cxxxix. 2, 3)--how can even the mightiest of men boast of his
independence of God and foretell what shall be the issue of his most sagacious counsels, or be confident that he shall be allowed to carry out even the most matured of his purposes. While he is perfectly conscious of his power to will and to do within limits, he must be also conscious that his ability to do both are dependent upon the will of Him in whom we all live and move and have our being.
+II. The inference drawn.+ If God is thus above and behind the goings of the mighty of the earth, it is man's wisdom to trust the mysteries of the present and the contingencies of the future into His hands. Every night throughout the year travellers from one part of our island to the other commit their bodily life unreservedly into the hands of one or two of their fellow-creatures. They are either impelled by inclination, or compelled by necessity, to undertake a certain journey, and to do this they must take their places in a railway train, and for a time surrender their power to take care of their own lives into the hands of others. Darkness is all around them as they travel on, and darkness is before them--they cannot discern the road by which they are travelling, or be absolutely certain that they will reach the place which they desire. Yet their confidence in the skill and fidelity of a few of their fellow-creatures is strong enough to make them generally at ease. Each human life resembles such a journey. The path from the cradle to the grave must be traversed, but insoluble mysteries lie all around, and the future is entirely hidden from view. There is but One who knoweth the way that we take, to whom both past, and present, and future are alike visible and comprehensible. His infinite wisdom and love ought to make us willing to leave Him to _"direct our paths,"_ while a sense of our individual responsibility ought to keep us from presumptuous rashness on the one hand, and from indolent inertness on the other. The truth set forth in this proverb ought to be set beside that in verse 18.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
As the first clause attributes to the Lord exclusively _the ordering_ of great men's goings, in order to attain success, so the second attributes to Him the _prescient understanding_ of men's course. God directs natural actions by His ordinary providence, spiritual actions by His special providence, which foreordains from eternity, awakens the sinner, removes obstacles, suggests that state of life wherein He sees that the man will not fall away, but attain to glory. However a man may understand his life with respect to its beginning and aim, yet he understands not the best _means_ in doubtful cases, nor can he ensure the issue.--_Fausset._
Little did Israel _understand_ the reason of their circuitous _way_ to Canaan. Yet did it prove in the end to be "the right way." As little did Ahasuerus _understand_ the profound reason why "on that night could not the king sleep;" a minute incident, seemingly scarcely worthy to be recorded, yet a necessary link in the chain of the Lord's everlasting purposes of grace to His Church (Esth. vi. 1). Little did Philip _understand his own way_ when he was moved from the wide sphere of preaching the Gospel in Samaria to go into the desert, which ultimately proved a wider extension of the Gospel. As little did the great Apostle understand that his "_prosperous_ journey" to see his beloved flock at Rome would be a narrow escape from shipwreck, and to be conducted a prisoner in chains. Little do we know what we pray for. "By terrible things wilt Thou answer us in righteousness, O God of our salvation" (Ps. lxv. 5). We go out in the morning _not understanding our way;_ "not knowing what an hour may bring forth" (chap. xxvii. 1). Some turn connected with our happiness or misery for life meets us before night (John iv. 7). Joseph, in taking his walk to search for his brethren, never anticipated a more than twenty years' separation from his father (Gen. xxxvii. 14). And what ought those cross ways or dark ways to teach us? Not constant, trembling anxiety, but daily dependence. "I will bring the blind by a way that they know not: I will lead them in paths that they have not known." But shall they be left in the dark perplexity? "I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them" (Isa. xlii. 16).--_Bridges._
The cross ways that thwart man's goings are of God's laying out, the short ways which some make are of His finding out, the long ways that some go about are of His leading. . . . He doth but tumble down the hill of his own audacious rashness that thinketh to climb up unto God's way. What God hath revealed of Himself in moderating man's ways is true wisdom to observe, and happy is he who maketh use of it. But as ignorance here is an idle carelessness, so knowledge there is a prying boldness.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 25.
For the correct rendering of this verse see Critical Notes.
RELIGIOUS VOWS.
