Division IBSZ4^^ 
 
 bectioa 
 
JOHN the BAPTIST 
 
JOHN THE BAPTIST 
 
 BY 
 
 F. B. MEYER, B.A 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 Paul: A Servant of Jesus Christ 
 THE PROPHET OF HOPE 
 SAVED AND KEPT 
 etc, etc 
 
 LONDON: MORGAN and SCOTT 
 
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By Rev. F. B. MEYER, B.A. 
 
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 THE "BIOGRAPHICAL" SERIES. 
 
 ABRAHAM : Or, The Obedience of Faith. 
 ISRAEL : A Prince with God. 
 JOSEPH : Beloved— Hated— Exalted. 
 MOSES : The Servant of God. 
 JOSHUA : And the Land of Promise. 
 DAVID: Shepherd, Psalmist, King. 
 ELIJAH : And the Secret of his Power. 
 JEREMIAH : Priest and Prophet. 
 JOHN THE BAPTIST. 
 PAUL : A Servant of Jesus Christ. 
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 In Polished Walnut Case, 24s. 6d. net. 
 
 A complete Illustrated List of Works by 
 
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^xtfatt, 
 
 THE life and character of John the Baptist have 
 always had a great fascination for me ; and I am 
 thankful to have been permitted to write this book. But 
 I am more thankful for the hours of absorbing interest 
 spent in the study of his portraiture as given in the 
 Gospels. I know of nothing that makes so pleasant a 
 respite from the pressure of life's fret and strain, as to 
 bathe mind and spirit in the translucent waters of 
 Scripture biography. 
 
 As the clasp between the Old Testament and the New — 
 the close of the one and the beginning of the other; as 
 among the greatest of those born of women ; as the porter 
 who opened the door to the True Shepherd ; as the fearless 
 rebuker of royal and shameless sin — the Baptist must ever 
 compel the homage and admiration of mankind. 
 
 In many respects, such a life cannot be repeated. But 
 the spirit of humility and courage ; of devotion to God, 
 and uncompromising loyalty to truth, which was so con- 
 spicuous in him, may animate us. We, also, may be filled 
 with the spirit and power of Elijah, as he was ; and may 
 point, with lip and Hfe, to the Saviour of the world, crying, 
 " Behold the Lamb of God." 
 
 ^ /3 Jn^e^^ 
 
(Knnl^ttta. 
 
 I. 
 
 11. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XL 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Interest of his Biography 
 The House of Zacharias 
 
 His Schools and Schoolmasters 
 
 The Prophet of the Highest 
 
 The First Ministry of the Baptist 
 
 Baptism unto Repentance 
 
 The Manifestation of the Messiah 
 
 Not that Light, but a Witness 
 
 "He must Increase, but I must Decrease" 
 
 The King's Courts 
 
 "Art Thou He?" 
 
 "None Greater than John the Baptist, yet 
 
 A Burning and Shining Light 
 
 Set at Liberty 
 
 The Grave of John, and Another Grave ... 
 
 Yet Speaking 
 
 The Spirit and Power of Elias 
 
 PAGE 
 
 7 
 
 14 
 
 25 
 35 
 44 
 55 
 66 
 76 
 87 
 98 
 
 134 
 145 
 158 
 168 
 180 
 
JOHN THE BAPTIST 
 
 I. 
 
 t Int^r^st 0f Ijxs IBt0grapIj5» 
 
 " John, than which man a sadder or a greater 
 Not till this day has been of woman born ; 
 John, like some iron peak by the Creator 
 Fired with the red glow of the rushing morn. 
 
 " This, when the sun shall rise and overcome it, 
 Stands in his shining, desolate and bare ; 
 Yet not the less the inexorable summit 
 Flamed him his signal to the happier air." 
 
 F. W. H. Myers. 
 
 THE morning star, shining amid the brightening glow 
 of dawn, is the fittest emblem that Nature can 
 supply of the herald who proclaimed the rising of 
 the Sun of Righteousness — answering across the gulf of 
 three hundred years to his brother prophet, Malachi, who 
 had foretold that Sunrise and the healing in His wings. 
 
 Every sign attests the unique and singular glory of the 
 Baptist. Not that his career was signalized by the blaze of 
 prodigy and wonder, like the multiplication of the widow's 
 meal or the descent of the fire of heaven to consume the 
 altar and the wood ; for it is expressly said that " John did 
 no miracle." Not that he owed anything to the adventi- 
 tious circumstances of wealth and rank ; for he was not a 
 place-loving courtier, " clothed in soft raiment or found in 
 kings' courts." Not that he was a master of a superb 
 eloquence like that of Isaiah or Ezekiel ; for he was content 
 
8 '^\jt Kntercst of Ijia ^ioQvaij^h^* 
 
 to be only " a cry " — short, thrilling, piercing through the 
 darkness, ringing over the desert plains. Yet, his Master 
 said of him that "among them that are born of women 
 there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist " ; and 
 in six brief months, as one has noticed, the young prophet 
 of the wilderness had become the centre to which all the 
 land went forth. We see Pharisees and Sadducees, soldiers 
 and publicans, enthralled by his ministry; the Sanhedrim 
 forced to investigate his claims ; the petty potentates of 
 Palestine caused to tremble on their thrones ; while he has 
 left a name and an influence that will never cease out of the 
 world. 
 
 But there is a further feature which arrests us in the life 
 and ministry of the Baptist. He was ordained to be " the 
 clasp" of two covenants. In him Judaism reached its 
 highest embodiment, and the Old Testament found its 
 noblest exponent. It is significant, therefore, that through 
 his lips the law and the prophets should announce their 
 transitional purpose, and that he who caught up the torch of 
 Hebrew prophecy with a grasp and spirit unrivalled by any 
 before him, should have it in his power and in his heart to 
 say: "The object of all prophecy, the purpose of the 
 Mosaic law, the end of all sacrifices, the desire of all 
 nations, is at hand." And forthwith turning to the True 
 Shepherd, who stood at the door waiting to be admitted, to 
 Him the porter opened, bowing low as He passed, and cry- 
 ing : " This is He of whom Moses in the law and the pro- 
 phets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, who was for to come." 
 
 Few studies can bring out to clearer demonstration the 
 superlative glory of Christ than a thoughtful consideration 
 of the story of the forerunner. They were born at the same 
 time ; were surrounded from their birth by similar circum- 
 stances ; drank in from their earliest days the same patriotic 
 aspirations, the same sacred traditions, the same glowuig 
 hopes. But the parallel soon stops. John the Baptist is 
 
$ohn attir Jesus* 9 
 
 certainly a grand embodiment of the noblest characteristics 
 of the Jewish people. We see in him a conspicuous example 
 of what could be developed out of eight hundred years of 
 Divine revelation and discipline. But Jesus is the Son of 
 Man : there is a width, a breadth, a universahty about Him 
 which cannot be accounted for save on the hypothesis which 
 John himself declared, that " He who cometh from above 
 is above all." 
 
 In each case, life was strenuous and short — an epoch 
 being inaugurated, in the one case in about six months, in 
 the other some three years. In each case, at first, there was 
 abounding enthusiasm, bursting forth around their persons 
 as they announced the Kingdom of God, like the flowers 
 which carpet their own fair land after the rains ; but side by 
 side the unconcealed hatred of the religious world of their 
 time. In each case, the brief sunny hours of service were 
 soon succeeded by the rolling up of the thunderous clouds, 
 and these by the murderous tempest of deadly hatred, even 
 unto death : " Their dead bodies lay in the street of the 
 great city, which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt." 
 In each case, there was a little handful of detached disciples, 
 who bitterly mourned their master's death, and took up the 
 desecrated corpse to lay it in the tomb ; whilst they that 
 dwelt in the earth rejoiced and made merry, and sent gifts 
 to one another, because they had been tormented by their 
 words (Rev. xi. lo). 
 
 But there the parallel ends. The life purpose of the one 
 culminated in his death ; with the other, it only began. In 
 the case of John, death was a martyrdom, which shines 
 brilliantly amid the murky darkness of his time ; in the case 
 of Jesus, death was a sacrifice which put away the sin of the 
 world. For John there was no immediate resurrection, 
 save that which all good men have of their words and 
 influence ;. but his Master saw no corruption — it was not 
 possible for Him to be holden by it — and in his resurrection 
 
 B 
 
10 %\jt interest of Ijta gto^rapljij. 
 
 He commenced to wield his wide and mighty supremacy 
 over human hearts and wills. When the axe of Herod's 
 executioner had done its deadly work in the dungeons of 
 Machaerus, the bond which knit the disciples of John was 
 severed also, and they were absorbed in the followers of 
 Christ ; but when the Roman soldiers thought their work 
 was done, and the cry " It is finished ! " had escaped the 
 parched lips of the dying Lord, his disciples held together 
 in the upper room, and continued there for more than forty 
 days, until the descent of the Holy Spirit forme d them into 
 the strongest organization that this world has eveF*beheld. 
 
 John's influence on the world has diminished as men 
 have receded further from his age; but Jesus is King of 
 the ages. He creates, He fashions. He leads them forth ; 
 He is with us always, to the end of the age. We have not 
 to go back through the centuries to find Him in the cradle 
 or in Mary's arms, in the fishing-boat or on the mountain, 
 on the cross or in the grave ; He is /lere beside us, with us, 
 in us, "all the days." John, then, was "a burning and 
 shining torch," lifted for a moment aloft in the murky air ; 
 but Jesus was That Light. As the star-light, which fails 
 to illumine the page of your book or the dial-plate of your 
 watch, is to the sunlight, as the courier is to the sovereign, 
 as the streamlet is to the ocean — such was John as com- 
 pared with Him whose shoe-latchet he felt himself unworthy 
 to stoop down and unloose. Greatest born of women he 
 might be ; " sent from God " he was : but One came after 
 him who bore upon his front the designation of his Divine 
 origin and mission, behind whom the gates of the past 
 closed as when a king has passed through, and at whose 
 girdle hang the keys of the doors and gates of the Ages. 
 
 To read the calm idyllic pages of the Gospels, apart from 
 some knowledge of contemporary history, is to miss one of 
 their deepest lessons — that such piety and beneficence were 
 set in the midst of a most tumultuous and perilous age. 
 
Those times were by no means favourable to the cultivation 
 of the deepest life. The flock of God had long left the 
 green pastures and still waters of outward peace, and were 
 passing through the valley of death-shadow, every step of 
 the path being infested by the enemies of their peace. The 
 wolf, indeed, was coming. The national life was already 
 being rent by those throes of agony which betokened the 
 passing away of an age, and reached their climax in the Fall 
 of Jerusalem, of which Jesus said there had been nothing, 
 and would be nothing, like it in the history of the world. 
 
 Herod was on the throne — crafty, cruel, sensual, im- 
 perious, and magnificent. The gorgeous Temple which 
 bore his name was the scene of priestly service and sacra- 
 mental rites. The great national feasts of the Passover, of 
 Tabernacles, and of Pentecost, were celebrated with solemn 
 pomp, and attracted vast crowds from all the world. In 
 every part of the land synagogues were maintained with 
 punctilious care, and crowds of scribes were perpetually 
 engaged in a microscopic study of the law, and in the 
 instruction of the people. In revenue, and popular atten- 
 tion, and apparent devoutness, that period had not been 
 excelled in the most palmy days of Solomon or Hezekiah. 
 But beneath this decorous surface the rankest, foulest, most 
 desperate corruption throve. 
 
 To the aged couple in the hill-country of Judaea, as to 
 Mary and Joseph at Nazareth, must have come tidings of 
 the murder of Aristobulus, of the cruel death of Mariamne 
 and her sons, and of the aged Hyrcanus. They must have 
 groaned beneath the grinding oppression by which Herod 
 extorted from the poorer classes the immense revenues 
 which he squandered on his palaces and fortresses and on the 
 creation of new cities. That he was introducing everywhere 
 Gentile customs and games ; that he had dared to place the 
 Roman eagle on the main entrance of the Temple ; that he 
 had pillaged David's tomb ; that he had set aside the great 
 
12 W\fz Ifntcrcat of Ijta gtograplj^. 
 
 council of their nation, and blinded the saintly Jochanan ; 
 that the religious leaders, men like Caiaphas and Annas, 
 were quite willing to wink at the crimes of the secular 
 power, so long as their prestige and emoluments were 
 secured ; that the national independence for which Judas 
 and his brothers had striven, during the Maccabean wars, 
 was fast being laid at the feet of Rome, which was only too 
 willing to take advantage of the chaos which followed im- 
 mediately upon Herod's hideous death — such tidings must 
 have come, in successive shocks of anguish, to those true 
 hearts who were waiting for the redemption of Israel, with 
 all the more eagerness as it seemed so long delayed, so 
 urgently needed. Still, they made their yearly journeys to 
 Jerusalem, and participated in the great convocations, which, 
 in outward splendour, eclipsed memories of the past ; but 
 they realized that the glory had departed, and that the mere 
 husk of externalism could not long resist the incoming tides 
 of militarism, of the love of display, and the corrupting taint 
 of the worst aspects of Roman civilization. When the 
 feasts were over, these pious hearts turned back to their 
 homes among the hills, tearing themselves from the last 
 glimpse of the beautiful city, with the cry, " O Jerusalem, 
 Jerusalem ! " 
 
 The darkest hour precedes the dawn, and it was just at 
 this point that Old Testament predictions must have been 
 so eagerly scanned by those that watched and waited. 
 That the Messiah was nigh, they could not doubt. The 
 term of years foretold by Daniel had nearly expired. The 
 sceptre had departed from Judah, and the lawgiver from 
 between his feet. Even the Gentile world was penetrated 
 with the expectation of a King. Sybils in their ancient 
 writings, hermits in their secret cells. Magi studying the 
 dazzHng glories of the eastern heavens, had come to the 
 conclusion that He was at hand who would bring again the 
 Golden Age. 
 
Anticipations of t\jt ^tibznt 13 
 
 And so those loyal and loving souls that often spake to- 
 gether, while the Lord hearkened and heard, must have 
 felt that as the advent of the Lord whom they sought was 
 nigh, that of his messenger must be nearer still. They 
 started at every footfall. They listened for every voice. 
 They scanned the expression of every face. " Behold, he 
 shall come," rang in their hearts like a peal of silver bells. 
 At any moment might a voice be heard crying, " Cast up, 
 cast up the highway ; gather out the stones ; lift up an 
 ensign for the peoples. Say ye to the daughter of Sion, 
 Behold, thy salvation cometh." Those anticipations were 
 realized in the birth of John the Baptist. 
 
