take a higher illustration;—we have to choose between theyoke of virtue and the iron yoke of vice.

We are under a far more spiritual and searching law than that writtenin any statute-book, or administered by any court. Every man carrieswithin his own heart the court, the tribunal; the culprit and thejudge. And here too, if law is not obeyed, the result is not liberty,but the slavery of lawlessness.

No man can ponder his own nature and make without feeling that on everyfibre of him is stamped a great law which he is bound to obey, and thaton every fibre of him is impressed the necessity of part of his naturecoercing, restraining, or spurring other parts of it. For, if we takestock of ourselves, what do we find? The broad basis of the pyramid, asit were, is laid in the faculties nearest the earth, the appetiteswhich are inseparable from our corporeal being, and these know nothingabout right or wrong, but are utterly blind to such distinctions. Put aloaf before a hungry man, and his mouth waters, whether the loafbelongs to himself or whether it is inside a baker's window.

Then above these, as the next course of the pyramid, there are otherdesires, sentiments, affections, and emotions, less grossly sensuousthan those of which I have been speaking, but still equally certain tobe excited by the presence of their appropriate object, without anyconsideration of whether law is broken or kept in securing of it. Abovethese, which are, so to speak, branded on their very foreheads with theiron of slavery, stand certain faculties which are as clearly anointedto rule as the others are intended to serve. There is reason orintelligence, which is evidently meant to be eyes to these blindinstincts and emotions of desire, and there is what we call the powerof will, that stands like an engine-driver with his hand upon the leverwhich will either stop the engine or accelerate its revolutions. Itsays to passions and desires 'Go!' and they go; and, alas! it sometimessays 'Halt!' and they will not halt. Then there is conscience, whichbrings to light for every man something higher than himself. A greatphilosopher once said that the two sublimest things in the universewere the moral law and the starry heavens; and that law 'I ought' bendsover us like the starry heavens with which he associated it. No man canescape from the pressure of duty, and on every man is laid, by his verymake, the twofold obligation, first to look upwards and catch thebehests of that solemn law, and then to turn his eyes and his strengthinwards and coerce or spur, as the case may be, the powers of hisnature, and rule the kingdom within himself.

Now, as long as a man lets the ruling parts of his nature guide thelower faculties, he feels comparatively no pressure from the yoke. But,if he once allows beggars to ride on horseback whilst princeswalk—sense and appetite and desire, and more or less refined forms ofinclination, to take the place which belongs only to conscienceinterpreting duty—then he has exchanged the easy yoke for one that isheavy indeed.

What does a man do when, instead of loyally accepting the conditions ofhis nature, and bowing himself to serve the all-embracing andall-penetrating law of duty, he sets up inclination of any sort in itsplace? What does he do? I will tell you. He unships the helm; he flingscompass and sextant overboard; he fires up the furnaces, and screwsdown the safety-valve, and says, 'Go ahead!' And what will be the endof that, think you? Either an explosion or a crash upon a reef; and youmay take your choice of which is the better kind of death—to be blownup or to go down. Keep within the law of conscience, and let it governall inclinations, and most of all the animal part of your nature; andyou will feel little pressure, and no pain, from the yoke. Shake itoff, and there is fulfilled in the disobedient man the threatening ofmy text, which rightly translated ought to be, 'Thou hast broken theyokes of wood, and thou hast made instead of them yokes of iron.'

For do you think it will be easy to serve the base-born parts of yournature, when you set them on the throne and tell them to govern you?Did you never hear of such a thing as a man's vices getting such a holdon him that, when his weakened will tried to shake them off, theylaughed in his face and said, 'Here we are still'? Did you never hearof that other solemn truth—and have you never experienced how true itis?—that no man can say, 'I will let my inclination have its flingthis once'? There are never 'this onces.' or very, very seldom. Whenyou are glissading down a snowy Alpine slope, you cannot stop when youlike, though you strike your alpenstock ever so deep into the powderysnow. If you have started, away you must go. God be thanked! theillustration does not altogether apply, for a man can stop if he willrepent, but he cannot stop unless he does. Did you never hear that ateaspoonful of narcotic to-day will have to be a tablespoonful in aweek or two, to produce the same effect? Are there not plenty of menwho have said with all the force that a weakened will has left in it,'I will never touch a drop of drink again, as long as I live, Godhelping me'?—and they have gone down the street, and they have turnedin, not at the first or the second public-house, but at the fourth orthe fifth. Ah! brother, 'they promised them liberty, but they are theservants of corruption.' Fix this in your minds. 'He that committethsin is the slave of sin,' of the sin that he commits. Do not put offthe easy yoke of obedience to conscience and duty, or you will findthat there is an iron one, with many a sharp point in its unpolishedsurface rubbing into your skin and wounding your shoulders. 'It's wiserto be good than bad. It's safer to be meek than fierce.' 'Thou hastbroken the yokes of wood'; it is not difficult to do that; 'thou hastmade instead of them yokes of iron.' That is my second point.

III. Lastly, we have the choice between the yoke of Christ and the ironyoke of godlessness.

You may think that to be a very harsh saying, and much too vehement anantithesis. Let me vindicate it according to my own belief in asentence or two. It seems to me that for civilised and cultivatedEurope at this day, the choice lies between accepting Jesus Christ asthe Revealer of God, or wandering away out into the wastes ofuncertainty, or as they call it nowadays, agnosticism and doubt. Ibelieve myself, and I venture to state it here—though there is nottime to do more than state it—that no form of what is now calledTheism, which does not accept the historic revelation of God in JesusChrist as the 'master-light of all our seeing,' will ever be able tosustain itself permanently in the face of present currents of opinion.If you do not take Christ for your Teacher, you are handed over eitherto the uncertainty of your own doubts, or to pinning your faith to someman and enrolling yourself as a disciple who is prepared to swallowdown whole whatsoever the rabbi may say, and so giving to him what youwill not give to Jesus; or else you will sink back into utter indolenceand carelessness about the whole matter; or else you will go and putyour belief and your soul into the hands of a priest, and shut youreyes and open your mouth and take whatever tradition may choose to sendyou. The one refuge from all these, as I believe, is to go to Him andlearn of Him, and so take His yoke upon your shoulders.

But, let me say further, it is better to obey Christ's commandmentsthan to set ourselves against them. For if we will take His will forour law, and meekly assume the yoke of loyal and loving obedience toHim, the door into an earthly paradise is thrown open to us. His yokeis easy, not because its prescriptions and provisions lower thestandard of righteousness and morality, but because love becomes themotive; and it is always blessed to do that which the Beloved desires.When 'I will' and 'I ought' cover exactly the same ground, then thereis no kind of pressure from the yoke. Christ's yoke is easy because,too, He gives the power to obey His commandments. His burden is such aburden (as I think one of the old fathers puts it) as sails are to aship or wings to a bird. They add to the weight, but they carry thatwhich carries them. So Christ's yoke bears the man that bears it. It iseasy, too, because 'in,' and not only after or for, 'keeping of itthere is great reward'; seeing that He commands nothing which is notcongruous with the highest good, and bringing along with it the purestblessing. Instead of that yoke, what has the world to offer, or what dowe get to dominate us, if we cast off Christ? Self, the old anarchself, and that is misery. To be self-ruled is to be self-destroyed.

There is no need that I should remind you of how it is better to acceptChrist's providences than to kick against them. Sorrow to which wesubmit loses all its bitterness and much of its sadness. Kickingagainst the affliction makes its sharp point penetrate our limbs. Thebird that will dash itself against the wires of its cage beats itselfall bloody and torn. Let us take the providence and it ceases to behard.

One last word;—we all carry an iron yoke upon our shoulders. For, hardas it is for us preachers to get our friends that listen to us tobelieve and realise it, 'We all have sinned and come short of the gloryof God.' That yoke is on us all. And I, for my part, believe that noman by his own efforts can cast it off, but that the attempt to do sooften brings greater strength to the sins that we seek to cast out,just as the more you mow the grass, the thicker and the stronger itgrows. So I come with the great message which Jesus Christ Himselfstruck as the keynote and prelude of His whole ministry, when in thesynagogue He said, 'The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me … to preachdeliverance to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them thatare bound.' He, and He only, will break every yoke and let theoppressed go free. And then He addresses us, after He has done that,with the immortal words, the sweetness of whose sound, sweet as it is,is less than the sweetness of their sense: 'Take My yoke upon you …and ye shall find rest to your souls.' Oh, brother! will you notanswer, 'O Lord! truly I am Thy servant. Thou hast loosed my bonds, andthereby bound me for ever to wear Thy yoke'; as the slave clings to hisransomer, and delights to serve him all the days of his life?

WHAT THE STABLE CREATION TEACHES

'If those ordinances depart from before Me, saith the Lord, then theseed of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before Me forever.'—JER. xxxi. 36.

This is the seal of the new covenant, which is to be made in daysfuture to the prophet and his contemporaries, with the house of Israeland of Judah. That new covenant is referred to in Hebrews as thefundamental law of Christ's kingdom. Therefore we have the right totake to ourselves the promises which it contains, and to think of 'thehouse of Israel' and 'the seed of Jacob' as including us, 'thoughAbraham be ignorant of us.'

The covenant and its pledge are equally grand. The very idea of acovenant as applied to God is wonderful. It is meant to teach us that,from all the infinite modes of action possible to Him, He has chosenOne; that He has, as it were, marked out a path for Himself, andconfined the freedom of His will and the manifold omnipotences of Hispower to prescribed limits, that He has determined the course of Hisfuture action. It is meant to teach us, too, the other grand thoughtthat He has declared to us what that course is, not leaving us to learnit piecemeal by slow building up of conclusions about His mind from Hisactions as they come forth, but inversely telling us His mind andpurpose in articulate and authentic words by which we are to interpreteach successive work of His. He makes known His purposes. 'Before theyspring forth I tell you of them.'

It is meant to teach us, too, that He regards Himself as bound by thedeclaration which He has made, so that we may rest secure on thisstrong foundation of His faithfulness and His truth, and for all doubtsand fears find the sufficient cure in His own declaration: 'My covenantwill I not break nor alter the thing that is gone out of My lips.' Nowonder that the dying king found the strength of his failing heart inthe thought, 'He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered inall things and sure.'

The weighty promises of this solemn bond of God's cover the wholeground of our spiritual necessities—forgiveness of sins, true,personal, direct acquaintance with God, an intercommunion of mutualpossession between Him who is ours and us who are His, and an inwardsanctification by which His precepts shall coincide with our desires.These are the blessings which He binds Himself to bestow.

And of this transcendent pact, the seal and guarantee is worthy. Goddescends to ratify a bond with man. By it He binds Himself to give allpossible good for the soul. And to confirm it heaven and earth arecalled in. He points us to all that is august, stable, immense,inscrutable in the works of His hands, and bids us see there His pledgethat He will be a faithful, covenant-keeping God. Sun, moon and stars,heaven, earth and sea—'ye are My witnesses,' saith the Lord.

God's unchangeable love is the true lesson from the stable regularityof the universe. The tone in which Scripture speaks of external naturein all its parts is very remarkable, altogether peculiar. It does nottake the aesthetic or the scientific, but the purely religious point ofview.

I. The facts. All nature is directly the effect of God's will andpower. 'He giveth,' 'He divideth' (v. 35).

The physical universe presents a spectacle of stable regularity.

This regularity is the consequence of sovereign, divine will. Theseordinances are not laws of nature, but of God.

II. The use commonly made of the facts.

Ordinary unthinking worldliness sees nothing noticeable in them becausethey come uniformly. Earthquakes startle, but the firmness of the solidearth attracts no observation. God is thought to speak in theextraordinary, but most men do not hear His voice in the normal.

Scientific godlessness formularises this tendency into a system, andproclaims that laws are everything and God a mere algebraical x.

III. The lesson which they are meant to teach.

God's works are a revelation of God.

There is nothing in effect which is not in cause, and the stability ofthese ordinances carries our thoughts back to an unchanging Ordainer.

They witness to His constancy of purpose or will. His acts do not comefrom caprice, nor are done as experiments, but are the stableexpression of uniform and unchanging will.

They witness to His unfailing energy of power, which 'operates unspent'and is to-day as fresh as at creation's birth.

They witness to a single end pursued through all changes, and by allvarieties of means. Darkness and light, sun rising and setting, stormand sunshine, summer and winter, all serve one end. As a horizontalthrust may give rise to opposite circular motions which all issue inworking out an onward progress, so the various dealings of Providencewith us are all adapted to 'work together,' and that 'for good.'

They witness that life, joy, beauty, flow from obedience.

Thus, then, these ordinances in their stability are witnesses. But theyare inferior witnesses. The noblest revelation of the divinefaithfulness and unchangeable purpose of good is in Jesus. And thesewitnesses will one day pass. Even now they have their changes, slow andunmarked by a short-lived man. Stars burn out, there have been violentconvulsions, shocks and shatterings in the heavens, and a time comes,as even physical science predicts, when 'the heavens shall vanish awaylike smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment,' but that towhich they witnessed shall endure, 'My salvation shall be for ever, andMy righteousness shall not be abolished.' The created lights grow dimand die out, but in 'the Father of lights' is 'no variableness, neithershadow that is cast by turning.'

Hence we see what our confidence should be. It should stand firm andchangeless as the Covenant, and we should move in our orbits as thestars and hearken to the voice of His word as do they. Let us see to itthat we have faith to match His faithfulness, and that our confidenceshall be firmer than the mountains, more stable than the stars.

WHAT THE IMMENSE CREATION TEACHES

'If heaven above can be measured, and the foundations of the earthsearched out beneath, I will also cast off all the seed of Israel forall that they have done, saith the Lord.'—JER. xxxi. 37.