+I. A man is under no obligation to vow.+ While the Scriptures contain many references to vows, whereby certain persons consecrated themselves or their property to God and give laws concerning their fulfilment (Num. xxx.), there is no command which requires men to enter into such a solemn engagement. The text refers solely to _religious_ vows--to an act of special consecration to God, such as that of Jacob at Bethel when he dedicated the tenth of all his gains to the service of Jehovah (Gen. xxviii. 22), or that of Hannah when she promised that, if God would give her a man-child, she would give him unto the Lord all the days of his life (1 Sam. i. 11). It is obvious that such special acknowledgements of particular and exceptional blessings must be pleasing to God, but He lays upon men no obligation to render them, seeing that their value consists in their being spontaneous--the overflow of a grateful heart, or the result of a deep conviction of the claims of God, or of the need of Divine help in extraordinary circumstances.
+II. A man is bound by the most solemn considerations not to vow thoughtlessly.+ As an intelligent and moral being he is bound to enter upon no course and to make no engagement without first inquiring whether the motive which prompts him at the outset is strong enough to carry him to the end. It is a snare and a sin to promise to a fellow-man and afterwards, in the words of the proverb, "to make inquiry," _i.e.,_ to ask ourselves whether we are prepared to abide by our promise. The inquiry must even in such a case be made beforehand, or we must be branded with unfaithfulness to our plighted word. (These remarks of course do not apply to vows and promises which are in themselves sinful or unlawful. The proverb does not deal with such.) If, then, a man is bound to consider well before he promises to man, how much more so before he vows to God! What must be the harm done to conscience and to character, and how great the insult offered to the Divine Majesty, when vows are made and obligations entered into, and afterwards he who thus bound himself finds that he is not morally prepared for the sacrifice. To such an one we might say, as Peter said to Ananias--_"Whiles it remained, was it not thine own? . . . Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God"_ (Acts v. 4, 5). _"Better it is that thou shouldst not vow,"_ says the Preacher, _"than that thou shouldest vow and not pay"_ (Eccles. v. 5).
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
It is questionable whether vows, properly so called, are consistent with the genius of the New Testament dispensation. At any rate, of such vows as were common under the Old, we have no recorded examples under the New. Resolutions to serve God we may, nay we _must_ make; there is no getting on in the Divine life and in the zealous promotion of the Divine glory, without them. But the binding of the soul by particular bonds and oaths, whether verbal or written--obligations superinduced upon those of the Divine law--have been "a snare" to many. Weak minds have often felt the obligation of their vow more stringent than that of the Divine authority.--_Wardlaw._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSES_ 26 _and_ 28.
PILLARS OF GOVERNMENT.
+I. A human ruler will have rebellious subjects in his kingdom.+ This will be the case however wise the laws, and with whatever care and discrimination they are administered. In the most cultivated and carefully kept ground some weeds are always found among the flowers--some tares among the wheat; and since the King who can do no wrong numbers among his subjects those who are lawless and disobedient, the best and wisest of human rulers must expect to do the same.
+II. It is the duty and wisdom of a human ruler to make a distinction between his good and bad subjects, and to punish the latter.+ Even if the wheel mentioned in the proverb be regarded as simply an instrument of separation, as the threshing instrument separates the chaff from the wheat, the idea of punishment is retained. In a well-governed kingdom the laws which govern it are such a separating power between the evil and the good, so far as external conduct is concerned, and it is indispensable for the stability of peace and order that they should be strictly enforced. It would be most unjust, as well as unwise--it would be tempting men to transgression--if the lawless citizens in a community were allowed to go unpunished; and it is contrary to our innate sense of justice that in any kingdom "the righteous should be as the wicked" (Gen. xviii. 25)--that the thief should have all the privileges of an honest man, and the murderer the liberty of an innocent person. The punishment of transgressors not only defends the good man, but it may prevent the bad man from increasing his guilt by adding crime to crime. The king of Solomon's proverbs is a typical word for all who are called upon to rule, whether in the family or the State, and the very word ruler, or governor, implies a discrimination between the evil and the good and a difference in their treatment.