II. 
 
 (Luke i.) 
 
 " There are in this loud stunning tide 
 Of human care and crime, 
 With whom the melodies abide 
 
 Of the everlasting chime ; 
 Who carry music in their heart 
 Through dusky lane and wrangling mart 
 Plying their daily task with busier feet, 
 Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat." 
 
 Keble. 
 
 TO the evangelist Luke we are indebted for details of 
 those antecedent circumstances that ushered John 
 the Baptist into the world. He tells us that he 
 had " traced the course of all things accurately from the 
 first." And in those final words, "from the first," he 
 suggests that he had dehberately sought to examine into 
 those striking events from which, as from a wide-spreading 
 root, the great growth of Christianity had originated. Who 
 of us has not sometimes followed the roots of some newly- 
 discovered plant deep into the black mould, intent on 
 pursuing them to their furthest extremity, and extricating 
 them from the clinging earth without injuring one dehcate 
 radicle ? So this good physician, accustomed by his training 
 to accurate research and experiment, went back to scenes 
 and events anterior to any which his brother Evangelists 
 recorded. He compensated for the authority of an eye- 
 witness by the thoroughness and care of his investigation. 
 
 What were the sources from which the third Evangelist 
 drew his information ? We cannot be sure, but may hazard 
 
(Barl^ ^ialor^ of tlje gaptiat, 15 
 
 a suggestion, which is supported by the archaic simpKcity, 
 the indescribable grace, the almost idyllic beauty of his two 
 opening chapters. Critics have repeatedly drawn attention 
 to their unique character, and insisted that they are due to 
 some other hand than that which has given us the rest of 
 the story of " the Son of Man." And why should we not 
 attribute them to " the Mother " herself? It has been truly 
 said that mothers are the natural historians of their children's 
 early days — never tired of observing them, they never tire 
 of recounting their prodigies ; and, in an especial manner, 
 Mary had kept all things, pondering in her heart those 
 wonderful circumstances which had left so indelible an 
 impression on her life. She who, in her over- welling joy, 
 uttered " the Magnificat," was surely capable, even judging 
 from a Uterary and human standpoint, of the language in 
 which the story is told; and the facts themselves would 
 only stand out the clearer in her closing years, as many 
 another memory faded from her mind. The granite re- 
 mains when the floods have swept away the light soil that 
 filled the interstices of the rocks. 
 
 It were a theme worthy of a great artist to depict ! Mary's 
 face, furrowed by deep lines of anguish, yet glowing with 
 sacred fire and holy memory. Luke, sitting at his manu- 
 script, now letting her tell her story without interruption, 
 and again interpolating an inquiry, the words growing on 
 the page; while, nearer than each to either, making no 
 tremor in the hot summer air as He comes, casting no 
 shadow in the brilliant eastern light — He of whom they 
 speak and write steals in to stand beside them, bringing all 
 things to their remembrance by the Holy Spirit's agency, 
 even as He had told them. 
 
 The story of John the Baptist was so clearly part of that 
 of Jesus, that Mary could hardly recall the one without the 
 other. And, besides, Elisabeth, as the angel said, was her 
 kinswoman — perhaps her cousin — to whom she naturally 
 
1 6 Wht '^ouzz of ^acljariaa. 
 
 turned in the hour of her maidenly astonishment and 
 rapture. Though much younger, Mary was united to her 
 relative by a close and tender tie, and it was only natural 
 that what had happened to Elisabeth should have impressed 
 her almost as deeply as her own memorable experiences. 
 So it is possible that from the lips of the mother of our 
 Lord we obtain these details of the House of Zacharias. 
 
 I. The Quiet in the Land. — God has always had 
 his hidden ones ; and, while the world has been rent by 
 faction and war, ravaged by fire and sword, and drenched 
 with the blood of her sons, these have heard his call to 
 enter their chamber, and shut themselves in until the storm 
 had spent its fury. It was so during the days of Ahab, 
 when the eye of omniscience beheld at least seven thousand 
 who had not bowed the knee to Baal. It was so in the 
 awful days of the Civil War, when Puritan and Royalist 
 faced each other at Naseby and Marston Moor, and the 
 land seemed swept in a blinding storm. Groups of ardent 
 souls gathered to spend their time in worship and acts of 
 mercy — like those at Little Gidding, in Huntingdonshire, 
 under the direction of Mr. Nicholas Ferrar. It was so 
 when the thirty years' war desolated Germany, and '* the 
 quiet in the land " withdrew themselves from the agitated 
 scene of human affairs to wait on God, embalming their 
 hearts in hymns and poems which exhale a perfume as from 
 crushed flowers. 
 
 It was eminently so in the days of which we write. 
 Darkness covered the earth, and gross darkness the peoples. 
 Herod's infamous cruelties, craft, and bloodshed were at 
 their height. The country questioned with fear what new 
 direction his crimes might take. The priesthood was 
 obsequious to his whim ; the bonds of society seemed dis- 
 solved. Theudas and Judas of Galilee, mentioned by 
 Gamaliel, were but specimens of the bandit leaders who 
 
(Hotr'a ^itrtTBtt #nea. 17 
 
 broke into revolt and harried the country districts for the 
 maintenance of their followers. Greed, peculation, and 
 lawless violence, had ample and undisputed opportunity to 
 despoil the national glory and corrupt the heart of the 
 national life. 
 
 Is it to be wondered that the godly remnant would meet 
 in little groups and secluded hiding-places to comfort them- 
 selves in God ? We are told, for instance, that Anna spake 
 of the Babe, whom she had probably embraced in her aged 
 trembling arms, " to all them that were looking for the re- 
 demption of Jerusalem " (Luke ii. 38, r.v.). What would 
 we not give to know something more of the members of 
 this sacred society, which preserved the loftiest traditions, 
 and embodied in their lives some of the finest traits of the 
 religion of their forefathers ! The gloom of their times only 
 led them more eagerly to con the predictions of their 
 Hebrew prophets, and desire their accomplishment. Full 
 often they would climb the heights and look out over the 
 desert wastes to descry the advent of the Mighty One, 
 coming from Edom, with his garments stained with the 
 blood of Israel's foes. When they met, the burden of 
 conversation, which flowed under vine or fig-tree, by the 
 wayside or in humble homes, would be of their cherished 
 hope. And as they beheld the hapless condition of their 
 fatherland, the land of Abraham, the city of David, the cry 
 must often have been extorted : " How long, O Lord, holy 
 and true, will it be ere He shall come whose right it is, who 
 shall sit on the throne of his father David, and of whose 
 kingdom there shall be no end ? Come forth out of thy 
 royal chambers, O Prince of all the kings of the earth ! 
 Put on the visible robes of thy imperial majesty ; take up 
 that unlimited sceptre which thy Almighty Father hath 
 bequeathed Thee ; for now the voice of thy bride calls 
 Thee, and all creatures sigh to be renewed." So our great 
 Milton prayed in more recent days, 
 c 
 
1 8 ®Ije '^onu of ZacHvmi. 
 
 We are not drawing on our imagination in describing 
 these true-hearted watchers for the rising of the Day-star. 
 They are fully indicated in the Gospel story. There was 
 Simeon, righteous and devout, unto whom it had been 
 revealed by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death 
 before he had seen the Lord's Christ ; and Anna, the 
 prophetess, who departed not from the temple, worshipping 
 with fastings and supplications night and day; and the 
 guileless Nathanael, an Israelite indeed, who had perhaps 
 already commenced to sit at the foot of the ladder which 
 bound his fig-tree to the highest heaven ; and the peasant 
 maiden Mary, the descendant of a noble house, though 
 with fallen fortunes, who, hke some vestal virgin, clad in 
 snowy white, watched through the dark hours beside the 
 flickering flame ; and last, but not least, Zacharias and his 
 wife Elisabeth, "who were both righteous before God, 
 walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the 
 Lord blameless." 
 
 For us, too, the times are dark. It is as though the 
 shadows were being thrown far across the fields, and the 
 light were becoming dim. Let the children of God draw 
 together, to encourage each other in their holy faith, and 
 to speak of their great hopes ; for He who appeared once 
 to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself shall appear a 
 second time without sin unto salvation. We are, as the 
 French version puts it, burgesses of the skies^ " whence we 
 wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall fashion 
 anew the body of our humiliation, that it may be conformed 
 to the body of his glory, according to the working whereby 
 He is able even to subject all things unto Himself." 
 
 But this attitude of spirit, which dwells in the unseen and 
 eternal, which counts on the indwelling of the Son of God 
 by faith, and which ponders deeply over the sins and 
 sorrows of the world around, is the temper of mind out 
 of which the greatest deeds are wrought for the cause of 
 
€ht Wiil Cotttttrj of ItttrjKa. 19 
 
 God on the earth. The Marys who sit at Christ's feet arise 
 to anoint Him for his burying. Take, for instance, the 
 Moravian Church, born and radled amid the pietism of 
 which Spener of Berhn and Franke of Halle were the 
 acknowledged leaders ; and it has given to the world a far 
 larger number of missionaries in proportion to its member- 
 ship than any church of the age. Or take the followers of 
 George Fox, who have maintained through unparalleled 
 suffering their testimony for spirituality of worship ; and 
 it is undeniable that some of the greatest reforms which 
 have characterised the century recently closed have found 
 their foremost advocates and apologists from their some- 
 what meagre ranks. Those who wait on God renew their 
 strength. The world ignores them, scorning to reckon 
 their tears and toils amid its renovating energies ; but 
 they refuse to abate their endeavours and sacrifices on 
 its behalf. They repay its neglect by more assiduous 
 exertions, its ingratitude by more exhausting sacrifices; 
 content if, from out their ranks, there presently steps 
 one who, like John the Baptist, opens a new chapter in 
 the history of the race, and accelerates the advent of 
 the Christ. 
 
 II. The Parentage of the Forerunner. — As the 
 traveller emerges from the dreary wilderness that lies 
 between Sinai and the southern frontier of Palestine— a 
 scorching desert, in which Elijah was glad to find shelter 
 from the sword-like rays in the shade of the retem shrub — 
 he sees before him a long line of hills, which is the begin- 
 ning of " the hill country of Judsea " (Luke i. 39). In 
 contrast with the sand wastes which he has traversed, the 
 valleys seem to laugh and sing. Greener and yet greener 
 grow the pasture lands, till he can understand how Nabal 
 and other sheep-masters were able to find maintenance for 
 vast flocks of sheep. Here and there are the crumbled 
 
20 Clje Wotiae of ^aclrariaa* 
 
 ruins which mark the site of ancient towns and villages 
 tenanted now by the jackal or the wandering Arab. 
 Amongst these, a modern traveller has identified the site of 
 Juttah, the village home of the priest Zacharias and his wife 
 Elisabeth. 
 
 To judge by their names, we may infer that their parents 
 years before had been godly people. Zacharias meant 
 God's remembrance ; as though he were to be a perpetual 
 reminder to his fellows of what God had promised, and to 
 God of what they were expecting from his hand. Elisabeth 
 meant God's oath ; as though her people were perpetually 
 appealing to those covenant promises in which, since He 
 could swear by no greater, God had sworn by Himself, that 
 He would never leave nor forsake, and that when the 
 sceptre departed from Judah and the law -giver from 
 between his feet, Shiloh should come. 
 
 Zacharias was a priest, " of the course of x\bijah," and 
 twice a year he journeyed to Jerusalem to fulfil his office, 
 for a week of six days and two Sabbaths. There were, 
 Josephus tells us, somewhat more than 20,000 priests 
 settled in Judaea at this time ; and very many of them were 
 like those whom Malachi denounced as degrading and 
 depreciating the Temple services. The general character 
 of the priesthood was deeply tainted by the corruption of 
 the times, and as a class they were bhnd leaders of the 
 blind. Not a few, however, were evidently deeply religious 
 men, for we find that "a great number of the priests," after 
 the crucifixion, believed on Christ and joined his followers. 
 In this class we must therefore place Zacharias, who, with 
 his wife, herself of the daughters of Aaron, is described as 
 being "righteous before God." 
 
 The phrases are evidently selected with care. Many are 
 righteous be/ore men ; but they were righteous be/ore God. 
 Their daily life and walk were regulated by a careful 
 observance of the ordinances of the ceremonial and the 
 
^ CIrUt»lc«a Home, 2t 
 
 commandments of the moral law. It is evident, from the 
 apt and plentiful quotations from Scripture with which the 
 song of Zacharias is replete, that the Scriptures were deeply 
 pondered and reverenced in that highland home; and we 
 have the angel's testimony to the prayers that ascended day 
 and night. In all these things they were blameless — not 
 faultless, as judged by God's infinite standard of rectitude, 
 but blameless — because they lived up to the fullest limit of 
 their knowledge of the will of God. They were blameless 
 and harmless, the children of God, without blemish, in the 
 midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom 
 they were seen as lights in the world, holding forth amid 
 neighbours and friends the Word of Truth. 
 
 But they lived under the shadow of a great sorrow. "They 
 had no child, because Elisabeth was barren, and they both 
 were now well stricken in years." When the good priest 
 put off his official dress of white linen, and returned to his 
 mountain home, there was no childish voice to welcome him. 
 It seemed almost certain that their family would soon die 
 out and be forgotten ; that no child would close their eyes 
 in death ; and that by no link whatsoever could they be 
 connected with the Messiah, to be the progenitor of whom 
 was the cherished longing of each Hebrew parent. 
 
 " They had no child ! " They would, therefore, count 
 themselves under the frown of God; and the mother 
 especially felt that a reproach lay on her. What a clue to 
 the anguish of the soul is furnished by her own reflection, 
 when she recognised the glad divine interposition on her 
 behalf, and cried, " Thus hath the Lord done unto me in 
 the days wherein He looked upon me, to take away my 
 reproach among men " (Luke i. 25). 
 
