chapter ii, the recognition of the “_standard_.” “And Moses and Aaron

took these men which are expressed by their names: and they assembled all the congregation together on the first day of the second month, and _they declared their pedigrees_ after their families, by the house of their fathers; according to the number of the names, from twenty years old and upward, by their polls. As the Lord commanded Moses, so he numbered them in the wilderness of Sinai.” (Chap. i. 17-19.)

Has this any voice for us? does it convey any great spiritual lesson to our understanding? Assuredly it does. In the first place, it suggests this important question to the reader: Can I declare my pedigree? It is greatly to be feared there are hundreds, if not thousands, of professing Christians who are wholly incompetent to do so. They cannot say, with clearness and decision, “_Now are_ we the sons of God.” (1 John iii. 2.)—“Ye _are_ all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.... And if ye are Christ’s, then _are_ ye Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” (Gal. iii. 26, 29.)—“For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they _are_ the sons of God.... The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we _are_ the sons of God.” (Rom. viii. 14, 16.)

This is the Christian’s “pedigree,” and it is his privilege to be able to “declare” it. He is born from above—born again—born of water and the Spirit, _i. e._, by the Word and by the Holy Ghost. (Compare diligently, John iii. 5; Jas. i. 18; 1 Pet. i. 23; Eph. v. 26.) The believer traces his pedigree directly up to a risen Christ in glory. This is Christian genealogy. So far as our natural pedigree is concerned, if we trace it up to its _source_, and then declare it honestly, we must see and admit that we are sprung from a ruined stock. Ours is a fallen family. Our fortunes are gone; our very blood attainted; we are irrecoverably ruined; we can never regain our original position; our former _status_ and the inheritance which belonged to it are irretrievably lost. A man may be able to trace his genealogical line through a race of nobles, of princes, or of kings; but if he is fully to “declare his pedigree,” he cannot stop short of a fallen, ruined, outcast head. We must get to the _source_ of a thing to know what it really is. It is thus God looks at and judges of things, and we must think with Him if we would think aright. His judgment of men and things must be dominant forever. Man’s judgment is only ephemeral, it lasts but for a day; and hence, according to faith’s estimate, the estimate of sound sense, “it is a _small_ thing to be judged of man’s day.” (1 Cor. iv. 3.) Oh, how small! Would that we felt more deeply how small a thing it is to be judged of man’s judgment, or, as the margin reads it, of man’s day! Would that we walked habitually in the real sense of the smallness thereof! It would impart a calm elevation and a holy dignity which would lift us above the influence of the scene through which we are passing. What is rank in this life? What importance can attach to a pedigree which, if honestly traced and faithfully declared, is derived from a ruined stock? A man can only be proud of his birth when he stops short of his real origin—“born in sin and shapen in iniquity.” Such is man’s origin—such his birth. Who can think of being proud of such a birth—of such an origin? who but one whose mind the god of this world hath blinded?

But how different with the Christian! His pedigree is heavenly; his genealogical tree strikes its roots into the soil of the new creation. Death can never break the line, inasmuch as it is formed in resurrection. We cannot be too simple as to this. It is of the utmost importance that the reader should be thoroughly clear on this foundation-point. We can easily see, from this first chapter of Numbers, how essential it was that every member of the congregation of Israel should be able to declare his pedigree. Uncertainty on this point would have proved disastrous; it would have produced hopeless confusion. We can hardly imagine an Israelite, when called to declare his pedigree, expressing himself in the doubtful manner adopted by many Christians nowadays. We cannot conceive his saying, Well, I am not quite sure. Sometimes I cherish the hope that I am of the stock of Israel; but at other times, I am full of fear that I do not belong to the congregation of the Lord at all. I am all in uncertainty and darkness. Can we conceive such language? Assuredly not. Much less could we imagine any one maintaining the monstrous notion that no one could possibly be sure as to whether he was a true Israelite or not until the day of judgment.

All such ideas and reasonings—all such doubts, fears, and questions, we may rest assured, were foreign to the mind of the Israelite. Every member of the congregation was called to declare his pedigree ere taking his place in the ranks as a man of war. Each one was able to say, like Saul of Tarsus, “Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel,” etc. All was settled and clear, and necessarily so if there was to be any real entrance upon the walk and warfare of the wilderness.

Now, may we not legitimately ask, If a Jew could be certain as to his pedigree, why may not a Christian be certain as to his? Reader, weigh this question; and if you are one of that large class of persons who are never able to arrive at the blessed certainty of their heavenly lineage—their spiritual birth, pause, we beseech you, and let us reason with you on this momentous point. It may be you are disposed to ask, How can I be sure that I am, really and truly, a child of God, a member of Christ, born of the Word and Spirit of God? I would give worlds, were they mine, to be certain as to this most weighty question.

Well, then, we would earnestly desire to help you in this matter. Indeed, one special object before us in penning these “Notes” is, to assist anxious souls, by answering, as the Lord may enable us, their questions, solving their difficulties, and removing the stumbling-blocks out of their way.

And first of all, let us point out one special feature which belongs to all the children of God without exception. It is a very simple, but a very blessed feature. If we do not possess it in some degree, it is most certain we are not of the heavenly race; but if we do possess it, it is just as certain that we are, and we may, therefore, without any difficulty or reserve, “declare our pedigree.” Now what is this feature? what is this great family characteristic? Our Lord Jesus Christ supplies the answer. He tells us that “Wisdom is justified of _all_ her children.” (Luke vii. 35; Matt. xi. 19.) All the children of Wisdom, from the days of Abel down to the present moment, have been marked by this great family trait. There is not so much as a single exception. All God’s children—all the sons of Wisdom have always exhibited, in some degree, this moral feature—they have justified God.

Let the reader consider this. It may be he finds it hard to understand what is meant by justifying God; but a passage or two of holy Scripture will, we trust, make it quite plain. We read in Luke vii. that “all the people that heard Jesus, and the publicans, _justified God_, being baptized with the baptism of John. But the Pharisees and lawyers rejected the counsel of God against themselves, being not baptized of him.” (Ver. 29, 30.) Here we have the two generations brought, as it were, face to face. The publicans justified God and condemned themselves: the Pharisees justified themselves and judged God. The former submitted to the baptism of John—the baptism of repentance: the latter refused that baptism—refused to repent—refused to humble and to judge themselves.

Here we have the two great classes into which the whole human family has been divided, from the days of Abel and Cain down to the present day; and here, too, we have the simplest possible test by which to try our “pedigree.” Have we taken the place of self-condemnation? have we bowed in true repentance before God? This is to justify God. The two things go together—yea, they are one and the same. The man who condemns himself justifies God; and the man who justifies God condemns himself. On the other hand, the man who justifies himself judges God; and the man who judges God justifies himself.

Thus it stands in every case. And be it observed that the very moment we take the ground of repentance and self-judgment, God takes the ground of a Justifier. God always justifies those who condemn themselves. All His children justify Him, and He justifies all His children. The moment David said, “I have sinned against the Lord,” the answer was, “The Lord hath put away thy sin.” Divine forgiveness follows, with the most intense rapidity, human confession.

Hence it follows that nothing can be more foolish than for any one to justify himself, inasmuch as God must be justified in His sayings, and overcome when He is judged. (Comp. Ps. li. 4; Rom. iii. 4.) God must have the upper hand in the end, and then all self-justification shall be seen in its true light. The wisest thing, therefore, is to condemn ourselves. This is what all the children of Wisdom do. Nothing is more characteristic of the true members of Wisdom’s family than the habit and spirit of self-judgment. Whereas, on the other hand, nothing so marks all those who are not of this family as a spirit of self-vindication.

These things are worthy of our most earnest attention. Nature will blame any thing and every thing, any one and every one, but itself; but where grace is at work, there is ever a readiness to judge self, and take the lowly place. This is the true secret of blessing and peace. All God’s children have stood on this blessed ground, exhibited this lovely moral trait, and reached this grand result. We cannot find so much as a single exception in the entire history of Wisdom’s happy family; and we may safely say that if the reader has been led, in truth and reality, to own himself lost—to condemn himself—to take the place of true repentance, then is he, in very deed, one of the children of Wisdom, and he may therefore, with boldness and decision, “declare his pedigree.”

We would urge this point at the outset. It is impossible for any one to recognize and rally around the proper “standard” unless he can declare his “pedigree.” In short, it is impossible to take up a true position in the wilderness so long as there is any uncertainty as to this great question. How could an Israelite of old have taken his place in the assembly—how could he have stood in the ranks—how could he expect to make any progress through the wilderness, if he could not distinctly declare his pedigree? Impossible. Just so is it with Christians now. Progress in wilderness life—success in spiritual warfare, is out of the question if there be any uncertainty as to the spiritual pedigree. We must be able to say, “We _know_ that we have passed from death unto life”—“We _know_ that we are of God”—“We believe and are sure,” ere there can be any real advance in the life and walk of a Christian.

Reader, say, can you declare your pedigree? Is this a thoroughly settled point with you? Are you clear as to this in the very depths of your soul? When you are all alone with God, is it a perfectly settled question between you and Him? Search and see. Make sure work of it. Do not slur the matter over. Build not upon mere profession. Say not, I am a member of such a church; I receive the Lord’s supper; I hold such and such doctrines; I have been religiously brought up; I live a moral life; I have done nobody any harm; I read the Bible and say my prayers; I have family worship in my house; I give largely in the cause of philanthropy and religion. All this may be perfectly true of you, and yet you may not have a single pulse of divine life, a single ray of divine light. Not one of these things, not all of them put together, could be accepted as a declaration of spiritual pedigree. There must be the witness of the Spirit that you are a child of God, and this witness always accompanies simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. “He that believeth in the Son of God hath the witness in himself.” (1 John v. 10.) It is not by any means a question of looking into your own heart for evidences; it is not a building upon frames, feelings, and experiences—nothing of the sort. It is a childlike faith in Christ; it is having eternal life in the Son of God; it is the imperishable record of the Holy Ghost; it is taking God at His word. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, _hath_ everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment [κρίσιν], but _is passed_ from death unto life.” (John v. 24.)

This is the true way to declare your pedigree; and be assured of it, you must be able to declare it ere you can “go forth to war.” We do not mean to say you cannot be saved without this. God forbid we should say any such thing. We believe there are hundreds of the true spiritual Israel who are not able to declare their pedigree; but we ask, Are such able to go forth to war? are they vigorous military men? Far from it. They cannot even know what true conflict is: on the contrary, persons of this class mistake their doubts and fears—their dark and cloudy seasons for true Christian conflict. This is a most serious mistake, but, alas! a very common one. We continually find a low, dark, legal condition of soul defended on the ground of Christian conflict, whereas, according to the New Testament, true Christian conflict, or warfare, is carried on in a region where doubts and fears are unknown. It is when we stand in the clear daylight of God’s full salvation—salvation in a risen Christ—that we really enter upon the warfare proper to us as Christians. Are we to suppose for a moment that our legal struggles, our culpable unbelief, our refusal to submit to the righteousness of God, our questionings and reasonings, can be viewed as Christian conflict? By no means. All these things must be regarded as conflict with God; whereas Christian conflict is carried on with Satan.—“We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against wicked spirits in high place.” (Eph. vi. 12.)

This is Christian conflict. But can such conflict be waged by those who are continually doubting whether they are Christians or not? We do not believe it. Could we imagine an Israelite in conflict with Amalek in the wilderness, or with the Canaanites in the land of promise, while yet unable to “declare his pedigree” or recognize his “standard”? The thing is inconceivable. No, no; every member of the congregation who was able to go forth to war was perfectly clear and settled as to those two points. Indeed, he could not go forth if he were not so.

And while on the important subject of Christian conflict, it may be well to call the reader’s attention to the three portions of New-Testament scripture in which we have three distinct characters of conflict presented, namely, Romans vii. 7-24; Galatians v. 17; Ephesians vi. 10-17. If the reader will just turn for a moment to the above scriptures, we shall seek to point out the true character of each.

In Romans vii. 7-24, we have the struggle of a soul quickened but not emancipated—a regenerated soul under the law. The proof that we have before us here a quickened soul, is found in such utterances as these: “That which I do, I allow not.”—“To will is present with me.”—“_I delight in the law of God after the inward man._” None but a regenerated soul could speak thus. The disallowance of the wrong, the _will_ to do right, the inward delight in the law of God—all these are the distinct marks of the new life—the precious fruits of regeneration. No unconverted person could truthfully use such language.