+III. The preservation of the throne depends more upon moral than upon physical power.+ We take the word "throne" in the widest sense as signifying any place or position which raises one man to be in any sense the ruler of another, from the throne of the father in his family and the master among his servants, to that of the king amidst his subjects. In each and every one of the kingdoms, although external and physical coercion and punishment are sometimes indispensable, yet there is no permanent stability unless there is mercy and truth in the ruler, and unless it is manifest in his government. Many a throne has been erected on other foundations,--physical strength has established many kingdoms, and material wealth has set many men upon thrones. But if they have raised a superstructure its foundation has been in the sand, and when the rain and wind of adversity have descended upon it it has fallen, and great has been the fall of it. There must be some truth and mercy--some righteousness and justice, and withal some exercise of grace towards the wrongdoer--if the throne or the kingdom is to be upholden, and the wisdom of the ruler will be shown in his so mingling sternness with severity as to make both contribute to one end. Truth must here be taken as synonymous with righteousness--as that observance of the just claims of every man which he has a right to expect and demand from those who rule him. This will include that punishment of the lawless which is the subject of verse 26, but is here implied that even punishment is to be tempered with mercy. Pity for the offender ought always to be mingled with indignation at the offence, and if any ruler desires to sit firmly upon his seat of justice he must consider not only the greatness of the crime but the strength of the temptation--not how severely he can punish the criminal but whether he can reform him. And this is rarely if ever done by the exercise of justice merely. The frost and cold are necessary to kill the weeds and vermin and to break up the soil, but there will never be flowers or fruit without summer rain and sunshine. And mercy is that "gentle rain from heaven" without which no sinful creature will ever bring forth fruits of righteousness.
_ILLUSTRATION._
The necessity of mingling mercy with justice is strikingly exemplified in the great success which attended the efforts of the late Captain Maconochie to benefit the convicts in our penal settlement in Norfolk Island. Having, in his capacity as Secretary to the Governor of Tasmania, seen most terrible and hardening effects from unmixed severity, he desired earnestly to try what could be done by combining mercy with discipline and punishment. For this purpose he was placed in command of Norfolk Island, and remained there four years, having under his care from 1500 to 2000 doubly-convicted prisoners, _i.e.,_ convicts who, after being transported from England to New South Wales, had been for other crimes _again_ transported to Norfolk Island. Previous to his arrival they worked in chains, and it was considered dangerous for even armed officers to approach within three yards of them. It was considered unsafe to trust them with knives, and they therefore tore their food with their hands and teeth. They were accustomed to inflict dreadful injuries upon themselves in order to evade labour, and were described at the time as a demoniacal assemblage. But under more humane treatment the entire colony became changed, and one of his colleagues testifies that he and another superintendent "resided at one of the settlements in a cottage without lock and key, with simply a latch to the door, and close to the convict barracks, where over 2000 were lodged every night, also without locks." "Not a single serious offence," says he, "was ever committed in that time by any of those men, and the only bodyguard was another free superintendent and myself, together with a few trustworthy men selected from among themselves." This gentleman (Mr. J. Simms, since Governor of Plymouth Prison) goes on to say, "I shall ever remember this year as the most remarkable of all my prison experience, because it . . . was a fair result of what might be realised from any body of men generally, thus treated, not by force, iron force, but by moral means." One remarkable example is given. At Sydney there had been a most desperate and unmanageable convict, named Anderson. He was flogged time after time for various offences, but to no good effect. He became more outrageous than ever. At last, the authorities, in despair, put him on a little island in Sydney Harbour, where he was kept chained to a rock, and in the hollow of which rock he slept. After some weeks the Governor went to see him, and urged him to submit to authority, but he refused. He was then sent for life to Port Macquarie Convict Station, where he was again and again flogged. He made his escape, and lived among the natives for some time, but, ultimately, being recaptured, he was sent to Norfolk Island for the crime of murder. Under Maconochie's humane treatment he became a changed man, and when the Governor of New South Wales visited the settlement he particularly noticed Anderson, and inquired, "What smart fellow may that be?" (See _Leisure Hour_ for October, 1878.)
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
All dynasties have been kind. If they are cruel now, it must be like the weight of a clock, running down. There _was_ kindness. "Mercy and truth" must at some time or other have builded the "throne."--_Miller._
Godly Asa removed wickedness from the high place nearest his own throne and heart. Amaziah justly punished it with death. Nehemiah--that true reformer--rebuked it even in the family of the high priest. Our own Alfred appeared to maintain this standard as a witness for God in an age of darkness. But it is the King of kings alone that can make this separation complete. Often does He sift His Church by trial, for her greater purity and complete preservation (Amos ix. 9). But what will it be, when He shall come "with His fan in His hand, and shall thoroughly purge His floor?" (Matt. iii. 12). What a scattering of chaff will there be! Not an atom will go into the garner. Not a grain of wheat will be cast away. O my soul! what wilt thou be found at this great sifting day! "Who may abide the day of His coming? And who shall stand when He appeareth?" (Mal. iii. 2).--_Bridges._
There goes more to preserve a king than to preserve a kingdom; and though the preservation of a kingdom be a weighty matter, yet the preservation of a king is much more weighty--though much care and pains be required for the one, much more is required for the other. Half of that will serve for the one which is needful for the other. Mercy will support the throne, but mercy and truth must preserve the king.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 27.