 But had it not been for this sorrow they might never 
 have been qualified to receive the first tidings of the near 
 approach of the Messiah. Sorroiv opens our eyes, and bids 
 us see visions within the vail, which cannot be described by 
 
22 Clje %oxizt 0f ^arlradaa. 
 
 those who have not wept. Sorrow leads us up the steep 
 mountain of vision, and opens the panorama which Hes 
 beyond the view of those who dare not attempt the craggy 
 steep. Sorrow prepares us to see angels standing beside 
 the altar of incense at the hour of prayer, and to hear words 
 that mortal lips may not utter until they are fulfilled. 
 Sorroiv leads us to open our house to those who carry a 
 great anguish in their hearts, who come to us needing 
 shelter and comfort; to discover finally that we have enter- 
 tained an angel unawares, and that in some trembling 
 maiden, threatened by divorce from her espoused, we have 
 welcomed the mother of the Lord (ver. 43). Shrink not from 
 sorrow. It endures but for the brief eastern night; joy 
 Cometh in the morning, to remain. It may be caused by 
 long waiting and apparently fruitless prayer. Beneath its 
 pressure heart and flesh may faint. All natural hope may 
 have become dead, and the soul be plunged in hopeless 
 despair. " Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness 
 in the morning ; " and it will be seen that the dull autumn 
 sowings of tears and loneliness and pain were the necessary 
 preliminary for that heavenly messenger who, standing " on 
 the right side of the altar of incense," shall assure us that 
 our prayer is heard. 
 
 III. The Angel's Announcement. — One memorable 
 autumn, when the land was full of the grape-harvest, Zacharias 
 left his home, in the cradle of the hills, some three thou- 
 sand feet above the Mediterranean, for his priestly service. 
 Reaching the temple he would lodge in the cloisters, and 
 spend his days in the innermost court, which none might 
 enter save priests in their sacred garments. Among the 
 various priestly duties, none was held in such high esteem 
 as the offering of incense, which was presented morning and 
 evening, on a special golden altar, in the Holy Place at the 
 time of prayer. " The whole multitude of the people were 
 
tUtre IForenitttter ^nttnuni:^^. 23 
 
 praying without at the time of incense." So honourable 
 was this office that it was fixed by lot, and none was allowed 
 to perform it twice. Only once in a priest's life was he 
 permitted to sprinkle the incense on the burning coals, 
 which an assistant had already brought from the altar of 
 burnt-sacrifice, and spread on the altar of incense before 
 the vail. 
 
 The silver trumpets had sounded. The smoke of the 
 evening sacrifice was ascending. The worshippers that 
 thronged the different courts, rising tier on tier, were 
 engaged in silent prayer. The assistant priest had retired; 
 and Zacharias, for the first and only time in his life, stood 
 alone in the holy shrine, while the incense which he had 
 strewn on the glowing embers arose in fragrant clouds, 
 enveloping and veiling the objects around, whilst it sym- 
 bolized the ascent of prayers and intercessions not only from 
 his own heart, but from the hearts of his people, into the 
 presence of God. " And their prayer came up to his holy 
 habitation, even unto heaven." 
 
 What a litany of prayer poured from his heart ! For 
 Israel, that the chosen people should be delivered from 
 their low estate ; for the cause of religion, that it might be 
 revived ; for the crowds without, that God would hear the 
 prayers they were offering toward his holy sanctuary ; and, 
 perhaps, for Elisabeth and himself, that, if possible, God 
 would hear their prayer, and, if not, that He would grant 
 them to bear patiently their heavy sorrow. 
 
 "And there appeared unto him an angel of the Lord 
 standing on the right side of the altar of incense." Mark 
 how circumstantial the narrative is. There could be no 
 mistake. He stood — and he stood on the right side. It 
 was Gabriel who stands in the presence of God, who had 
 been sent to speak to him, and declare the good tidings that 
 his prayer was heard ; that his wife should bear a son, who 
 should be called John; that the child should be welcomed 
 
24 f^IjB H^nse of Zazhaxtaz, 
 
 with joy, should be a Nazarite from his birth, should be 
 filled with the Holy Spirit from his birth, should inherit 
 the spirit and power of Elias, and should go before the face 
 of Christ to prepare his way, by turning the hearts of the 
 fathers to the children, and the disobedient to walk in the 
 wisdom of the just. 
 
 He tarried long in the temple, and what wonder ! The 
 people would have ceased to marvel at the long suspense, 
 could they have known the cause of the delay. Presently 
 he came out ; but when he essayed to pronounce the cus- 
 tomary blessing his lips were dumb. He made signs as he 
 reached forth his hands in the attitude of benediction ; but 
 that day no blessing fell on their upturned faces. He 
 continued making signs unto them and remained dumb. 
 Dumb, because he questioned the likelihood of so good and 
 gracious an answer. Dumb, because he believed not the 
 archangel's words. Dumb, that he might learn in silence 
 and sohtude the full purposes of God, to set them presently 
 to song. Dumb, that the tidings might not spread as yet. 
 Dumb, as the representative of that wonderful system, which 
 for so long had spoken to mankind with comparatively little 
 result, but was now to be superseded by the Word of God. 
 
 With the light of that glory on his face, and those sweet 
 notes of "Fear not" ringing in his heart, Zacharias con- 
 tinued to fulfil the duties of his ministration, and, when his 
 work was fulfilled, departed unto his house. But that day 
 was long remembered by the people, prelude as it was to 
 the time when their blessings would no longer come from 
 Ebal or Gerizim, but from Calvary; and when the great 
 High Priest would utter from heaven the ancient words : 
 
 The Lord bless thee and keep thee. 
 
 The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. 
 
 The Lord Uft up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. 
 
rii. 
 Bis ^rlj00la anb ^clj00lntastes. 
 
 (Luke i.) 
 
 "Oh to have watched thee through the vineyards wander, 
 Pluck the ripe ears, and into evening roam ! — 
 Followed, and known that in the twilight yonder 
 Legions of angels shone about thy home ! " 
 
 F. W. H. Myers. 
 
 ZACHARIAS and Elisabeth had probably almost 
 ceased to pray for a child, or to urge the matter. 
 It seemed useless to pray further. There had been 
 no heaven-sent sign to assure them that there was any 
 Hkelihood of their prayer being answered, and nature 
 seemed to utter a final No ; when suddenly the angel of 
 God broke into the commonplace of their life, like a 
 meteorite into the unrippled water of a mountain-sheltered 
 lake, bringing the assurance that there was no need for fear, 
 and the announcement that their prayer was heard. It 
 must have been like hearing news that a ship, long overdue 
 and almost despaired of, has suddenly made harbour. 
 
 It is not impossible that prayers that we have ceased to 
 pray, and are in despair about, will yet return to us with the 
 words. Thy supplication is heard, endorsed on them in our 
 Father's handwriting. Not infrequently dividends are paid 
 on investments which we have given up as valueless. Fruit 
 that mellows longest in the sun is ripest. Such things may 
 transcend altogether our philosophy of prayer ; but we are 
 prepared for this, since God is accustomed to do exceeding 
 abundantly above all that we ask or think. 
 
 On his arrival in his home, the aged priest, by means of 
 the writing-table afterwards referred to, informed his wife, 
 who apparently had not accompanied him, of all that had 
 happened, even to the name which the child was to bear. 
 
 D 
 
26 ^ia §^c)joah atttr ^rlroolmaatera. 
 
 She, at least, seems to have found no difficulty in accepting 
 the divine assurance, and during her five months of seclu- 
 sion she nursed great and mighty thoughts in her heart, in 
 the belief and prayer that her child would become all that 
 his name is supposed to signify, ^Ae gift of Jehovah. It was 
 Elisabeth also who recognised in Mary the mother of her 
 Lord, greeted her as blessed among women, and assured 
 her that there would be for her a fulfilment of the things 
 which had been promised her. 
 
 Month succeeded month; but Zacharias neither heard nor 
 spoke. His friends had to make signs to him, for unbelief 
 has the effect of shutting man out of the enjoyment of life, 
 and hindering his usefulness. How different this time of 
 waiting from the blessedness it brought to his wife's young 
 relative, who believed the heavenly messenger. He was 
 evidently a good man, and well versed in the history of his 
 people. His soul, as we learn from his song, was full of 
 noble pride in the great and glorious past. He could 
 believe that when Abraham and Sarah were past age, a 
 child was born to them^ who filled their tent with his merry 
 prattle and laughter ; but he could not believe that such a 
 blessing could fall to his lot. And is not that the point 
 where our faith staggers still ? We can believe in the 
 wonder-working power of God on the distant horizon of the 
 past, or on the equally distant horizon of the future ; but 
 that He should have a definite and particular care for our 
 life, that our prayers should touch Him, that He should 
 give us the desire of our heart — this staggers us, and we feel 
 it is too good to be true. 
 
 During the whole period that the stricken but expectant 
 priest spent in his living tomb, shut off from communication 
 with the outer world, his spirit was becoming charged with 
 holy emotion, that waited for the first opportunity of expres- 
 sion. Such an opportunity came at length. His lowly 
 dwelling was one day crowded with an eager and enthusiastic 
 
Home-I^iffi. 27 
 
 throng of relatives and friends. They had gathered to 
 congratulate the aged pair, to perform the initial rite of 
 Judaism, and to name the infant boy that lay in his mother's 
 arms. Ah, what joy was hers when they came to " magnify 
 the Lord's mercy towards her, and to rejoice with her " ! 
 As the people passed in and out, there was a new glow in 
 the brilliant eastern sunlight, a new glory on the familiar 
 hills. 
 
 In their perplexity at the mother's insistence that the 
 babe's name should be John — none of his kindred being 
 known by that name — they appealed to his father, who with 
 trembling hand inscribed on the wax of the writing tablet 
 the verdict, "His name is John." So soon as he had 
 broken the iron fetter of unbelief in thus acknowledging the 
 fulfilment of the angel's words, "his mouth was opened 
 immediately, and his tongue loosed, and he spake, blessing 
 God. And fear came on all that dwelt round about them." 
 All these sayings quickly became the staple theme of 
 conversation throughout all the hill-country of Judaea ; and 
 wherever they came, they excited the profoundest expecta- 
 tion. People laid them up in their hearts, saying, " What, 
 then, shall this child be ? " 
 
 " And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit." " And 
 the hand of the Lord was with him." 
 
 There were several remarkable formative influences 
 operating on this young life. 
 
 I. The School of Home. — His father was a priest, 
 John's earliest memories would register the frequent absence 
 of his father in the fulfilment of his course ; and, on his 
 return, with what eagerness would the boy drink in a recital 
 of all that had transpired in the Holy City ! We can 
 imagine how the three would sit together beneath their 
 trellised vine, in the soft light of the fading sunset, and talk 
 of Zion, their chief joy. No wonder that in after days, as 
 
28 ^ta ^rlr00ls atttr ^rlroolmaatera. 
 
 he looked on Jesus as He walked, he pointed to Him and 
 said, " Behold the Lamb of God " ; for, from the ear- 
 liest, his young mind had been saturated with thoughts of 
 sacrifice. 
 
 When old enough his parents would take him with them 
 to one of the great festivals, where, amid the thronging 
 crowds, his boyish eyes opened for the first time upon the 
 stately Temple, the order and vestments of the priests, the 
 solemn pomp of the Levitical ceremonial. The young 
 heart dilated and expanded with wonder and pride; but 
 how little he realized that his ministry would be the first 
 step to its entire subversal. 
 
 He would be also taught carefully in the Holy Scriptures. 
 Like the young Timothy, he would know them from early 
 childhood. The song of Zacharias reveals a vivid and 
 realistic familiarity with the prophecies and phraseology 
 of the Scriptures ; and as the happy parents recited them 
 to his infant mind, they would stay to emphasize them with 
 impressive personal references. What would we not have 
 given to hear Zacharias quote Isaiah xl. or Malachi iii., and 
 turn to the lad at his knee, saying — " These words refer to 
 thee":— 
 
 " Yea, and thou, child, shalt be called the Prophet of the 
 Most High ; for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord 
 to prepare his ways." 
 
 Would not the aged priest speak to his son in thoughts 
 and words like those with which his song is so replete \ 
 might he not speak to him in some such way as this : " My 
 boy, God has fulfilled his holy covenant, the oath which 
 He sware unto Abraham, our father ; because of the 
 tender mercy of our God, the Dayspring from on high 
 has visited us, to shine upon them that sit in darkness, 
 and to guide our feet into the way of peace." Then he 
 would proceed to tell him the marvellous story of his Kins- 
 man's birth in Bethlehem, and of his growing grace in 
 
IPrcparittg for Ijis Sxfe-WtorL 29 
 
 Nazareth. " Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel," 
 the old man said ; " for He hath visited and redeemed 
 his people, and hath raised up a horn of salvation for 
 us in the house of his servant David, as He spake by 
 the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since 
 the world began." Next the father would tell as much 
 of the story of Herod's crimes, and of his oppressive rule, 
 as the lad could understand; and explain how there would 
 soon be " salvation from their enemies, and from the hand 
 of all that hated them." And his young soul would be 
 thrilled by the hopes which were bursting in the bud, and 
 so near breaking into flower. 
 
 Sometimes when they were abroad together in the early 
 dawn, and saw the first peep of day, the father would say : 
 " John, do you see that light breaking over the hills ? What 
 that day-spring is to the world, Jesus, thy cousin at Nazareth, 
 will be to the darkness of sin." Then, turning to the morn- 
 ing star, shining in the path of the dawn, and paling as they 
 gazed, he would say : " See thy destiny, my son : I am an 
 old man, and shall not live to see thee in thy meridian 
 strength ; but thou shalt shine for only a brief space, and 
 then decrease, whilst He shall increase from the faint flush 
 of day-spring to the perfect day." And might not the child 
 reply, with a flash of intelligent appreciation ? — " Yes, father, 
 I understand; but I shall be satisfied if only I have prepared 
 the way of the Lord." 
 
 T/iere were also the associations of the surrounding 
 country. The story of Abraham would often be recited in 
 the proximity of Machpelah's sacred cave. The career of 
 David could not be unfamiliar to a youth who was within 
 easy reach of the haunts of the shepherd-psalmist. And the 
 story of the Maccabees would stir his soul, as his parents 
 recounted the exploits of Judas and his brethren, in which 
 the ancient Hebrew faith and prowess had revived in one 
 last glorious outburst. 
 