But on the other hand, the proofs that we have before us in this scripture a soul not fully emancipated, not in the joy of known deliverance, not in the full consciousness of victory, not in the assured possession of spiritual power—the plain proofs of all this we have in such utterances as the following: “I am carnal, sold under sin.”—“What I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.”—“O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me?” Now, we know that a Christian is not “carnal,” but spiritual; he is not “sold under sin,” but redeemed from its power; he is not a “wretched man,” sighing for deliverance, but a happy man, who knows himself delivered. He is not an impotent slave, unable to do the right thing, and ever compelled to do the wrong; he is a free man, endowed with power in the Holy Ghost, and able to say, “I can do _all_ things through Christ that strengtheneth me.” (Phil. iv.)

We cannot here attempt to enter upon a full exposition of this most important scripture; we merely offer a suggestion or two which may help the reader to seize its scope and import. We are fully aware that many Christians differ widely as to the interpretation of this chapter. Some deny that it presents the exercises of a quickened soul; others maintain that it sets forth the experiences proper to a Christian. We cannot accept either conclusion. We believe it exhibits to our view the exercises of a truly regenerated soul, but of a soul not set free by the knowledge of its union with a risen Christ, and the power of the Holy Ghost. Hundreds of Christians are actually in the seventh of Romans; but their proper place is in the eighth. They are, as to their experience, under the law; they do not know themselves as sealed by the Holy Ghost; they are not in possession of full victory in a risen and glorified Christ; they have doubts and fears, and are ever disposed to cry out, “O wretched man that I am? who shall deliver me?” But is not a Christian delivered? is he not saved? is he not accepted in the Beloved? is he not sealed by that Holy Spirit of promise? is he not united to Christ? ought he not to know, to enjoy, and to confess all this? Unquestionably. Well, then, he is no longer, as to his standing, in the seventh of Romans. It is his privilege to sing the song of victory, at heaven’s side of the empty tomb of Jesus, and to walk in the holy liberty wherewith Christ makes His people free. The seventh of Romans is not liberty at all, but bondage—except, indeed, at the very close, where the soul is able to say, “I thank God.” No doubt, it may be a very wholesome exercise to pass through all that is here detailed for us with such marvelous vividness and power; and furthermore, we must declare that we should vastly prefer being honestly in the seventh of Romans to being falsely in the eighth. But all this leaves wholly untouched the question as to the proper application of this profoundly interesting passage of Scripture.

We shall now glance for a moment at the conflict in Galatians v. 17. We shall quote the passage. “For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.”[2] This passage is often quoted to account for continual _defeat_, whereas it really contains the secret of perpetual _victory_. In verse 16, we read, “This I say, then, walk in the Spirit, and _ye shall not fulfill_ the lust of the flesh.” This makes it all so clear. The presence of the Holy Ghost secures power. We are assured that God is stronger than “the flesh,” and therefore where He is in conflict, the triumph is secured. And be it carefully noted that Galatians v. 17 does not speak of the conflict between the two natures—the old and the new, but between the Holy Ghost and the flesh. This is the reason why it is added, “In order that ye may not do the things that ye would.” If the Holy Ghost were not dwelling in us, we should be sure to fulfill the lust of the flesh; but inasmuch as He is in us to carry on the warfare, we are no longer obliged to do wrong, but blessedly enabled to do right.

Now this precisely marks the point of difference between Romans vii. 14, 15 and Galatians v. 17. In the former, we have the new nature, but not the power of the indwelling Spirit; in the latter, we have not only the new nature, but also the power of the Holy Ghost. We must ever bear in mind that the new nature in a believer is dependent. It is dependent upon the Spirit for power, and upon the Word for guidance. But clearly, where God the Holy Ghost is, there must be power. He may be grieved and hindered, but Galatians v. 16 distinctly teaches that if we walk in the Spirit, we shall have sure and constant victory over the flesh. Hence, therefore, it would be a very serious mistake indeed to quote Galatians v. 17 as a reason for a low and carnal walk. Its teaching is designed to produce the direct opposite.

And now one word on Ephesians vi. 10-17. Here we have the conflict between the Christian and wicked spirits in heavenly places. The Church belongs to heaven, and should ever maintain a heavenly walk and conversation. It should be our constant aim to make good our heavenly standing—to plant the foot firmly upon our heavenly inheritance, and keep it there. This, the devil seeks to hinder in every possible way, and hence the conflict; hence, too, “the whole armor of God,” by which alone we can stand against our powerful spiritual foe.

It is not our purpose to dwell upon the armor, as we have merely called the reader’s attention to the above three scriptures in order that he may have the subject of conflict, in all its phases, fully before his mind, in connection with the opening lines of the book of Numbers. Nothing can be more interesting; nor can we possibly overestimate the importance of being clear as to the real nature and ground of Christian conflict. If we go forth to war without knowing what the war is about, and in a state of uncertainty as to whether our “pedigree” is all right, we shall not make much headway against the enemy.

But, as has been already remarked, there was another thing quite as necessary for the man of war as the clear declaration of his pedigree, and that was, the distinct recognition of his standard. The two things were essential for the walk and warfare of the wilderness. Moreover, they were inseparable. If a man did not know his pedigree, he could not recognize his standard, and thus all would have been plunged in hopeless confusion. In place of keeping rank, and making steady progress, they would have been in each others way, and treading one upon another. Each had to know his post and keep it—to know his standard and abide by it. Thus they moved on together; thus progress was made, work done, and warfare carried on. The Benjamite had his post, and the Ephraimite had his, and neither was to interfere with or cross the path of the other. Thus with all the tribes throughout the camp of the Israel of God. Each had his pedigree, and each had his post; and neither the one nor the other was according to their own thoughts: all was of God. He gave the pedigree, and He assigned the standard; nor was there any need of comparing one with another, or any ground of jealousy one of another; each had his place to fill and his work to do, and there was work enough and room enough for all. There was the greatest possible variety, and yet the most perfect unity. “Every man of the children of Israel shall pitch by his own standard, with the ensign of their father’s house.” “And the children of Israel did according to all that the Lord commanded Moses; so they pitched by their standards, and so they set forward, every one after their families, according to the house of their fathers.” (Chap. ii. 2, 34.)

Thus, in the camp of old, as well as in the Church now, we learn that “God is not the Author of confusion.” Nothing could be more exquisitely arranged than the four camps, of three tribes each, forming a perfect square, each side of the square exhibiting its own specific standard. “Every man of the children of Israel shall pitch by his own standard, with the ensign of their father’s house: over against the tabernacle of the congregation shall they pitch.” The God of the armies of Israel knew how to marshal His hosts. It would be a great mistake to suppose that God’s warriors were not ordered according to the most perfect system of military tactics. We may plume ourselves upon our progress in arts and sciences, and we may fancy that the host of Israel presented a spectacle of rude disorder and wild confusion, compared with what may be seen in modern times; but this would be an empty conceit. We may rest assured that the camp of Israel was ordered and furnished in the most perfect manner, for the simplest and most conclusive of all reasons, namely, that it was ordered and furnished by the hand of God. Grant us but this, that God has done any thing, and we argue, with the most perfect confidence, that it has been perfectly done.

This is a very simple, but a very blessed principle. Of course it would not satisfy an infidel or a skeptic; what would? It is the province and prerogative of a skeptic to doubt every thing, to believe nothing. He measures every thing by his own standard, and rejects whatever he cannot reconcile with his own notions. He lays down, with marvelous coolness, his own premises, and then proceeds to draw his own conclusions; but if the premises are false, the conclusions must be false likewise. And there is this invariable feature attaching to the premises of all skeptics, rationalists, and infidels—_they always leave out God_; and hence all their conclusions must be fatally false. On the other hand, the humble believer starts with this great first principle, that God IS; and not only that He is, but that He has to do with His creatures; that He interests Himself in, and occupies Himself about, the affairs of men.

What consolation for the Christian! But infidelity will not allow this at all. To bring God in is to upset all the reasonings of the skeptic, for they are based upon the thorough exclusion of God.

However, we are not now writing in order to meet infidels, but for the edification of believers; and yet it is sometimes well to call attention to the thorough rottenness of the whole system of infidelity; and surely, in no way can this be more clearly or forcibly shown than by the fact that it rests entirely upon the exclusion of God. Let this fact be seized, and the whole system crumbles into dust at our feet. If we believe that God is, then assuredly every thing must be viewed in relation to Him. We must look at all from His point of view. Nor is this all. If we believe that God is, then we must see that man cannot judge Him. God must be the judge of right or wrong, of what is and what is not worthy of Himself. So also in reference to God’s Word. If it be true that God is, and that He has spoken to us—He has given us a revelation, then assuredly that revelation is not to be judged by man’s reason. It is above and beyond any such tribunal. Only think of measuring God’s Word by the rules of human arithmetic! And yet this is precisely what has been done, in our own day, with this blessed book of Numbers, with which we are now engaged, and with which we shall proceed, leaving infidelity and its arithmetic aside.

We feel it very needful, in our notes and reflections on this book, as well as on every other book, to remember two things, namely, first, the _book_; and secondly, the _soul_,—the book and its contents; the soul and its necessities. There is a danger of becoming so occupied with the former as to forget the latter; and on the other hand, there is the danger of becoming so wholly engrossed with the latter as to forget the former. Both must be attended to. And we may say that what constitutes an efficient ministry, whether written or oral, is the proper adjustment of these two things. There are some ministers who study the Word very diligently, and, it may be, very profoundly; they are well versed in biblical knowledge; they have drunk deeply at the fountain of inspiration. All this is of the utmost importance, and of the very highest value. A ministry without this will be barren indeed. If a man does not study his Bible diligently and prayerfully, he will have little to give to his readers or his hearers—at least, little worth their having. Those who minister in the Word must dig for themselves, and “_dig deep_.”

But then the _soul_ must be considered—its condition anticipated, and its necessities met. If this be lost sight of, the ministry will lack point, pungency, and power. It will be inefficient and unfruitful. In short, the two things must be combined and properly adjusted. A man who merely studies the _book_ will be unpractical; a man who merely studies the _soul_ will be unfurnished; a man who duly studies _both_ will be a good minister of Jesus Christ.

Now, we desire, in our measure, to be this to the reader; and hence, as we travel, in his company, through the marvelous book which lies open before us, we would not only seek to point out its moral beauties and unfold its holy lessons, but we would also feel it to be our bounden duty to put an occasional question to him or her, as to how far those lessons are being learnt and those beauties appreciated. We trust the reader will not object to this, and hence, ere we close this our first section, we would ask him a question or two thereon.

And first, then, dear friend, Art thou clear and settled as to thy “pedigree”? is it a settled thing that thou art on the Lord’s side? Do not, we beseech thee, leave this grand question unsettled. We have asked it before, and we ask it again. Dost thou know, canst thou declare, thy spiritual pedigree? It is the first thing for God’s warrior. It is of no use to think of entering the militant host so long as you are unsettled as to this point. We say not that a man cannot be saved without this. Far be the thought. But he cannot take rank as a man of war. He cannot do battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil so long as he is filled with doubts and fears as to whether he belongs to the true spiritual stock. If there is to be any progress, if there is to be that decision so essential to a spiritual warrior, we must be able to say, “_We know_ that we have passed from death unto life”—“_We know_ that we are of God.”

This is the proper language of a man of war. Not one of that mighty host that mustered “over against the tabernacle of the congregation” would have understood such a thing as a single doubt, or shadow of a doubt, as to _his own very pedigree_. Doubtless, he would have smiled had any one raised a question on the subject. Each one of the six hundred thousand knew well whence he had sprung, and therefore where he was to take his stand. And just so with God’s militant host now. Each member thereof will need to possess the most unclouded confidence as to his relationship, else he will not be able to stand in the battle.

And then as to the “standard.” What is it? Is it a doctrine? Nay. Is it a theological system? Nay. Is it an ecclesiastical polity? Nay. Is it a system of ordinances, rites, or ceremonies? Nothing of the sort. God’s warriors do not fight under any such banner. What is the standard of God’s militant host? Let us hear and remember. It is Christ. This is the only standard of God, and the only standard of that warrior-band which musters in this wilderness-world to wage war with the hosts of evil and fight the battles of the Lord. Christ is the standard for every thing. To have any other would only unfit us for that spiritual conflict to which we are called. What have we, _as Christians_, to do with contending for any system of theology or church organization? Of what account, in our estimation, are ordinances, ceremonies, or ritualistic observances? Are we going to fight under such banners as these? God forbid! Our theology is the Bible; our church-organization is the one Body, formed by the presence of the Holy Ghost, and united to the living and exalted Head in the heavens. To contend for any thing less than these is entirely below the mark of a true spiritual warrior.