In the former sermon we considered the previous verse as presenting thestability of creation as a guarantee of the firmness of God's graciouscovenant. Now we have to consider these grand closing words which bringbefore us another aspect of the universe as a guarantee for anotherside of God's gracious character. The immensity of creation is a symbolof the inexhaustibleness of the forgiving love of God.

I. A word or two as to the fact here used as a symbol of the divinelong-suffering.

The prophet had very likely no idea at all beyond the ordinary one thatpresents itself to the senses—a boundless vault above an endless plainon which we stand, deep, sunless foundations, the Titanic substructionson which all rests, going down who knows where, resting on who knowswhat. We may smile at the rude conception, but it will be well for usif we can get as vivid an impression of the fact as He had.

We thankfully avail ourselves of modern science to tell us somethingabout the dimensions of this awful universe of ours. We learn to knowthat there are millions of miles between these neighbour orbs, thatlight which has been travelling for thousands of years may not yet havefallen on some portion of the mighty whole, that the planetary massesof our system are but tiny specks in the whole, that every fresh stridewhich astronomical observation takes but opens up new nebulae to beresolved, where suns and constellations and systems are dwarfed bydistance into hazy brightness which hardly deserves the name of light.We know all this, and can find all about the distances in any book. Somuch for space. Then the geologist comes to bewilder us still more,with extension in time.

But while all this may serve to give definiteness to the impression,after all, perhaps, it is the eye alone, as it gazes, that really feelsthe impression. Astronomy is really a very prosaic science.

II. The effects which this immensity often produces on men.

Very commonly in old days it led to actual idolatry, bowing down beforethese calm, unreachable brightnesses. In our days it too often leads toforgetting God altogether, and not seldom to disbelief that man can beof any account in such a universe. We are told that the notions of acovenant, a redemption, or that God cares about us are presumptuous. Weall know the talk of men who are so modestly conscious of their owninsignificance that they rebuke God for saying that He loves us, andChristians for believing Him.

III. The true lesson.

The immensity of the material universe is for us a symbol of theinfinity of God's long-suffering love.

The creation proceeds from a greater Creator. That gigantic andoverwhelming magnitude, that hoary and immemorial age, that complicatedand innumerable multitude of details, what less can they show than ONEEternal and Infinite?

The immense suggests the infinite.

Granted that you cannot from the immense creation rise logically to theInfinite Creator, still the facts that the soul conceives that there isan infinite God, and is conscious of the spontaneous evoking of thatthought by the contemplation of the immeasurable, are strong reasonsfor believing that it is a legitimate process of thought which hearsthe name of God thundered from the far-off depths of the silentheavens. The heavens cannot be measured, no plummet can reach to thedeep foundations of the earth. We are surrounded by a universe which toour apprehensions is boundless. How much more so from expansions of ourconceptions of celestial magnitudes since Jeremiah's days, and what isto be the lesson from that? That we are insignificant atoms in thismighty whole? that God is far away from us? that the material stretchesso far that perhaps there is nothing beyond?

The thought of faith is that the material immensity teaches me my God'sinfinity, and especially His inexhaustible patience with us sinners. Itteaches us the unfathomed depths of His gracious heart, and the abyssesof His mysterious providence, and the unbounded sweep of Hislong-suffering forgiveness. His forgiving forbearance reaches furtherthan the limits of the heavens. Not till these can be measured will itbe exhausted, and the seed of Israel cast off for what they have done.

He, the Infinite Father, above all creation, mightier than it, is ourtrue home, and living in Him we have an abode which can never be'dissolved,' and above us stretch far-shining glories, unapproachedmasses of brightness, nebulae of blessedness, spaces where the eyefails and the imagination faints. All is ours, our eternal possession,the inexhaustible source of our joy. Astronomers tell of light whichhas been travelling for millenniums and has not yet reached this globe;but what is that to the flashing glories which through eternity shallpour on us from Him? So, then, our confidence should be firm andinexhaustible.

God has written wondrous lessons in His creation. But they arehieroglyphs, of which the key is lost, till we hear Christ and learn ofHim. God has set His glories in the heavens and the earth is full ofHis mercy, but these are lesser gifts than that which contains them alland transcends them all, even His Son by whom He made the worlds,and—mightier still—by whom He redeemed man. God has written His mercyin the heavens and His faithfulness in the clouds, but His mercy andHis faithfulness are more commended to us in Him who was before allthings, and of whom it is written: 'As a vesture shalt Thou fold themup, but Thou art the same and Thy years shall not fail.' God hasconfirmed the covenant of His love to us by the faithful witnesses inthe heavens, but the love shall abide when they have perished. Theheavens bend above us all, and over the head of every man the zenithstands. Every spot of this low earth is smiled upon by that sereneapocalypse of the loving will of God. No lane is so narrow and foul inthe great city, no spot is so bare and lonely in the waste desert, butthat thither the sunlight comes, and there some patch of blue abovebeckons the downcast eye to look up. The day opens its broad bosombathed in light, and shows the sun in the heavens, the Lord of light,to preach to us of the true light. The night opens deeper abysses andfills them with stars, to preach to us how fathomless and immense Hisloving kindnesses and tender mercy are. They are witnesses to thee,dear friend, whatsoever thy heart, whatsoever thy sins, whatsoever thymemories. No iniquity can shut out God's forgiving love. You cannotbuild out the heavens. He will not be sent away; you cannot measure,you cannot conceive, you cannot exhaust, His pardoning love. No stormsdisturb that serene sky. It is always there, blazing down upon usunclouded with all its orbs. Trust Christ; and then as years roll on,you will find that infinite love growing ever greater to your lovingeyes, and through eternity will move onwards in the happy atmosphereand boundless heaven of the inexhaustible, deep heart and changelesslove of God.

A THREEFOLD DISEASE AND A TWOFOLD CURE.

'I will cleanse them from all their iniquity, whereby they have sinnedagainst Me; and I will pardon all their iniquities, whereby they havesinned, and whereby they have transgressed against Me.'—JER. xxxiii. 8.

Jeremiah was a prisoner in the palace of the last King of Judah. Thelong, national tragedy had reached almost the last scene of the lastact. The besiegers were drawing their net closer round the doomed city.The prophet had never faltered in predicting its fall, but he had asuniformly pointed to a period behind the impending ruin, when allshould be peace and joy. His song was modulated from a saddened minorto triumphant jubilation. In the beginning of this chapter he hasdeclared that the final struggles of the besieged will only end infilling the land with their corpses, and then, from that lowest depth,he soars in a burst of lyrical prophecy conceived in the highest poeticstyle. The exiles shall return, the city shall be rebuilt, its desolatestreets shall ring with hymns of praise and the voices of thebridegroom and the bride. The land shall be peopled with peacefulhusbandmen, and white with flocks. There shall be again a King upon thethrone; sacrifices shall again be offered. 'In those days, and at thattime, will I cause the branch of righteousness to grow up untoDavid…. In those days shall Judah be saved, and Jerusalem shall dwellsafely; and this is the name wherewith she shall be called, the Lordour righteousness.' That fair vision of the future begins with theoffer of healing and cure, and with the exuberant promise of my text.The first thing to be dealt with was Judah's sin; and that being takenaway, all good and blessing would start into being, as flowerets willspring when the baleful shadow of some poisonous tree is removed. Now,my text at first reading seems to expend a great many unnecessary wordsin saying the same thing over and over again, but the accumulation ofsynonyms not only emphasises the completeness of the promise, but alsopresents different aspects of that promise. And it is to these that Icrave your attention in this sermon. The great words of my text are astrue a gospel for us—and as much needed by us, God knows!—as theywere for Jeremiah's contemporaries; and we can understand them betterthan either he or they did, because the days that were to come thenhave come now, and the King who was to reign in righteousness isreigning to-day, and His Name is Christ. My object now is, as simply asI can, to draw your attention to the two points in this text: athreefold view of our sad condition, and a twofold bright hope.

Now for the first of these. There is here—

I. A threefold view of the sad condition of humanity.

Observe the recurrence of the same idea in our text in different words:'Their iniquity whereby they have sinned against Me.' … 'Theiriniquity whereby they have sinned, and whereby they have transgressedagainst Me.' You see there are three expressions which roughly may betaken as referring to the same ugly fact, but yet not meaning quite thesame—'iniquity, or iniquities, sin, transgression.' These three allspeak of the same sad element in your experience and mine, but theyspeak it from somewhat different points of view, and I wish to try tobring out that difference for you.

Suppose that three men were to describe a snake. One of them fixes hisattention on its slimy coils, and describes its sinuous glidingmovements. Another of them is fascinated by its wicked beauty, andtalks about its livid markings and its glittering eye. The third thinksonly of the swift-darting fangs, and of the poison-glands. They allthree describe the snake, but they describe it from different points ofview; and so it is here. 'Iniquity,' 'sin,' 'transgression' aresynonyms to some extent, but they do not cover the same ground. Theylook at the serpent from different points of view.

First, a sinful life is a twisted or warped life. The word rendered'iniquity,' in the Old Testament, in all probability literally meanssomething that is not straight, but is bent, or, as I said, twisted orwarped. That is a metaphor that runs through a great many languages. Isuppose 'right' expresses a corresponding image, and means that whichis straight and direct; and I suppose that 'wrong' has something to dowith 'wrung'—that which has been forcibly diverted from a right line.We all know the conventional colloquialism about a man being'straight,' and such-and-such a thing being 'on the straight.' All sinis a twisting of the man from his proper course. Now there underliesthat metaphor the notion that there is a certain line to which we areto conform. The schoolmaster draws a firm, straight line in the child'scopybook; and then the little unaccustomed hand takes up on the secondline its attempt, and makes tremulous, wavering pot-hooks and hangers.There is a copyhead for us, and our writing is, alas! all uneven andirregular, as well as blurred and blotted. There is a law, and you knowit. You carry in yourself—I was going to say, the standard measure,and you can see whether when you put your life by the side of that, thetwo coincide. It is not for me to say; I know about my own, and you mayknow about yours, if you will be honest. The warped life belongs to usall.

The metaphor may suggest another illustration. A Czar of Russia wasonce asked what should be the course of the railway from St. Petersburgto Moscow, and he took up a ruler and drew a straight line upon thechart, and said, 'There; that is the course.' There is a straight roadmarked out for us all, going, like the old Roman roads, irrespective ofphysical difficulties in the contour of the country, climbing rightover Alps if necessary, and plunging down into the deepest valleys,never deflecting one hairsbreadth, but going straight to its aim. Andwe—what are we? what are 'our crooked, wandering ways in which welive,' by the side of that straight path? This very prophet has awonderful illustration, in which he compares the lives of men who havedeparted from God to the racing about in the wilderness of a wilddromedary, 'entangling her ways,' as he says, crossing and recrossing,and getting into a maze of perplexity. Ah, my friend, is that notsomething like your life? Here is a straight road, and there are thedevious footpaths that we have made, with many a detour, many a bend,many a coming back instead of going forward. 'The labour of the foolishwearieth every one of them, because he knoweth not how to go to thecity.' All sin is deflection from the straight road, and we are allguilty of that.

Let me urge you to consult the standard that you carry withinyourselves. If you never have done it before, do it now; or, better,when you are alone by yourselves. It is easy to imagine that a line isstraight. But did you ever see the point of a needle under amicroscope? However finely it is polished, and apparently taperingregularly, the scrutinising investigation of the microscope shows thatit is all rough and irregular. What would a builder do if he had not aT-square and a level? His wall would be ever so far out, whilst hethought it perfectly perpendicular. And remember that a line at a veryacute angle of deflection only needs to be carried out far enough todiverge so widely from the other line that you could put the wholesolar system in between the two. The smallest departure from the lineof right will end, unless it is checked, away out in the regions ofdarkness beyond. That is the lesson of the first of the words here.

The second of them, rendered in our version 'sin,' if I may recur to myformer illustration, looks at the snake from a different point of view,and it declares that all sin misses the aim. The meaning of the word inthe original is simply 'that which misses its mark.' And the meaning ofthe prevalent word in the New Testament for 'sin' means, in accordancewith the ethical wisdom of the Greek, the same thing. Now, there aretwo ways in which that thought may be looked at. Every wrong thing thatwe do misses the aim, if you consider what a man's aim ought to be. Wehave grown a great deal wiser than the Puritans nowadays, and peoplemake cheap reputations for advanced thought by depreciating theirtheology. We have not got beyond the first answer of the ShorterCatechism, 'Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.' That is the only aim which corresponds to our constitution, toour circ*mstances. A palaeontologist will pick up part of a skeletonembedded in the rocks, and from the study of a bone or two will tellyou whether that creature was meant to swim, or to fly, or to walk;whether its element was sea, or sky, or land. Our destination for Godis as plainly stamped on heart, mind, will, practical powers, as is thedestination of such a creature deducible from its skeleton. 'Whoseimage and superscription hath it?' God's, stamped deep upon us all. Andso, brother, whatever you win, unless you win God, you have missed theaim. Anything short of knowing Him and loving Him, serving Him, beingfilled and inspired by Him, is contrary to the destiny stamped upon usall. And if you have won God, then, whatever other human prizes you mayhave missed, you have made the best of life. Unless He is yours, andyou are His, you have made a miss, and if I might venture to add, amess, of yourself and of your life.