30 %i& ^thooU atttr Mthoolmtmltxs, 
 
 How ineffaceable are the impressions of the Home ! What 
 the father is when he comes back at night from his toils, 
 and what the mother is all day ; what may be the staple of 
 conversation in the home : whether the father is willing to 
 be the companion of his child, answering his questions, and 
 superintending the gradual unfolding of his mind ; how often 
 the Bible is opened and explained ; how the weekly rest-day 
 is spent ; the attitude of the home towards strong drink in 
 every shape and form, and all else that might injure the 
 young life, as gas does plants — all these are vital to the 
 right nurture and direction of boys and girls who can only 
 wax strong in spirit when all early influences combine in the 
 same direction. 
 
 II. There was the School of his Nazarite-Vow. — 
 The angel, who announced his birth, foretold that he should 
 drink neither wine nor strong drink from his birth, but that 
 he should be filled with the Holy Spirit. " John," said our 
 Lord, "came neither eating nor drinking." This abstinence 
 from all stimulants was a distinct sign of the Nazarite, 
 together with the unshorn locks, and the care with which 
 he abstained from contact with death. In some cases, the 
 vow of the Nazarite might be taken for a time, or, as in the 
 case of Samson, Samuel, and John, it might be for life. 
 But, whether for shorter or longer, the Nazarite held himself 
 as peculiarly given up to the service of God, pliant to the 
 least indication of his will, quick to catch the smallest 
 whisper of his voice, and mighty in his strength. 
 
 " Mother, why do I wear my hair so long ? You never 
 cut it, as the mothers of other boys do." 
 
 " No, my son," was the proud and glad reply; "you must 
 never cut it as long as you live : you are a Nazaj-ite.^'' 
 
 " Mother, why may I not taste the grapes ? The 
 boys say they are so nice and sweet. May I not, next 
 vintage ? " 
 
®Ire ^oia of ^cparaftott, 31 
 
 " No, never," his mother would reply ; " you must never 
 touch the fruit of the vine : you are a Nazarite." 
 
 If, as they walked along the public way, they saw a bone 
 left by some hungry dog, or a little bird fallen to the earth 
 to die, and the boy would approach to touch either, the 
 mother would call him back to her side, saying, " Thou 
 must never touch a dead thing. If thy father were to die, 
 or I, beside thee, thou must not move us from the spot, 
 but call for help. Remember always that thou art separated 
 unto God ; his vows are upon thee, and thou must let 
 nothing, either in symbol or reality, steal away his power 
 from thy young heart and life." 
 
 The effect of this would be excellent. It would give a 
 direction and purpose to the lad's thoughts and anticipations. 
 He realized that he was set apart for a great mission in hfe. 
 The brook heard the call of the sea. Besides which, he 
 would acquire self-restraint, self-mastery. 
 
 What is it to be "strong in spirit"? The man who 
 carries everything before him with the impetuous rush of 
 his nature, before whose outbursts men tremble, and who 
 insists in all things on asserting his wild, masterful will — 
 is he the strong man ? Nay ! most evidently he must be 
 classed among the weaklings. The strength of a man is in 
 proportion to the feelings which he curbs and subdues, and 
 not which subdue him. The man who receives a flagrant 
 insult, and answers quietly ; the man who bears a hopeless 
 daily trial, and remains silent ; the man who with strong 
 passions remains chaste, or with a quick sense of in- 
 justice can refrain himself and remain calm — these are 
 strong men; and John waxed strong, because, from the 
 earliest dawn of thought, he was taught the necessity of 
 refusing things which in themselves might have been per- 
 missible, but for him were impossible. 
 
 On each of us rests the vow of separation by right of our 
 union with the Son of God, who was holy, harmless, 
 
32 S:a .^rlrottla anh ^cljoolmazlzxs. 
 
 undefiled, and separate from sinners. Remember how He 
 went without the camp, bearing our reproach ; how they 
 cast Him forth to the death of the cross ; and how He 
 awaits us on the Easter side of death— and surely we can 
 find no pleasure in the world where He found no place. 
 His death has made a lasting break between his followers 
 and the rest of men. They are crucified to the world, and 
 the world to them. Let us not taste of the intoxicating joys 
 in which the children of the present age indulge ; let us 
 allow no Delilah passion to pass her scissors over our locks ; 
 and let us be very careful not to receive contamination ; to 
 have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, 
 but to come out and be separate, not touching the unclean 
 thing. 
 
 But while we put away all that injures our own life or the 
 lives of others, let us be very careful to discriminate, to draw 
 the line where God would have it drawn, exaggerating and 
 extenuating nothing. It is important to remember that 
 while the motto of the old covenant was Exclusion, even of 
 innocent and natural things, that of the new is Inclusion. 
 Moses, under the old, forbade the Jews having horses ; but 
 Zechariah said that in the new they might own horses, only 
 *' Holiness to the Lord " must be engraven on the bells of 
 their harness. Christ has come to sanctify all life. Whether 
 we eat, or drink, or whatever we do, we are to do all to his 
 glory. Disciples are not to be taken out of the world, but 
 kept from its evil. " Every creature of God is good, and 
 nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving ; 
 for it is sanctified by the Word of God, and prayer." Natural 
 instincts are not to be crushed, but transfigured. 
 
 This is the great contrast between the Baptist and the 
 Son of Man. The Nazarite would have felt it a sin against 
 the law of his vocation and office to tou^h anything pertain- 
 ing to the vine. Christ began his signs by changing water 
 mto wine, though of an innocuous kind, for the peasants' 
 
^ Cljiltr of t|j£ ^tuxt 33 
 
 wedding at Cana of Galilee. John would have lost all 
 sanctity had he touched the bodies of the dead, or the 
 flesh of a leper. Christ would touch a bier, pass his hands 
 over the seared flesh of the leper, and stand sympathetically 
 beside the grave of his friend. Thus we catch a glimpse of 
 our Lord's meaning when He affirms that, though John was 
 the greatest of women born, yet the least in the Kingdom of 
 heaven is greater than he. 
 
 III. There was the School of the Desert. — "The 
 child was in the deserts till the day of his showing unto 
 Israel." Probably Zacharias, and Elisabeth also, died 
 when John was quite young. But the boy had grown into 
 adolescence, was able to care for himself, and " the hand of 
 the Lord was with him." 
 
 Beneath the guidance and impulse of that hand he tore 
 himself from the Httle home where he had first seen the 
 tender light of day, and spent happy years, to go forth from 
 the ordinary haunts of men, perhaps hardly knowing 
 whither. There was a wild restlessness in his soul. A 
 young man, pleading the other day with his father to be 
 allowed to emigrate to the West, urged that whereas there 
 are mches here there are acres there ; and something of this 
 kind may have been in the heart of John. He desired to 
 free himself from the conventionalities and restraints of the 
 society amid which he had been brought up, that he might 
 develop after his own fashion, with no laws but those he 
 received from heaven. 
 
 Fatherless, motherless, brotherless, sisterless — a lone man, 
 he passed forth into the great and terrible wilderness of 
 Judaea, which is so desolate that the Jews called it the 
 abomination of desolation. Travellers who have passed 
 over and through it say that it is destitute of all animal 
 life, save a chance vulture or fox. For the most part, it is 
 a waste of sand,, swept by wild winds. When Jesus was 
 
 E 
 
34 Sis ^i:lT0ob atttr ^rljooltnaaters. 
 
 there some two or three years after, He found nothing to 
 eat ; the stones around mocked his hunger ; and there was 
 no company save that of the wild beasts. 
 
 In this great and terrible wilderness, John supported 
 himself by eating locusts — the literal insect, which is still 
 greatly esteemed by the natives — and wild honey, which 
 abounded in the crevices of the rocks ; while for clothing 
 he was content with a coat of coarse camel's hair, such as 
 the Arab women make still ; and a girdle of skin about his 
 loins. A cave, like that in which David and his men often 
 found refuge, sufficed him for a home, and the water of the 
 streams that hurried to the Dead Sea, for his beverage. 
 
 Can we wonder that under such a regimen he grew 
 strong ? We become weak by continual contact with our 
 fellows. We sink to their level ; we accommodate ourselves 
 to their fashions and whims ; we limit the natural develop- 
 ments of character on God's plan ; we take on the colour 
 of the bottom on which we He. But in loneliness and 
 solitude, wherein we meet God, we become strong. God's 
 strong men are rarely clothed in soft raiment, or found in 
 kings' courts. Obadiah, who stood in awe of Ahab, was a 
 very different man from Elijah, who was of the inhabitants 
 of Gilead, and stood before the Lord. 
 
 Yes, and there is a source of strength beside. He who is 
 filled and taught, as John was, by the Spirit, is strengthened 
 by might in the inner man. All things are possible to him 
 that believes. Simon Bar-Jona becomes Peter when he 
 touches the Christ. The youths faint and are weary, and 
 the young men utterly fall ; but they that wait on the Lord 
 renew their strength : they who know God are strong and 
 do exploits. 
 
IV. 
 
 (Luke i.) 
 
 " Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids, 
 The nearest heaven on earth, 
 Who talk with God in shadowy glades, 
 Free from rude care and mirth ; 
 To whom some viewless Teacher brings 
 The secret love of rural things, 
 The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale, 
 The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight vale." 
 
 Keble, 
 
 " 'nr^HOU, child, shalt be called the Prophet of the 
 I Most High" — thus Zacharias addressed his 
 infant son, as he lay in the midst of that group 
 of wondering neighbours and friends. What a thrill of 
 ecstasy quivered in the words ! A long period, computed 
 at four hundred years, had passed since the last great Hebrew 
 prophet had uttered the words of the Highest. Reaching 
 back from him to the days of Moses had been a long 
 line of prophets, who had passed down the lighted torch 
 from hand to hand. And the fourteen generations, during 
 which the prophetic office had been discontinued, had gone 
 wearily. But now hope revived, as the angel-voice pro- 
 claimed the advent of a prophet. Our Lord corroborated 
 his words when, in after days. He said that John had been 
 a prophet, and something more. " But what went ye out 
 to see?" He asked. "A prophet? Yea, I say unto you, 
 and much more than a prophet." 
 
 The Hebrew word that stands iox prophet is said to be 
 derived from a root signifying " to boil or bubble over," 
 and suggests a fountain bursting from the heart of the 
 
36 Wht $r0{rbel of tJre W^sht&U 
 
 man into which God had poured it. It is a mistake to 
 confine the word to the prediction of coming events ; for 
 so employed it would hardly be applicable to men like 
 Moses, Samuel, and Elijah, in the Old Testament, or 
 John the Baptist and the apostle Paul, in the New, who 
 were certainly prophets in the deepest significance of that 
 term. Prophecy means the forth-telling of the Divine 
 message. The prophet is borne along by the stream of 
 Divine indwelling and inflowing, whether he utters the 
 truth for the moment or anticipates the future. "God 
 spake in the prophets" (Hebrews i. i, R.v.). And when 
 they were conscious of his mighty moving and stirring 
 within, woe to them if they did not utter it in burning 
 words, fresh minted from the heart. 
 
 With Malachi, the succession that had continued unbroken 
 from the very foundation of the Jewish commonwealth had 
 terminated. Pious Israelites might have found befitting 
 expression for that lament in the words, "We see not our 
 signs : there is no more any prophet " (Psa. Ixxiv. 9). 
 
 But as the voice of Old Testament prophecy ceased, 
 with its last breath it foretold that it would be followed, in 
 the after time, by a new and glorious revival of the noblest 
 traditions of the prophetic office. " Behold," so God spake 
 by Malachi, " I will send you Elijah the prophet before the 
 great and terrible day of the Lord come. And he shall 
 turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart 
 of the children to their fathers ; lest I come and smite the 
 earth with a curse " (Mai. iv. 5, 6). 
 
 I. The Formative Influences by which the Baptist's 
 Prophetic Nature was Moulded. — Amongst these we 
 must place in the foremost rank fke Prophecies^ which had 
 given a forecast of his career. From his childhood and 
 upwards they had been reiterated in his ear by his parents, 
 who would never weary of reciting them. 
 
JFormattfae HnHntnttsi^ 37 
 
 How often he would ponder the reference to himself in 
 the great Messianic prediction — "Comfort ye, comfort ye 
 my people, saith your God. . . . The voice of one that 
 crieth, Prepare ye the way of the Lord ; make straight in 
 the desert a highway for our God. . . ." There was no 
 doubt as to the relevance of those words to himself (Luke i. 
 76 ; Matt. iii. 3). And it must have unconsciously wrought 
 mightily in the influence it wielded over his character and 
 ministry. 
 
 There was, also, that striking anticipation by Malachi 
 which we have already quoted, and which directly suggested 
 Elijah as his model. Had not Gabriel himself alluded to 
 it, when he foretold that the predicted child would go before 
 the Messiah, in the spirit and power of Elijah (Luke i. 17)? 
 And again his statement was confirmed by our Lord in after 
 days (Matt. xi. 14). 
 
 Thus the great figure of Elijah was ever before the mind 
 of the growing youth, as his model and inspiration. He 
 found himself perpetually asking, How did Elijah act, and 
 what would he do here and now? And there is little 
 doubt that his choice of the lonely wilderness, of the 
 rough mantle of camel's hair, of the abrupt and arousing 
 form of address, was suggested by that village of Thisbe 
 in the land of Gilead, and those personal characteristics 
 which were so familiar in the Prophet of Fire. 
 
 But the mind of the Forerunner must also have been 
 greatly exercised by ^/le laiulessness atid crtf?ie which involved 
 all classes of his countrymen in a common condemnation. 
 The death of Herod, occurring when John was yet a child, 
 dependent on the care of the good EHsabeth, had led to 
 disturbances which afforded an excuse for the Roman 
 occupation of Jerusalem. The sceptre had departed from 
 Judah, and the lawgiver from between his feet. The high 
 priesthood was a mere forfeit in the deals of Idumaean 
 tetrarchs and Roman governors. The publicans were 
 
3S f^e ^xoiphtt oi tire lt0tot, 
 
 notorious for their exactions, their covetousness, their 
 cheating and oppression of the people. Soldiers filled the 
 country with violence, extortion, and discontent. The priests 
 were hirelings ; the Pharisees were hypocrites ; the ruling 
 classes had set aside their primitive simplicity and purity, 
 and were given up to the voluptuousness and licence of the 
 Empire. " Brood of vipers " was apparently not too stro g a 
 phrase to use of the foremost religious leaders of the day — 
 at least, when used, its relevance passed without challenge. 
 