Alas! alas! that so many who profess to belong to the Church of God should so forget their proper standard, and be found fighting under another banner. We may rest assured it superinduces weakness, falsifies the testimony, and hinders progress. If we would stand in the day of battle, we must acknowledge no standard whatsoever but Christ and His word—the living Word and the written word. Here lies our security in the face of all spiritual foes. The more closely we adhere to Christ, and to Him _alone_, the stronger and the safer we shall be. To have Him as a perfect covering for our eyes,—to keep close to Him—fast by His side, this is our grand moral safeguard. “The children of Israel shall pitch their tents, every man by his own camp, and every man by his own standard, throughout their hosts.”

Oh that thus it may be throughout all the host of the Church of God! May all be laid aside for Christ. May He be enough for our hearts. As we trace our “pedigree” up to Him, may His name be inscribed on the “standard” around which we encamp in this wilderness, through which we are passing home to our eternal rest above. Reader, see to it, we beseech thee, that there be not one jot or tittle inscribed on thy banner save Jesus Christ—that name which is above every name, and which shall yet be exalted forever throughout the wide universe of God.

CHAPTERS III. & IV.

What a marvelous spectacle was the camp of Israel in that waste howling wilderness! What a spectacle to angels, to men, and to devils! God’s eye ever rested upon it. His presence was there. He dwelt in the midst of His militant people. It was there He found His habitation. He did not, He could not, find His abode amid the splendors of Egypt, of Assyria, or of Babylon. No doubt those nations presented much that was attractive to nature’s eye. The arts and sciences were cultivated amongst them. Civilization had reached a far loftier point amongst those ancient nations than we moderns are disposed to admit. Refinement and luxury were probably carried to as great an extent there as amongst those who put forth very lofty pretensions.

But, be it remembered, Jehovah was not known among those nations; His name had never been revealed to them; He did not dwell in their midst. True, there were the ten thousand testimonies to His creative power; and moreover, His superintending providence was over them,—He gave them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness; the blessings and benefits of His liberal hand were showered upon them from day to day and year to year; His showers fertilized their fields, His sunbeams gladdened their hearts: but they knew Him not, and cared not for Him. His dwelling was not there. Not one of those nations could say, “Jehovah is my strength and song, and He is become my salvation: He is my God, and I will prepare Him a habitation; my father’s God, and I will exalt Him.” (Ex. xv. 2.)

Jehovah found His abode in the bosom of His redeemed people, and no where else. Redemption was the necessary basis of God’s habitation amongst men. Apart from redemption, the divine presence could only prove the destruction of man; but redemption being known, that presence secures man’s highest privilege and brightest glory.

God dwelt in the midst of His people Israel. He came down from heaven, not only to redeem them out of the land of Egypt, but to be their traveling-companion through the wilderness. What a thought! The Most High God taking up His abode on the sand of the desert, and in the very bosom of His redeemed congregation! Truly, there was nothing like that throughout the wide, wide world. There was that host of six hundred thousand men, beside women and children, in a sterile desert, where there was not a blade of grass, not a drop of water—no visible source of subsistence. How were they to be fed? God was there! How were they to be kept in order? God was there! How were they to track their way through a howling wilderness, where there was no way? God was there!

In a word, God’s presence secured every thing. Unbelief might say, What! are three millions of people to be fed on air? Who has charge of the commissariat? where are the military stores? where is the baggage? who is to attend to the clothing? Faith alone could answer, and its answer is simple, brief, and conclusive,—God was there! And that was quite sufficient. All is comprehended in that one sentence. In faith’s arithmetic, God is the only significant figure; and having Him, you may add as many ciphers as you please. If all your springs are in the living God, it ceases to be a question of your need, and resolves itself into a question of His sufficiency.

What were six hundred thousand footmen to the Almighty God? what the varied necessities of their wives and children? In man’s estimation, these things might seem overwhelming. England has just sent out ten thousand troops to Abyssinia; but only think of the enormous expense and labor—think of the number of transports required to convey provisions and other necessaries for that small army. But imagine an army sixty times the size, together with the women and children; conceive this enormous host entering upon a march that was to extend over the space of forty years, through “a great and terrible wilderness,” in which there was no corn, no grass, no water-spring. How were they to be sustained? No supplies with them, no arrangements entered into with friendly nations to forward supplies, no transports dispatched to meet them at various points along their route; in short, not a single visible source of supply—nothing that nature would consider available.

All this is something worth pondering. But we must ponder it in the divine presence. It is of no possible use for reason to sit down and try to solve this mighty problem by human arithmetic. No, reader; it is only faith that can solve it, and that, moreover, by the Word of the living God. Here lies the precious solution. Bring God in, and you want no other factors to work out your answer; leave Him out, and the more powerful your reason, and the more profound your arithmetic, the more hopeless must be your perplexity.

Thus it is that faith settles the question. God was in the midst of His people. He was there in all the fullness of His grace and mercy—there in His perfect knowledge of His people’s wants, and of the difficulties of their path—there in His almighty power and boundless resources, to meet these difficulties and supply these wants. And so fully did He enter into all these things, that He was able, at the close of their long wilderness-wanderings, to appeal to their hearts in the following touching accents: “For the Lord thy God hath blessed thee in all the works of thy hand; He knoweth thy walking through this great wilderness: these forty years the Lord thy God hath been with thee; _thou hast lacked nothing_.” And again, “Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell, these forty years.” (Deut. ii. 7; viii. 4.)

Now, in all these things, the camp of Israel was a type—a vivid, striking type. A type of what? A type of the Church of God passing through this world. The testimony of Scripture is so distinct on this point, as to leave no room and no demand for the exercise of imagination.—“All these things happened unto them for ensamples; and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come.” (1 Cor. x. 11.)

Hence, therefore, we may draw near and gaze, with intense interest, upon that marvelous spectacle, and seek to gather up the precious lessons which it is so eminently fitted to teach. And, oh, what lessons! Who can duly estimate them? Look at that mysterious camp in the desert, composed, as we have said, of warriors, workers, and worshipers. What separation from all the nations of the world! what utter helplessness! what exposure! what absolute dependence upon God! They had nothing, could do nothing, could know nothing. They had not a morsel of food nor a drop of water, but as they received it day by day from the immediate hand of God. When they retired to rest at night, there was not a single atom of provision for the morrow. There was no storehouse, no larder, no visible source of supply—nothing that nature could take any account of.

But God was there, and that, in the judgment of faith, was quite enough. _They were shut up to God._ This is the one grand reality. Faith owns nothing real, nothing solid, nothing true, but the one true, living, eternal God. Nature might cast a longing look at the granaries of Egypt, and see something tangible, something substantial there: faith looks up to heaven and finds _all_ its springs there.

Thus it was with the camp in the desert, and thus it is with the Church in the world. There was not a single exigency, not a single contingency, not a single need of any sort whatsoever, for which the Divine Presence was not an all-sufficient answer. The nations of the uncircumcised might look on and marvel; they might, in the bewilderment of blind unbelief, raise many a question as to how such a host could ever be fed, clothed, and kept in order. Most certainly they had no eyes to _see_ how it could be done. They knew not Jehovah, the Lord God of the Hebrews; and therefore to tell them that He was going to undertake for that vast assembly would indeed seem like idle tales.

And so it is now, in reference to the assembly of God, in this world, which may truly be termed a moral wilderness. Looked at from God’s point of view, that assembly is not of the world; it is in complete separation. It is as thoroughly apart from the world as the camp of Israel was apart from Egypt. The waters of the Red Sea rolled between that camp and Egypt; and the deeper and darker waters of the death of Christ roll between the Church of God and this present evil world. It is impossible to conceive separation more complete. “They,” says our Lord Christ, “are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.” (John xvii.)

Then, as to entire dependence, what can be more dependent than the Church of God in this world? She has nothing in or of herself. She is set down in the midst of a moral desert, a dreary waste, a vast howling wilderness, in the which there is literally nothing on which she can live. There is not one drop of water, not a single morsel of suited food, for the Church of God throughout the entire compass of this world.

So also as to the matter of exposure to all sorts of hostile influences. Nothing can exceed it. There is not so much as one friendly influence. All is against her. She is in the midst of this world like an exotic—a plant belonging to a foreign clime, and set down in a sphere where both the soil and the atmosphere are uncongenial.

Such is the Church of God in the world—a separated, dependent, defenseless thing, wholly cast upon the living God. It is calculated to give great vividness, force, and clearness to our thoughts about the Church to view it as the antitype of the camp in the desert; and that it is in no wise fanciful or far-fetched to view it thus, 1 Corinthians x. 11 does most clearly show. We are fully warranted in saying that what the camp of Israel was literally, that the Church is morally and spiritually. And further, that what the wilderness was literally to Israel, that the world is morally and spiritually to the Church of God. The wilderness was the sphere of Israel’s toil and danger, not of their supplies or their enjoyment; and the world is the sphere of the Church’s toil and danger, not of its supplies or its enjoyment.

It is well to seize this fact, in all its moral power. The assembly of God in the world, like “the congregation in the wilderness,” is wholly cast upon the living God. We speak, be it remembered, from the divine stand-point—of what the Church is in God’s sight. Looked at from man’s point of view—looked at as she is in her own actual practical state, it is, alas! another thing. We are now only occupied with the normal, the true, the divine idea of God’s assembly in this world.

And let it not be forgotten for one moment, that as truly as there was a camp in the desert of old—a congregation in the wilderness, so truly is there the Church of God—the body of Christ—in the world now. Doubtless, the nations of the world knew little and cared less about that congregation of old; but that did not weaken or touch the great living fact. So now, the men of the world know little and care less about the assembly of God—the body of Christ; but that in no wise touches the grand living truth that there is such a thing actually existing in this world, and _has been_ ever since the Holy Ghost descended on the day of Pentecost. True, the congregation of old had its trials, its conflicts, its sorrows, its temptations, its strifes, its controversies, its internal commotions, its numberless and nameless difficulties, calling for the varied resources that were in God—the precious ministrations of prophet, priest, and king which God had provided; for, as we know, Moses was there as “king in Jeshurun,” and as the prophet raised up of God; and Aaron was there to exercise all the priestly functions.

But in spite of all these things that we have named—in spite of the weakness, the failure, the sin, the rebellion, the strife—still there was the striking fact, to be taken cognizance of by men, by devils, and by angels, namely, a vast congregation, amounting to something like three millions of people (according to the usual mode of computation) journeying through a wilderness, wholly dependent upon an unseen arm, guided and cared for by the eternal God, whose eye was never for one moment withdrawn from that mysterious typical host; yea, He dwelt in their midst, and never left them, in all their unbelief, their forgetfulness, their ingratitude, and rebellion. God was there to sustain and guide, to guard and keep them day and night. He fed them with bread from heaven day by day, and He brought them forth water out of the flinty rock.

This, assuredly, was a stupendous fact—a profound mystery. God had a congregation in the wilderness—apart from the nations around, shut up to Himself. It may be the nations of the world knew nothing, cared nothing, thought nothing, about this assembly. It is certain the desert yielded nothing in the way of sustenance or refreshment. There were serpents and scorpions,—there were snares and dangers—drought, barrenness, and desolation; but there was that wonderful assembly maintained in a manner that baffled and confounded human reason.

And, reader, remember, this was a type. A type of what? A type of something that has been in existence for over eighteen centuries; is in existence still; and shall be in existence until the moment that our Lord Christ rises from His present position and descends into the air. In one word, a type of the Church of God in the world. How important to recognize this fact! How sadly it has been lost sight of! how little understood, even now! And yet every Christian is solemnly responsible to recognize, and practically to confess it. There is no escaping it. Is it true that there is something in this world at this very moment answering to the camp in the desert? Yes, verily; there is, in very truth, the Church in the wilderness. There is an assembly passing through this world, just as the literal Israel passed through the literal desert. And moreover, the world is morally and spiritually to that Church what the desert was literally and practically to Israel of old. Israel found no springs in the desert; and the Church of God should find no springs in the world. If she does, she proves false to her Lord. Israel was not of the desert, but passing through it; and the Church of God is not of the world, but passing through it.

If this be thoroughly entered into by the reader, it will show him the place of complete separation which belongs to the Church of God as a whole, and to each individual member thereof. The Church, _in God’s view of her_, is as thoroughly marked off from this present world as the camp of Israel was marked off from the surrounding desert. There is as little in common between the Church and the world as there was between Israel and the sand of the desert. The most brilliant attractions and bewitching fascinations of the world are to the Church of God what the serpents and scorpions and the ten thousand other dangers of the wilderness were to Israel.