Then there is another side to this. The solemn teaching of this word isnot confined to that thought, but also opens out into this other, thatall godlessness, all the low, sinful lives that so many of us live,miss the shabby aim which they set before themselves. I do not believethat any men or women ever got as much good, even of the lowest kind,out of a wrong thing as they expected to get when they ventured on it.If they did, they got something else along with it that took all thegilt off the gingerbread. Take the lowest kind of gross evil—sins oflust or of drunkenness. Well, no doubt the physical satisfactiondesired is secured. Yes; and what about what comes after, in addition,that was not aimed at? The drunkard gets his pleasurable oblivion, hisdesired excitement. What about the corrugated liver, the palsied hand,the watery eye, the wrecked life, the broken hearts at home, and allthe other accompaniments? There is an old Greek legend about a certainmessenger that came to earth with a box, in which were all manner ofpleasant gifts, and down at the bottom was a speckled pest that, whenthe box was emptied, crawled out into the sunshine and infected theland. That Pandora's box is like 'the good things' that sin brings tomen. You gain, perhaps, your advantage, and you get something thatspoils it all. Is not that your experience? I do not deny that you maysatisfy your lower desires by a godless life. I know only too well howhard it is to get people to have higher tastes, and how all weministers of religion are spending our efforts in order to win peopleto love something better than the world can give them. I also knowthat, if I could get to the very deepest recess of your hearts, youwould admit that pleasures or advantages that are complete, that is tosay, that satisfy you all round, and that are lasting, and that canfront conscience and God who is at the back of conscience, are not tobe won on the paths of sin and godlessness.

There is an old story that speaks of a knight and his company who weretravelling through a desert, and suddenly beheld a castle into whichthey were invited and hospitably welcomed. A feast was spread beforethem, and each man ate and drank his fill. But as soon as they left theenchanted halls, they were as hungry as before they sat at the magictable. That is the kind of food that all our wrongdoing provides forus. 'He feedeth on ashes,' and hungers after he has fed. So, dearfriends, learn this ancient wisdom, which is as true today as it everwas; and be sure, of this, that there is only one course in this worldwhich will give a man true, lasting satisfaction; that there is onlyone life, the life of obedience to and love of God, about which, at theend, there will not need to be said, 'This their way is their folly.'

And now, further, there is yet another word here, carrying with itimportant lessons. The expression which is translated in our text'transgressed,' literally means 'rebelled.' And the lesson of it is,that all sin is, however little we think it, a rebellion against God.That introduces a yet graver thought than either of the former havebrought us face to face with. Behind the law is the Lawgiver. When wedo wrong, we not only blunder, we not only go aside from the rightline, but also we lift up ourselves against our Sovereign King, and wesay, 'Who is the Lord that we should serve Him? Our tongues are ourown. Who is Lord over us? Let us break His bands asunder, and cast awayHis cords from us.' There are crimes against law; there are faultsagainst one another. Sins are against God; and, dear friends, thoughyou do not realise it, this is plain truth, that the essence, thecommon characteristic, of all the acts which, as we have seen, aretwisted and foolish, is that in them we are setting up another than theLord our God to be our ruler. We are enthroning ourselves in His place.Do you not feel that that is true, and that in some small thing inwhich you go wrong, the essence of it is that you are seeking to pleaseyourself, no matter what duty—which is only a heathen name forGod—says to you?

Does not that thought make all these apparently trivial andinsignificant deeds terribly important? Treason is treason, no matterwhat the act by which it is expressed. It may be a little thing to hauldown a union-jack from a flagstaff, or to tear off a barn-door aproclamation with the royal arms at the top of it, but it may berebellion. And if it is, it is as bad as to turn out a hundred thousandmen in the field, with arms in their hands. There are small faults,there are trivial crimes; there are no small sins. An ounce of arsenicis arsenic, just as much as a ton; and it is a poison just as surely.

Now I have enlarged perhaps unduly on this earlier part of my subject,and can but briefly turn to the second division which I suggested,viz.:—

II. The twofold bright hope which shines through this darkness.

'I will cleanse … I will pardon.'

If sin combines in itself all these characteristics that I have touchedupon, then clearly there is guilt, and clearly there are stains; andthe gracious promise of this text deals with both the one and the other.

'I will pardon.' What is pardon? Do not limit it to the analogy of acriminal court. When the law of the land pardons, or rather when theadministrator of the law pardons, that simply means that the penalty issuspended. But is that forgiveness? Certainly it is only a part of it,even if it is a part. What do you fathers and mothers do when youforgive your child? You may use the rod or you may not, that is aquestion of what is best for the child. Forgiveness does not lie inletting him off the punishment; but forgiveness lies in the flowing tothe child, uninterrupted, of the love of the parent heart, and that isGod's forgiveness. Penalties, some of them, remain—thank God for it!'Thou wast a God that forgavest them, though Thou tookest vengeance oftheir inventions,' and the chastisem*nt was part of the sign of theforgiveness. The great penalty of all, which is separation from God, istaken away; but the essence of that pardon, which it is my blessed workto proclaim to all men, is, that in spite of the prodigal's rags andthe stench of the sty, the Father's love is round about him. It isround about you, brother.

Do you need pardon? Do you not? What does conscience say? What does thesense of remorse that sometimes blesses you, though it tortures, say?There are tendencies in this generation, as always, but very strong atpresent, to ignore the fact that all sin must necessarily lead totremendous consequences of misery. It does so in this world, more orless. A man goes into another world as he left this one, and you and Ibelieve that 'after death is the judgment.' Do you not require pardon?And how are you to get it? 'Himself bore our sins in His own body onthe tree.' Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died that the lovingforgiveness of God might find its way to every heart, and might takeall men to its bosom, whilst yet the righteousness of God remaineduntarnished. I know not any gospel that goes deep enough to touch thereal sore place in human nature, except the gospel that says to you andme and all of us, 'Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin ofthe world.'

But forgiveness is not enough, for the worst results of past sin arethe habits of sin which it leaves within us; so that we all needcleansing. Can we cleanse ourselves? Let experience answer. Did youever try to cure yourself of some little trick of gesture, or manner,or speech? And did you not find out then how strong the trivial habitwas? You never know the force of a current till you try to row againstit. 'Can the Ethiopian change his skin?' No; but God can change it forhim. So, again, we say that Jesus Christ who died for 'the remission ofsins that are past,' lives that He may give to each of us His ownblessed life and power, and so draw us from our evil, and invest us inHis good. Dear brother, I beseech you to look in the face the fact ofyour rebellion, of your missing your aim, of your perverted life, andto ask yourself the question, 'Can I deal either with the guilt of thepast, or with the imperative tendency to repeated sin in the future?'You may have your leprous flesh made 'like the flesh of a littlechild.' You may have your stained robe washed and made lustrous 'whitein the blood of the Lamb.' Pardon and cleansing are our two deepestneeds. There is one hand from which we can receive them both, and oneonly. There is one condition on which we shall receive them, which isthat we trust in Him, 'Who was crucified for our offences, and lives tohallow us into His own likeness.'

THE RECHABITES

'The sons of Jonadab the son of Rechab have performed the commandmentof their father, which he commanded them; but this people have nothearkened unto Me.'—JER. xxxv. 16.

The Rechabites had lived a nomad life, dwelling in tents, notpractising agriculture, abstaining from intoxicants. They were thereinobeying the command of their ancestor, Jonadab. They had been driven bythe Babylonian invasion to take refuge in Jerusalem, and, no doubt,were a nine days' wonder there, with their strange ways. Jeremiahseized on their loyalty to their dead ancestor's command as anobject-lesson, by which he put a still sharper edge on his rebukes. TheRechabites gave their ancestral law an obedience which shamed Judah'sdisobedience to Jehovah. God asks from us only what we are willing togive to one another, and God is often refused what men have but to askand it is given. The virtues which we exercise to each other rebuke us,because we so often refuse to exercise them towards God.

I. Men's love to men condemns their lovelessness towards God.

These Rechabites witnessed to the power of loyal love to theirancestor. Think of the wealth of love which we have all poured out onhusbands, wives, parents, children, and of the few drops that we havediverted to flow towards God. What a full flood fills the one channel;what a shrunken stream the other!

Think of the infinitely stronger reasons for loving God than for lovingour dearest.

II. Men's faith in men condemns their distrust of God.

However you define faith, you find it abundantly exercised by us on thelow plane of earthly relations. Is it belief in testimony? You men ofbusiness regulate your course by reports of markets on the other sideof the world, and in a hundred ways extend your credence to commonreport, with but little, and often with no examination of the evidence.'If we believe the witness of men, the witness of God is greater.' Andhow do we treat it? We are ready to accept and to act on men'stestimony; we are slow to believe God's, and still slower to act on it,and to let it mould our lives.

Is faith the realising of the unseen? We exercise it in reference tothe earthly unseen; we are slow to do so in reference to the heavenlythings which are invisible.

Is faith the act of trust? Life is impossible without it. Not only iscommerce a great system of credit, but no relations of life could lastfor a day without mutual confidence. We depend on one another, like arow of slightly built houses that help to hold each other up. Theseearthly exercises of trust should make it easier for us to rise totrusting God as much as we do each other. They ought to reveal to usthe heavenly things. For indeed our human trust in one another shouldbe a sample and shadow of our wise trust in the adequate Object oftrust.

III. Men's obedience to human authority condemns their rebellionagainst God.

Jonadab's commandment evoked implicit obedience from his descendantsfor generations. Side by side in man's strange nature, with hisself-will and love of independence, lies an equally strong tendency toobey and follow any masterful voice that speaks loudly and with anassumption of authority. The opinions of a clique, the dogmas of asect, the habits of a set, the sayings of a favourite author, thefashions of our class—all these rule men with a sway far more absolutethan is exercised on them by the known will of God. The same man is aslave to usurped authority and a rebel against rightful and divinedominion.

Whether we consider the law of God in its claims or its contents, orits ultimate object, it is worthy of entire obedience. And what does itreceive?

God asks from us only what we willingly give to men. Even the qualitiesand acts, such as love, trust, obedience, which as exercised towardsmen give dignity and beauty and strength, rise up in judgment tocondemn us. There is a sense in which Augustine's often-denouncedsaying that they are 'splendid vices' is true, for they are turned inthe wrong direction, and very often their being directed so completelytowards men and women is the reason why they are not directed towardsGod, who alone deserves and alone can satisfy and reward them. Thenthey become sins and condemn us.

JEREMIAH'S ROLL BURNED AND REPRODUCED

'Then took Jeremiah another roll, and gave it to Baruch … who wrotetherein … all the words of the book which Jehoiakim king of Judah hadburned in the fire, and there were added besides unto them many likewords.'—JER. xxxvi. 32.

This story brings us into the presence of the long death agony of theJewish monarchy. The wretched Jehoiakim, the last king but two whor*igned in Jerusalem, was put on the throne by the King of Egypt, ashis tributary, and used by him as a buffer to bear the brunt of theBabylonian invasion. He seems to have had all the vices of Easternsovereigns. He was covetous, cruel, tyrannous, lawless, heartless,senseless. He was lavishing money on a grand palace, built with cedarand painted in vermilion, when the nation was in its death-throes. Hehad neither valour nor goodness, and so little did he understand theforces at work in his times that he held by the rotten support of Egyptagainst the grim power of Babylon, and of course, when the former wasdriven like chaff before the assault of the latter, he shared the fateof his principal, and Judaea was overrun by Babylon, Jerusalemcaptured, and the poor creature on the throne bound in chains to becarried to Babylon, but, as would appear, discovered by Nebuchadnezzarto be pliable enough to make it safe to leave him behind, as hisvassal. His capture took place but a few months after the incident withwhich I am dealing now. It would appear probable that the confusion andalarm of the Babylonian assault on Egypt had led to a solemn fast inJerusalem, at which the nation assembled. Jeremiah, who had beenprophesying for some thirty years, and had already been in peril of hislife from the godless tyrant on the throne, was led to collect, in onebook, his scattered prophecies and read them in the ears of the peoplegathered for the fast. That reading had no effect at all on the people.The roll was then read to the princes, and in them roused fear andinterested curiosity, and kindly desire for the safety of Jeremiah andBaruch, his amanuensis. It was next read to the king, and he cut theroll leaf by leaf and threw it on the brasier, not afraid, norpenitent, but enraged and eager to capture Jeremiah and Baruch. Theburnt roll was reproduced by God's command, 'and there were addedbesides … many like words.'

I. The love of God necessarily prophesying evil.

As a matter of fact, the prophets of the Old Testament were allprophets of evil. They were watchmen seeing the sword and givingwarning. No one ever spoke more plainly of the penalties of sin thandid Christ. The authoritative revelation of the consequences ofwrongdoing is an integral part of the gospel.

It is not the highest form of appeal. It would be higher to say, 'Doright because it is right; love Christ because Christ is lovely.' Thepurpose of such an appeal is to prepare us for the true gospel. But theappeal to a reasonable self-love, by warnings of the death which is thewages of sin, is perfectly legitimate. Dehortations from sin on theground of its consequences is part of God's message.

Further, the warning comes from love. Punishment must needs follow onsin. Even His love must compel God to punish, and to warn before Hedoes. Surely that is kind. His punishments are made known beforehandthat we may be sure that caprice and anger have no part in inflictingthem, but that they are the settled order of an inviolable law, andconstitutional procedure of a just kind. Whether is it better to liveunder a despot who smites as he will, or under a constitutional kingwhose code is made public.

Surely it is needful to have clearly set forth the consequences of sin,in view of the sophistries buzzing round us all and nestling in our ownhearts, of the deceitfulness of sin, of siren voices whispering, 'Yeshall not surely die.'

God's prophecies of evil are all conditional. They are sent on purposethat they may not be fulfilled.

II. The loving warnings disregarded and disliked. Jehoiakim's behaviouris very human and like what we all do. We see the same thing repeatedin all similar crises. Cassandra. Jewish prophets. Christ. EnglishCommonwealth. French Revolution. Blindness to all signs and hostilityto the men that warn.

We see it in the attitude to the gospel revelation. The Scripturedoctrine of punishment always rouses antagonism, and in this dayrevolts men. There is much in present tendencies to weaken the idea offuture retribution. Modern philanthropy makes it hard sometimes toadminister even human laws. The feeling is good, but this exaggerationof it bad. It is a reaction to some extent against an unchristian wayof preaching Christian truth, but even admitting that, it still remainstrue that an integral part of the Christian revelation is therevelation of death as the wages of sin.