 Tidings of the evil that was overflowing the land like a 
 deluge of ink were constantly coming to the ears of this 
 eager soul, filling it with horror and dismay ; and to this 
 must be traced much of the austerity which arrested the 
 attention of his contemporaries. The idea which lies 
 beneath the fasting and privation of so many of God's 
 servants, has been that of an overwhelming sorrow, which 
 has taken away all taste for the pleasures and comforts of 
 life. And this was the thought by which John was pene- 
 trated. On the one hand, there was his deep and agonizing 
 conviction of the sin of Israel ; and on the other, the belief 
 that the Messiah must be nigh, even at the doors. Thus 
 the pressure of the burden increased on him till he was 
 forced to give utterance to the cry it extorted from his soul : 
 " Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." 
 
 But in addition to these we must add ^/le vision of God^ 
 which must have been specially vouchsafed to him whilst 
 he sojourned in those lonely wilds. He spoke once of Him 
 " who sent him to baptize." Evidently he had become 
 accustomed to detect his presence and hear his voice. 
 Those still small accents which had fallen on the ear of his 
 great prototype had thrilled his soul. He, too, had seen 
 the Lord high and lifted up, had heard the chant of the 
 seraphim, and had felt the live coal touch his lips, as it had 
 been caught from the altar by the seraph's tongs. 
 
 This has ever been characteristic of the true prophet. 
 
% historical fparalkL 39 
 
 He has been a seer. He has spoken, because he has 
 beheld with his eyes, looked upon, and handled, the very 
 Word of God. The Divine Prophet, speaking for all that 
 had preceded Him, said : " We speak that which we know, 
 and testify that we have seen." 
 
 In this we may have some share. It is permitted to us 
 also to see ; to climb the Mount of Vision, and look on 
 the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ ; to have re- 
 vealed to us things that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
 nor the heart of man conceived. Let us remember that 
 we are to be God's witnesses in the Jerusalem of the home, 
 the Jud^a of our immediate neighbours, and to the utter- 
 most parts of the earth of our profession or daily calling. 
 God demands not advocates, but witnesses ; and we must 
 see for ourselves, before we can bear witness to others, the 
 glory of that light still flushing our faces, and the accent of 
 conviction minted in our speech. 
 
 These are the three signs of a prophet : vision, a deep 
 conviction of sin and impending judgment, and the gushing 
 forth of moving and eloquent speech ; and each of these 
 was apparent, in an exalted and extreme degree, in John the 
 son of Zacharias. 
 
 II. An Illustrative and Remarkable Parallel. — As 
 John came in the spirit and power of Elijah, so, four hundred 
 years ago, in the lovely city of Florence, a man was sent 
 from God to testify against the sins of his age, who in many 
 particulars so exactly corresponds with our Lord's fore- 
 runner that the one strongly recalls the other ; and it m.ay 
 help us to bring the circumstances of the Baptist's ministry 
 within a measurable distance of ourselves if we briefly 
 compare them with the career of Girolamo Savonarola. It 
 must, of course, be always borne in mind that the great 
 Florentine could lay no claim to the peculiar and unique 
 position and power of the Baptist. But, in many respects, 
 
40 %)jt ^tophtt oi tht Highest. 
 
 there is a remarkable parallel and similarity between them, 
 which will help us to translate the old Hebrew conceptions 
 into our modern life. 
 
 The physician's household at Ferrara, into which Savon- 
 arola was born on September 21, 1452, was probably no 
 more distinguished amid other families of the town than 
 that of Zacharias and Elisabeth in the hill country of Judaea. 
 
 And as we read of the invincible love of truth which 
 characterized the keen and intelligent lad, we are forcibly 
 reminded of the Baptist, whose whole life was an eloquent 
 protest on behalf of reality. In one of his greatest sermons 
 Savonarola declared that he had always striven after truth 
 with all his might, and maintained a constant war against 
 falsehood. " The more trouble " — they are his own words — 
 " I bestowed upon my quest, the greater became my long- 
 ing, so that for it I was prepared to abandon life itself. 
 When I was but a boy, I had such thoughts ; and from that 
 time, the desire and longing after this good has gone on 
 increasing to the present day." 
 
 We cannot read of Savonarola's saintly life, over which 
 even the breath of calumny has never cast a stain — of his 
 depriving himself of every indulgence, content with the 
 hardest couch and roughest clothing, and just enough of the 
 plainest food to support life — without remembering the 
 camel's cloth, the locusts and wild honey of the Baptist. 
 
 If John's lot was cast on evil days, when religion suffered 
 most in the house of her friends, so was it with Savonarola. 
 The fourteenth and fifteenth centuries witnessed the increas- 
 mg corruption and licentiousness of popes and clergy. The 
 offices of cardinal and bishop were put up to auction, and 
 sold to the highest bidder. The bishop extorted money 
 from the priests, and these robbed the people. The gross- 
 est immorality was prevalent in all ranks of the Church, and 
 without concealment. Even the monasteries and convents 
 were often dens of vice. "Italy," said Machiavelli, "has 
 
Clje gurttin0 of thz ^aniihz. 41 
 
 lost all piety and all religion. We have to thank the 
 Church and the priests for our abandoned wickedness." 
 
 As John beheld the fire and fan of impending judgment, 
 so the burden of Savonarola's preaching was that the Church 
 was about to be chastised, and afterwards renewed. So 
 powerful was this impression on the preacher's mind that it 
 can best be described in his own words as a vision. He 
 tells us that on one occasion the heavens seemed to open 
 before him, and there appeared a representation of the 
 calamities that were coming on the Church ; on another, he 
 saw, in the middle of the sky, a hand bearing a sword, on 
 which words of doom were written. He described himself 
 as one who looked into the invisible world. 
 
 The herald of Jesus possessed a marvellous eloquence, 
 beneath which the whole land was moved ; and so it was 
 with Savonarola. During the eight years that he preached 
 in the cathedral, it was thronged with vast crowds ; and as 
 he pleaded for purity of life and simplicity of manners, 
 " women threw aside jewels and finery, libertines were 
 transformed into sober citizens, bankers and tradesmen 
 restored their ill-gotten gains." In Lent, 1497, took place 
 what is known as the Burning of the Vanities. Bands of 
 children were sent forth to collect from all parts of the city, 
 indecent books and pictures, carnival masks and costumes, 
 cards, dice, and all such things. A pile was erected, sixty 
 feet in height, and fired amid the sound of trumpets and 
 pealing bells. 
 
 What Herod was to John the Baptist, the Pope and the 
 magnificent Lorenzo di Medici were to Savonarola. The 
 latter seems to have felt a strange fascination towards the 
 eloquent preacher, tried to attach him to his court, was 
 frequent in his attendance at San Marco, and gave largely 
 to his offertories. To use the words of the New Testament, 
 he feared him, " knowing that he was a righteous man, and 
 a holy" (Mark vi. 20). But Savonarola took care to avoid 
 F 
 
42 ®ije ^to:j^\jti oi tire Wi^Ijest. 
 
 any sign of compliance or compromise; declined to pay 
 homage to Lorenzo for promotion to high ecclesiastical 
 functions ; returned his gold from the offertories ; and when 
 they ran to tell him that Lorenzo was walking in the con- 
 vent garden, answered, " If he has not asked for me, do not 
 disturb his meditations or mine." 
 
 Like John, Savonarola was unceasing in his denunciation 
 of the hypocritical religion which satisfied itself with 
 outward observances. " I tell you," he said, " that the Lord 
 willeth not that ye fast on such a day or at such an hour ; 
 but willeth that ye avoid sin all the days of your life. Ob- 
 serve how they go about — seeking indulgences and pardons, 
 ringing bells, decking altars, dressing churches. God 
 heedeth not your ceremonies." 
 
 John's exhortation to " Behold the Lamb of God " finds 
 an echo in the noble utterance of this illumined soul, who, 
 be it remembered, anticipated Luther's Reformation by a 
 hundred years. " If all the ecclesiastical hierarchy be cor- 
 rupt, the believer must turn to Christ, who is the primary 
 cause, and say : ' Thou art my Priest and my Confessor.' " 
 
 The fate of martyrdom that befell John was awarded also 
 to Savonarola. Through the impetuosity of his followers, 
 he was involved in a challenge to ordeal by fire. But by 
 the manoeuvres of his foes, the expectations of the populace 
 in this direction were disappointed, and their anger aroused. 
 ** To San Marco ! " shouted their leaders. To San Marco 
 they went, fired the buildings, burst open the doors, 
 fought their way into the cloisters and church, dragged 
 Savonarola from his devotions, and thrust him into a 
 loathsome dungeon. After languishing there, amid every 
 indignity and torture, for some weeks, on May 23, 1498, 
 he was led forth to die. The bishop, whose duty it was 
 to pronounce his degradation, stumbled at the formula 
 declaring — *' I separate thee from the Church, militant and 
 triumphant." "From the militant thou mayest, but from 
 
** §$tnt ivom (Botir 43 
 
 the triumphant thou canst not," was the martyr's calm reply. 
 He met his end with unflinching fortitude. He was 
 strangled, his remains hung in chains, burned, and the 
 ashes flung into the river. When the commissioners of the 
 Pope arrived at his trial, they brought with them express 
 orders that he was to die, " even though he were a second 
 John the Baptist.''^ It is thus that the apostate Church has 
 always dealt with her noblest sons. But Truth, struck to the 
 ground, revives. Hers are the eternal years. Within a few 
 years, Luther was nailing his theses at the door of the church 
 at Wittenberg, and the Reformation was on its way. 
 
 There is a legend, which at least contains a true sug- 
 gestion, that when Savonarola was on his way to Florence 
 from Genoa, as a young man, his strength failed him as he 
 was crossing the Apennines, but that a mysterious stranger 
 appeared to him, restored his courage, led him to a hospice, 
 compelled him to take food, and afterwards accompanied 
 him to his destination ; but on reaching the San Gallo gate 
 he vanished, with the words, Reme/nber to do that for ivhich 
 God hath sent thee I 
 
 The story recalls forcibly the words with which the 
 evangelist John introduces his notice of the Forerunner — 
 " There was a man sent from God, whose name was John." 
 Men are always coming, sent from God, specially adapted 
 to their age, and entrusted with the message which the times 
 demand. See to it that thou too realize thy divine mission; 
 for Jesus said, " As the Father hath sent Me, even so send 
 I you." Every true life is a mission from God. 
 
 And when we read the words of the apostle Paul about 
 John " fulfilling his course," we may well ask for grace that 
 we may fill up to the brim the measure of our opportunities, 
 that we may realize to the full God's meaning and intention 
 in creating us : and so our lives shall mate with the Divine 
 Ideal, like sublime words with some heavenly strain, each 
 completing the other. 
 
V. 
 
 mjt yirat ilttntstrg oi t\}t laptiat 
 
 (Luke hi.) 
 
 " Hark, what a sound, and too divine for hearing, 
 Stirs on the earth and trembles in the air I 
 Is it the thunder of the Lord's appearing? 
 Is it the music of his people's prayer ? 
 " Surely He cometh, and a thousand voices 
 
 Shout to the saints, and to the deaf and dumb ; 
 Surely He cometh, and the earth rejoices, 
 Glad in his coming who hath sworn, I come." 
 
 F. W. H. Myers. 
 
 I^HIRTY years had left their mark on the Forerunner. 
 The aged priest and his wife Elisabeth had been 
 carried to their grave by other hands than those of 
 the young Nazarite. The story of his miraculous birth, and 
 the expectations it had aroused, had almost died out of the 
 memory of the countryside. For many years John had 
 been living in the caves that indent the limestone rocks of 
 the desolate wilderness which extends from Hebron to the 
 western shores of the Dead Sea. By the use of the 
 scantiest fare, and roughest garb, he had brought his body 
 under complete mastery. From nature, from the inspired 
 page, and from direct fellowship with God, he had received 
 revelations which are only vouchsafed to those who can 
 stand the strain of discipline in the school of solitude and 
 privation. He had carefully pondered also the signs of the 
 times, of which he received information from the Bedouin 
 and others with whom he came in contact. Blended with 
 all other thoughts, John's heart was filled with the advent of 
 Him, so near akin to himself, who, to his certain knowledge, 
 was growing up, a few months his junior, in an obscure 
 highland home, but who was speedily to be manifested to 
 Israel. 
 
At last the moment arrived for him to utter the mighty 
 burden that pressed upon him ; and " in the fifteenth year 
 of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judaea, 
 Herod the tetrarch of Galilee, Annas and Caiaphas the 
 high priests, the word of God came unto John, the son 
 of Zacharias, in the wilderness." It may have befallen thus. 
 One day, as a caravan of pilgrims was slowly climbing the 
 mountain gorges threaded by the road between Jerusalem 
 and Jericho, or halted for a moment in the noontide heat, 
 they were startled by the appearance of a gaunt and sinewy 
 man, with flowing raven locks, and a voice which must have 
 been as sonorous and penetratmg as a clarion, who cried, 
 " Repent ! the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." 
 
 It was as though a spark had fallen on dry tinder. The 
 tidings spread with wonderful rapidity that in the wilderness 
 of Judaea one was to be met who recalled the memory of 
 the great prophets, and whose burning eloquence was of the 
 same order as of Isaiah or Ezekiel. Instantly people 
 began to flock to him from all sides. " There went out to 
 him Jerusalem, and all Judaea, and all the region round 
 about Jordan." The neighbourhood suddenly became 
 black with hurrying crowds — as Klondike, when the news 
 of the discovery of gold began to spread. From lip to lip 
 the tidings sped of a great leader and preacher, who had 
 suddenly appeared. 
 