Such is the divine idea of the Church; and it is with this idea that we are now occupied. Alas! alas! how different it is with that which calls itself the Church! But we want the reader to dwell, for the present, on the true thing; we want him to place himself, by faith, at God’s stand-point, and view the Church from thence. It is only by so doing that he can have any thing like a true idea of what the Church is, or of his own personal responsibility with respect to it. God _has_ a Church in the world. There _is_ a body now on the earth, indwelt by God the Spirit, and united to Christ the Head. This Church—this body—is composed of all those who truly believe on the Son of God, and who are united by the grand fact of the presence of the Holy Ghost.

And be it observed, this is not a matter of opinion—a certain thing which we may take up or lay down at pleasure. It is a divine fact; it is a grand truth, whether we will hear or whether we will forbear. The Church is an existing thing, and we, if believers, are members thereof. We cannot avoid this: we cannot ignore it. We are actually in the relationship—baptized into it by the Holy Ghost. It is as real and as positive a thing as the birth of a child into a family. The birth has taken place, the relationship is formed, and we have only to recognize it, and walk in the sense of it from day to day. The very moment in which a soul is born again—born from above, and sealed by the Holy Ghost, he is incorporated into the body of Christ. He can no longer view himself as a solitary individual, an independent person, an isolated atom; he is a member of a body, just as the hand or the foot is a member of the human body. He is a member of _the_ Church of God, and cannot, properly and truly, be a member of any thing else. How could my arm be a member of any other body? And on the same principle, we may ask, How could a member of the body of Christ be a member of any other body?

What a glorious truth is this respecting the Church of God—the antitype of the camp in the desert—“the congregation in the wilderness!” What a fact to be governed by! There _is_ such a thing as the Church of God amid all the ruin and the wreck, the strife and the discord, the confusion and division, the sects and parties. This, surely, is a most precious truth. But not only is it most precious, it is also most practical and formative. We are as bound to recognize, by faith, this Church in the world, as the Israelite was bound to recognize, by sight, the camp in the desert. There _was_ one camp—one congregation, and the true Israelite belonged thereto; there _is_ one Church—one body, and the true Christian belongs to it.

But how is this body organized? By the Holy Ghost, as it is written, “By one Spirit are we all baptized into one body.” (1 Cor. xii. 13.) How is it maintained? By its living Head, through the Spirit, and by the Word, as it is written, “No man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the Church.” (Eph. v. 29.) Is not this enough? Is not the Lord Christ sufficient? Doth not the Holy Ghost suffice? Do we want any thing more than the varied virtues that are lodged in the name of Jesus? Are not the gifts of the Eternal Spirit quite sufficient for the growth and maintenance of the Church of God? Doth not the fact of the divine presence in the Church, secure _all_ that the Church can possibly need? Is it not sufficient for “exigence of every hour”? Faith says—and says it with emphasis and decision,—Yes! Unbelief—human reason, says, No; we want a great many things as well. What is our brief reply? Simply this: If God be not sufficient, we know not whither to turn; if the name of Jesus doth not suffice, we know not what to do; if the Holy Ghost cannot meet all our need, in communion, in ministry, and in worship, we know not what to say.

It may, however, be said that “things are not as they were in apostolic times. The professing church has failed; pentecostal gifts have ceased; the palmy days of the Church’s first love have passed away; and therefore we must adopt the best means in our power for the organization and maintenance of our churches.” To all this we reply, God has not failed; Christ, the Head of the Church, has not failed; the Holy Spirit has not failed; not one jot or tittle of God’s Word has failed. This is the true ground of faith. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.” He has said, “Lo, I am with you.” How long? During the days of first love? during apostolic times? so long as the Church shall continue faithful? No; “I am with you _always_, even unto the end of the age.” (Matt. xxviii.) So also, at an earlier moment, when, for the first time in the whole canon of Scripture, the Church, properly so called, is named, we have those memorable words, “On this Rock [the Son of the living God] I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” (Matt. xvi.)

Now, the question is, Is that Church on the earth at this moment? Most assuredly. It is as true that there is a Church now on this earth as that there was a camp in the desert of old. Yes; and as truly as God was in that camp to meet every exigence, so truly is He now in the Church to order and guide in every thing, as we read, “Ye are builded together for a habitation of God through the Spirit.” (Eph. ii.) This is quite sufficient. All we want is to lay hold, by a simple faith, of this grand reality. The name of Jesus is as sufficient for all the exigencies of the Church of God as it is for the soul’s salvation. The one is as true as the other. “Where two or three are gathered together in [or, unto] My name, there am I in the midst.” (Matt. xviii.) Has this ceased to be true? and if not, is not Christ’s presence quite enough for His Church? Do we need to set about planning or working for ourselves in church matters? No more than in the matter of the soul’s salvation. What do we say to the sinner? Trust Christ. What do we say to the saint? Trust Christ. What do we say to an assembly of saints, few or many? Trust Christ. Is there aught that He cannot manage? “Is there a thing too hard for Him?” Has His treasury of gift and grace become exhausted? Is He not able to supply ministerial gifts? Can He not furnish evangelists, pastors, and teachers? Can He not perfectly meet all the manifold necessities of His Church in the wilderness? If not, where are we? what shall we do? whither shall we turn? What had the congregation of old to do? To look to Jehovah. For every thing? Yes; for every thing,—for food, for water, for clothing, for guidance, for protection, for all. All their springs were in Him. Must we turn to some one else? Never. Our Lord Christ is amply sufficient, in spite of all our failure and ruin, our sin and unfaithfulness. He has sent down the Holy Ghost, the blessed Paraclete, to dwell with and in His people—to form them into one body, and unite them to their living head in heaven. He is the power of unity, of communion, of ministry, and of worship. He has not left us, and He never will. Only let us trust Him; let us use Him; let us give Him room to act. Let us carefully guard against every thing that might tend to quench, to hinder, or to grieve Him. Let us acknowledge Him, in His own proper place in the assembly, and yield ourselves, in all things, to His guidance and authority.

Here, we are persuaded, lies the true secret of power and blessing. Do we deny the ruin? How could we? Alas! alas! it stands forth as a fact too palpable and glaring to admit of denial. Do we seek to deny our share in the ruin—our folly and sin? Would to God we felt it more deeply! But shall we add to our sin by denying our Lord’s grace and power to meet us in our folly and ruin? Shall we forsake Him, the Fountain of living waters, and hew out for ourselves broken cisterns that can hold no water? Shall we turn from the Rock of Ages and lean upon the broken reeds of our own devising? God forbid! Rather let the language of our hearts be, as we think of the name of Jesus,—

“Salvation in that name is found, Cure for my grief and care; A healing balm for every wound, _All, all I want is there_.”

But let not the reader suppose that we want to lend the smallest countenance to ecclesiastical pretention. We perfectly abhor any such thing. We look upon it as utterly contemptible. We believe we cannot possibly take too low a place. A low place and a lowly spirit are what alone become us in view of our common sin and shame. All we seek to maintain is this, the all-sufficiency of the name of Jesus for all the exigencies of the Church of God, at all times and under all circumstances. There was all power in that name in apostolic times, and why not now? Has any change passed over that glorious name? No, blessed be God. Well, then, it is sufficient for us at this moment, and all we want is to confide in it fully, and to show that we so confide by discarding thoroughly every other ground of confidence, and coming out, with bold decision, to that peerless and precious name. He has, blessed be His name, come down to the smallest congregation—the smallest plurality, inasmuch as He has said, “Where _two_ or three are gathered together in My name, there am I.” Does this still hold good? has it lost its power? does it no longer apply? Where has it been repealed?

Oh, Christian reader, we call upon you, by every argument which ought to weigh with your heart, to give your cordial assent and consent to this one eternal truth, namely, _The all-sufficiency of the name of the Lord Jesus Christ for the assembly of God, in every possible condition in which it can be found, throughout its entire history_.[3] We call upon you not merely to hold this as a true theory, but to confess it practically; and then, assuredly, you will taste the deep blessedness of the presence of Jesus in the outside place—a blessedness which must be tasted in order to be known; but when once really tasted, it can never be forgotten or surrendered for aught beside.

But we had no intention of pursuing the foregoing line of thought so far, or of penning such a lengthened introduction to the section of our book which lies open before us, and to which we shall now invite the reader’s particular attention.

On looking attentively at “the congregation in the wilderness” (Acts vii. 38.), we find it composed of three distinct elements, namely, _warriors_, _workers_, and _worshipers_. There was a _nation_ of warriors, a _tribe_ of workers, a _family_ of worshipers, or priests. We have glanced at the first of these, and seen each one, according to his “pedigree,” taking up his position by his “standard,” according to the direct appointment of Jehovah; and we shall now dwell for a few moments on the second, and see each one at his work and service, according to the same appointment. We have considered the warriors; let us meditate on the workers.

The Levites were distinctly marked off from all the other tribes, and called to a very specific place and service. Thus we read of them, “But the Levites after the tribe of their fathers were not numbered among them. For the Lord had spoken unto Moses, saying, ‘Only thou shalt not number the tribe of Levi, neither take the sum of them among the children of Israel. But thou shalt appoint the Levites over the tabernacle of testimony, and over all the vessels thereof, and over all things that belong to it: they shall bear the tabernacle, and all the vessels thereof; and they shall minister unto it, and shall encamp round about the tabernacle. And when the tabernacle setteth forward, the Levites shall take it down; and when the tabernacle is to be pitched, the Levites shall set it up: and the stranger that cometh nigh shall be put to death. And the children of Israel shall pitch their tents, every man by his own camp, and every man by his own standard, throughout their hosts. But the Levites shall pitch round about the tabernacle of testimony, that there be no wrath upon the congregation of the children of Israel; and the Levites shall keep the charge of the tabernacle of testimony.’” (Chap. i. 47-53.) And again we read, “But the Levites were not numbered among the children of Israel, as the Lord commanded Moses.” (Chap. ii. 33.)

But why the Levites? Why was this tribe specially marked off from all the others, and set apart for so holy and elevated a service? Was there any special sanctity or goodness about them to account for their being so distinguished? Not by nature, certainly, nor yet by practice, as we may see by the following words: “Simeon and Levi are brethren; instruments of cruelty are in their habitations. O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united; for in _their anger they slew a man_, and in their self-will they digged down a wall. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel: I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel.” (Gen. xlix.)

Such was Levi by nature and by practice—self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that such an one should be singled out and brought into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely, we may say, it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases. It stoops to the lowest depths and gathers up its brightest trophies from thence. “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.” (1 Tim. i. 16.) “Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.” (Eph. iii.)

But how striking the language, “O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united.” God is of purer eyes than to behold evil, and cannot look on iniquity. God could not come into Levi’s secret, or be united unto his assembly. That was impossible. God could have naught to do with self-will, fierceness, and cruelty. But yet He could bring Levi into His secret, and unite him to His assembly. He could take him out of his habitation, wherein were instruments of cruelty, and bring him into the tabernacle, to be occupied with the holy instruments and vessels that were there. This was grace—free, sovereign grace; and herein must be sought the basis of all Levi’s blessed and elevated service. So far as he was personally concerned, there was an immeasurable distance between him and a holy God—a chasm which no human art or power could bridge. A holy God could have nothing to do with self-will, fierceness, and cruelty; but a God of grace could have to do with Levi. He could visit such an one in sovereign mercy, and raise him up from the depths of his moral degradation, and bring him into a place of nearness to Himself.

And, oh, what a marvelous contrast between Levi’s position by nature and his position by grace! between the instruments of cruelty and the vessels of the sanctuary! between Levi in Genesis xxxiv. and Levi in Numbers iii. and iv.

But let us look at the mode of God’s dealing with Levi—the ground on which he was brought into such a place of blessing. In doing this, it will be needful for us to refer to chapter viii. of our book, and there we are let into the secret of the whole matter. We shall see that there was and could be no allowance of aught that belonged to Levi—no sanction of any of his ways; and yet there was the most perfect display of grace—grace reigning through righteousness. We speak of the type and its significance. We do so in view of that statement already referred to—“Now, all these things happened unto them for types.” It is not a question of how far the Levites saw through these things. This is not at all the point. We are not to ask, What did the Levites see in God’s dealing with them? but, What do we learn?