We see the same recoil of feeling operating in individual cases. Howmany of you are quite indifferent to the preaching of a judgment tocome, or only conscious of a movement of dislike! But how foolish thisis! If a man builds a house on a volcano, is it not kind to tell himthat the lava is creeping over the side? Is it not kind to wake, evenviolently, a traveller who has fallen asleep on the snow, beforedrowsiness stiffens into death?

III. The impotent rejection and attempted destruction of the message.

The roll is destroyed, but it is renewed. You do not alter facts byneglecting them, nor abrogate a divine decree by disbelieving it. Theawful law goes on its course. It is not pre-eminent seamanship to putthe look-out man in irons because he sings out, 'Breakers ahead.' Thecrew do not abolish the reef so, but they end their last chance ofavoiding it, and presently the shock comes, and the cruel coral tearsthrough the hull.

IV. The neglected message made harder and heavier.

Every rejection makes a man more obdurate. Every rejection increasescriminality, and therefore increases punishment. Every rejection bringsthe punishment nearer.

The increased severity of the message comes from love.

Oh, think of the infinite 'treasures of darkness' which God has inreserve, and let the words of warning lead you to Jesus, that you mayonly hear and never experience the judgments of which they warn. GiveChrist the roll of judgment and He will destroy it, nailing it to Hiscross, and instead of it will give you a book full of blessing.

ZEDEKIAH

'Zedekiah the son of Josiah reigned as king … whom Nebuchadnezzarking of Babylon made king'—JER. xxxvii. 1.

Zedekiah was a small man on a great stage, a weakling set to facecirc*mstances that would have taxed the strongest. He was a youth athis accession to the throne of a distracted kingdom, and if he had hadany political insight he would have seen that his only chance was toadhere firmly to Babylon, and to repress the foolish aristocracy whohankered after alliance with the rival power of Egypt. He was madenough to form an alliance with the latter, which was constructiverebellion against the former, and was strongly reprobated by Jeremiah.Swift vengeance followed; the country was ravaged, Zedekiah in hisfright implored Jeremiah's prayers and made faint efforts to follow hiscounsels. The pressure of invasion was lifted, and immediately heforgot his terrors and forsook the prophet. The Babylonian army wasback next year, and the final investment of Jerusalem began. The siegelasted sixteen months, and during it, Zedekiah miserably vacillatedbetween listening to the prophet's counsels of surrender and thetruculent nobles' advice to resist to the last gasp. The miseries ofthe siege live for ever in the Book of Lamentations. Mothers boiledtheir children, nobles hunted on dunghills for food. Their delicatecomplexions were burned black, and famine turned them into livingskeletons. Then, on a long summer day in July came the end. The kingtried to skulk out by a covered way between the walls, his fewattendants deserted him in his flight, he was caught at last down bythe fords of the Jordan, carried prisoner to Nebuchadnezzar at Riblahaway up in the north beyond Baalbec, and there saw his sons slainbefore his eyes, and, as soon as he had seen that last sight, wasblinded, fettered, and carried off to Babylon, where he died. Hiscareer teaches us lessons which I may now seek to bring out.

I. A weak character is sure to become a wicked one.

Moral weakness and inability to resist strong pressure was the keynoteof Zedekiah's character. There were good things in him; he had kindlyimpulses, as was shown in his emancipation of the slaves at a crisis ofJerusalem's fate. Left to himself, he would at least have treatedJeremiah kindly, and did rescue him from lingering death in the fouldungeon to which the ruffian nobility had consigned him, and heprovided for his being at least saved from dying of starvation duringthe siege. He listened to him secretly, and would have accepted hiscounsel if he had dared. But he yielded to the stronger wills of thenobles, though he sometimes bitterly resented their domination, andcomplained that 'the king is not he that can do anything against you.'

Like most weak men, he found that temptations to do wrong abounded morethan visible inducements to do right, and he was afraid to do right,and fancied that he was compelled by the force of circ*mstances to dowrong. So he drifted and drifted, and at last was smashed to fragmentson the rocks, as all men are who do not keep a strong hand on the helmand a steady eye on the compass. The winds are good servants but badmasters. If we do not coerce circ*mstances to carry us on the coursewhich conscience has pricked out on the chart, they will wreck us.

II. A man may have a good deal of religion and yet not enough to mouldhis life.

Zedekiah listened to the prophet by fits and starts. He was eager tohave the benefit of the prophet's prayers. He liberated the slaves inJerusalem. He came secretly to Jeremiah more than once to know if therewere any message from God for him. Yet he had not faith enough norsubmission enough to let the known will of God rule his conduct,whatever the nobles might say.

Are there not many of us who have a belief in God and a generalacquiescence in Christ's precepts, who order our lives now and then bythese, and yet have not come up to the point of full and finalsurrender? Alas, alas, for the multitudes who are 'not far from thekingdom,' but who never come near enough to be actually in it! To benot far from is to be out of, and to be out of is to be, likeZedekiah, blinded and captived and dead in prison at last.

III. God's love is wonderfully patient.

Jeremiah was to Zedekiah the incarnation of God's unwearied pleadings.During his whole reign, the prophet's voice sounded in his ears,through all the clamours and cries of factions, and mingled at lastwith the shouts of the besiegers and the groans of the wounded, likethe sustained note of some great organ, persisting through a babel ofdiscordant noises. It was met with indifference, and it sounded on. Itprovoked angry antagonism and still it spoke. Violence was used tostifle it in vain. And it was not only Jeremiah's courageouspertinacity that spoke through that persistent voice, but God'sunwearied love, which being rejected is not driven away, beingneglected becomes more beseeching, 'is not easily provoked 'to ceaseits efforts, but 'beareth all' despite, and hopeth for softened heartstill the last moment before doom falls.

That patient love pleads with each of us as persistently as Jeremiahdid with Zedekiah.

IV. The long-delayed judgment falls at last.

With infinite reluctance the divine love had to do what God Himself hascalled 'His strange work.' Divine Justice travels slowly, but arrivesat last. Her foot is 'leaden' both in regard to its tardiness and itsweight. There is no ground in the long postponement of retribution forthe fond dream that it will never come, though men lull themselves tosleep with that lie. 'Because sentence against an evil work is notexecuted speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is thoroughlyset in them to do evil.' But the sentence will be executed. Thepleading love, which has for many returning autumns spared the barrentree and sought to make it fit to bear fruit, does not prevent theowner saying at last to his servant with the axe in his hand, 'Now!thou shalt cut it down.'

THE WORLD'S WAGES TO A PROPHET

'And it came to pass, that when the army of the Chaldeans was broken upfrom Jerusalem for fear of Pharaoh's arm, 12. Then Jeremiah went forthout of Jerusalem to go into the land of Benjamin, to separate himselfthence in the midst of the people. 13. And when he was in the gate ofBenjamin, a captain of the ward was there, whose name was Irijah, theson of Shelemiah, the son of Hananiah; and he took Jeremiah theprophet, saying, Thou fallest away to the Chaldeans. 14. Then saidJeremiah, It is false; I fall not away to the Chaldeans. But hehearkened not to him: so Irijah took Jeremiah, and brought him to theprinces. 15. Wherefore the princes were wroth with Jeremiah, and smotehim, and put him in prison in the house of Jonathan the scribe: forthey had made that the prison. 16. When Jeremiah was entered into thedungeon, and into the cabins, and Jeremiah had remained there manydays; 17. Then Zedekiah the king sent, and took him out: and the kingasked him secretly in his house, and said, Is there any word from theLord? And Jeremiah said, There is: for, said he, thou shalt bedelivered into the hand of the king of Babylon. 18. Moreover, Jeremiahsaid unto king Zedekiah, What have I offended against thee, or againstthy servants, or against this people, that ye have put me in prison?19. Where are now your prophets which prophesied unto you, saying, Theking of Babylon shall not come against you, nor against this land? 20.Therefore hear now, I pray thee, O my lord the king: let mysupplication, I pray thee, be accepted before thee; that thou cause menot to return to the house of Jonathan the scribe, lest I die there.21. Then Zedekiah the king commanded that they should commit Jeremiahinto the court of the prison, and that they should give him daily apiece of bread out of the bakers' street, until all the bread in thecity were spent. Thus Jeremiah remained in the court of theprison.'—JER. xxxvii. 11-21.

SOME sixteen years had passed since Jehoiakim had burned the roll,during all of which the slow gathering of the storm, which was to breakover the devoted city, had been going on, and Jeremiah had been vainlycalling on the people to return to Jehovah. The last agony was now notfar off. But there came a momentary pause in the siege, produced by thenecessity of an advance against a relieving army from Egypt, whichcreated fallacious hopes in the doomed city. It was only a pause. Backcame the investing force, and again the terrible, lingering process ofstarving into surrender was resumed. Our text begins with the raisingof the siege, and extends to some point after its resumption. It needslittle elucidation, so clearly is the story told, and so natural arethe incidents; but perhaps we shall best gather its instruction if welook at the three sets of actors separately, and note the hostileauthorities, the patient prophet and prisoner, and the feeble king. Theplay of these strongly contrasted characters is full of vividness andinstruction.

I. We have that rough 'captain of the ward,' who laid hands on theprophet at the gate on the north side of the city, leading to the roadto the territory of Benjamin. No doubt there was a considerable exodusfrom Jerusalem when the Assyrian lines were deserted, and commonprudence would have facilitated it, as reducing the number of mouths tobe fed, in case the siege were renewed; but malice is not prudent, and,instead of letting the hated Jeremiah slip quietly away home toAnathoth, and so getting rid of his prophecies and him, Irijah ('theLord is a beholder') arrested him on a charge of meditating desertionto the enemy. It was a colourable accusation, for Jeremiah's constantexhortation had been to 'go out to the Chaldeans,' and so secure lifeand mild treatment. But it was clearly false, for the Chaldeans werefor the moment gone, and the time was the very worst that could havebeen chosen for a contemplated flight to their camp.

The real reason for the prophet's wish to leave the city was only toosimple. It was to see if he could get 'a portion'—some of hisproperty, or perhaps rather some little store of food—to take back tothe famine-scourged city, which, he knew, would soon be again atstarvation-point. There appears to have been a little company offellow-villagers with him, for 'in the midst of the people' (v. 12) isto be construed with 'to go into the land of Benjamin.' The others seemto have been let pass, and only Jeremiah detained, which makes thecharge more evidently a trumped-up excuse for laying hands on him.Jeremiah calls it in plain words what it was—'a lie'—and protests hisinnocence of any such design. But the officious Irijah knew too wellhow much of a feather in his cap his getting hold of the prophet wouldbe, to heed his denials, and dragged him off to the princes.

Sixteen years ago 'the princes' round Jehoiakim had been the prophet'sfriends; but either a new generation had come with a new king, or elsethe tempers of the men had changed with the growing misery. Theirbehaviour was more lawless than the soldiers' had been. They did noteven pretend to examine the prisoner, but blazed up at once in anger.They had him in their power now, and did their worst, lawlesslyscourging him first, and then thrusting him into 'the house of thepit'—some dark, underground hole, below the house of an official,where there were a number of 'cells'—filthy and stifling, no doubt;and there they left him. What for?

The charge of intended desertion was a mere excuse for wreaking theirmalice on him. They hated Jeremiah because he had steadily opposed thepopular determination to fight, and had foretold disaster. Add to thisthat he had held up a high standard of religion and morality to acorrupt and idolatrous people, and his 'unpopularity' is sufficientlyexplained.

Would that the same causes did not produce the same effects now!Individuals still think an honest rebuke of their faults an insult, anda plain statement of their danger a sign of ill-feeling. Try to warn adrunkard or a profligate by telling him of the disease and misery whichwill dog his sins, or by setting plainly before him God's law of purityand sobriety, and you will find that the prophet's function stillbrings with it, in many cases, the prophet's doom. But still more trulyis this the case with masses, whether nations or cities. A spuriouspatriotism resents as unpatriotic the far truer love of country whichsets a trumpet to its mouth to tell the people their sins. In alldemocratic communities, whether republican or regal in their form ofgovernment, a crying evil is flattery of the masses, exalting theirvirtues and foretelling their prosperity, while hiding their faults andslurring over the requirements of morality and religion, which are thefoundations of prosperity. What did England do with her prophets? Whatdid America do with hers? What wages do they get to-day? The men whodare to tell their countrymen their faults, and to preach temperance,peace, civic purity, personal morality, are laid hold of by the Irijahswho preside over the newspapers, and are pilloried as deserters andhalf traitors at heart.

II. We see the patient, unmoved prophet. One flash of honestindignation repels the charge of deserting, and then he is silent. 'Asa sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.' It isuseless to plead before lawless violence. A silent martyr eloquentlycondemns an unjust judge. So, without opposition or apparentremonstrance, Jeremiah is cast into the foul den where he lies for'many days,' patiently bearing his fate, and speaking his complaint toGod only. How long his imprisonment lasted does not appear; but thecontext implies that during it the siege was resumed, and that therewas difficulty in procuring bread. Then the king sent for him secretly.

Zedekiah's temper at the time will be considered presently. Here wehave to do with Jeremiah's answer to his question. In it we may note,as equally prominent and beautifully blended, respect, submission,consciousness of peril and impending death, and unshaken boldness. Heknew that his life was at the disposal of the capricious, feebleZedekiah. He bows before him as his subject, and brings his'supplication'; but not one jot of his message will he abate, norsmooth down its terribleness an atom. He repeats as unfalteringly asever the assurance that the king of Babylon will take the city. Heasserts his own innocence as regards king and courtiers and people; andhe asks the scornful question what has become of all the smooth-tonguedprophets of prosperity, as if he were bidding the king look over thecity wall and see the tokens of their lies and of Jeremiah's truth inthe investing lines of the all but victorious enemy.