THE CANDLE OF THE LORD.
We understand by the spirit of a man the self-conscious _ego_--that which takes cognizance of the inner life, and which reasons and passes judgment upon all a man's perceptions, emotions, and volitions.
+I. Man's spirit is a candle, because it is not self-originating.+ When we speak of a candle, the idea of a _borrowed_ light comes before us; with us there is but one source and fountain of material light, and that is the sun, which, although it is but a candle of the Lord placed in the midst of our solar system so far transcends all our artificial lights in its glory and permanence, that in comparison with them it seems self-existent and eternal. As a matter of fact, we know that all the artificial light stored up for us in combustible materials around us had its origin in that great father of lights, the sun, and that these lesser lights require kindling before they give forth brightness. So with the spirit of man--it is not self-existent and eternal, nor did it kindle itself, it owes its existence to that God who is the intellectual and moral light of the universe, because He is the source of all knowledge and goodness. That same Divine Creator, who said _"Let there be light and there was light,"_ who set the sun in the heavens to rule the day, made man in His own image by breathing into the human body that spiritual life which makes man a living soul, and distinguishes him from the animal creation around him. We can no more claim to be the author of our own spirits than the sun can claim to have called itself into existence.
+II. Man's spirit is a candle, because it is a revealing power.+ All light is revealing; it first makes evident its own existence and then reveals the existence of objects outside itself. When the sun comes forth above the eastern horizon like a bridegroom from his chamber, it reveals its own glory, and it makes manifest all things upon which its rays fall, and nothing is hidden from the light thereof. So in a less degree is it with every flame of light, and so it is with the mysterious spirit of man. It is self-revealing and self-evidencing, and in and by its light we become conscious of the existence of material forms and spiritual beings, and moral and physical influence outside ourselves.
+III. Man's spirit is a candle which is intended to prevent self-deception.+ Knowledge of any description is good and desirable, but there are two beings of whom it is moral death to remain in ignorance--ourself and God. The spirit of a man is the power by which he apprehends both, and this proverb deals exclusively with man's power to know himself, and especially with his power to take cognizance of himself as a moral and responsible being. As the sun, when it darts forth its rays upon the earth, does not leave us in twilight, and in uncertainty as to what is around us, and as the candle brought into a dark chamber shows us, maybe, the dust and the cobwebs, as well as the costly drapery on the walls, so this God-kindled light searches into the innermost thoughts, and feelings, and motives, and shows to every man who does not wilfully turn away from the sight, both the good and the evil that is in him. True it is that, as a moral light, it does not shine so brightly as it did when man came forth from his Maker's hand, and that he who _"hateth light"_ because it is a reprover of his sin (John iii. 20) may to some extent obscure its brightness, yet every man possesses light enough within to show him his need of a light outside and above him--even of that _"true Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world"_ (John i. 9).
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
The candle which God has kindled in man has, as the nearest sphere of illumination which goes forth from it, the condition of the man himself--the spirit comprehends all that belongs to the nature of man in the unity of self-consciousness, but yet more, it makes it the object of reflection; it penetrates, searching it through, and seeks to take it up into its knowledge, and recognises the problem proposed to it, to rule it by its power. The proverb is thus to be ethically understood.--_Delitzsch._
The essential connection between the life of God and the life of men is the great truth of the world, and that is the truth which Solomon sets forth in the striking words of my text. The picture which the words include is one of the most simple. A candle stands upon a table in a dark room, itself unlighted. Fire is brought into the room; a blazing bit of paper holds the fire, but it is blown and flutters, and any moment may go out; but the blaze touches the candle and the candle catches fire, and at once you have a steady flame which burns bright and pure and constant. The candle gives forth its manifestation to all the neighbourhood which is illuminated by it. The candle is glorified by the fire, and the two bear witness that they are made for one another by the way in which they fulfil each other's life. That fulfilment comes by the way in which the inferior substance renders obedience to the superior. The wax acknowledges the subtle flame as its master and yields to its power, and so, like every faithful servant of a noble master, it gives itself most unreservedly up, and its own substance is clothed with a glory that does not belong to itself. The granite, if you try to burn it, gives no fire; it only opposes a sullen resistance, and as the heat increases splits and breaks but will not burn. But the candle obeys, and so in it the scattered fire finds a point of permanent and clear expression. "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord," says Solomon. God is the fire of this world. It is a vital principle, a warm pervading presence everywhere. What thing