“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Take the Levites from among the children of Israel, and cleanse them. And thus shalt thou do unto them, to cleanse them: Sprinkle water of purifying upon them, and let them shave all their flesh, and let them wash their clothes, and so make themselves clean.’” (Chap. viii. 5-7.)

Here we have, in type, the only divine principle of cleansing. It is the application of death to nature and all its habits: it is the Word of God brought to bear upon the heart and conscience, in a living way. Nothing can be more expressive than the double action presented in the above passage. Moses was to sprinkle water of purifying upon them; and then they were to shave off all their hair, and wash their garments. There is great beauty and precision here. Moses, as representing the claims of God, cleanses the Levites according to those claims; and they, being cleansed, are able to bring the sharp razor to bear upon all that was the mere growth of nature, and to wash their garments, which expresses, in typic form, the cleansing their habits according to the Word of God. This was God’s way of meeting all that appertained to Levi’s natural state—the self-will, the fierceness, and the cruelty. The pure water and the sharp razor were called into action—the washing and shaving had to go on ere Levi was fit to approach the vessels of the sanctuary.

Thus it is in every case. There is, there can be, no allowance of nature among God’s workers. There never was a more fatal mistake than to attempt to enlist nature in the service of God. It matters not how you may endeavor to improve or regulate it; it is not improvement, but death that will avail. It is of the very last possible importance for the reader to lay hold, with clearness and force, of this great practical truth. Man has been weighed in the balance and found wanting: the plummet has been applied to him, and he has been found crooked. It is of no possible use seeking to reform. Nothing will do save the _water_ and the _razor_. God has closed up man’s history; He has brought it to an end in the death of Christ. The first grand fact that the Holy Ghost presses upon the human conscience is, that God has delivered His solemn verdict upon human nature, and that each one must accept that verdict against himself personally. It is not a matter of opinion, or a matter of feeling. A person may say, I do not see, or I do not feel, that I am so bad as you seem to make out. We reply, That does not affect the question in the least. God has declared His judgment about us, and it is man’s first duty to fall in with and bow to that. Of what use would it have been for Levi to say that he did not agree with what God’s Word had said about him? Would that, could that, have altered the question as to him? In no wise. The divine record remained the same whether Levi felt it or not; but clearly it was the first step in wisdom’s pathway to bow down under the weight of that record.

All this is expressed, in type, in the “water” and the “razor”—the “washing” and the “shaving.” Nothing could be more significant or impressive. These acts set forth the solemn truth of the sentence of death upon nature, and the execution of judgment upon all that nature produces.

And what, let us ask, is the meaning of the initiatory act of Christianity—the act of baptism? Does it not set forth the blessed fact that “our old man”—our fallen nature—is completely set aside, and that we are introduced into an entirely new position? Truly so. And how do we use the razor? By rigid self-judgment, day by day; by the stern disallowance of all that is of nature’s growth. This is the true path for all God’s workers in the wilderness. When we look at Levi’s conduct at Shechem, in Genesis xxxiv, and the record concerning him in Genesis xlix, we may ask, How can such an one ever be allowed to carry the vessels of the sanctuary? The answer is, Grace shines in Levi’s call, and holiness shines in Levi’s cleansing. He was called to the work according to the riches of divine grace; but he was fitted for the work according to the claims of divine holiness.

Thus it must be with all God’s workers. We are most thoroughly convinced that we are fit for God’s work just so far as nature is brought under the power of the cross and the sharp razor of self-judgment. Self-will can never be made available in the service of God; nay, it must be set aside, if we would know what true service is. There is, alas! a large amount of that which passes for service which, if judged in the light of the divine presence, would be seen to be but the fruit of a restless will. This is most solemn, and demands our most earnest attention. We cannot exercise too severe a censorship over ourselves in this very thing. The heart is so deceitful that we may be led to imagine that we are doing the Lord’s work, when in reality we are only pleasing ourselves; but if we would tread the path of true service, we must seek to be more and more apart from nature. The self-willed Levi must pass through the typic process of washing and shaving ere he can be employed in that elevated service assigned him by the direct appointment of the God of Israel.

But ere proceeding to examine particularly the work and service of the Levites, we must look for a moment at a scene in Exodus xxxii, in which they act a very prominent and a very remarkable part. We allude, as the reader will at once perceive, to the golden calf. During the absence of Moses, the people so completely lost sight of God and His claims as to set up a molten calf and bow down thereto. This terrible act called for summary judgment. “And when Moses saw that the people were naked, (for Aaron had made them naked to their shame among their enemies,) then Moses stood in the gate of the camp, and said, ‘Who is on the Lord’s side? let him come unto me.’ And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together unto him. And he said unto them, ‘Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbor.’ And the children of Levi did according to the word of Moses: and there fell of the people that day about three thousand men. For Moses had said, ‘Consecrate yourselves to-day to the Lord, even every man upon his son, and upon his brother; that He may bestow upon you a blessing this day.’” (Ex. xxxii. 25-29.)

This was a testing moment. It could not be otherwise, when this great question was pressed home upon the heart and conscience, “_Who is on the Lord’s side?_” Nothing could be more searching. The question was not, Who is willing to work? No; it was a far deeper and more searching question. It was not Who will go here or there—do this or that? There might be a vast amount of doing and going, and all the while it might be but the impulse of an unbroken will, which, acting upon religious nature, gave an appearance of devotedness and piety eminently calculated to deceive one’s self and others.

But to be “on the Lord’s side” implies the surrender of one’s own will—yea, the surrender of one’s self, and this is essential to the true servant—the real workman. Saul of Tarsus was on this ground when he exclaimed, “Lord, what wilt _Thou_ have _me_ to do?” What words, from the self-willed, fierce, and cruel persecutor of the Church of God!

“Who is on the Lord’s side?” Reader, art thou? Search and see. Examine thyself closely. Remember, the question is not at all What art thou doing? No; it is far deeper. If thou art on the Lord’s side, thou art ready for any thing and every thing. Thou art ready to stand still, or ready to go forward; ready to go to the right or to the left; ready to be active, and ready to be quiet; ready to stand on thy feet, and ready to lie on thy back. The grand point is this, namely, the surrender of thyself to the claims of another, and that other the Lord Christ.

This is an immense point. Indeed we know of nothing more important at the present moment than this searching question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” We live in days of immense self-will. Man exults in his liberty. And this comes out very prominently in religious matters. Just as it was in the camp of Israel in the days of the thirty-second of Exodus—the days of the golden calf. Moses was out of sight, and the human will was at work; the graving-tool was called into operation; and what was the result? The molten calf; and when Moses returned, he found the people in idolatry and nakedness. Then came forth the solemn and testing question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” This brought things to an issue, or rather it put people to the test. Nor is it otherwise now. Man’s will is rampant, and that, too, in matters of religion. Man boasts of his rights, of the freedom of his will, the freedom of his judgment. There is the denial of the lordship of Christ; and therefore it behooves us to look well to it, and see that we really are taking sides with the Lord against ourselves; that we are in the attitude of simple subjection to His authority. Then we shall not be occupied with the amount or character of our service; it will be our one object to do the will of our Lord.

Now, to act thus under the Lord may often give an appearance of narrowness to our sphere of action; but with this we have nothing whatever to do. If a master tells his servant to stand in the hall, and not to stir until he rings the bell, what is the servant’s duty? Clearly to stand still; nor should he be moved from this position or attitude, even though his fellow-servants should find fault with his apparent inactivity and good-for-nothingness; he may rest assured his master will approve and vindicate. This is enough for any true-hearted servant, whose one desire will ever be not so much to do a great deal, as to do the will of his Lord.

In a word, then, the question for the camp of Israel in the day of the golden calf, and the question for the Church in this day of human will, is this: “Who is on the Lord’s side?” Momentous question! It is not, Who is on the side of religiousness, philanthropy, or moral reform? There may be a large amount of any or all of these things, and yet the will be thoroughly unbroken. Let us not forget this; nay, rather we should say, let us continually bear it in mind. We may be very zealous in promoting all the various schemes of philanthropy, religiousness, and moral reform, and all the while be ministering to self, and feeding self-will. This is a most solemn and weighty consideration; and it behooves us to give earnest heed to it. We are passing through a moment in the which man’s will is being pampered with unparalleled diligence. We believe, most assuredly, that the true remedy for this evil will be found wrapped up in this one weighty question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” There is immense practical power in this question. To be really on _the Lord’s_ side is to be ready for aught to which He may see fit to call us, no matter what. If the soul is brought to say, in real truth, “_Lord_, what wilt Thou have me to do?” “Speak, _Lord_, for _Thy servant heareth_,” then we are ready for every thing. Hence, in the case of the Levites, they were called to “slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbor.” This was terrible work for flesh and blood; but the moment demanded it. God’s claims had been openly and grossly dishonored; human invention had been at work, with the graving-tool, and a calf had been set up; the glory of God had been changed into the similitude of an ox that eateth grass; and therefore all who were on the Lord’s side were called to gird on the sword. Nature might say, No; let us be tender and gentle and gracious. We shall accomplish more by kindness than by severity. It can do no good to wound people. There is far more power in love than in harshness. Let us love one another. Thus might nature throw out its suggestions—thus it might reason and argue; but the command was distinct and decisive, “Put every man his sword by his side.” The sword was the only thing when the golden calf was there. To talk of love at such a moment would be to fling overboard the just claims of the God of Israel. It belongs to the true spirit of obedience to render the very service which suits the occasion. A servant has no business to reason; he is simply to do as he is bid. To raise a question, or put forth a demur, is to abandon our place as a servant. It might seem most dreadful work to have to slay a brother, a companion, or a neighbor; but the word of the Lord was imperative. It left no room for evasion; and the Levites, through grace, yielded a full and ready obedience. “The children of Levi did according to the word of Moses.”

This is the only true path for those who will be God’s workers, and Christ’s servants, in this world where self-will is dominant. It is immensely important to have the truth of the lordship of Christ deeply engraved upon the heart. It is the only regulator of the course and conduct. It settles a thousand questions. If the heart be really subject to the authority of Christ, it is in readiness for any thing and every thing to which He calls us, be it to stand still or to go forward, to do little or much, to be active or passive. To a really obedient heart the question is not at all, What am I doing? or Where am I going? It is simply, Am I doing the will of my Lord?

Such was the ground occupied by Levi. And mark the divine comment on this, as given in Malachi.—“And ye shall know that I have sent this commandment unto you, that My covenant might be with Levi, saith the Lord of hosts. My covenant was with him of life and peace; and I gave them to him for the fear wherewith he feared Me, and was afraid before My name. The law of truth was in his mouth, and iniquity was not found in his lips: he walked with Me in peace and equity, and did turn many away from iniquity.” (Mal. ii. 4-6.) Mark also the blessing pronounced by the lips of Moses, “And of Levi he said, ‘Let thy Thummim and thy Urim be with thy holy one, whom thou didst prove at Massah, and with whom thou didst strive at the waters of Meribah; who said unto his father and to his mother, I have not seen him; neither did he acknowledge his brethren, nor knew his own children; for they have observed thy word and kept thy covenant. They shall teach Jacob thy judgments, and Israel thy law; they shall put incense before thee, and whole burnt-sacrifice upon thine altar. Bless, Lord, his substance, and accept the work of his hands: smite through the loins of them that rise against him, and of them that hate him, that they rise not again.’” (Deut. xxxiii. 8-11.)

It might have appeared unwarrantably harsh and severe in Levi not to have seen his parents, or known or acknowledged his brethren. But God’s claims are paramount, and our Lord Christ hath declared these solemn words, “If any man come to Me, and hate not his father and mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple.” (Luke xiv. 26.)

These are plain words, and they let us into the secret of what it is which lies at the bottom of all true service. Let no one imagine that we are to be without natural affection. Far be the thought. To be so would be to connect us, morally, with the apostasy of the last days. (See 2 Tim. iii. 3.) But when the claims of natural affection are allowed to stand in the way of whole-hearted service to Christ, and when the so-called love of our brethren receives a higher place than faithfulness to Christ, then are we unfit for His service and unworthy of the name of His servants. Let it be carefully noted that what formed the _moral_ ground of Levi’s title to be employed in the Lord’s service was the fact that he did not _see_ his parents, _acknowledge_ his brethren, or _know_ his children. In a word, he was enabled to set the claims of nature completely aside, and to give the claims of Jehovah the paramount place in his heart. This, we repeat, is the only true basis of the servant’s character.