 He seems finally to have taken his stand not far from 
 the rose-clad oasis of Jericho, on the banks of the Jordan ; 
 and men of every tribe, class, and profession, gathered 
 thither, listening eagerly, or interrupting him with loud cries 
 for help. The population of the metropolis, familiar with 
 the Temple services, and accustomed to the splendour of 
 the palace ; fishermen from the Lake of Gennesaret ; dusky 
 sons of Ishmael from the desert of Gilead; the proud Pha- 
 risee; the detested publican, who had fattened on the sorrows 
 and burdens of the people — were there, together with crowds 
 
46 fire Jirat ^tniatrj of tlje gaptiat. 
 
 of ordinary people that could find no resting-place in the 
 schools or systems of religious thought of which Jerusalem 
 was the centre. 
 
 I. Many Causes accounted for John's immense 
 Popularity. — The office of the prophet was almost obsolete. 
 Several centuries, as we have seen, had passed since the 
 last great prophet had finished his testimony. The oldest 
 man living at that time could not remember having seen a 
 man who had ever spoken to a prophet. It seemed as un- 
 likely, to adopt the phrase of another, that another prophet 
 should arise in that formal, materialistic age, as that 
 another cathedral should be added to the splendid remains 
 of Gothic glory which tell us of those bygone days when 
 there were giants in the land. 
 
 lAoY&OYQY, John gave such abundant evidence of sincerity — 
 of reality. His independence of anything that this world 
 could give made men feel that whatever he said was 
 inspired by his direct contact with things as they Uterally 
 are. It was certain that his severe and lonely life had 
 rent the vail, and given him the knowledge of facts and 
 realities, which were as yet hidden from ordinary men, 
 though waiting, soon to be revealed ; and it was equally 
 certain that his words were a faithful and adequate 
 presentation of what he saw. He spoke what he knew, 
 and testified what he had seen. His accent of conviction 
 was unmistakable. When men see the professed prophet 
 of the Unseen and Eternal as keen after his own interests 
 as any worldling, shrewd at a bargain, captivated by show, 
 obsequious to the titled and wealthy ; when they discover 
 the man who predicts the dissolution of all things carefully 
 investing the proceeds of the books in which he publishes 
 his predictions — they are apt to reduce to a minimum 
 their faith in his words. But there was no trace of this 
 in the Baptist, and therefore the people went forth to him. 
 
His |p0hjer aa a fprcacljer. 47 
 
 Above all, he appealed to their moral convictions, and, -^ 
 i?ideed, expressed them. The people knew that they were 
 not as they should be. For a long time this consciousness 
 had been gaining ground ; and now they flocked around 
 the man who revealed themselves to themselves, and 
 indicated with unfaltering decision the course of action 
 they should adopt. How marvellous is the fascination 
 which he exerts over men who will speak to their inner- 
 most souls ! This has always been the source of power 
 to the great orators of the Romish Church — men like 
 Massillon, for instance — and to refuse to use this method 
 of approach is to forego one of the mightiest weapons in 
 the repertory of Christian appeal. If we deal only with the 
 intellect or imagination, the novelist or essayist may success- 
 fully compete with us. It is in his direct appeal to the 
 heart and conscience that the servant of God exerts his 
 supreme and unrivalled power. Though a man may shrink 
 from the preaching of repentance, yet, if it tell the truth 
 about himself, he will be irresistibly attracted to hear the 
 voice that harrows his soul. John rebuked Herod for 
 many things ; but still the royal offender sent for him 
 again and again, and heard him gladly. 
 
 It is expressly said that John saw many Pharisees and 
 Sadducees coming to his baptism (Matt. iii. 7). Their 
 advent appears to have caused him some surprise. " Ye 
 offspring of vipers, who warned you to flee from the 
 wrath to come ? " The strong epithet he used of them 
 suggests that they came as critics ; because they were 
 unwilling to surrender the leadership of the religious life 
 of Israel, and were anxious to keep in touch with the new 
 movement, until they could sap its vitality, or divert its 
 force into the channels of their own influence. 
 
 But it is quite likely that in many cases there were deeper 
 reasons. The Pharisees were the ritualists and formalists • 
 of their day, who would wrangle about the breadth of a 
 
48 f Ijc first ilUniatrg oi tlje gaptbt 
 
 phylactery, and decide to an inch how far a man might 
 walk on the Sabbath day ; but the mere externals of 
 religion will never permanently satisfy the soul made in 
 the likeness of God. Ultimately it will turn from them 
 with a great nausea and an insatiable desire for the living 
 God. As for f/ie Sadducees, they were the materialists of 
 their time. The reaction of superstition, it has been said, is 
 to infidelity; and the reaction from Pharisaism was to 
 Sadduceeism. Disgusted and outraged by the trifling of 
 the literalists of Scripture interpretation, the Sadducee 
 denied that there was an eternal world and a spiritual 
 state, and asserted that " there is no resurrection, neither 
 angel, nor spirit." But mere negation can never satisfy. 
 The heart still moans out its sorrow under the darkness 
 of agnosticism, as the ocean sighing under a starless mid- 
 night. Nature's instincts are more cogent than reason. 
 It was hardly to be wondered at, then, that these two 
 great classes were largely represented in the crowds that 
 gathered on the banks of the Jordan. 
 
 II. Let us briefly enumerate the Main Burden of 
 THE Baptist's Preaching. — (i) " T/ie Kingdom of Heaven 
 is at hand'^ To a Jew that phrase meant the re-estab- 
 lishment of the Theocracy, and a return to those great days 
 in the history of his people when God Himself was Lawgiver 
 and King. Had not Daniel predicted that in the days of 
 the last of the great empires, prefigured in Nebuchadnezzar's 
 dream, the God of heaven would set up a kingdom which 
 should never be destroyed — which should break in pieces all 
 other kingdoms and stand for ever? Had he not foreseen a 
 time when One like unto a son of man should come to the 
 Ancient of Days to receive a dominion which should not pass 
 away, and a kingdom which should not be destroyed? Had 
 he not foretold that the greatness of the kingdoms under 
 the whole heaven should be given to the saints of the Most 
 
Sis iitwaage. 49 
 
 High ? Surely, then, all these anticipations were on the eve 
 of fulfilment. The long-expected Messiah was at hand ; 
 and here was the forerunner described by Isaiah, the 
 prophet, saying: — 
 
 " The voice of one crying in the wilderness, 
 
 Make ye ready the way of the Lord, 
 
 Make his paths straight." 
 
 But some misgiving must have passed over the minds of 
 his hearers when they heard the young prophet's description 
 of the conditions and accompaniments of that long-looked- 
 for reign. Instead of dilating on the material glory of the 
 Messianic period, far surpassing the magnificent splendour 
 of Solomon, he insisted on the fulfilment of certain neces- 
 sary preliminary requirements, which lifted the whole con- 
 ception of the anticipated reign to a new level, in which the 
 inward ind spiritual took precedence of the outward and 
 material. It was the old lesson, which in every age re- 
 quires repetition, that unless a man is born again, and from 
 above, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 
 
 Be sure of this, that no outward circumstances, however 
 propitious and favourable, can bring about true blessedness. 
 We might be put into the midst of heaven itself, and be 
 poor, and miserable, and Wind, and naked, unless the heart 
 were in loving union with the Lamb, who is in the midst of 
 the throne. He is the light of that city, his countenance 
 doth lighten it — from his throne the river of its pleasure 
 flows, his service is its delightful business ; and to be out of 
 fellowship with Him would make us out of harmony with 
 its joy. Life must be centred in Christ if it is to be con- 
 centric with all the circles of heaven's bliss. We can never 
 be at rest or happy whilst we expect to find our fresh springs 
 in outward circumstances. It is only when we are right 
 with God that we are blest and at rest. Righteousness is 
 blessedness. Where the King is enthroned within the 
 heart, the soul is in the kingdom, which is righteousness, 
 
 G 
 
and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; nay, perhaps more 
 accurately, that kingdom is in the soul. And when all 
 hearts are yielded to the King ; when all gates lift up their 
 heads, and all everlasting doors are unfolded for his 
 entrance — then the curse which has so long brooded over 
 the world shall be done away. The whole creation groaneth 
 and travaileth for the manifestation of the sons of God ; 
 but when they are revealed in all their beauty, then judg- 
 ment shall dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness shall 
 abide in the fruitful field; and the work of righteousness 
 shall be peace, and the eifect of righteousness quietness and 
 confidence for ever ; and the mirage shall become a pool, 
 and the thirsty ground springs of water (Isa. xxxii. 15, 
 
 16 j XXXV. 7, R.V.). 
 
 (2) Alongside the proclamation of the kingdom was the 
 uncompromising insistence on ^'fAe wrath to come." John saw 
 that the Advent of the King would bring inevitable suffering 
 to those who were living in self-indulgence and sin. 
 
 There would be careful discrimination. He who was 
 coming would carefully discern between the righteous and 
 the wicked; between those who served God and those who 
 served Him not : and the preacher enforced his words by an 
 image familiar to orientals. When the wheat is reaped, it is 
 bound in sheaves and carted to the threshing-floor, which is 
 generally a circular spot of hard ground from fifty to one 
 hundred feet in diameter. On this the wheat is threshed 
 from the chaff by manual labour, but the two lie intermingled 
 till the evening, when the grain is caught up in broad shovels 
 or fans, and thrown against the evening breeze, as it passes 
 swiftly over the fevered land ; thus the light chaff is borne 
 away, while the wheat falls heavily to the earth. Likewise, 
 cried the Baptist, there shall be a very careful process of 
 discrimination, before the unquenchable fires are lighted ; 
 so that none but chaff shall be consigned to the flames — a 
 prediction which was faithfully fulfilled. At first Christ 
 
drew all men to Himself; but, as- his ministry proceeded, 
 He revealed their quality. A few were permanently 
 attracted to Him ; the majority were as definitely repelled. 
 There was no middle class. Men were either for or against 
 Him. The sheep on this side ; the goats on that. The five 
 wise virgins, and the five foolish. Those who entered the 
 strait gate, and those who flocked down the broad way 
 that leadeth to destruction. So it has been in every age. 
 Jesus Christ is the touchstone of trial. Our attitude 
 towards Him reveals the true quality of the soul. 
 
 There would also be a period of probation. " The axe 
 laid to the root of the trees " is familiar enough to those 
 who know anything of forestry. The woodman barks some 
 tree which seems to him to be occupying space capable of 
 being put to better use. There is no undue haste. It is 
 only after severe and searching scrutiny that the word goes 
 forth : " Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground ? " But 
 when once that word is spoken, there is no appeal. The 
 Jewish people had become sadly unfruitful ; but a definite 
 period was to intervene — three years of Christ's ministry 
 and thirty years beside — before the threatened judgment 
 befell. All this while the axe lay ready for its final stroke ; 
 but only when all hope of reformation was abandoned was 
 it driven home, and the nation crashed to its doom. 
 
 Perhaps this may be the case with one of my readers. 
 You have been planted on a favourable site, and have 
 drunk in the dews and rain and sunshine of God's provi- 
 dence ; but what fruit have you yielded in return ? How 
 have you repaid the heavenly Husbandman ? May He not 
 be considering whether any result will accrue from prolonging 
 your opportunities for bearing fruit ? He has looked for 
 grapes, and lo, you have brought forth only wild grapes ; 
 He may well consider the advisability of removing you from 
 the stewardship, which you have used for your own emolu- 
 ment, and not for his glory. 
 
52 ^ht yirat iHintatr^ oi t\jt gaptiat. 
 
 For all such there must be " wrath to come." After there 
 has been searching scrutiny and investigation, and every 
 reasonable chance has been given for amendment, and still 
 the soul is impenitent and disobedient, there must be "a 
 certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation 
 which shall devour the adversaries." 
 
 The fire of John's preaching had its primary fulfilment, 
 probably, in the awful disasters which befell the Jewish 
 people, culminating in the siege and fall of Jerusalem. We 
 know how marvellously the little handful of believers which 
 had been gathered out by the preaching of Christ and his 
 disciples were accounted worthy to escape all those things 
 that came to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man. 
 But the unbelieving mass of the Jewish people were 
 discovered to be worthless chaff and unfruitful trees, and 
 assigned to those terrible fires which have left a scar on 
 Palestine to this day. 
 
 But there was a deeper meaning. The wrath of God 
 avenges itself, not on nations but on individual sinners. 
 " He that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the 
 wrath of God abideth on him." The penalty of sin is in- 
 evitable. The wages of sin is death. The land which 
 beareth thorns and thistles, after having drunk of the rain 
 which Cometh often upon it, is rejected and nigh unto a 
 curse, its end is to be burned ; under the first covenant, 
 every transgression and disobedience received a just recom- 
 pense of reward ; the man that set at nought Moses' law 
 died without compassion, on the word of two or three 
 witnesses — of how much sorer punishment shall he be 
 judged worthy who hath trodden under foot the Son of 
 God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant a com- 
 mon thing, and hath done despite to the Spirit of grace ! 
 
 Even if we grant, as of course we must, that many of the 
 expressions referring to the ultimate fate of the ungodly are 
 symbolical, yet it must be granted also, that they have 
 
Wh^ Ma0£s of ^in. 53 
 
 counterparts in the realm of soul and spirit, which are as 
 terrible to endure, as the nature of the soul is more highly 
 organized than that of the body. Fire to the body is easy 
 to bear in comparison with certain forms of suffering to 
 which the heart and soul are sometimes exposed even in 
 this life. Have we not sometimes said, " If physical suffer- 
 ing were concerned, we could bear it ; but oh, this pain 
 which is gnawing at the heart — this awful inward agony, 
 which burns like fire ! " And if we are capable of suffering 
 so acutely from remorse and shame, from ingratitude and 
 misrepresentation, in this life where there are so many dis- 
 tractions and temporary alleviations, what may not be the 
 possibility of pain in that other life, where there is no 
 screen, no covering, no alleviation, no cup of water to slake 
 the thirst ! Believe me, when Jesus said, " These shall go 
 away into eternal punishment," He contemplated a retribu- 
 tion so terrible, that it were good for the sufferers if they 
 had never been born. 
 