in outward nature can so picture to us the mysterious, subtle, quick, productive, and destructive principle; that which has always elevated men's hearts and solemnized their voices when they have said the word "God," as this strange thing, so heavenly, so unearthly, so terrible, and so gracious, so full of creativeness, and yet so quick and fierce to sweep whatever opposes it out of its path? The glory, the beauty, the marvel, the mystery of fire! Men have always felt the fitness of fire as being the closest of all the elements around the throne on which their conception of Deity is sitting. Men and all other beings, if such beings there are capable of watching our humanity, see what God is in gazing at the manhood God has kindled. The universe is full of the fire of divinity; men feel it in the air as they feel an intense heat which has not yet broken out into a blaze. There is meaning in a great deal of the unexplained, mysterious awfulness of life--the sense of God felt, unseen. The atmosphere is burdened with heat that does not burst out into fire, and in the midst of this solemn burning world there stands up a man, pure and God-like. In an instant it is as if a heated room had found some sensitive inflammable point where it would kindle into a blaze, and prospects of God's felt presence become clear and definite. The fitfulness of the impression of divinity is steadied into permanence. The mystery changes its character, and is a mystery of light and not of darkness. _The fire of the Lord has found the candle of the Lord,_ and burns clear and steady, guiding and cheering instead of bewildering and frightening us, just as a man obedient to God has begun to catch and manifest His nature. I hope you will find this truth comes very close to your separate lives, but let me remind you first _what essential dignity clothes the life of man in this world._ Such philosophy as belongs to our time would deprecate the importance of man in the world, and rob him of his centralness. His position in such philosophies is this: that the world was not made for man. With us the old story that the Bible told, the book of Genesis with its Garden of Eden, and its obedient beasts waiting until man should tell them what they should be called, stands firmly at the beginning of the world's history. The great notion of the centralness of man in the Garden of Eden re-asserts itself in every cabin of the western forests, or the southern jungles, where a solitary settler and his wife begin as it were the human history anew. There once again the note of Genesis is struck, and man asserts his centralness, and the beasts hesitate in fear till he shall tame them to his service, or bid them depart. The earth under his feet holds its fertility at his command, and what he does upon the earth is echoed in the storms. This is the great impressive idea which over the simplest life of man is ever growing, and with which the philosophies that would make little of the sacredness and centralness of man must always have to fight. This is the impression which is taken up, and steadied, and made clear, and turned from a petty pride to a lofty dignity and a solemn responsibility, when there comes such a message as this of Solomon. He says that the true sacredness, and superiority, and centralness of man is in the likeness of his nature to God's, and that capacity of spiritual obedience to Him, in virtue of which man may be the earthly declaration and manifestation of God to all the world. So long as that truth stands, the centralness of man is sure. "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." This is the truth of which I wish to speak to you--the perpetual revelation of God by and through human life. I. You must ask yourself, first, _what God is._ See how at the very bottom of His existence, as you conceive of it, there lie these two thoughts--purpose and righteousness; how impossible it is to give God any personality, except as the embodiment of these two qualities, the intelligence that plans, and the righteousness that lives in duty. How could any knowledge of these qualities, of what they are, of what sort of being they will make, exist upon the earth, if there were not a human heart in which they could exist, and from which they could be shown? Only a person can truly utter a person; only from a character can character be echoed. You might write it over the skies that God was just, but it would be at best only a bit of knowledge--never a Gospel--never something which it would gladden the hearts of men to know. That comes only when a human life is capable of a justice like God's justice, and is clothed with His justice in the eyes of men. I have just intimated one thing that we need to observe: man's utterance of God is purely the utterance of a quality; it can tell me nothing of the quantities that make up His life. That God is just, and what it is to be just, I can learn from the just lives of the just men about me; but how just God is, to what unconceived perfection, to what unexplained developments that majestic quality of justice may extend in Him--of that I can form no judgment that is worth anything from the justice I see in my fellow-men. II. This seems to me to widen at once the range of the truth I am stating. If it be a quality of God, which man is capable of uttering, then it must be the simple quality of manhood that is necessary for the utterance, and not any specific quantity, nor any assignable degree of human greatness. Whoever has the spirit of man may be the candle of the Lord. A larger measure of that spirit may make a brighter light; but there must be a light wherever any human being, in virtue of his essential humanness, by obedience becomes luminous with God. There are the men of