Such a combination of perfect meekness and perfect courage, unstainedloyalty to his king, and supreme obedience to his God, was onlypossible to a man who lived in very close communion with Jehovah, andhad learned thereby to fear none less, because he feared Him so well,and to reverence all else whom He had set in places of reverence. Truecourage, of the pattern which befits God's servants, is ever gentle.Bluster is the sign of weakness. A Christian hero—and no man will be aChristian as he ought to be, who has not something of the hero inhim—should win by meekness. Does not the King of all such rideprosperously 'because of truth and meekness,' and must not the armieswhich follow Him do the same? Faithful witnessing to men of their sinsneed not be rude, harsh, or self-asserting. But we must live much infellowship with the Lord of all the meek and the pattern of all patientsufferers and faithful witnesses, if we are ever to be like Him, oreven like His pale shadow as seen in this meek prophet. The fountainsof strength and of patience spring side by side at the foot of thecross.

III. We have the weak Zedekiah, with his pitiable vacillation. He hadbeen Nebuchadnezzar's nominee, and had served him for some years, andthen rebelled. His whole career indicates a feeble nature, taking theimpression of anything which was strongly laid on it. He was a king ofputty, when the times demanded one of iron. He was cowed by the'princes.' Sometimes he was afraid to disobey Jeremiah, and then afraidto let his masters know that he was so. Thus he sends for the prophetstealthily, and his first question opens a depth of conflict in hissoul. He did believe that the prophet spoke the word of Jehovah, andyet he could not muster up courage to follow his convictions and goagainst the princes and the mob. He wanted another 'word' from Jehovah,by which he meant a word of another sort than the former. He could notbring his mind to obey the word which he had, and so he weakly hopedthat perhaps God's word might be changed into one that he would bewilling to obey. Many men are, like him, asking, 'Is there any wordfrom the Lord?' and meaning, 'Is there any change in the condition ofreceiving His favour?'

He had interest enough in the prophet to interfere for his comfort, andto have him put into better quarters in the palace and provided with a'circle' (a round loaf) of bread out of Baker Street, as long as therewas any in the city—not a very long time. But why did he do so much,and not do more? He knew that Jeremiah was innocent, and that his wordwas God's; and what he should have done was to have shaken off hismasterful 'servants,' followed his conscience, and obeyed God. Why didhe not? Because he was a coward, infirm of purpose, and therefore'unstable as water.'

He is another of the tragic examples, with which all life as well asscripture is studded, of how much evil is possible to a weak character.In this world, where there are so many temptations to be bad, no manwill be good who cannot strongly say 'No.' The virtue of strength ofwill may be but like the rough fence round young trees to keep cattlefrom browsing on them and east winds from blighting them. But the fenceis needed, if the trees are to grow. 'To be weak is to be miserable,'and sinful too, generally. 'Whom resist' must be the motto for allnoble, God-like, and God-pleasing life.

THE LAST AGONY

'In the ninth year of Zedekiah king of Judah, in the tenth month, cameNebuchadnezzar king of Babylon and all his army against Jerusalem, andthey besieged it. 2. And in the eleventh year of Zedekiah, in thefourth month, the ninth day of the month, the city was broken up. 3.And all the princes of the king of Babylon came in, and sat in themiddle gate, even Nergal-sharezer, Samgar-nebo, Sarse-chim, Rab-saris,Nergal-sharezer, Rab-mag, with all the residue of the princes of theking of Babylon. 4. And it came to pass, that when Zedekiah the king ofJudah saw them, and all the men of war, then they fled, and went forthout of the city by night, by the way of the king's garden, by the gatebetwixt the two walls: and he went out the way of the plain. 5. But theChaldeans' army pursued after them, and overtook Zedekiah in the plainsof Jericho; and when they had taken him, they brought him up toNebuchadnezzar king of Babylon to Riblah in the land of Hamath, wherehe gave judgment upon him. 6. Then the king of Babylon slew the sons ofZedekiah in Riblah before his eyes: also the king of Babylon slew allthe nobles of Judah. 7. Moreover he put out Zedekiah's eyes, and boundhim with chains, to carry him to Babylon. 8. And the Chaldeans burnedthe king's house, and the houses of the people, with fire, and brakedown the walls of Jerusalem. 9. Then Nebuzar-adan the captain of theguard carried away captive into Babylon the remnant of the people thatremained in the city, and those that fell away, that fell to him, withthe rest of the people that remained. 10. But Nebuzar-adan the captainof the guard left of the poor of the people, which had nothing, in theland of Judah, and gave them vineyards and fields at the sametime.'—JER. xxxix. 1-10.

Two characteristics of this account of the fall of Jerusalem arestriking,—its minute particularity, giving step by step the details ofthe tragedy, and its entire suppression of emotion. The passionlessrecord tells the tale without a tear or a sob. For these we must go tothe Book of Lamentations. This is the history of God's judgment, andhere emotion would be misplaced. But there is a world of repressedfeeling in the long-drawn narrative, as well as in the fact that threeversions of the story are given here (chap, lii., 2 Kings xxv.). Sorrowcurbed by submission, and steadily gazing on God's judicial act, is thetemper of the narrative. It should be the temper of all sufferers. 'Iwas dumb, I opened not my mouth; because thou didst it.' But we maynote the three stages in the final agony which this sectiondistinguishes.

I. There is the entrance of the enemy. Jerusalem fell not by assault,but by famine. The siege lasted eighteen months, and ended when 'allthe bread in the city was spent.' The pitiful pictures in Lamentationsfill in the details of misery, telling how high-born women pickedgarbage from dung-heaps, and mothers made a ghastly meal of theirinfants, while the nobles were wasted to skeletons, and the littlechildren piteously cried for bread. At length a breach was made in thenorthern wall (as Josephus tells us, 'at midnight'), and through it, onthe ninth day of the fourth month (corresponding to July), swarmed theconquerors, unresisted. The commanders of the Babylonians plantedthemselves at 'the middle gate,' probably a gate in the wall betweenthe upper and lower city, so securing for them the control of both.

How many of these fierce soldiers are named in verse 3? At first sightthere seem to be six, but that number must be reduced by at least two,for Rab-saris and Rab-mag are official titles, and designate theoffices (chief eunuch and chief magician) of the two persons whosenames they respectively follow. Possibly Samgar-Nebo is also to bededucted, for it has been suggested that, as that name stands, it isanomalous, and it has been proposed to render its first element,Samgar, as meaning cup-bearer, and being the official titleattached to the name preceding it; while its second part, Nebo, isregarded as the first element in a new name obtained by readingshashban instead of Sarsechim, and attaching that reading to Nebo.This change would bring verse 3 into accord with verse 13, for in bothplaces we should then have Nebo-shashban designated as chief of theeunuchs. However the number of the commanders is settled, and whatevertheir names, the point which the historian emphasises is their presencethere. Had it come to this, that men whose very names were invocationsof false gods ('Nergal protect the king,' 'Nebo delivers me' if we read'Nebo-shashban,' or 'Be gracious, Nebo,' if Samgar-nebo) should sitclose by the temple, and have their talons fixed in the Holy City?

These intruders were all unconscious of the meaning of their victory,and the tragedy of their presence there. They thought that they wereNebuchadnezzar's servants, and had captured for him, at last, anobstinate little city, which had given more trouble than it was worth.Its conquest was but a drop in the bucket of his victories. How littlethey knew that they were serving that Jehovah whom they thought thatNebo had conquered in their persons! How little they knew that theywere the instruments of the most solemn act of judgment in the world'shistory till then!

The causes which led to the fall of Jerusalem could be reasonably setforth as purely political without a single reference to Israel's sinsor God's judgment; but none the less was its capture the divinepunishment of its departure from Him, and none the less wereNergal-sharezer and his fellows God's tools, the axes with which Hehewed down the barren tree. So does He work still, in national andindividual history. You may, in a fashion, account for both withoutbringing Him in at all; but your philosophy of either will be partial,unless you recognise that 'the history of the world is the judgment ofthe world.' It was the same hand which set these harsh conquerors atthe middle gate of Jerusalem that sent the German armies to encamp inthe Place de la Concorde in Paris; and in neither case does therecognition of God in the crash of a falling throne absolve the victorsfrom the responsibility of their deeds.

II. We have the flight and fate of Zedekiah and his evil advisers (vs.4-7). His weakness of character shows itself to the end. Why was thereno resistance? It would have better beseemed him to have died on hispalace threshold than to have skulked away in the dark between theshelter of the 'two walls.' But he was a poor weakling, and the curseof God sat heavy on his soul, though he had tried to put it away.Conscience made a coward of him; for he, at all events, knew who hadset the strangers by the middle gate. Men who harden heart andconscience against threatened judgments are very apt to collapse, whenthe threats are fulfilled. The frost breaks up with a rapid thaw.

Ezekiel (Ezek. xii. 12) prophesied the very details of the flight. Itwas to be 'in the dark,' the king himself was to 'carry' some of hisvaluables, they were to 'dig through' the earthen ramparts; and allappears to have been literally fulfilled. The flight was taken in theopposite direction from the entrance of the besiegers; two walls, whichprobably ran down the valley between Zion and the temple mount,afforded cover to the fugitives as far as to the south city wall, andthere some postern let them out to the king's garden. That is a tragictouch. It was no time then to gather flowers. The forlorn andfrightened company seems to have scattered when once outside the city;for there is a marked contrast in verse 4 between 'they fled' and 'hewent.' In the description of his flight Zedekiah is still called, as inverses 1 and 2, the king; but after his capture he is only 'Zedekiah.'

Down the rocky valley of the Kedron he hurried, and had a long enoughstart of his pursuers to get to Jericho. Another hour would have seenhim safe across Jordan, but the prospect of escape was only dangledbefore his eyes to make capture more bitter. Probably he was too muchabsorbed with his misery and fear to feel any additional humiliationfrom the mighty memories of the scene of his capture; but how solemnlyfitting it was that the place which had seen Israel's first triumph,when 'by faith the walls of Jericho fell down,' should witness thelowest shame of the king who had cast away his kingdom by unbelief! Theconquering dead might have gathered in shadowy shapes to reproach theweakling and sluggard who had sinned away the heritage which they hadwon. The scene of the capture underscores the lesson of the captureitself; namely, the victorious power of faith, and the defeat and shamewhich, in the long-run, are the fruits of an 'evil heart of unbelief,departing from the living God.'

That would be a sad march through all the length of the fair land thathad slipped from his slack fingers, up to far-off Riblah, in the greatvalley between the Lebanon and the anti-Lebanon. Observe how, in verses5 and 6, the king of Babylon has his royal title, and Zedekiah has not.The crown has fallen from his head, and there is no more a king inJudah. He who had been king now stands chained before the cruelconqueror. Well might the victor think that Nebo had overcome Jehovah,but better did the vanquished know that Jehovah had kept his word.

Cruelty and expediency dictated the savage massacre and mutilationwhich followed. The death of Zedekiah's sons, and of the nobles who hadscoffed at Jeremiah's warnings, and the blinding of Zedekiah, were allmeasures of precaution as well as of savagery. They diminished thedanger of revolt; and a blind, childless prisoner, without counsellorsor friends, was harmless. But to make the sight of his slaughtered sonsthe poor wretch's last sight, was a refinement of gratuitous delight intorturing. Thus singularly was Ezekiel's enigma solved and harmonisedwith its apparent contradictions in Jeremiah's prophecies: 'Yet shallhe not see it, though he shall die there' (Ezek. xii. 13).

Zedekiah is one more instance of the evil which may come from a weakcharacter, and of the evil which may fall on it. He had good impulses,but he could not hold his own against the bad men round him, and so hestumbled on, not without misgivings, which only needed to be attendedto with resolute determination, in order to have reversed his conductand fate. Feeble hands can pull down venerable structures built inhappier times. It takes a David and a Solomon to rear a temple, but aZedekiah can overthrow it.

III. We have the completion of the conquest (vs. 8-10). The first careof the victors was, of course, to secure themselves, and fires andcrowbars were the readiest way to that end. But the wail in the lastchapter of Lamentations hints at the usual atrocities of the sack of acity, when brutal lust and as brutal ferocity are let loose. Chapterlii. shows that the final step in our narrative was separated from thecapture of the city by a month, which was, no doubt, a month ofnameless agonies, horrors, and shame. Then the last drop was added tothe bitter cup, in the deportation of the bulk of the inhabitants,according to the politic custom of these old military monarchies. Whatrending of ties, what weariness and years of long-drawn-out yearning,that meant, can easily be imagined. The residue left behind to keep thecountry from relapsing into waste land was too weak to be dangerous,and too cowed to dare anything. One knows not who had the sadder lot,the exiles, or the handful of peasants left to till the fields that hadonce been their own, and to lament their brethren gone captives to thefar-off land.

Surely the fall of Jerusalem, though all the agony is calmed ages ago,still remains as a solemn beacon-warning that the wages of sin isdeath, both for nations and individuals; that the threatenings of God'sWord are not idle, but will be accomplished to the utmost tittle; andthat His patience stretches from generation to generation, and Hisjudgments tarry because He is not willing that any should perish, butthat for all the long-suffering there comes a time when even divinelove sees that it is needful to say 'Now!? and the bolt falls. Thesolemn word addressed to Israel has application as real to allChristian churches and individual souls: 'You only have I known of allthe inhabitants of the earth; therefore I will punish you for youriniquities.'