 All the great preachers have seen and faithfully borne 
 witness to the fearful results of sin, as they take effect in 
 this life and the next. These threw Brainerd into a dripping 
 sweat, whilst praying on a cool day for his Indians in the 
 woods; these drew John Welsh from his bed, at all hours 
 of the night, to plead for his people ; these inspired Baxter 
 to write his Ca// to the Unconverted -, these drew Henry 
 Martyn from his fellowship at Cambridge to the burning 
 plains of India ; these forced tears from Whitefield as he 
 preached to the crowding thousands ; these burn in the 
 memorable sermon by Jonathan Edwards on " Sinners in 
 the hands of an angry God." The notable revival which 
 broke out at Kirk o' Shotts was due, under God, to Living 
 ston congratulating the people that drops of rain alone were 
 faUing, and not the fire of Divine wrath. The sermons of 
 Ralph Erskine, of Mc Cheyne and W. C. Burns, of Brownlow 
 North and Reginald Radcliffe, in the last generation, were 
 
54 Clje yirat ^itttstrg of tljz gaptxst. 
 
 characterized by the same appeals. Though, on the other 
 hand, because God is not confined to any one method, the 
 preaching of the late D. L. Moody was specially steeped in 
 the love of God. It is for want of a vision of the inevitable 
 fate of the godless and disobedient, that much of our 
 present-day preaching is so powerless and ephemeral. You 
 cannot get crops out of the land merely by summer showers 
 and sunshine ; there must be the subsoil ploughing, the 
 pulverizing frost, the wild March wind. And only when we*^, 
 modern preachers have seen sin as God sees it, and begin i 
 to apply the divine standard to the human conscience ; 
 only when our eagerness and yearning well over into our 
 eyes and broken tones ; only when we know the terror of 
 the Lord, and begin to persuade men as though we would 
 pluck them out of the fire, by our strenuous expostulation 
 and entreaties — shall we see the effects that followed the 
 preaching of the Baptist when soldiers, publicans, Pha- 
 risees, and scribes, crowded around him, saying, " What 
 shall we do ? " 
 
 All John's preaching, therefore, led up to the demand for 
 repentance. The word which was oftenest on his lips was 
 " Repent ye ! " It was not enough to plead direct descent 
 from Abraham, or outward conformity with the Levitical 
 and Temple rites. God could raise up children to Abra- 
 ham from the stones of the river bank. There must be 
 the renunciation of sin, the definite turning to God, the 
 bringing forth of fruit meet for an amended life. In no 
 other way could the people be prepared for the coming of 
 the Lord. 
 
VI. 
 
 (Mark i. 4.) 
 
 *'The last and greatest herald of heaven's King, 
 Girt with rough skins, hies to the desert wild ; 
 Among that savage brood the woods doth bring. 
 Which he more harmless found than man, and mild. 
 
 •• His food was locusts and what there doth spring, 
 With honey that from virgin hives distill'd, 
 Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing 
 Made him appear, long since from earth exiled." 
 
 W. Drummond, of Hawthornden. 
 
 AT the time of which we are speaking, an extraordinary 
 sect, known as the Essenes, was scattered through- 
 out Palestine, but had its special home in the oasis 
 of Engedi ; and with the adherents of this community John 
 must have been in frequent association. They were the 
 recluses or hermits of their age. 
 
 The aim of the Essenes was moral and ceremonial purity. 
 They sought after an ideal of holiness, which they thought 
 could not be realized in this world ; and therefore, leaving 
 villages and towns, they betook themselves to the dens and 
 caves of the earth, and gave themselves to continence, 
 abstinence, fastings, and prayers, supporting themselves 
 by some slight labours on the land. Those who have 
 investigated their interesting history tell us that the 
 cardinal point with them was faith in the inspired Word 
 of God. By meditation, prayer, and mortification, frequent 
 ablutions, and strict attention to the laws of ceremonial 
 purity, they hoped to reach the highest stage of communion 
 with God. They agreed with the Pharisees in their extra- 
 ordinary regard for the Sabbath. Their daily meal was of 
 the simplest kind, and partaken of in their house of religious 
 assembly. After bathing, with prayer and exhortation they 
 
56 gajjtism unto flejrcntana. 
 
 went, with veiled faces, to their dining-room, as to a holy 
 temple. They abstained from oaths, despised riches, mani- 
 fested the greatest abhorrence of war and slavery, faced 
 torture and death with the utmost bravery, refused the 
 indulgence of pleasure. 
 
 It is clear that John was not a member of this holy 
 community, which differed widely from the Pharisaism 
 and Sadduceeism of the time. The Essenes wore white 
 robes, emblematic of the purity they sought ; whilst he was 
 content with his coat of camel's hair and leathern girdle. 
 They seasoned their bread with hyssop, and he with honey. 
 They dwelt in brotherhoods and societies ; while he stood 
 alone from the earliest days of his career. But it cannot 
 be doubted that he was in deep accord with much of the 
 doctrine and practice of this sect. 
 
 John the Baptist, however, cannot be accounted for by 
 any of the pre-existing conditions of his time. He stood 
 alone in his God-given might. That he was conscious of 
 this appears from his own declaration when he said, " He 
 that sent me to baptize in water. He said unto me." And 
 that Christ wished to convey the same impression is clear 
 from his question to the Pharisees : " The baptism of John, 
 was it from heaven or from men ? " Moreover, the distinct 
 assertion of the Spirit of God, through the fourth Evan- 
 gelist, informs us : " There came a man, sent from God, 
 whose name was John; the same came for witness, that 
 all might beHeve through him." "The Word of God 
 came unto John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness. 
 And he came." 
 
 I. The Summons to Repent. — John has a ministry 
 with all men. In other words, he represents a phase of 
 teaching and influence through which we must needs pass 
 if we are properly to discover and appreciate the grace of 
 Christ. With us, too, a preparatory work has to be done. 
 
Itepctttancc : its llaturc. 57 
 
 There are mountains and hills of pride and self-will that 
 have to be levelled ; crooked and devious ways that have to 
 be straightened ; ruggednesses that have to be smoothed — 
 before we can fully behold the glory of God in the face 
 of Jesus Christ. In proportion to the thoroughness and 
 permanence of our repentance will be our glad realization 
 of the fulness and glory of the Lamb of God. 
 
 But we must guard ourselves here, lest it be supposed 
 that repentance is a species of good work which must be 
 performed in order that we may merit the grace of Christ. 
 It must be made equally clear, that repentance must not be 
 viewed apart from faith in the Saviour, which is an integral 
 part of it. It is also certain that, though "God com- 
 mandeth all men everywhere to repent," yet Jesus is exalted 
 **to give repentance and the remission of sins." 
 
 Repentance, according to the literal rendering of the 
 Greek word, is "a change of mind." Perhaps we should 
 rather say, it is a change in the attitude of the will. The 
 unrepentant soul chooses its own way and will, regardless of 
 the law of God. "The mind of the flesh is enmity against 
 God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither, indeed, 
 can it be j and they that are in the flesh cannot please 
 God." But in repentance the soul changes its attitude. It 
 no longer refuses the yoke of God's will, like a restive heifer, 
 but yields to it, or is willing to yield. There is a com- 
 punction, a sense of the hollowness of all created things, a 
 relenting, a wistful yearning after the true life, and ultimately 
 a turning from darkness to light, and from the power of 
 Satan unto God. The habits may rebel ; the inclinations 
 and emotions may shrink back ; the consciousness of peace 
 and joy may yet be far away — but the will has made its 
 secret decision, and has begun to turn to God : as, in the 
 revolution of the earth, the place where we live reaches its 
 furthest point from the sunlight, passes it, and begins slowly 
 to return towards its warm smiles and embrace. 
 
 H 
 
58 gapttsm unto ^tpzntaxut* 
 
 It cannot be too strongly emphasized that repentance is 
 an act of the zvi//. In its beginning there may be no sense 
 of gladness or reconciliation with God : but just the con- 
 sciousness that certain ways of life are wrong, mistaken, 
 hurtful, and grieving to God; and the desire, which be- 
 comes the determination, to turn from them, to seek Him 
 who formed the mountains and created the wind, that 
 maketh the morning darkness and treadeth upon the high 
 places of the earth. 
 
 Repentance may be accounted as the other side of faith. 
 They are the two sides of the same coin : the two aspects of 
 the same act. If the act of the soul which brings it into 
 right relation with God is described as a turning round, to 
 go in the reverse direction to that in which it had been 
 travelling, then repe7ita7tce stands for its desire and choice 
 to turn from sin, and faith for its desire and choice to turn 
 to God. We must be willing to turn from sin and our own 
 righteousness — that is repentance ; we must be willing to be 
 saved by God, in his own way, and must come to Him for 
 that purpose — that \s faith. 
 
 We need to turn from our own righteousnesses as well as 
 from our sins. Augustine spoke of his efforts after right- 
 eousness as splendid sins ; and Paul distinctly disavows 
 all those attempts to stand right with God which he made 
 before he saw the face of the risen Christ looking out from 
 heaven upon his conscience-stricken spirit. You must turn 
 away from your own efforts to save yourself. These are, in 
 the words of the prophet, but "filthy rags." Nothing, 
 apart from the Saviour and his work, can avail the 
 soul, which must meet the scrutiny of eternal justice and 
 purity. 
 
 Repentance is produced sometimes and specially by the 
 presentation of the claims of Christ. We suddenly awake 
 to realize what He is, how He loves, how much we are 
 missing, the gross ingratitude with which we respond to his 
 
Hcpcntattrc : hoia ^votnctb, 59 
 
 agony and bloody sweat, his cross and suffering, the beauty 
 of his character, the strength of his claims. 
 
 At other times repentance is wrought by the preaching of 
 John the Baptist. Then we hear of the axe laid at the root 
 of the trees, and the unquenchable fire for the consuming of 
 the chaff: and the heart trembles. Then we are led to the 
 brink of the precipice, and compelled to see the point at 
 which the primrose-path we are travelling ends in the fatal 
 abyss. Then our faith in our hereditary position and privi- 
 lege is shattered by the iconoclasm of the preacher ; and we 
 are levelled to the position of stones which are lapped by the 
 Jordan, but are insensible to its touch. It is at such a time 
 as this that the soul sees the entire fabric of its vain con- 
 fidences and hopes crumbling hke a cloud-palace, and turns 
 from it all — as Mary from the sepulchre, where her hopes 
 lay entombed, to find Jesus standing with the resurrection 
 glory on his face and radiant love in his eyes. 
 
 For purposes of clear thinking it is well to discriminate in 
 our use of the words Repentance and Penitence, using the 
 former of the first act of the will, when, energized and 
 quickened by the Spirit of God, it turns from dead works to 
 serve the living and true God ; and the latter, of the emotions 
 which are powerfully wrought upon, as the years pass, by 
 the Spirit's presentation of all the pain and grief which our 
 sin has caused, and is causing, to our blessed Lord. We 
 repent once, but are penitents always. We repent in the 
 will ; we are penitent in the heart. We repent, and believe 
 the Gospel ; we believe the Gospel of the Son of Man, and 
 as we look on Him, whom our sins have pierced, we mourn. 
 We repent when we obey his call to come unto Him and 
 live; we are penitent as we stand behind Him weeping, 
 and begin to wash his feet with our tears, and to wipe them 
 with the hair of our head. 
 
 If John the Baptist has never wrought his work in you, be 
 sure to open your heart to his piercing voice. Let him 
 
6o gapttam uttto Itepentattrc. 
 
 fulfil his ministry. See that you do not reject the counsel 
 of God, as it proceeds from his lips ; but expose your soul 
 to its searching scrutiny, and allow it to have free and 
 uninterrupted course. He comes to prepare the way of the 
 Lord, and to make through the desert of our nature a 
 highway for our God. Of course, if, from the earliest you 
 have been under the nurture of pious parents, and your 
 young heart turned to God in the early dawn of con- 
 sciousness, you will not pass through these experiences as 
 those must who have spent years in the service of Satan. 
 For these there is but one word — Repent ! They must, in a 
 moment of time, take up an entirely different attitude to 
 God and holiness, to Christ and his salvation. 
 
 II. The Signs and Symptoms of Repentance. — 
 (i) Confession. " They were baptized of him in the river 
 Jordan, confessing their sins." What this precisely means 
 it is not possible to say in detail ; but it is not improbable 
 that beneath the strong pressure of inward remorse and 
 bitterness of spirit, men of notoriously bad life, ^s well as 
 those who had never abandoned themselves to the mad 
 currents of temptation, but were none the less conscious of 
 heart and hidden sins, stood up, " confessing and declaring 
 their deeds," as in a memorable scene long afterwards 
 (Acts xix. 17-20). 
 
 The formalist confessed that the whited sepulchre of his 
 religious observances had concealed a mass of putrefaction. 
 The sceptic confessed that his refusal of religion was largely 
 due to his hatred of the demands of God's holy law. The 
 multitudes confessed that they had been selfish and sensual, 
 shutting up their compassions, and refusing clothing and 
 food to the needy. The publican confessed that he had 
 extorted by false accusation and oppression more than his 
 due. The soldier confessed that his profession had often 
 served as the cloak for terrorizing the poor and vamping up 
 
ftcjjentance : its (Bbtbtnns* 6i 
 
 worthless accusations. The notoriously evil liver confessed 
 that he had lain in wait for blood, and destroyed the 
 innocent and helpless for gain or hate. The air was laden 
 with the cries and sighs of the stricken multitudes, who be- 
 held their sin for the first time in the light of eternity and of 
 its inevitable doom. The lurid flames of *'the wrath to 
 come " cast their searching light on practices which, in the 
 comparative twilight of ignorance and neglect, had passed 
 without special notice. 
 
 Upon that river's brink, men not only confessed to God, 
 but probably also to one another. Life-long feuds were 
 reconciled ; old quarrels were settled ; frank words of 
 apology and forgiveness were exchanged ; hands grasped 
 hands for the first time after years of alienation and strife. 
 
 Confession is an essential sign of a genuine repentance, 
 and without it forgiveness is impossible. " He that covereth 
 his transgressions shall not prosper ; but whoso confesseth 
 and forsaketh them shall obtain mercy." " If we confess 
 our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and 
 to cleans^ us from all unrighteousness." So long as we 
 keep silence, our bones wax old through our inward 
 anguish ; we are burnt by the fire of slow fever ; we toss 
 restlessly, though on a couch of down. But on confession 
 there is immediate relief. " I said, I will confess my 
 transgressions unto the Lord, and Thou forgavest me 
 the iniquity of my sin." 
 