manhood, spiritually the leaders of the race; how they stand out! how all men feel their power as they come into their presence, and feel that they are passing into the light of God! They are puzzled when they try to explain it. There is nothing more instructive and suggestive than the bewilderment men feel when they try to tell what inspiration is. He who goes into the presence of any powerful nature, feels sure in some way he is coming into the presence of God; but it would be melancholy if only the great men could give you this conviction. The world would be darker than it is if any human spirit, as soon as it became obedient, did not become the Lord's candle. A poor, bruised life, if only it keeps that human quality, and does not become inhuman, but is obedient to God, in its blind way, becomes a light. A mere child with his pure humanity, and with his turning of his life towards God from Whom he came--how often he may burn with some suggestion of divinity, and cast illumination upon problems and mysteries so difficult that he himself has never felt them! Little lamps burning everywhere. III. We have here the key to another mystery that often puzzles us. _What shall we make of some men rich in attainments and well educated, who stand in the midst of their fellow-men dark and helpless?_ . . . Let us let the light of Solomon's figure upon it. Simply this: they are unlighted candles; they are the spirit of man furnished to its very finest, but lacking the last touch of God; like silver lamps all chaste and wrought with wondrous skill, all filled with choicest oil, but all untouched by fire. IV. _There are multitudes of men whose lamps are certainly not dark, and yet who certainly are not the candles of the Lord,_--with a nature richly furnished, yet profane, impure, worldly. . . . Such a man is not another unlighted candle. He burns so bright and lurid that often the pure light grows dim within its glare. But if it be possible for the human candle, when the subtle components of a human nature are all mingled carefully in it; if it be possible that, instead of being lifted up to heaven, and kindled at the pure beam of Him who is eternally and absolutely good, it should be plunged down into hell, and lighted at the cruel flames that burn out of the dreadful brimstone pit, then we can understand the sight of a man who is rich in every energy of manhood cursing the world with the exhibition of the devilish instead of the Godlike in his life. . . . V. There is still one other way, more subtle and sometimes more dangerous than this, in which the spirit of man may fail of its functions as the candle of the Lord. The man may be lighted, and the fire at which he is lighted may be, indeed, the fire of God, and yet it may not be God alone he shows forth upon the earth. I can picture to myself a candle which should in some way mingle the peculiarity of its own substance with the light it sheds. So it is, I think, with the way in which a great many men manifest God. They have really kindled their lives at Him. It is His fire that burns in them. They are obedient, and so He can make them His points of exhibition, but they are always mixed with the God whom they show. They show themselves as well as Him; just as a mirror mingles its own reflection with the things that are reflected from it and gives them a curious convexity because it is itself convex. This is the secret of pious bigotry, of holy prejudices; it is the candle putting its own colour into the flame it has borrowed from the fire of God. The feeble man makes God seem feeble, the speculative man makes God look like a doubtful dream, the legal man makes God seem as hard and steel-like as law. VI. I have tried to depict some difficulties which beset the full exhibition in the world of the great truth of Solomon. . . . Man is selfish and disobedient, and will not let his light burn at all; man is wilful and passionate, and kindles his light with ungodly fire; man is narrow and bigoted, and makes the light to shine in his own peculiar colour; but all these are accident--distortions of the true idea of man. How can we know that? _Here is the perfect man,_ CHRIST! . . . I bring a man of my experience and the man of my imagination into the presence of Jesus, but they fall short of Him, and my human consciousness assures me they all fall short of the best ideal of what it is to be a man. "I am come a light into the world," said Jesus; "he that hath seen me hath seen the Father." "In Him was light, and the life was the light of men." So wrote the man who of all men know Him best. I think I need only bid you look at Him and you will see what it is to which our feeble lights are struggling. There is the true spiritual man who is the candle of the Lord, "the Light that lighteth every man." It is entirely a new idea of life, new to the standards of our ordinary living, which is there revealed. All ordinary appeals to men to be up and doing, and to make themselves shining lights, fade away and become insignificant before this higher message which comes in the words of Solomon in the life of Jesus. What does that higher message say to you and me? That your full relationship to God can only be realised by obedience to Him, when you will shine by His light; then you cannot be dark, for He shall kindle you; then you shall be as incapable of burning with false passion, as you shall be quick to answer the true; then the devil may hold his torch to you, as he held it to the heart of Jesus in the desert, and your heart shall be as uninflammable as His. As soon as God touches you, you shall burn with a light so truly your own that you shall reverence your own mysterious life, and yet be so truly His that pride shall be impossible. In certain lands, for the most