EBEDMELECH THE ETHIOPIAN

'For I will surely deliver thee, and thou shalt not fall by the sword,but thy life shall be for a prey unto thee: because thou hast put thytrust in Me, saith the Lord.'—JER. xxxix. 18.

Ebedmelech is a singular anticipation of that other Ethiopian eunuchwhom Philip met on the desert road to Gaza. It is prophetic that on theeve of the fall of the nation, a heathen man should be entering intounion with God. It is a picture in little of the rejection of Israeland the ingathering of the Gentiles.

I. The identity in all ages of the bond that unites men to God.

It is a common notion that faith is peculiar to the New Testament. Butthe Old Testament 'trust' is identical with the New Testament 'faith,'and it is a great pity that the variation in translation has obscuredthat identity. The fact of the prominence given to law in the OldTestament does not affect this. For every effort to keep the law musthave led to consciousness of imperfection, and that consciousness musthave driven to the exercise of penitent trust. The difference ofdegrees of revelation does not affect it, for faith is the same,however various the contents of the creed.

Note further the personal object of Faith—'in ME.' The object of Faithis not a proposition but a Person. That Person is the same in the OldTestament and in the New. The Jehovah of the one is the God in Christof the other. Consequently faith must be more than intellectual assent,it must be voluntary and emotional, the act of the whole man, 'thesynthesis of the reason and the will.'

II. The contrast of a formal and real union with God.

The king, prophets, priests, the whole nation, had an outwardconnection with Him, but it meant nothing. And this foreigner, a slave,perhaps not even a proselyte, a eunuch, had what the children of thecovenant had not, a true union with God through Faith.

Judaism was not an exclusive system, but was intended to bring in thenations to share in its blessings. Outward descent gave outward placewithin the covenant, but the distinction of real and formal place therewas established from the beginning. What else than this is the meaningof all the threatenings of Deuteronomy? What else did Isaiah mean whenhe called the rulers in Jerusalem 'Rulers of Sodom'? Here the fates ofEbedmelech and of Zedekiah illustrate both sides of the truth. Thedanger of trusting in outward possession and of thinking that God'smercy is our property besets all Churches. Organisations ofChristianity are necessary, but it is impossible to tell the harm thatformal connection with them has done. There is only one bond thatunites men to God—personal trust in Him as 'in Christ reconciling theworld to Himself.'

III. The possibility of exercising uniting faith even in mostunfavourable circ*mstances.

This Ebedmelech had everything against him. The contemptuous exclusionof him from any share in the covenant might well have discouraged him.The poorest Jew treated him as a heathen dog, who had no right even tocrumbs from the table spread for the children only. He was plunged intoa sea of godlessness, and saw examples enough of utter carelessness asto Jehovah in His professed servants to drive him away from a religionwhich had so little hold on its professed adherents. The times weregloomy, and the Jehovah whom Judah professed to worship seemed to havesmall power to help His worshippers. It would have been no wonder ifthe conduct of the people of Jerusalem had caused the name of Jehovahto be blasphemed by this Gentile, nor if he had revolted from areligion that was alleged to be the special property of one race, andthat such a race! But he listened to the cry of his own heart, and tothe words of God's prophet, and his faith pierced through allobstacles—like the roots of some tree feeling for the water. He foundthe vitalising fountain that he sought, and His name stands to all agesas a witness that no seeking heart, that longs for God, is ever balkedin its search, and that a faith, very imperfect as to its knowledge,may be so strong as to its substance that it unites him who exercisesit with God, while the possessors of ecclesiastical privileges and ofuntarnished and full-orbed orthodox knowledge have no fellowship withHim.

IV. The safety given by such uniting faith.

To Ebedmelech, escape from death by the besiegers' swords was promised.To us a more blessed safety and exemption from a worse destruction areassured. 'The life which is life indeed' may be ours, and shallassuredly be ours, if our trust knits us to Him who is the Life, andwho has said 'He that liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.'

GOD'S PATIENT PLEADINGS

'I sent unto you all my servants the prophets, rising early and sendingthem, saying, Oh, do not this abominable thing that I hate.'—JER.xliv. 4.

The long death-agony of the Jewish kingdom has come to an end. Thefrivolous levity, which fed itself on illusions and would not besobered by facts, has been finally crushed out of the wretched people.The dreary succession of incompetent kings—now a puppet set up byEgypt, now another puppet set up by Babylon, has ended with the weakZedekiah. The throne of David is empty, and the long line of kings,which numbered many a strong, wise, holy man, has dwindled into acouple of captives, one of them blind and both of them paupers on anidolatrous monarch's bounty. The country is desolate, the bulk of thepeople exiles, and the poor handful, who had been left by theconqueror, flitting like ghosts, or clinging, like domestic animals, totheir burnt homes and wasted plains, have been quarrelling and fightingamong themselves, murdering the Jewish ruler whom Babylon had leftthem, and then in abject terror have fled en masse across the borderinto Egypt, where they are living wretched lives. What a history thatpeople had gone through since they had lived on the same soil before!From Moses to Zedekiah, what a story! From Goshen till now it had beenone long tragedy which seems to have at last reached its fifth act.Nine hundred years have passed, and this is the issue of them all!

The circ*mstances might well stir the heart of the prophet, whosedoleful task it had been to foretell the coming of the storm, who hadhad to strip off Judah's delusions and to proclaim its certain fall,and who in doing so had carried his life in his hand for forty years,and had never met with recognition or belief.

Jeremiah had been carried off by the fugitives to Egypt, and there hemade a final effort to win them back to God. He passed before them theoutline of the whole history of the nation, treating it as havingaccomplished one stadium—and what does he find? In all these dayssince Goshen there has been one monotonous story of vain divinepleadings and human indifference, God beseeching and Israel turningaway—and now at last the crash, long foretold, never credited, whichhad been drawing nearer through all the centuries, has come, and Israelis scattered among the people.

Such are the thoughts and emotions that speak in the exquisitely tenderwords of our text. It suggests—

I. God's antagonism to sin.

II. The great purpose of all His pleadings.

III. God's tender and unwearied efforts.

IV. The obstinate resistance to His tender pleadings.

* * * * *

I. God's antagonism to sin.

It is the one thing in the universe to which He is opposed. Sin isessentially antagonism to God. People shrink from the thought of God'shatred of sin, because of—

An underestimate of its gravity. Contrast the human views of itsenormity, as shown by men's playing with it, calling it by half-jocosenames and the like, with God's thought of its heinousness.

A false dread of seeming to attribute human emotions to God. But thereis in God what corresponds to our human feelings, something analogousto the attitude of a pure human mind recoiling from evil.

The divine love must necessarily be pure, and the mightier its energyof forth-going, the mightier its energy of recoil. God's 'hate' is Loveinverted and reverted on itself. A divine love which had in it nonecessity of hating evil would be profoundly immoral, and would becalled devilish more fitly than divine.

II. The great purpose of the divine pleadings.

To wean from sin is the main end of prophecy. It is the main end of allrevelation. God must chiefly desire to make His creatures like Himself.Sin makes a special revelation necessary. Sin determines the form of it.

III. God's tender and unwearied efforts.

'Rising early' is a strong metaphor to express persistent effort. Themore obstinate is our indifference, the more urgent are His calls. Heraises His voice as our deafness grows. Mark, too, the tenderness ofthe entreaty in this text, 'Oh, do not this abominable thing that Ihate!' His hatred of it is adduced as a reason which should touch anyheart that loves Him. He beseeches as if He, too, were saying, 'ThoughI might be bold to enjoin thee' that which is fitting, 'yet for love'ssake I rather beseech thee.' The manifestation of His disapproval andthe appeal to our love by the disclosure of His own are the mostpowerful, winning and compelling dehortations from sin. Not bybrandishing the whip, not by a stern law written on tables of stone,but by unveiling His heart, does God win us from our sins.

IV. The obstinate resistance to God's tender pleadings.

The tragedy of the nation is summed up in one word, 'They hearkenednot.'

That power of neglecting God's voice and opposing God's will is themystery of our nature. How strange it is that a human will should beable to lift itself in opposition to the Sovereign Will! But strangerand more mysterious and tragic still is it that we should choose toexercise that power and find pleasure, and fancy that we shall everfind advantage, in refusing to listen to His entreaties and choosing toflout His uttered will.

Such opposition was Israel's ruin. It will be ours if we persist in it.
'If God spared not the natural branches, neither will He spare thee.'

THE SWORD OF THE LORD

'O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? putup thyself into thy scabbard, rest, and be still. 7. How can it bequiet, seeing the Lord hath given it a charge?'—JER. xlvii. 6, 7.

The prophet is here in the full tide of his prophecies against thenations round about. This paragraph is entirely occupied withthreatenings. Bearing the cup of woes, he turns to one after another ofthe ancestral enemies of Israel, Egypt and Philistia on the south andwest, Moab on the south and east, then northwards to Ammon, south toEdom, north to Damascus, Kedar, Hagor, Elam, and finally to the greatfoe—Babylon. In the hour of Israel's lowest fortunes and the foe'sproudest exultation these predictions are poured out. Jeremiah standsas if wielding the sword of which our text speaks, and whirls andpoints the flashing terror of its sharpened edge against the ring offoes. It turns every way, like the weapon of the angelic guard beforethe lost paradise, and wherever it turns a kingdom falls.

In the midst of his stern denunciations he checks himself to utter thisplaintive cry of pity and longing. A tender gleam of compassion breaksthrough the heart of the thunder-cloud. It is very beautiful to notethat the point at which the irrepressible welling up of sweet watersbreaks the current of his prophecy is the prediction against Israel'sbitterest, because nearest, foe, 'these uncircumcised Philistines.' Hebeholds the sea of wrath drowning the great Philistine plain, its richharvests trampled under foot by 'stamping of hoofs of his strong ones,'and that desolation wrings from his heart the words of our text. I takethem to be spoken by the prophet. That, of course, is doubtful. It maybe that they are meant to give in a vivid dramatic form the effect ofthe judgments on the sufferers. They recognise these as 'the sword ofthe Lord.' Their only thought is an impatient longing that thejudgments would cease,—no confession of sin, no humbling of themselves, but only—'remove Thy hand from us.'

And the answer is either the prophet's or the divine voice; spoken inthe one case to himself, in the other to the Philistines; but in eithersetting forth the impossibility that the sweeping sword should rest,since it is the instrument in God's hand, executing His charge andfulfilling His appointment.

I. The shrinking from the unsheathed sword of the Lord.

We may deal with the words as representing very various states of mind.

They may express the impatience of sufferers. Afflictions are too oftenwasted. Whatever the purpose of chastisem*nt, the true lesson of it isso seldom learned, even in regard to the lowest wisdom it is adapted toteach. In an epidemic, how few people learn to take precautions, suchas cleanliness or attention to diet! In hard times commercially, howslow most are to learn the warning against luxury, over-trading, hasteto be rich! And in regard to higher lessons, men have a dim sensesometimes that the blow comes from God, but, like Balaam, go on theirway in spite of the angel with the sword. It does not soften, norrestrain, nor drive to God. The main result is, impatient longing forits removal.

The text may express the rooted dislike to the thought and the fact ofpunishment as an element in divine government. This is a common phaseof feeling always, and especially so now. There is a present tendency,good in many aspects, but excessive, to soften away the thought ofpunishment; or to suppose that God's punishments must have the samepurposes as men's. We cannot punish by way of retribution, for nobalance of ours is fine enough to weigh motives or to determinecriminality. Our punishments can only be deterrent or reformatory, butthis is by reason of our weakness. He has other objects in view.

Current ideas of the love of God distort it by pitting it against Hisretributive righteousness. Current ideas of sin diminish its gravity bytracing it to heredity or environment, or viewing it as a necessarystage in progress. The sense of God's judicial action is paralysed andall but dead in multitudes.

All these things taken together set up a strong current of opinionagainst any teaching of punitive energy in God.

The text may express the pitying reluctance of the prophet.

Jeremiah is remarkable for the weight with which 'the burden of theLord' pressed upon him. The true prophet feels the pang of the woeswhich he is charged to announce more than his hearers do.

Unfair charges are made against gospel preachers, as if they delightedin the thought of the retribution which they have to proclaim.

II. The solemn necessity for the unsheathing of the sword.

The judgments must go on. In the text the all-sufficient reason givenis that God has willed it so. But we must take into account all thatlies in that name of 'Lord' before we understand the message, whichbrought patience to the heart of the prophet. If a Jewish prophetbelieved anything, he believed that the will of the Lord was absolutelygood. Jeremiah's reason for the flashing sword is no mere beating downhuman instincts, by alleging a will which is sovereign, and there anend. We have to take into account the whole character of Him who haswilled it, and then we can discern it to be inevitable that God shouldpunish evil.

His character makes it inevitable. God's righteousness cannot but hatesin and fight against it. To leave it unpunished stains His glory.

God's love cannot but draw and wield the sword. It is unsheathed in theinterests of all that is 'lovely and of good report.' If God is God atall, and not an almighty devil, He must hate sin. The love and therighteousness, which in deepest analysis are one, must needs issue inpunishment. There would be a blight over the universe if they did not.

The very order of the universe makes it inevitable. All things, ascoming from Him, must work for His lovers and against His enemies, as'the stars in their courses fought against Sisera.'

The constitution of men makes it inevitable. Sin brings its ownpunishment, in gnawing conscience, defiled memories, incapacity forgood, and many other penalties.