This is a most weighty consideration, and one which demands the most serious attention of the Christian reader. There may be a vast amount of what looks like service—a great deal of activity, of coming and going, of doing and saying—and, all the while, there may not be a single atom of true Levite service—yea, it may, in God’s estimation, be only the restless activity of the will. What! it may be said, can the will show itself in the service of God—in matters of religion? Alas! alas! it can, and does. And very often the apparent energy and fruitfulness in work and service is just in proportion to the energy of the will. This is peculiarly solemn. It calls for the most rigid self-judgment, in the light of the divine presence. True service doth not consist in great activity, but in profound subjection to the will of our Lord; and where this exists, there will be a readiness to sink the claims of parents, brethren, and children, in order to carry out the will of Him whom we own as Lord. True, we should love our parents, our brethren, and our children. It is not that we should love these less, but we should love Christ more. He and His claims must ever have the paramount place in the heart, if we would be true workers for God, true servants for Christ, true Levites in the wilderness. It was this that marked the actings of Levi on the occasion to which we are referring. God’s claims were in question, and hence the claims of nature were not to be entertained for a moment. Parents, brethren, and children, how dear soever these might be, were not to stand in the way when the glory of the God of Israel had been changed into the similitude of an ox that eateth grass.

Here lies the whole question, in all its weight and magnitude. The ties of natural relationship, with all the claims, duties, and responsibilities arising out of such ties, will ever get their proper place, their due respect, from those whose hearts and minds and consciences have been brought under the adjusting power of the truth of God. Naught, save what is really due to God and His Christ, should ever be suffered to infringe those rights which are founded upon natural relationship. This is a most necessary and wholesome consideration, and one which we would particularly press upon the young Christian reader. We have ever to be on our guard against a spirit of self-will and self-pleasing, which is never so dangerous as when it clothes itself in the garb of religious service and work so called. It behooves us to be _very sure indeed_ that we are directly and simply governed by the claims of God when we disregard the claims of natural relationship. In Levi’s case, the matter was as clear as a sunbeam, and hence the “_sword_” of judgment, not the kiss of affection, befitted the critical moment. So also in our history, there are moments in which it would be open disloyalty to our Lord Christ to hearken for one instant to the voice of natural relationship.

The above remarks may help the reader to understand the actings of the Levites in Exodus xxxii, and the words of our Lord in Luke xiv. 26. May God’s Spirit enable us to realize and exhibit the adjusting power of truth.

We shall now dwell for a few moments on the consecration of the Levites, in Numbers viii, in order that we may have the whole subject before our minds. Truly it is a theme full of instruction for all who desire to be workers for God.

After the ceremonial acts of “washing” and “shaving” already referred to, we read, “Then let them [_i. e._, the Levites] take a young bullock with his meat-offering, even fine flour mingled with oil, and another young bullock shalt thou take for a sin-offering. And thou shalt bring the Levites before the tabernacle of the congregation: and thou shalt gather the whole assembly of the children of Israel together: and thou shalt bring the Levites before the Lord: and the children of Israel shall put their hands upon the Levites: and Aaron shall offer the Levites before the Lord for an offering of the children of Israel, that they may execute the service of the Lord. And the Levites shall lay their hands upon the heads of the bullocks; and thou shalt offer the one for a sin-offering, and the other for a burnt-offering, unto the Lord, to make an atonement for the Levites.”

Here we have presented to us, in type, the two grand aspects of the death of Christ. The sin-offering furnishes the one, the burnt-offering furnishes the other. Into the details of those offerings we do not enter here, having sought to do so in the opening chapters of our “Notes on Leviticus.” We would merely observe here that in the sin-offering we see Christ bearing sin in His own body on the tree, and enduring the wrath of God against sin; in the burnt-offering, we see Christ glorifying God even in the very matter of making atonement for sin. Atonement is made in both; but in the former, it is atonement according to the depth of the sinner’s need; in the latter, it is atonement according to the measure of Christ’s devotedness to God. In that, we see the hatefulness of sin; in this, the preciousness of Christ. It is, we need hardly say, the same atoning death of Christ, but presented in two distinct aspects.[4]

Now, the Levites laid their hands on both the sin-offering and the burnt-offering; and this act of the imposition of hands expressed the simple fact of identification. But how different the result in each case! When Levi laid his hands on the head of the sin-offering, it involved the transfer of all his sins, of all his guilt, of all his fierceness, cruelty, and self-will to the victim; and on the other hand, when he laid his hands on the head of the burnt-offering, it involved the transfer of all the acceptableness of the sacrifice, of all its perfectness, to Levi. Of course, we speak of what the type set forth. We do not undertake to state aught as to Levi’s intelligent entrance into these things; we merely seek to unfold the meaning of the ceremonial figure; and, most assuredly, no figure could be more expressive than the imposition of hands, whether we view it in the case of the sin-offering or in the case of the burnt-offering. The doctrine of all this is embodied in that most weighty passage at the close of 2 Cor. v., “He hath made Him [Christ] to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” “‘And thou shalt set the Levites before Aaron, and before his sons, and offer them for an offering unto the Lord. Thus shalt thou separate the Levites from among the children of Israel; and the Levites shall be Mine. And after that shall the Levites go in to do the service of the tabernacle of the congregation; and thou shalt cleanse them, and offer them for an offering. For they are wholly given unto Me from among the children of Israel; instead of such as open every womb, even instead of the first-born of all the children of Israel, have I taken them unto Me. For all the first-born of the children of Israel are Mine, both man and beast: on the day that I smote every first-born in the land of Egypt I sanctified them for Myself. And I have taken the Levites for all the first-born of the children of Israel. And I have given the Levites as a gift to Aaron and to his sons from among the children of Israel, to do the service of the children of Israel in the tabernacle of the congregation, and to make an atonement for the children of Israel: that there be no plague among the children of Israel, when the children of Israel come nigh unto the sanctuary.’ And Moses and Aaron and all the congregation of the children of Israel did to the Levites according unto all that the Lord commanded Moses concerning the Levites, so did the children of Israel unto them.” (Num. viii. 13-20.)

How forcibly are we reminded, by the foregoing lines, of the words of our Lord in John xvii.—“I have manifested Thy name unto the men which Thou gavest Me out of the world: Thine they were, and Thou gavest them Me; and they have kept Thy word.... I pray for them: I pray not for the world, but for them which Thou hast given Me; for they are Thine. And all Mine are Thine, and Thine are Mine; and I am glorified in them.” (Ver. 6-10.)

The Levites were a separated people—God’s special possession. They took the place of all the first-born in Israel—of those who were saved from the sword of the destroyer by the blood of the lamb. They were, typically, a dead and risen people, set apart to God, and by Him presented as a gift to Aaron the high-priest, to do the service of the tabernacle.

What a place for the self-willed, fierce, and cruel Levi! What a triumph of grace! What an illustration of the efficacy of the blood of atonement and the water of purification! They were, by nature and by practice, far off from God; but the “blood” of atonement, and the “water” of cleansing, and the “razor” of self-judgment, had done their blessed work, and hence the Levites were in a condition to be presented as a gift to Aaron and to his sons, to be associated with them in the hallowed services of the tabernacle of the congregation.

In all this the Levites were a striking type of God’s people now. These latter have been lifted from the depths of their degradation and ruin as sinners. They are washed in the precious blood of Christ, purified by the application of the Word, and called to the exercise of habitual and rigid self-judgment. Thus are they fitted for that holy service to the which they are called. God has given them to His Son, in order that they may be His workers in this world. “Thine they were, and Thou gavest them Me.” Wondrous thought! To think that such as we could be thus spoken of! To think of our being God’s property and God’s gift to His Son! Well may we say it surpasses all human thought. It is not merely that we are saved from hell; that is true: it is not merely that we are pardoned, justified, and accepted; all this is true: but we are called to the high and holy work of bearing through this world the name, the testimony, the glory, of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is our work as true Levites. As men of war, we are called to fight; as priests, we are privileged to worship; but as Levites, we are responsible to serve, and our service is to carry through this dreary desert scene the Antitype of the tabernacle, and that tabernacle was the figure of Christ. This is our distinct line of service. To this we are called; to this we are set apart.

The reader will, we doubt not, notice, with interest, the fact that it is in this book of Numbers, and here alone, that we are furnished with all the precious and deeply instructive details respecting the Levites. In this we have a fresh illustration of the character of our book. It is from a wilderness stand-point that we get a full and proper view of God’s workers as well as of God’s warriors.

And now, let us examine, for a few moments, the service of the Levites, as detailed in Numbers iii. and iv.—“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Bring the tribe of Levi near, and present them before Aaron the priest, that they may minister unto him. And they shall keep his charge, and the charge of the whole congregation before the tabernacle of the congregation, to do the service of the tabernacle. And they shall keep all the instruments of the tabernacle of the congregation, and the charge of the children of Israel, to do the service of the tabernacle. And thou shalt give the Levites unto Aaron and to his sons: they are wholly given unto him out of the children of Israel.’” (Chap. iii. 5-9.)

The Levites represented the whole congregation of Israel, and acted on their behalf. This appears from the fact that the children of Israel laid their hands on the heads of the Levites, just as the Levites laid their hands on the heads of the sacrifices. (See chap. viii. 10.) The act of imposition expressed identification, so that, according to this, the Levites furnish a distinct view of the people of God in the wilderness. They present them to us as a company of earnest workers, and that, too, be it noted, not as mere desultory laborers, running to and fro, and doing each one what seemed right in his own eyes. Nothing of the sort. If the men of war had their pedigree to show, and their standard to adhere to, so had the Levites their centre to gather around and their work to do. All was as clear, distinct, and defined as God could make it; and moreover, all was under the immediate authority and direction of the high-priest.

It is most needful for all who would be true Levites, proper workmen, intelligent servants, to weigh, with all seriousness, this point. Levite service was to be regulated by the appointment of the priest. There was no more room for the exercise of self-will in the service of the Levites than there was in the position of the men of war. All was divinely settled; and this was a signal mercy to all whose hearts were in a right condition. To one whose will was unbroken, it might seem a hardship and a most irksome task to be obliged to occupy the same position, or to be engaged in precisely the same line of work. Such an one might sigh for something fresh—some variety in his work; but, on the contrary, where the will was subdued, and the heart adjusted, each one would say, My path is perfectly plain; I have only to obey. This is ever the business of the true servant. It was pre-eminently so with Him who was the only perfect servant that ever trod the earth. He could say, “I came down from heaven, not to do Mine own will, but the will of Him that sent Me.” And again, “My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work.”

But there is another fact which claims our attention, in reference to the Levites, and that is, their service had exclusively to do with the tabernacle and its belongings. They had nothing else to do. For a Levite to think of putting his hand to aught beside would have been to deny his calling, to abandon his divinely appointed work, and to fly in the face of God’s commandments.

Just so is it with Christians now. Their exclusive business—their one grand work—their absorbing service, is Christ and His belongings. They have nothing else to do. For a Christian to think of putting his hand to aught beside is to deny his calling, to abandon his divinely appointed work, and to fly in the face of the divine commandments. A true Levite of old could say, To me to live is the tabernacle; and a true Christian now can say, “To me to live is Christ.” The grand question, in every matter which may present itself before the Christian, is this, Can I connect Christ with it? If not, I have nothing whatever to do with it.

This is the true way to look at things. It is not a question as to the right or wrong of this or that. No; it is simply a question as to how far it concerns the name and glory of Christ. This simplifies every thing amazingly. It answers a thousand questions, solves a thousand difficulties, and makes the path of the true and earnest Christian as clear as a sunbeam. A Levite had no difficulty as to his work. It was all settled for him with divine precision. The burden that each had to carry, and the work that each had to do, was laid down with a clearness which left no room for the questionings of the heart. Each man could know his work and do it; and, let us add, the work was done by each one discharging his own specific functions. It was not by running hither and thither, and doing this or that, but by each man sedulously adhering to his own particular calling, that the service of the tabernacle was duly discharged.