holy ceremonies they prepare the candles with the most precious care. The very bees that distil the wax are sacred. They range in gardens planted with sweet flowers for their use alone. The wax is gathered by consecrated hands, and the shaping of the candles is a holy task performed in holy places, with the singing of hymns, and in an atmosphere of prayer. All this is done because the candles, when they are made, are to burn in the most elevated ceremonies and on the most sacred days. With what care must the man be made whose spirit is to be the candle of the Almighty Lord! It is his spirit that the Lord is to kindle for Himself; therefore the spirit must be the precious part of him. The body must be valued only for the protection and education that the spirit may gain by it. The power by which his spirit shall become a candle is obedience; therefore obedience must be the struggle and desire of his life; obedience, not hard and forced, but ready, loving, and spontaneous; obedience in heart, the obedience of the child to the father, the obedience of the candle to the flame; the doing of duty not merely that the duty may be done, but that the soul in doing it may become capable of receiving and uttering God; the bearing of pain not merely because the pain must be borne, but that the bearing of it may make the soul able to burn with the Divine fire that found it in the furnace; the repentance of sin and the acceptance of forgiveness not merely that the soul may be saved from the fire of hell but that it may be touched with the fire of Heaven, and shine with the light of God as the stars, for ever.--_Philips Brooks._
This "candle of the Lord" is a _slight_ and _diminutive_ light. A lamp is no such dazzling object. A candle has no such goodly light as that it should pride and glory in it; it is but a brief and compendious flame, shut up and imprisoned in a narrow compass. How far distant is it from the beauty of a star! how far from the brightness of a sun! This candle of the Lord, when it was first lighted up, before there was any thief in it, even then it had but a limited and restrained light. God said unto it: "Thus far shall thy light go; hither shalt thou shine and no further." Adam, in his innocency, was not to crown himself with his own sparks. God never intended a creature should rest satisfied with his own candle-light, but that it should run to the fountain of light, and sun itself in the presence of God. What a poor happiness had it been for a man only to have enjoyed his own lamp. . . . The "candle of the Lord" is a light _discovering present,_ not _future_ things, for did you ever hear of such a lamp as would discover an object not yet born? Would you not smile at him that should light a candle to search for a futurity? . . . Let, then, this candle content itself with its proper object. It finds work enough, and difficulty enough, in the discovery of present things, and has not such a copious light as can search out the future. . . . The light of reason is a _certain_ light. Lamplight, as it is not glorious, so it is not deceitful--though it be but limited, it will discover such things as are within its own sphere with a sufficient certainty. The letters of nature's law are so fairly printed, they are so visible and capital, that you may read them by this candlelight. . . . Although there is not vigour enough in any created eye to pierce into the pith and marrow, the depth and secrecy of being. . . . It is a _directive_ light. The will looks upon that, as Leander in Musæus looked up to the tower for Hero's candle, and calls it, as he doth there: "Lamp which to me, on my way through this life, is a brilliant director.". . . The will doth but echo the understanding, and doth practically repeat the last syllable of the final decision; which makes the moralist well determine that "moral virtues cannot exist without intellectual powers.". . . Other creatures, indeed, are shot more violently into their ends; but man hath the skill and faculty of directing himself, and is, as you may so imagine, a rational kind of arrow, that moves knowingly and voluntarily to the mark of its own accord. . . . It is an _aspiring_ light. I mean no more by this than what that known saying of Augustine imports: "Thou hast made us, O Lord, for Thyself: our heart will be restless till it return to Thee." The candle of the Lord--it came from Him and it would fain return to Him. For an intellectual lamp to aspire to be a sun is a lofty strain of that intolerable pride which was in Lucifer and Adam; but for it to desire the favour, and presence, and enjoyment of a beautiful sun, is but a just and noble desire of that end which God created it for. . . . If you look but upon a candle, what an aspiring and ambitious light it is! . . . It puts on the form of a pyramid, occasionally and accidentally by reason that the air extenuates it into that form: otherwise it would ascend upward in one greatness, in a rounder and completer manner. It is just thus in "the candle of the Lord;" reason would move more fully according to the sphere of its activity, it would flame up to heaven in a more vigorous and uniform way; but that it is much quenched by sin . . . therefore it is fain to aspire and climb as well as it can. The bottom and base of it borders upon the body, and is therefore more impure and feculent; but the _apex_ and _cuspis_ of it catches toward heaven. . . . Every spark of reason flies upward. This Divine flame fell down from heaven and halted with its fall--as the poets tell us of the limping of Vulcan--but it would fain ascend thither again by some steps and gradations of its own framing.--_Culverwell._
For Homiletics on verse 28, see verse 26.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 29.