It is to be remembered that the text originally referred to retributionon nations for national sins, and that what Jeremiah regarded as thestrokes of the Lord might be otherwise regarded as politicalcatastrophes. Let us not overlook that application of the principles ofthe text. Scripture regards the so-called 'natural consequences' of anation's sins as God's judgments on them. The Christian view of thegovernment of the world looks on all human affairs as moved by God,though done by men. It takes full account of the responsibility of menthe doers, but above all, recognises 'the rod and Him who hathappointed it.' We see exemplified over and over again in the world'shistory the tragic truth that the accumulated consequences of anation's sins fall on the heads of a single generation. Slowly, drop bydrop, the cup is filled. Slowly, moment by moment, the hand moves roundthe dial, and then come the crash and boom of the hammer on thedeep-toned bell. Good men should pray not, 'Put up thyself into thyscabbard,' but, 'Gird Thy sword on Thy thigh, O thou most mighty… onbehalf of truth and meekness and righteousness.'

III. The sheathing of the sword.

The passionate appeal in the text, which else is vain, has in largemeasure its satisfaction in the work of Christ.

God does not delight in punishment. He has provided a way. Christ bearsthe consequence of man's sin, the sense of alienation, the pains andsorrows, the death. He does not bear them for Himself. His bearing themaccomplishes the ends at which punishment aims, in expressing thedivine hatred of sin and in subduing the heart. Trusting in Him, thesword does not fall on us. In some measure indeed it still does. But itis no longer a sword to smite, but a lancet to inflict a healing wound.And the worst punishment does not fall on us. God's sword was sheathedin Christ's breast. So trust in Him, then shall you have 'boldness inthe day of judgment.'

THE KINSMAN-REDEEMER

'Their Redeemer is strong; the Lord of Hosts is His name: He shallthoroughly plead their cause.'—JER. l. 34.

Among the remarkable provisions of the Mosaic law there were some verypeculiar ones affecting the next-of-kin. The nearest living bloodrelation to a man had certain obligations and offices to discharge,under certain contingencies, in respect of which he received a specialname; which is sometimes translated in the Old Testament 'Redeemer,'and sometimes 'Avenger' of blood. What the etymological significationof the word may be is, perhaps, somewhat doubtful. It is taken by someauthorities to come from a word meaning 'to set free.' But aconsideration of the offices which the law prescribed for the 'Goel' isof more value for understanding the peculiar force of the metaphor insuch a text as this, than any examination of the original meaning ofthe word. Jehovah is represented as having taken upon Himself thefunctions of the next-of-kin, and is the Kinsman-Redeemer of Hispeople. The same thought recurs frequently in the Old Testament,especially in the second half of the prophecies of Isaiah, and it weremuch to be desired that the Revised Version had adopted some means ofshowing an English reader the instances, since the expression suggestsa very interesting and pathetic view of God's relation to His people.

I. Let me state briefly the qualifications and offices of thekinsman-redeemer, 'the Goel.'

The qualifications may be all summed up in one—that he must be thenearest blood relation of the person whose Goel he was. He might bebrother, or less nearly related, but this was essential, that of allliving men, he was the most closely connected. That qualification hasto be kept well in mind when thinking of the transference of the officeto God in His relation to Israel, and through Israel to us.

Such being his qualification, what were his duties? Mainly three. Thefirst was connected with property, and is thus stated in the words ofthe law, 'If thy brother be waxen poor, and sell some of hispossession, then shall his kinsman that is next unto him come, andshall redeem that which his brother hath sold' (Lev. xxv. 25, R. V.).The Mosaic law was very jealous of large estates. The prophetpronounced a curse upon those who joined 'land to land, and field tofield… that they may be alone in the midst of the earth.' One greatpurpose steadily kept in view in all the Mosaic land-laws was theprevention of the alienation of the land from its original holders, andof its accumulation in a few hands. The idea underlying the law wasthat of the tribal or family ownership—or rather occupancy, for Godwas the owner and Israel but a tenant—and not individual possession.That thought carries us back to a social state long since passed away,but of which traces are still left even among ourselves. It was carriedout thoroughly in the law of Moses, however imperfectly in actualpractice. The singular institution of the year of Jubilee operated,among other effects, to check the acquisition of large estates. Itprovided that land which had been alienated was to revert to itsoriginal occupants, and so, in substance, prohibited purchase andpermitted only the lease of land for a maximum term of fifty years. Wedo not know how far its enactments were a dead letter, but their spiritand intention were obviously to secure the land of the tribe to thetribe for ever, to keep the territory of each distinct, to discouragethe creation of a landowning class, with its consequent landless class,to prevent the extremes of poverty and wealth, and to perpetuate adiffused, and nearly uniform, modest wellbeing amongst a pastoral andagricultural community, and to keep all in mind that the land was 'notto be sold for ever, for it is Mine,' saith the Lord.

The obligation on the next-of-kin to buy back alienated property wasquite as much imposed on him for the sake of the family as of theindividual.

The second of his duties was to buy back a member of his family falleninto slavery. 'If a stranger or sojourner with thee be waxen rich, andthy brother be waxen poor beside him, and sell himself unto thestranger… after that he is sold, he may be redeemed; one of hisbrethren may redeem him.' The price was to vary according to the timewhich had to elapse before the year of Jubilee, when all slaves werenecessarily set free. So Hebrew slavery was entirely unlike the thingcalled by the same name in other countries, and by virtue of this powerof purchase at any time, which was vested in the nearest relative,taken along with the compulsory manumission of all 'slaves' everyfiftieth year, came to be substantially a voluntary engagement for afixed time, which might be ended even before that time had expired, ifcompensation for the unexpired term was made to the master.

It is to be observed that this provision applied only to the case of aHebrew who had sold himself. No other person could sell a man intoslavery. And it applied only to the case of a Hebrew who had soldhimself to a foreigner. No Jew was allowed to hold a Jew as a slave.'If thy brother be waxen poor with thee, and sell himself unto thee,thou shalt not make him to serve as a bondservant: as an hired servant,and as a sojourner, he shall be with thee.' (Lev. xxv. 39, R. V.).

The last of the offices of the kinsman-redeemer was that of avengingthe blood of a murdered relative. If a man were stricken to death, itbecame a solemn obligation to exact life for life, and the blood-feudincumbent on all the family was especially binding on the next-of-kin.The obligation shocks a modern mind, accustomed to relegate allpunishment to the action of law which no criminal thinks of resisting.But customs and laws are unfairly estimated when the state of thingswhich they regulated is forgotten or confused with that of today. Thelaw of blood-feud among the Hebrews was all in the direction ofrestricting the wild justice of revenge, and of entrusting it tocertain chosen persons out of the kindred of the murdered man. Thesavage vendetta was too deeply engrained in the national habits to bedone away with altogether. All that was for the time possible was tocheck and systematise it, and this was done by the institution inquestion, which did not so much put the sword into the hand of thenext-of-kin as strike it out of the hand of all the rest of the clan.

These, then, were the main parts of the duty of the Goel, thekinsman-redeemer—buying back the alienated land, purchasing thefreedom of the man who had voluntarily sold himself as a slave, andavenging the slaying of a kinsman.

II. Notice the grand mysterious transference of this office to Jehovah.

This singular institution was gradually discerned to be charged withlofty meaning and to be capable of being turned into a dim shadowing ofsomething greater than itself. You will find that God begins to bespoken of in the later portions of Scripture as the Kinsman-Redeemer. Ireckon eighteen instances, of which thirteen are in the second half ofIsaiah. The reference is, no doubt, mainly to the great deliverancefrom captivity in Egypt and Babylon, but the thought sweeps a muchwider circle and goes much deeper down than these historical facts.There was in it some dim feeling that though God was separated fromthem by all the distance between finitude and infinitude, yet they werenearer to Him than to any one else; that the nearest living relationwhom these poor persecuted Jews had was the Lord of Hosts, beneathwhose wings they might come to trust. Therefore does the prophet kindleinto rapture and triumphant confidence as he thinks that the Lord ofHosts, mighty, unspeakable, high above our thoughts, our words, or ourpraise, is Israel's Kinsman, and, therefore, their Redeemer. Howprofound a consciousness that man was made in the image of God, andthat, in spite of all the gulf between finite and infinite, and the yetdeeper gulf between sinful man and righteous God, He was closer to apoor struggling soul than even the dearest were, must have been at allevents dawning on the prophet who dared to think of the Holy One in theHeavens as Israel's Kinsman. No doubt, he was dwelling mostly onhistorical outward deliverances wrought for the nation, and his idea ofIsrael's kinship to God applied to the people, not to individuals, andmeant chiefly that the nation had been chosen for God's. But still thethought must have been felt to be great and wonderful, and some faintapprehension of the yet deeper sense in which it is true that God isthe next-of-kin to every soul and ready to be its Redeemer, would nodoubt begin to be felt.

The deepening of the idea from a reference to external and nationaldeliverances, and the large, dim hopes which clustered round it, may beillustrated by one or two significant instances. Take, for example,that mysterious and very beautiful utterance in the Book of Job, wherethe man, in the very depth of his despair, and just because there isnot a human being that has any drop of pity for him, turns from earth,and striking confidence out of his very despair, like fire from flint,sees there his Kinsman-Redeemer. 'I know that my Redeemer liveth.' Menmay mock him, friends may turn against him, the wife of his bosom maytempt him, comforters may pour vitriol instead of oil into his wounds,yet he, sitting on his dunghill there, poverty-stricken and desolate,knows that God is of kin to him, and will do the kinsman's part by him.The very metaphor implies that the divine intervention which he expectsis to take place after his death. It was a dead man whose blood theGoel avenged. Thus the view which sees in the subsequent words a hope,however dim and undefined, of an experience of a divine manifestationon his behalf beyond the grave is the only one which gives its fullforce to the central idea of the passage, as well as to the obscureindividual expressions. Most strikingly, then, he goes on to say,carrying out the allusion, 'and that he shall stand at the last uponthe dust.' Little did it boot the murdered man, lying there stark, withthe knife in his bosom, that the murderer should be slain by the swiftjustice of his kinsman-avenger, but Job felt that, in some mysteriousway, God would appear for him, after he had been laid in the dust, andthat he would somehow share in the gladness of His manifestation—forhe believes that 'without his flesh' he will see God, 'whom I shall seefor myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.' Large andmysterious hopes are gathering round the metaphor, which flash somelight into the darkness of the grave, and give to the troubled soul theassurance that when life with all its troubles is past, and flesh hasseen corruption, the inmost personal being of every man who commits hiscause to God will behold Him coming forth his Kinsman-Redeemer.

Another illustration of the hopes which gathered round this image isfound in the great psalm which prophesies of the true King of Peace, inlanguage too wide for any poetical licence to warrant if intended onlyto describe a Jewish king (Ps. lxxii. 14). The universal dominion ofthis great King is described in terms which, though they may be partlyreferred to the Jewish monarchy at its greatest expansion, sweep farbeyond its bounds in exulting anticipation that 'all kings shall falldown before Him, all nations shall serve Him.' The reason for thisworld-wide dominion is not military power, as was the case with thewarrior kings of old, who bound nations together for a little while inan artificial unity with iron chains, but His dominion is universal,'for He shall deliver the needy when he crieth,…He shall redeemtheir souls from oppression and violence, and precious shall theirblood be in His sight.' Two of the functions of the Kinsman-Redeemerare here united. He buys back slaves from their tyrannous masters, andHe avenges their shed blood. And because His Kingdom is a kingdom ofgentle pity and loving help, because He is of the same blood with Hissubjects, and brings liberty to the captives, therefore it is universaland everlasting. For the strongest thing in all the world is love, andHe who can staunch men's wounds, and will hear their cries and helpthem, will rule them with authority which conquerors cannot wield.

This universal King, the kinsman and the sovereign of all the needy, isnot God. A human figure is rising before the prophet-psalmist's eye,whose meekness as well as His majesty, and whose kingdom as well as Hisredeeming power, seem to pass beyond human limits. Divine offices seemto be devolved on a man's shoulders. Dim hopes are springing whichpoint onwards. So that great psalm leads us a step further.

III. See the perfect fulfilment of this divine office by the man Christ
Jesus.

Job's anticipation and the psalmist's rapturous vision are fulfilled inthe Incarnate Word, in whom God comes near to us all and makes Himselfkindred to our flesh, that He may discharge all those blessed offices,of redeeming from slavery, of recovering our alienated inheritance, andof guarding our lives, which demand at once divine power and humannearness. Christ is our Kinsman. True, the divine nature and the humanare nearly allied, so that even apart from the Incarnation, men mayfeel that none is so truly and closely akin to them as their Father inHeaven is. But how much more blessed than even that kinship is theconsanguinity of Christ, who is doubly of kin to each soul of man, bothbecause in His true manhood He is bone of our bone and flesh of ourflesh, and because in His divinity He is nearer to us than the closesthuman kindred can ever be. By both He comes so near to us that we mayclasp Him by our faith, and rest upon Him, and have Him for our nearestfriend, our brother. He is nearer to each of us than our dearest is. Heloves us with the love of kindred, and can fill our hearts and wills,and help our weakness in better, more inward ways than all sympathy andlove of human hearts can do. Between the atoms of the densest ofmaterial bodies there is an interspace of air, as is shown by the factthat everything is compressible if you can find the force sufficient tocompress it. That is to say, in the material universe no particletouches another. And so in the spiritual region, there is an awful filmof separation between each of us and all others, however closely we maybe united. We each live on our own little island in the deep, 'withechoing straits between us thrown.' We have a solemn consciousness ofpersonality, of responsibility unshared by any, of a separate destinyparting us from our dearest. Arms may be twined, but they must beunlinked some day, and each in turn must face the awful solitude ofdeath, as each has really faced that scarcely less awful solitude oflife, alone. But 'he that is joined to the Lord is one spirit,' and ourkinsman, Christ, will come so near to us, that we shall be in Him andHe in us, one spirit and one life. He is your nearest relation, nearerthan husband, wife, parent, brother, sister, or friend. He is nearer toyou than your very selves. He is your better self. That is Hisqualification for His office.