It is well to bear this in mind. We, as Christians, are very apt to jostle one another; indeed, we are sure to do so if we do not each one pursue his own divinely appointed line of work. We say “_divinely_ appointed,” and would press the word; we have no right to choose our own work. If the Lord has made one man an evangelist, another a teacher, another a pastor, and another an exhorter, how is the work to go on? Surely, it is not by the evangelist trying to teach, and the teacher to exhort, or one who is not fitted for either trying to do both. No; it is by each one exercising his own divinely imparted gift. No doubt, it may please the Lord to endow one individual with a variety of gifts; but this does not, in the smallest degree, touch the principle on which we are dwelling, which is simply this, every one of us is responsible to know his own special line and pursue it. If this be lost sight of, we shall get into hopeless confusion. God has His quarry-men, His stone-squarers, and His masons. The work progresses by each man attending diligently to his own work. If all were quarry-men, where were the stone-squarers? if all were stone-squarers, where were the masons? The greatest possible damage is done to the cause of Christ, and to God’s work in the world, by one man aiming at another’s line of things, or seeking to imitate another’s gift. It is a grievous mistake, against which we would solemnly warn the reader. Nothing can be more senseless. God never repeats Himself. There are not two faces alike, not two leaves in the forest alike, not two blades of grass alike. Why, then, should any one aim at another’s line of work, or affect to possess another’s gift? Let each one be satisfied to be just what his Master has made him. This is the secret of real peace and progress.

All this finds a very vivid illustration in the inspired record concerning the service of the three distinct classes of the Levites, which we shall now proceed to quote at length for the reader. There is nothing, after all, to be compared with the veritable language of holy Scripture.

“And the Lord spake unto Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, saying, ‘Number the children of Levi after the house of their fathers, by their families, every male from a month old and upward shalt thou number them.’ And Moses numbered them _according to the word of the Lord, as he was commanded_. And these were the sons of Levi by their names: Gershon and Kohath and Merari. And these are the names of the sons of Gershon by their families: Libni and Shimei. And the sons of Kohath by their families: Amram and Izehar, Hebron and Uzziel. And the sons of Merari by their families: Mahli and Mushi. These are the families of the Levites according to the house of their fathers. Of Gershon was the family of the Libnites, and the family of the Shimites: these are the families of the Gershonites. Those that were numbered of them, according to the number of all the males, from a month old and upward, even those that were numbered of them were seven thousand and five hundred. The families of the Gershonites shall pitch behind the tabernacle westward. And the chief of the house of the father of the Gershonites shall be Eliasaph the son of Lael. And the charge of the sons of Gershon in the tabernacle of the congregation shall be the tabernacle, and the tent, the covering thereof, and the hanging for the door of the tabernacle of the congregation, and the hangings of the court, and the curtain for the door of the court, which is by the tabernacle, and by the altar round about, and the cords of it for all the service thereof.” (Chap. iii. 14-26.) And again, we read, “And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Take also the sum of the sons of Gershon, throughout the houses of their fathers, by their families; from thirty years old and upward until fifty years old shalt thou number them; all that enter in to perform the service, to do the work in the tabernacle of the congregation. This is the service of the families of the Gershonites, to serve, and for burdens: and they shall bear the curtains of the tabernacle, and the tabernacle of the congregation, his covering, and the covering of the badgers’ skins that is above upon it, and the hanging for the door of the tabernacle of the congregation, and the hangings of the court, and the hanging for the door of the gate of the court, which is by the tabernacle and by the altar round about, and their cords, and all the instruments of their service, and all that is made for them: so shall they serve. At the appointment of Aaron and his sons shall be all the service of the sons of the Gershonites, in all their burdens, and in all their service: and ye shall appoint unto them in charge all their burdens. This is the service of the families of the sons of Gershon in the tabernacle of the congregation: and their charge shall be under the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.” (Chap. iv. 21-28.)

Thus much as to Gershon and his work. He, with his brother Merari, had to carry “the tabernacle;” whereas Kohath was called to bear “the sanctuary,” as we read in chapter x. “And the tabernacle was taken down; and the sons of Gershon, and the sons of Merari set forward, bearing _the tabernacle_.... And the Kohathites set forward, bearing _the sanctuary_; and the other [_i. e._ the Gershonites and the Merarites] did set up the tabernacle against they came.” (Ver. 17, 21.) There was a strong moral link connecting Gershon and Merari in their service, although their work was perfectly distinct, as we shall see from the following passage:—

“As for the sons of Merari, thou shalt number them after their families, by the house of their fathers; from thirty years old and upward, even unto fifty years old, shalt thou number them, every one that entereth into the service, to do the work of the tabernacle of the congregation. And this is the charge of their burden, according to all their service in the tabernacle of the congregation: the boards of the tabernacle, and the bars thereof, and the pillars thereof, and sockets thereof, and the pillars of the court round about, and their sockets, and their pins, and their cords, with all their instruments, and with all their service: and by name ye shall reckon the instruments of the charge of their burden. This is the service of the families of the sons of Merari, according to all their service in the tabernacle of the congregation, under the hand of Ithamar, the son of Aaron the priest.” (Chap. iv. 29-33.)

All this was clear and distinct. Gershon had nothing to do with the boards and pins, and Merari had nothing to do with the curtains or the coverings. And yet they were very intimately connected, as they were mutually dependent. “The boards and sockets” would not do without “the curtains,” and the curtains would not do without the boards and sockets. And as to “the _pins_,” though apparently so insignificant, who could estimate their importance in keeping things together, and maintaining the visible unity of the whole? Thus all worked together to one common end, and that end was gained by each attending to his own special line. If a Gershonite had taken it into his head to abandon “the curtains” and address himself to “the pins,” he would have left his own work undone and interfered with the work of the Merarite. This would never do. It would have thrown every thing into hopeless confusion; whereas by adhering to the divine rule, all was maintained in the most exquisite order.

It must have been perfectly beautiful to mark God’s workers in the wilderness. Each one was at his post, and each moved in his divinely appointed sphere. Hence, the moment the cloud was lifted up and the order issued to strike, every man knew what he had to do, and he addressed himself to that and to nothing else. No man had any right to think for himself: Jehovah thought for all. The Levites had declared themselves “on the Lord’s side;” they had yielded themselves to His authority; and this fact lay at the very base of all their wilderness work and service. Looked at in this light, it would be deemed a matter of total indifference whether a man had to carry a pin, a curtain, or a golden candlestick. The grand question for each and for all was simply, Is this my work? is this what the Lord has given me to do?

This settled every thing. Had it been left to human thinking or human choosing, one man might like this, another might like that, and a third might like something else. How then could the tabernacle ever be borne along through the wilderness, or set up in its place? Impossible! There could be but one supreme authority, namely, Jehovah Himself. He arranged for all, and all had to submit to Him. There was no room at all for the exercise of the human will. This was a signal mercy; it prevented a world of strife and confusion. There must be subjection—there must be a broken will—there must be a cordial yielding to divine authority, otherwise it will turn out to be like the book of Judges—“every man doing that which is right in his own eyes.” A Merarite might say—or think, if he did not say it,—“What! am I to spend the very best portion of my life upon earth—the days of my prime and vigor—in looking after a few pins? Was this the end for which I was born? Am I to have nothing higher before me as an object in life? Is this to be my occupation from the age of thirty to fifty?”

To such questions there was a twofold reply. In the first place, it was enough for the Merarite to know that Jehovah had assigned him his work. This was sufficient to impart dignity to what nature might esteem the smallest and meanest matter. It does not matter what we are doing, provided always we are doing our divinely appointed work. A man may pursue what his fellows would deem a most brilliant career; he may spend his energies, his time, his talents, his fortune, in pursuits which the men of this world esteem grand and glorious, and, all the while, his life may prove to be but a splendid bubble. But on the other hand, the man that simply does the will of God, whatever that may be—the man who executes his Lord’s commands, whatever such commands may enjoin—that is the man whose path is illuminated by the beams of divine approbation, and whose work shall be remembered when the most splendid schemes of the children of this world have sunk in eternal oblivion.

But, besides the moral worth attaching always to the act of doing what we are told to do, there was also a special dignity belonging to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was merely attending to a few “pins” or “sockets.” Every thing connected with the tabernacle was of the very deepest interest and highest value. There was not, in the whole world, any thing to be compared with that boarded tent with all its mystic belongings. It was a holy dignity and privilege to be allowed to touch the smallest pin that formed a part of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness. It was more glorious, by far, to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle, than to wield the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria. True, that Merarite, according to the import of his name, might seem a poor “sorrowful” laboring man; but oh! his labor stood connected with the dwelling-place of the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth. His hands handled the things which were the patterns of things in the heavens. Every pin, every socket, every curtain, and every covering was a shadow of good things to come—a foreshadowing of Christ.

We do not mean to assert that the poor laboring Merarite or Gershonite understood these things. This is not, by any means, the point. _We_ can understand them. It is our privilege to bring all these things—the tabernacle and its mystic furniture—under the brilliant light of the New Testament, and there read Christ in all.

While, therefore, we predicate nothing as to the measure of intelligence possessed by the Levites in their respective work, we, at the same time, may say, with confidence, that it was a very precious privilege to be allowed to touch and handle, and bear through the wilderness, the earthly shadows of heavenly realities. Moreover, it was a special mercy to have the authority of a “Thus saith the Lord” for every thing they put their hand to. Who can estimate such a mercy—such a privilege? Each member of that marvelous tribe of workers had his own particular line of things marked out by God’s hand and superintended by God’s priest. It was not each doing what he liked himself, nor one man running in the wake of another, but all bowing to the authority of God, and doing precisely what they were told to do. This was the secret of order throughout the eight thousand five hundred and eighty workers (Chap. iv. 48.); and, we may say, with all possible confidence, it is the only true secret of order still. Why is it that we have so much confusion in the professing church? why such conflicting thoughts, feelings, and opinions? why such clashing one with another? why such crossing of each other’s path? Simply from the lack of entire and absolute submission to the Word of God. Our _will_ is at work. We choose our own ways, instead of allowing God to choose for us. We want that attitude and temper of soul in the which _all_ human thoughts (our own amongst them) shall be put down at what they are really worth, and God’s thoughts shall rise into full unqualified dominion.

This, we feel persuaded, is the grand desideratum—the crying want of the day in which our lot is cast. Man’s will is every where gaining the ascendant. It is rising like a mighty tide, and bearing away those ancient barriers which have, in some measure, kept it in check. Many an old and time-honored institution is, at this moment, giving way before the rushing torrent; many an edifice, whose foundations, as we supposed, were laid deep down in the fond and reverent affections of the people, is giving way beneath the battering-ram of popular feeling. “Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.”

Such is, pre-eminently, the spirit of the age. What is the antidote? _Subjection!_ Subjection to what? Is it to what is called the authority of the church? Is it to the voice of tradition? Is it to the commandments and doctrines of men? No, blessed be God; it is not to any of these things, nor to all of them put together. To what, then? To the voice of the living God—the voice of holy Scripture. This is the grand remedy for self-will on the one hand, and submission to human authority on the other. “We must _obey_,”—this is the answer to self-will: “We must obey _God_,”—this is the answer to mere bowing down to human authority. We see these two elements all around us. The former—self-will, resolves itself into infidelity; the latter—subjection to man, resolves itself into superstition. These two will bear sway over the whole civilized world. They will carry away all, save those who are divinely taught to say and feel and act upon that immortal sentence, “We must obey God rather than man.”

It was this that enabled the Gershonite in the wilderness to look after those rough, unattractive-looking “badger-skins,” and that enabled the Merarite to look after these apparently insignificant “pins.” Yes, and it is this which will enable the Christian now to address himself to that special line of service to which his Lord may see fit to call him. What though, to human eyes, it seems rough and unattractive, mean and insignificant; it is enough for us that our Lord has assigned us our post and given us our work, and that our work has direct reference to the Person and glory of Him who is the chiefest among ten thousand and altogether lovely. We, too, may have to confine ourselves to the antitype of the rough, unsightly badger-skin, or the insignificant pin. But let us remember that whatever has reference to Christ—His name, His Person, His cause—in the world, is unspeakably precious to God. It may be very small in man’s account, but what of that? We must look at things from God’s point of view, we must measure them by His standard, and that is, Christ. God measures every thing by Christ. Whatever has even the very smallest reference to Christ is interesting and important in God’s account; whereas the most splendid undertakings, the most gigantic schemes, the most astonishing enterprises, of the men of this world, all pass away like the morning cloud and the early dew. Man makes _self_ his centre, his object, his standard. He values things according to the measure in which they exalt himself and further his interests. Even religion itself, so called, is taken up in the same way, and made a pedestal on which to display himself. Every thing, in short, is worked up as capital for self, and used as a reflector to throw light upon and call attention to that one object. Thus there is a mighty gulf between God’s thoughts and man’s thoughts, and the shores of that gulf are as far apart as _Christ_ and _self_. All that belongs to Christ is of eternal interest and moment: all that belongs to self shall pass away and be forgotten. Hence, therefore, the most fatal mistake into which any man can fall is to make _self_ his object. It must issue in everlasting disappointment. But on the other hand, the very wisest, safest, best thing that any man can do, is to make Christ his one absorbing object. This must infallibly issue in everlasting blessedness and glory.