THE GLORY OF YOUTH AND AGE.
+I. Each period of life has a value and a glory of its own.+ There is a beauty in spring to which no other season of the year can approach. The vivid green of the opening leaves, and the meadows and hedge-banks carpeted with early flowers, give to spring a glory all its own. But the other seasons have their peculiar charms. It is no less pleasant to look upon the landscape at midsummer, when the woods are in their full dress, and the valleys are covered over with corn, or in the autumn, when the harvest is being gathered in, and flowers have given place to fruit. If spring is the time of hope and promise, autumn is the season of realisation and fulfilment, and we are all content that the one should be lost in the other. So it is with the different periods of our human life--each has its special charm and its special advantages. We love to dwell upon the loveliness of childhood, but we should not like to see our sons and daughters remain children for ever, and it is pleasant to look upon and to experience the energy and hope of youth, but there are good things which cannot be ours until we reach to mature life, and even to grey hairs. We have before considered the glory of the hoary head (see on chap. xvi. 31, page 493); we have only to consider--
+II. The peculiar gift and glory of young men.+ It is, says Solomon, their _"strength"_--their power to do and to endure in a physical sense, what the aged cannot, by reason of the failure of their bodily powers. When men have passed middle life, they become more and more painfully conscious that if the _"inward man is renewed day by day, the outward man is perishing"_ at the same rate (2 Cor. iv. 16), and although their experience is richer, and their wisdom greater, their physical ability and energy is not what it once was. Their ship is laden, it may be, with a far more precious cargo, but the tide is not so strong, and the breeze is not so powerful to waft it on its way as it was in the years that are gone. It is the glory of the young man that his strength is often more than enough for himself, he is able to bestow some upon the weak and needy. But the aged man is often painfully conscious that he has none to spare, that instead he is dependent upon the strength of others. The consideration of the special advantage of each season of human life ought to cheer the aged man and prevent him from regretting the days of youth, and at the same time it ought to make the young man respectful to the old, and willing to listen to their counsel, and so far as it is possible combine the wisdom of grey hairs with the vigour of youth. It also warns the young man against any abuse of his physical powers--against any unlawful indulgence of bodily appetites, and against the formation of unhealthy or indolent habits--which make so many of our youths prematurely old, bringing upon them the frosts of autumn, before they have brought forth its fruits.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 30.
PAIN AS A PREVENTIVE OF PAIN.
For the different renderings of this verse, see the Critical Notes. However we translate it the thoughts suggested are the same, viz.:--
+I. That pain in the present may prevent greater pain in the future.+ When the surgeon is called in to examine a wounded man, the examination of the wound may give him more pain than he would have suffered if he had been let alone; it may bring far more present suffering to extract the ball, or to insert the probe, than it would have done simply to bandage the wound. But the pain of to-day is to ensure days of healthful rest by and by; if the present suffering was not inflicted, months and years of pain in the future might be the result. The pain of mind or body inflicted upon a child of five or ten years old, is intended by its parent to prevent greater moral or physical pain when he is fifty or seventy. There is no human creature who can afford to do without the pruning-knife at some period of its life; and if the pruning is not administered, the penalty will be paid either in this world or the next. The wise and loving parent gives pain in youth to prevent pain to his child in manhood, and the All-wise and Loving Father, God, subjects His children to pain in the present life to prevent a deeper and more lasting pain in the life to come. He pricks the conscience by His word to bring men to repentance, and so to salvation from the "wrath to come" and He sees even in His own children so much "evil" remaining that He is compelled to visit _"their transgressions with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes"_ (Psa. lxxxix. 32), in order to _"cleanse"_ their characters.
+II. Pain of body may be beneficial to the human spirit.+ This is a subject to which our attention has been before directed. See on chap. xiii. 24, page 334, and on chap. xvii. 10, page 510.
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