Because He is man's kinsman, He buys back His enslaved brethren. Thebondage from which 'one of His brethren' might 'redeem' the Israelitewas a voluntary bondage into which he had sold himself. And such is ourslavery. None can rob us of our freedom but ourselves. The world andthe flesh and the devil cannot put their chains on us unless our ownwills hold out our hands for the manacles.

And, alas! it is often an unsuspected slavery. 'How sayest thou, yeshall be made free. We were never in bondage to any man,' boasted theangry disputants with Christ. And if they had lifted up their eyes theymight have seen from the Temple courts in which they stood, the citadelfull of Roman soldiers, and perhaps the golden eagles gleaming in thesunshine on the loftiest battlements. Yet with that strange power ofignoring disagreeable facts they dared to assert their freedom. 'Neverin bondage to any man!'—what about Egypt, and Assyria, and Babylon?Had there never been an Antiochus? Was Rome a reality? Did it lay noyoke on them? Was it all a dream?

Some of us are just as foolish, and try as desperately to annihilatefacts by ignoring them, and to make ourselves free by passionatelydenying that we are slaves. But 'he that committeth sin is the slave ofsin.' That sounds a paradox. I am master of my own actions, you maysay, and never freer than when I break the bonds of right and duty andchoose to do what is contrary to them, for no reason on earth butbecause I choose. That is liberty, emancipation from the burdensomerestraints which your narrow preaching about law and conscience wouldimpose. Yes, you are masters of your actions, and your sinful actionsvery soon become masters of you. Do we not know that that is true? Youfall into, or walk into a habit, and then it gets the mastery of you,and you cannot get rid of it. Whosoever sets his foot upon thatslippery inclined plane of wrongdoing, after he has gone a little way,gravitation is too much for him and away he goes down the hill.'Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin.' Did you ever try tokill a bad habit, a vice? Did you find it easy work? Was it not yourmaster? You thought that a chain no stronger than a spider's web wasround your wrist till you tried to break it; and then you found it achain of adamant. Many men who boast themselves free are 'tied andbound with the cords of their sins.'

Dreaming of freedom, you have sold yourself, and that 'for nought.' Isthat not true, tragically true?

What have you made out of sin? Is the game worth the candle? Will itcontinue to be so? Ye shall be redeemed without money, for Jesus Christlaid down His life for you and me, that by His death we might receiveforgiveness and deliverance from the power of sin. And so your Kinsman,nearer to you than all else, has bought you back. Do not refuse theoffered emancipation, but 'if thou mayest be made free, use it rather.'Be not like the spiritless slaves, for whose servile choice the lawprovided, who had rather remain bond than go out free. Surely whenChrist calls you to liberty, you will not turn from Him to thetyrannous masters whom you have served, and, like the Hebrew slave, letthem fasten you to their door-posts with their awl through your ear. Doyou hug your chains and prefer your bondage?

Your Kinsman-Redeemer brings back your squandered inheritance, which isGod. God is the only possession that makes a man rich. He alone isworth calling 'my portion.' It is only when we have God in our hearts,God in our heads, God in our souls, God in our life—it is only when welove Him, and think about Him, and obey Him, and bring our charactersinto harmony with Him, and so possess Him—it is only then that webecome truly rich. No other possession corresponds to our capacities soas to fill up all our needs and satisfy all our being. No otherpossession passes into our very substance and becomes inseparable fromourselves. So the mystical fervour of the psalmist's devotion spoke asimple prose truth when he exclaimed, 'The Lord is the portion of mineinheritance and of my cup.'

We have squandered our inheritance. We have sinned away fellowship withGod. We have flung away our true wealth, 'wasted our substance inriotous living.' And here is our Elder Brother, our nearest relative,who has always been with the Father; but who, instead of grudging theprodigals their fatted calf and their hearty welcome when they comeback, has Himself, by the sacrifice of Himself, won for them theinheritance, its earnest in the possession of God's spirit here and itscompletion in the broad fields of 'the inheritance of the saints inlight,' the entire fruition and possession of the divine in the life tocome. 'If children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs withChrist.'

Your Kinsman-Redeemer will keep your lives under His care, and be readyto plead your cause. 'He that touches you, touches the apple of Mineeye.' 'He reproved kings for their sake, saying, Touch not Mineanointed.' Not in vain does the cry go up to Him, 'Avenge, O Lord, Thyslaughtered saints,'—and if no apparent retribution has followed, andif often His servant's blood seems to have been shed in vain, still weknow that it has often been the seed of the Church, and that He whoputs our tears into His bottle will not count our blood less preciousin His sight. So we may rest confident that our Kinsman-Redeemer willcharge Himself with pleading our cause and intervening in our behalf,that He will compass us about with His protection, and that we are knitso close to Him that our woes and foes are His, and that we cannot dieas long as He lives.

So, dear brethren, be sure of this, that if only you will take Christfor your Saviour and brother, your Helper and Friend, if only you willrest yourself upon that complete sacrifice which He has made for thesins of the world, He will give you liberty, and restore your lostinheritance, and your blood shall be precious in His sight, and He willkeep His hand around you and preserve you; and finally will bring youinto His home and yours. 'In Him we have redemption through His blood,'and He comes to every one of you now, even through my poor lips, withHis ancient word of merciful invitation: 'Behold! I have blotted out asa cloud thy sins and as a thick cloud thy transgressions. Turn unto Me,for I have redeemed thee.'

'AS SODOM'

'Zedekiah was one and twenty years old when he began to reign, and hereigned eleven years in Jerusalem. And his mother's name was Hamutalthe daughter of Jeremiah of Libnah. 2. And he did that which was evilin the eyes of the Lord, according to all that Jehoiakim had done. 3.For through the anger of the Lord it came to pass in Jerusalem andJudah, till he had cast them out from his presence, that Zedekiahrebelled against the king of Babylon. 4. And it came to pass, in theninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, in the tenth day of themonth, that Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came, he and all his army,against Jerusalem, and pitched against it, and built forts against itround about. 5. So the city was besieged unto the eleventh year of kingZedekiah. 6. And in the fourth month, in the ninth day of the month,the famine was sore in the city, so that there was no bread for thepeople of the land. 7. Then the city was broken up, and all the men ofwar fled, and went forth out of the city by night by the way of thegate between the two walls, which was by the king's garden; (now theChaldeans were by the city round about) and they went by the way of theplain. 8. But the army of the Chaldeans pursued after the king, andovertook Zedekiah in the plains of Jericho; and all his army wasscattered from him. 9. Then they took the king, and carried him up untothe king of Babylon to Riblah in the land of Hamath; where he gavejudgment upon him. 10. And the king of Babylon slew the sons ofZedekiah before his eyes: he slew also all the princes of Judah inRiblah. 11. Then he put out the eyes of Zedekiah; and the king ofBabylon bound him in chains, and carried him to Babylon, and put him inprison till the day of his death.'—JER. lii. 1-11.

This account of the fall of Jerusalem is all but identical with that in2 Kings xxv. It was probably taken thence by some editor of Jeremiah'sprophecies, perhaps Baruch, who felt the appropriateness of appendingto these the verification of them in that long-foretold and disbelievedjudgment.

The absence of every expression of emotion is most striking. In onesentence the wrath of God is pointed to as the cause of all; and, forthe rest, the tragic facts which wrung the writer's heart are told inbrief, passionless sentences, which sound liker the voice of therecording angel than that of a man who had lived through the miserywhich he recounts. The Book of Lamentations weeps and sobs with thegrief of the devout Jew; but the historian smothers feeling while hetells of God's righteous judgment.

Zedekiah owed his throne to 'the king of Babylon,' and, at first, washis obedient vassal, himself going to Babylon (Jer. li. 59) andswearing allegiance (Ezek. xvii. 13). But rebellion soon followed, andthe perjured young king once more pursued the fatal, fascinating policyof alliance with Egypt. There could be but one end to that madness,and, of course, the Chaldean forces soon appeared to chastise thispresumptuous little monarch, who dared to defy the master of the world.Our narrative curtails its account of Zedekiah's reign, bringing intostrong relief only the two facts of his following Jehoiakim's evilways, and his rebellion against Babylon. But behind the rash, ignorantyoung man, it sees God working, and traces all the insane bravado bywhich he was ruining his kingdom and himself to God's 'wrath,' notthereby diminishing Zedekiah's responsibility for his own acts, butdeclaring that his being 'given over to a reprobate mind' was therighteous divine punishment for past sin.

An eighteen months' agony is condensed into three verses (Jer. lii.4-6), in which the minute care to specify dates pathetically revealsthe depth of the impression which the first appearance of the besiegingarmy made, and the deeper wound caused by the city's fall. The memoryof these days has not faded yet, for both are still kept as fasts bythe synagogue. We look with the narrator's eye at the deliberatemassing of the immense besieging force drawing its coils round thedoomed city, like a net round a deer, and mark with him the piling ofthe mounds, and the erection on them of siege-towers. We hear of noactive siege operations till the final assault. Famine wasNebuchadnezzar's best general. 'Sitting down they watched' her'there,' and grimly waited till hunger became unbearable. We can fillup much of the outline in this narrative from the rest of Jeremiah,which gives us a vivid and wretched picture of imbecility, dividedcounsels, and mad hatred of God's messenger, blind refusal to seefacts, and self-confidence which no disaster could abate. And, all thewhile, the monstrous serpent was slowly tightening its folds round thestruggling, helpless rabbit. We have to imagine all the misery.

The narrative hurries on to its close. What widespread andlong-drawn-out privation that one sentence covers: 'The famine was sorein the city, so that there was no bread for the people'! Lamentationsis full of the cries of famished children and mothers who eat the fruitof their own bodies. At last, on the memorable black day, the ninth ofthe fourth month (say July), 'a breach was made,' and the Chaldeanforces poured in through it. Jeremiah xxxix. 3 tells the names of theBabylonian officers who 'sat in the middle gate' of the Temple,polluting it with their presence. There seems to have been noresistance from the enfeebled, famished people; but apparently some ofthe priests were slain in the sanctuary, perhaps in the act ofdefending it from the entrance of the enemy. The Chaldeans would enterfrom the north, and, while they were establishing themselves in theTemple, Zedekiah 'and all the men of war' fled, stealing out of thecity by a covered way between two walls, on the south side, and leavingthe city to the conqueror, without striking a blow. They had talkedlarge when danger was not near; but braggarts are cowards, and theythought now of nothing but their own worthless lives. Then, as always,the men who feared God feared nothing else, and the men who scoffed atthe day of retribution, when it was far off, were unmanned with terrorwhen it dawned.

The investment had not been complete on the southern side, and thefugitives got away across Kedron and on to the road to Jericho, theirpurpose, no doubt, being to put the Jordan between them and the enemy.One can picture that stampede down the rocky way, the anxious lookscast backwards, the confusion, the weariness, the despair when the rushof the pursuers overtook the famine-weakened mob. In sight of Jericho,which had witnessed the first onset of the irresistible desert-hardenedhost under Joshua, the last king of Israel, deserted by his army, was'taken in their pits,' as hunters take a wild beast. The march toRiblah, in the far north, would be full of indignities arid of physicalsuffering. The soldiers of that 'bitter and hasty' nation would notspare him one insult or act of cruelty, and he had a tormentor withinworse than they. 'Why did I not listen to the prophet? What a fool Ihave been! If I had only my time to come over again, how differently Iwould do!' The miserable self-reproaches, which shoot their arrows intoour hearts when it is too late, would torture Zedekiah, as they willsooner or later do to all who did not listen to God's message whilethere was yet time. The sinful, mad past kept him company on one hand;and, on the other, there attended him a dark, if doubtful, future. Heknew that he was at the disposal of a fierce conqueror, whom he haddeeply incensed, and who had little mercy. 'What will become of me whenI am face to face with Nebuchadnezzar? Would that I had kept subject tohim!' A past gone to ruin, a present honey-combed with gnawing remorseand dread, a future threatening, problematical, but sure to bepenal—these were what this foolish young king had won by showing hisspirit and despising Jeremiah's warnings, It is always a mistake to flyin the face of God's commands. All sin is folly, and every evildoermight say with poor Robert Burns:

'I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear.'

Nebuchadnezzar was in Riblah, away up in the north, waiting the issueof the campaign. Zedekiah was nothing to him but one of the manyrebellious vassals of whom he had to make an example lest rebellionshould spread, and who was especially guilty because he wasNebuchadnezzar's own nominee, and had sworn allegiance. Policy and hisown natural disposition reinforced by custom dictated his barbarouspunishment meted to the unfortunate kinglet of the petty kingdom thathad dared to perk itself up against his might. How little he knew thathe was the executioner of God's decrees! How little the fact that hewas so, diminished his responsibility for his cruelty! The savagepractice of blinding captive kings, so as to make them harmless andsave all trouble with them, was very common. Zedekiah was carried toBabylon, and thus was fulfilled Ezekiel's enigmatical prophecy, 'I willbring him to Babylon,… yet shall he not see it, though he shall diethere' (Ezek. xii. 13).

The fall of Jerusalem should teach us that a nation is a moral whole,capable of doing evil and of receiving retribution, and not a mereaggregation of individuals. It should teach us that transgression doesstill, though not so directly or certainly as in the case of Israel,sap the strength of kingdoms; and that to-day, as truly as of old,'righteousness exalteth a nation.' It should accustom us to look onhistory as not only the result of visible forces, but as having behindit, and reaching its end through the visible forces, the unseen hand ofGod. For Christians, the vision of the Apocalypse contains the ultimateword on 'the philosophy of history.' It is 'the Lamb before theThrone,' who opens the roll with the seven seals, and lets the powersof whom it speaks loose for their march through the world. It shouldteach us God's long-suffering patience and loving efforts to escape thenecessity of smiting, and also God's rigid justice, which will notshrink from smiting when all these efforts have failed.