Beloved reader, pause here a moment, and commune with thine own heart and conscience. It seems to us, at this point, that we have a sacred responsibility to discharge in reference to thy soul. We are penning these lines in the solitude of our chamber at Bristol, and you may, perchance, read them in the solitude of thy chamber in New Zealand, Australia, or some other distant spot. We would therefore remember that our object is not to write a book, nor yet merely to expound Scripture. We desire to be used of God in the blessed work of dealing with thy very inmost soul. Permit us, therefore, to put this solemn and pointed question home to thee: _What is thy object?_ Is it Christ, or self? Be honest with thyself before the almighty and all-seeing Searcher of hearts. Sit in stern judgment upon thyself, as in the very light of the divine presence. Be not deceived by any gilding or false coloring. God sees below the surface of things, and He would have thee to do so likewise. He presents Christ to thee, in contrast with all beside. Hast thou accepted Him? Is He thy wisdom, thy righteousness, thy sanctification, and thy redemption? Canst thou say, without hesitation, “My Beloved is mine, and I am His”? Search and see. Is this a thoroughly settled point, deep down in the very depths of thy soul? If so, art thou making Christ thy exclusive object? art thou measuring every thing by Him?

Ah, dear friend, these are searching questions. Be assured we do not put them to thee without feeling their edge and power for ourselves. As God is our witness, we do feel, though in a very small degree, their weight and seriousness. We are deeply and thoroughly convinced that nothing will stand save that which is connected with Christ; and moreover, that the very smallest matter which refers, however remotely, to Him is of commanding interest in the judgment of heaven. If we may be permitted to awaken a sense of this in any heart, or to deepen the sense where it has been awakened, we shall feel we have not penned this volume in vain.

* * * * *

We must now, ere closing this lengthened section, glance for a few moments at the Kohathites and their work.

“And the Lord spake unto Moses and unto Aaron, saying, ‘Take the sum of the sons of Kohath from among the sons of Levi, after their families, by the house of their fathers, from thirty years old and upward even until fifty years old, all that enter into the host, to do the work in the tabernacle of the congregation. This shall be the service of the sons of Kohath in the tabernacle of the congregation, about the most holy things: and when the camp setteth forward, Aaron shall come, and his sons, and they shall take down the covering vail, and cover _the ark_ of testimony with it: and shall put thereon the covering of badgers’ skins, and shall spread over it a cloth wholly of blue, and shall put in the staves thereof. And upon _the table_ of show-bread they shall spread a cloth of blue, and put thereon the dishes, and the spoons, and the bowls, and covers to cover withal: and the continual bread shall be thereon: and they shall spread upon them a cloth of scarlet, and cover the same with a covering of badgers’ skins, and shall put in the staves thereof. And they shall take a cloth of blue, and cover the candlestick of the light, and his lamps, and his tongs, and his snuff-dishes, and all the oil vessels thereof, wherewith they minister unto it; and they shall put it and all the vessels thereof within a covering of badgers’ skins, and shall put it upon a bar. And upon _the golden altar_ they shall spread a cloth of blue, and cover it with a covering of badgers’ skins, and shall put to the staves thereof: and they shall take all the instruments of ministry, wherewith they minister in the sanctuary, and put them in a cloth of blue, and cover them with a covering of badgers’ skins, and shall put them on a bar: and they shall take away the ashes from _the altar_, and spread a purple cloth thereon: and they shall put upon it all the vessels thereof, wherewith they minister about it, even the censers, the flesh-hooks, and the shovels, and the basons, all the vessels of the altar; and they shall spread upon it a covering of badgers’ skins, and put to the staves of it. And when Aaron and his sons have made an end of covering the sanctuary, and all the vessels of the sanctuary, as the camp is to set forward; after that, the sons of Kohath shall come to bear it: but they shall not touch any holy thing, lest they die. These things are the burden of the sons of Kohath in the tabernacle of the congregation.’” (Chap. iv. 1-15.)

Here we see what precious mysteries were committed to the charge of the Kohathites. The ark, the golden table, the golden candlestick, the golden altar, and the altar of burnt-offering—all these were shadows of good things to come—the patterns of things in the heavens—the figures of the true—the types of Christ, in His Person, His work, and His offices, as we have sought to show in our “Notes on Exodus.” (Chap. xxiv.-xxx.) They are here presented in the wilderness, and, if we may be allowed the expression, in their traveling-dress. With the exception of the ark of the covenant, all these things presented the one unvarying appearance to the human eye, namely, the rough covering of the badgers’ skins. With the ark there was this difference, that above the badgers’ skins there was “a cloth wholly of blue,” setting forth, doubtless, the entirely heavenly character of the Lord Jesus Christ in His own divine Person. That which was essentially heavenly in Him lay upon the very surface of His blessed life here below. He was the entirely heavenly Man—“the Lord from heaven.” Underneath this covering of blue were the badgers’ skins, which may be viewed as the expression of that which protects from evil. The ark was the only thing that was covered in this peculiar manner.

With regard to “the table of show-bread,” which was a type of our Lord Jesus Christ in His connection with the twelve tribes of Israel, there was first “a cloth of _blue_,” and then “a cloth of _scarlet_;” and over all, the badgers’ skins. In other words, there was that which is essentially heavenly; then that which expresses human splendor; and above all, that which protects from evil. It is the purpose of God that Israel’s twelve tribes shall be pre-eminent in the earth—that in them the very highest type of human splendor shall be exhibited. Hence the appropriateness of the “scarlet” covering on the table of show-bread. The twelve loaves evidently point to the twelve tribes; and as to the scarlet color, the reader has only to look through Scripture in order to see that it sets forth that which man considers splendid.

The coverings of the golden candlestick and of the golden altar were identical, namely, first, the heavenly covering, and then the external badgers’ skin. In the candlestick we see our Lord Christ in connection with the work of the Holy Ghost in light and testimony. The golden altar shows us Christ and the preciousness of His intercession—the fragrance and value of what He is before God. Both these, when passing along the sand of the desert, were wrapped up in that which was heavenly, and protected above by the badgers’ skins.

Finally, in reference to the brazen altar, we observe a marked distinction. It was covered with “purple” instead of “blue” or “scarlet.” Why was this? Doubtless because the brazen altar prefigured Christ as the One who “_suffered_ for sins,” and who shall therefore wield the sceptre of royalty. “Purple” is the royal color. The One who suffered in this world shall reign; the One who wore the crown of thorns shall wear the crown of glory. Hence the moral fitness of the “purple” covering on the brazen altar—for on that altar the victim was offered. We know there is nothing in Scripture without its own divine meaning, and it is our privilege as well as our duty to seek to know the meaning of all that our God has graciously written for our learning. This, we believe, can only be reached by humble, patient, prayerful waiting upon Him. The One who has penned the book knows perfectly the scope and object of the book as a whole, and of each division of the book in particular. This will have the effect of checking the unhallowed flights of the imagination. The Spirit of God alone can open Scripture to our souls. “God is His own interpreter” in revelation as well as in providence, and the more we lean on Him, in true self-emptiness, the deeper insight we shall have both into His Word and ways.

We would therefore say to the Christian reader, Take the first fifteen verses of Numbers iv. and read them in the presence of God. Ask Him to explain to thee the meaning of each clause—the meaning of the ark, and why it alone was covered with “a cloth wholly of blue.” And so of all the rest. We have ventured, we trust in humility of mind, to suggest the meaning; but we earnestly desire that thou shouldst get it directly from God for thyself, and not accept it merely from man. We confess we are terribly afraid of imagination; and we know not that we have ever sat down to write on sacred Scripture with a deeper sense of this, that none but the Holy Ghost can really explain it.

Thou wilt say, then, Why sit down to write at all? Well, it is with the fond hope of being permitted, in some feeble manner, to help the earnest student of Scripture to catch sight of the rare and exquisite gems that lie scattered along the inspired page, so that he may pick them up for himself. Thousands of readers might read, again and again, the fourth of Numbers, and not even perceive the fact that the ark was the only part of the mystic furniture of the tabernacle that did not exhibit the badger-skin. And if the simple fact be not laid hold of, how can its import be seen? So also as to the brazen altar, how many have failed to notice that it alone put on the “purple”!

Now, we may rest assured that both these facts are full of spiritual meaning. The ark was the very highest manifestation of God, and therefore we may understand why it should exhibit, at first sight, that which was purely heavenly. The brazen altar was the place where sin was judged—it typified Christ in His work as a Sin-bearer—it set forth that most distant place to which He traveled for us; and yet that brazen altar was the only thing that was wrapped in _royal_ covering. Can aught be more exquisite than the teaching here? What infinite wisdom in all these fine distinctions! The ark conducts us to the very highest point in heaven; the brazen altar conducts us to the lowest point on earth. They stood at extreme points in the tabernacle. In the former, we see the One who magnified the law; in the latter, we see the One who was made sin. In the one, that which was heavenly was seen at the first sight; and it was only when you looked deeper, you saw the badger-skin; and deeper still, that mysterious vail, the type of Christ’s flesh: but in the other, the first thing you saw was the badger-skin; and deeper down, the royal covering. We see Christ in each, though in a different aspect. In the ark, we have Christ maintaining the glory of God; in the brazen altar, we have Christ meeting the sinner’s need. Blessed combination for us!

But further, has the reader noticed that in the entire of this marvelous passage to which we have been calling his particular attention there is no mention of a certain piece of furniture which we know, from Exodus xxx. and other scriptures, occupied a very important place in the tabernacle: We allude to the brazen laver. Why is this omitted in Numbers iv? It is more than probable that some of our keen-eyed rationalists would find here what they would pronounce an error—a defect—a discrepancy. But is it so? No, thank God! The devout Christian student knows full well that such things are wholly incompatible with the volume of God. He knows and confesses this, even though he may not be able to account for the absence of this or the presence of that particular thing in any given passage. But just in so far as we are enabled, through the mercy of God, to see the spiritual reason of things, do we always find that where the rationalist sees or affects to see flaws, the pious student sees brilliant gems.

Thus it is, we doubt not, in reference to the omission of the brazen laver from the catalogue in Numbers iv. It is only one of the ten thousand illustrations of the beauty and perfectness of the inspired volume.

But, the reader may inquire, why is the laver omitted? The reason may be found in the double fact of what that laver was made from, and what it was made for. This double fact we have noticed in Exodus. The laver was made of the looking-glasses of the women who assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation. (Ex. xxxviii. 8.) This was its material. And as to its object, it was provided as a means of purification for man. Now, in all those things which formed the special burden and charge of the Kohathites, we see only the varied manifestations of God in Christ, from the ark, in the holiest of all, to the brazen altar, in the court of the tabernacle: and inasmuch as the laver was not a manifestation of God, but a purification for man, it is therefore not found in the custody and charge of the Kohathites.

But we must now leave the reader to meditate alone on this most profound section of our book. (Chap. iii. and iv.) It is really inexhaustible. We might go on expatiating upon it until we had filled volumes instead of pages, and after all, we should feel as though we had barely penetrated the surface of a mine whose depth never can be sounded—whose treasures never can be exhausted. What human pen can bring out the marvelous instruction contained in the inspired account of the tribe of Levi? Who can attempt to unfold that sovereign grace which shines in the fact that the self-willed Levi should be the very first to respond to that soul-stirring call, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” Who can speak aright of that rich, abounding, distinguishing mercy illustrated in the fact that those whose hands had been imbued in blood should be permitted to handle the vessels of the sanctuary; and that those into whose assembly God’s Spirit could not enter should be brought into the very bosom of the congregation of God, there to be occupied with that which was so precious to Him?

And then those three divisions of workers—Merarites, Gershonites, and Kohathites; what instruction is here! what a type of the various members of the Church of God, in their various service! what depth of mysterious wisdom in all this! Is it speaking too strongly—is it too much, to say that nothing, at this moment, so deeply impresses us as the sense of the utter feebleness and poverty of all that we have advanced on one of the very richest sections of the inspired volume? Still we have conducted the reader to a mine of infinite depth and richness, and we must leave him to penetrate thereinto by the gracious aid of Him to whom the mine belongs, and who alone is able to evolve its wealth. All that man can write or say on any portion of God’s Word can, at best, be but suggestive: to speak of it as exhaustive would be to cast a slight upon the sacred canon. May we tread the holy place with unshod feet, and be as those who inquire in the temple, and whose studies are perfumed by the spirit of worship.[5]