 Confess your sin to God, O troubled soul, from whom the 
 vision of Christ is veiled. It is more than likely that some 
 undetected or unconfessed sin is shutting out the rays of 
 the true sun. Excuse nothing, extenuate nothing, omit 
 nothing. Do not speak of mistakes of judgment, but of 
 lapses of heart and will. Do not be content with a general 
 confession ; be particular and specific. Drag each evil thing 
 forth before God's judgment b^s»^Gt the secrets be exposed, 
 and the dark, sad story told. Begin at the beginning, and 
 
62 gaptism unto ^t^zntmct, 
 
 go steadily through. Only be very careful to leave no trace 
 of your experiences for human eyes or ears. To tell this 
 story to another will rob it of its value to yourself and its 
 acceptableness to God. It is enough for God to know it; 
 and to tell Him all is to receive at once his assurance of for- 
 giveness, for the sake of Him who loved us and gave Him- 
 self a propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only, but 
 for those of the whole world. Directly the confession 
 leaves our heart, nay, whilst it is in process, the Divine 
 voice is heard assuring us that our sins, which are many, 
 are put away as far as the east is from the west, and cast 
 into the depths of the sea. 
 
 But such confession should not be made to God alone, 
 when sins are in question which have injured and alienated 
 others. If our brother has aught against us, we must find 
 him out, while our gift is left unpresented at the altar, and 
 first be reconciled to him. We must write the letter, or 
 speak the word ; we must make honourable reparation and 
 amends ; we must not be behind the sinners under the old 
 law, who were bidden to add a fifth part to the loss their 
 brother had sustained through their wrong-doing, when they 
 made it good. The only sin we are justified in confessing 
 to our brother man is that we have committed against him. 
 All else must be told in the ear of Jesus, that great High 
 Priest, whose confessional is always open, and whose pure 
 ear can receive our dark and sad stories without taint or soil. 
 
 (2) Frm'^ worthy of Repentance. " Bring forth, therefore, 
 fruit worthy of repentance," said John, with some indigna- 
 tion, as he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees 
 coming to his baptism. He insisted that practical and 
 vital religion was not a rule, but a life ; not outward 
 ritual, but a principle ; not works, but fruit : and he 
 demanded that the genuineness of repentance should be 
 attested by appropriate fruit. " Do men gather grapes of 
 thorns, and figs of thistles ? " 
 
Hepenf attre : its fl£atiUa. 63 
 
 Probably that demand of the Baptist accounted for the 
 alteration in his life of which Zaccheus made confession to 
 Christ, when He became his guest. The rich publican 
 lived at Jericho, near which John was baptizing, and he 
 was probably amongst the publicans who were attracted 
 to his ministry. How well we can imagine the comments 
 that would be passed on his presence, as each nudged his 
 neighbour and whispered. " Is not that Zaccheus ? " said 
 one. " What is he doing here ? " said another. " It is 
 about time he came to himself," muttered a third. " I wish 
 the Baptist could do something for him," said a fourth. 
 
 And something touched that hardened heart. A great 
 hope and a great resolve sprang up in it. He may have 
 joined in the confessions of which we have spoken, but he 
 did more. On his arrival at Jericho he was a new man. 
 He gave the half of his goods to feed the poor j and if he 
 had wrongfully exacted aught of any man, he restored four- 
 fold. His servant was often seen in the lowest and poorest 
 parts of the old city, hunting up cases of urgent distress, 
 and bestowing anonymous alms ; and many a poor man 
 was delighted to find a considerable sum of money thrust 
 into his hands, with a scrap of paper signed by the rich tax- 
 gatherer, saying, " I took so much from you, years ago, to 
 which I had no claim ; kindly find it enclosed, with fourfold 
 as amends." Should any ask him the reason for it all, he 
 would answer, "Ah, I have been down to the Jordan and 
 heard the Baptist ; I believe the Kingdom is coming, and 
 the King is at hand ; and I want to make ready for Him, 
 so that, when He comes. He may be able to abide at my 
 house." 
 
 You will never get right with God till you are right with 
 man. It is not enough to confess wrong-doing ; you must 
 be prepared to make amends so far as lies in your power. 
 Sin is not a light thing, and it must be dealt with, root and 
 branch. 
 
64 gaptiam tinto Hcpetttattcc. 
 
 (3) The baptism of repentance. " They were baptized 
 . . . confessing their sins." The cleansing property 
 of water has given it a religious significance from most 
 remote antiquity Men have conceived of sin as a foul 
 stain upon the heart, and have couched their petitions for 
 its removal in words derived from its use : " Purge me with 
 hyssop, and I shall be clean. Wash me, and I shall be 
 whiter than snow." They have longed to feel that as the 
 body was delivered from pollution, so the soul was freed 
 from stain. In some cases this thought has assumed a 
 gross and material form ; and men have attributed to the 
 water of certain rivers, such as the Ganges, the Nile, the 
 Abana, the mysterious power of cleansing away sin. 
 
 There was no trace of this, however, in John's teaching. 
 It was not baptism unto remission^ but unto repentance. It 
 was the expression and symbol of the soul's desire and 
 intention, so far as it knew, to confess and renounce its 
 sins, as the necessary condition of obtaining the Divine 
 forgiveness. 
 
 It is not necessary to discuss the much-vexed question of 
 the source from which the Baptist derived his baptism — 
 some say it was from the habits of the Essenes, or the 
 practice of the Rabbis, who subjected to this rite all 
 proselytes to Judaism from the Gentile world. It is 
 enough for us to remember that he was sent to baptize ; 
 that the idea of his baptism was "from heaven"; and 
 that in his hands the rite assumed altogether novel and 
 important functions. It meant death and burial as far 
 as the past was concerned; and resurrection to a new 
 and better future. Forgetting and dying to the things 
 that were behind, the soul was urged to realize the 
 meaning of this symbolic act, and to press on and up to 
 better things before ; assured as it did so that God had 
 accepted its confession and choice, and was waiting to 
 receive it graciously and love it freely. 
 
loljit's gaptism : from ^zabm, 6$ 
 
 It is easy to see how all this appealed to the people, 
 and specially touched the hearts of young men. At that 
 time, by the blue waters of the Lake of Galilee, there was 
 a handful of ardent youths, deeply stirred by the currents 
 of thought around them, who resented the Roman sway, and 
 were on the tip-toe of expectation for the coming Kingdom. 
 How they spoke together, as they floated at night in their 
 fisherman's yawl over the dark waters of the Lake of Galilee, 
 about God's ancient covenant, and the advent of the 
 Messiah, and the corruptions of their beloved Temple 
 service ! And when, one day, tidings reached them of 
 this strange new preacher, they left all and streamed with 
 all the world beside to the Jordan valley, and stood 
 fascinated by the spell of his words. 
 
 One by one, or all together, they made themselves known 
 to him, and became his loyal friends and disciples. We are 
 familiar with the names of one or two of them, who after- 
 wards left their earlier master to follow Christ ; but of the 
 rest we know nothing, save that he taught them to fast 
 and pray, and that they clung to their great teacher, until 
 they bore his headless body to the grave. After his 
 death they joined themselves with Him whom they 
 had once regarded with some suspicion as his rival and 
 supplanter. 
 
 How much this meant to John ! He had never had a 
 friend ; and to have the allegiance and love of these noble, 
 ingenuous youths must have been very grateful to his soul. 
 But from them all he repeatedly turned his gaze, as though 
 he were looking for some one who must presently emerge 
 from the crowd ; and the sound of whose voice would give 
 him the deepest and richest fulfilment of his joy, because 
 it would be the voice of the Bridegroom Himself. 
 
<?- 
 
 VII. 
 
 ^\jt iWantfcstatx0n oi tlj^ iSteaatalj* 
 
 (John i. 31.) 
 
 "Before me, as in darkening glass, 
 Some glorious outlines pass. 
 Of love, and truth, and holiness, and power— 
 I own them thine, O Christ, 
 And bless Thee in this hour." 
 
 F. R. HAVERGAL. 
 
 JOHN'S life, at this period, was an extraordinary one. 
 By day he preached to the teeming crowds, or 
 baptized them ; by night he would sleep in some 
 shght booth, or darksome cave. But the conviction 
 grew always stronger in his soul, that the Messiah was near 
 to come ; and this conviction became a revelation. The 
 Holy Spirit who filled him, taught him. He began to see 
 the outlines of his Person and work. As he thought upon 
 Him, beneath the gracious teaching of Him who had sent 
 him to baptize (John i. 33), the dim characteristics of his 
 glorious personality glimmered out on the sensitive plate of 
 his inner consciousness, and he could even describe Him to 
 others, as well as delineate Him for himself. 
 
 He conceived of the coming King, as we have seen, as 
 the Woodman, laying his axe at the root of the trees ; as 
 the Husbandman, fan in hand to winnow the threshing- 
 floor ; as the Baptist, prepared to plunge all faithful souls 
 in his cleansing fires ; as the Ancient of Days, who, though 
 coming after him in order of time, must be preferred before 
 him in order of precedence, because He was before him in 
 the eternal glory of his Being (John i. 15-30). 
 
 It was this vision of the Sun before the sunrise, as he 
 viewed it from the high peak of his own noble character, 
 that induced in the herald his conspicuous and beautiful 
 
humility. He insisted that he was not worthy to perform 
 the most menial service for Him whose advent he 
 announced. " I am content," he said in effect, " to be 
 a voice, raised for a moment to proclaim the King, and 
 soon dying on the desert air, whilst the person of the crier 
 is unnoticed and unsought for ; but I may not presume to 
 unloose the latchet of his shoes. . . . There cometh 
 after me He that is mightier than I, the latchet of whose 
 shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose." 
 
 John was not only humble in his self-estimate, but also 
 in his modest appreciation of the results of his work. It 
 was only transient and preparatory. It was given him to 
 do ; but it would soon be done. His course was a short 
 one, and it would soon be fulfilled (Acts xiii. 25). His 
 simple mission was to bid the people to believe on Him 
 who should come after him (xix. 4.) He was the morning 
 star ushering in the day, but destined to fade in the glory of 
 ruddy dawn, flooding the eastern sky. 
 
 But our impression of the sublime humility of this great 
 soul will become deeper, as we consider that marvellous 
 scene in which he first recognised the divine mission and 
 claims of his Kinsman, Jesus of Nazareth. Consider the 
 meeting between the Sun and the star, and take it as 
 indicating an experience which must always supervene on 
 the cleansed and holy soul, which desires and prepares 
 for it. 
 
 I. Our Lord's Advent to the Jordan Bank. — For 
 thirty years the Son of Man had been about his Father's 
 business in the ordinary routine of a village carpenter's life. 
 He had found scope enough there for his marvellously rich 
 and deep nature ; reminding us of the philosopher's garden, 
 which, though only a dingy court in a crowded city, reached 
 through to the other side of the world on the one hand, and 
 up to the heaven of God on the other. Often He must 
 
68 f Hre lEanifestation of ilje ^cssialr. 
 
 have felt the strong attraction of the great world of men, 
 which He loved ; and the wild winds, as they careered over 
 his village home, must have often borne to Him the wail of 
 broken hearts, asking Him to hasten to their relief. On his 
 ear must have struck the voices of Jairuses pleading for 
 their only daughters ; of sisters interceding for their Lazar- 
 uses ; of halt and lame and blind entreating that He would 
 come and heal them. But He waited still, his eye on the 
 dial-plate of the clock, till the time was fulfilled which had 
 been fixed in the Eternal Council Chamber. 
 
 As soon, however, as the rumours of the Baptist's 
 ministry reached Him, and He knew that the porter had 
 taken up his position at the door of the sheepfold, ready to 
 admit the true Shepherd (John x. 3), He could hesitate no 
 longer. The Shechinah cloud was gathering up its fleecy 
 folds, and poising itself above Him, and moving slowly 
 towards the scene of the Baptist's ministry ; and He had no 
 alternative but to follow. He must tear Himself away from 
 Nazareth, home, and mother, and take the road which 
 would end at Calvary. " Then cometh Jesus from Galilee 
 to the Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him." 
 
 Tradition locates the scene of John's baptism as near 
 Jericho, where the water is shallow and the river opens out 
 into large lagoons. But some, inferring that Nazareth was 
 within a day's journey of this notable spot, place it nearer 
 the southern end of the Lake of Galilee. 
 
 It may have been in the late afternoon when Jesus 
 arrived. An expression made use of by the evangehst 
 Luke might seem to suggest that all the people had been 
 baptized for that day at least (Luke iii. 21) ; so that perhaps 
 the crowds had dispersed, and the great prophet was alone 
 with one or two of those young disciples of whom we have 
 spoken. Or, Jesus may have arrived when the Jordan 
 banks were alive with the eager multitudes. But, in 
 either case, a sudden and remarkable change passed 
 
Slje ^zziin^ of $o\)n mb |gaus. 69 
 
 over the Baptist's face as he beheld his Kinsman standing 
 there. 
 
 Picture that remarkable scene. The arrowy stream, 
 rushing down from the Lake of Galilee to the Dead Sea ; 
 the rugged banks ; the shadowy forests ; the erect, sinewy 
 form of the Baptist ; and Jesus of Nazareth, as depicted by 
 the olden traditions, with auburn hair, searching blue eye, 
 strong, sweet face, and all the beauty of his young manhood. 
 At the S'^ght of Him, note how the high look on the 
 Baptist's face lowers ; how his figure stoops in involuntary 
 obeisance ; how the voice that was wont to ring out its 
 messages in accents of uncompromising decision falters 
 and trembles ! 
 
 John said, "I knew Him not" (John i. 31); but this 
 need not be interpreted as indicating that he had no 
 acquaintance whatever with his blameless relative. Such 
 may have been the case, of course, since John's life had been 
 spent apart from the haunts of men. It is more natural to 
 suppose that the cousins had often met, as boys and after- 
 wards. But the Baptist had never realized that Jesus was 
 the Messiah whose advent he was sent to announce. He 
 had not recognised his high descent and claims. It had 
 never occurred to him that this simple village Carpenter, so 
 closely related to himself, whose course of life was appar- 
 ently so absolutely ordinary and commonplace, could be He 
 of whom Moses in the Law and the Prophets did write. 
 In this sense John could truly say, " I knew Him not." 
 
 But John knew enough of Him to be aware of his 
 guileless, blameless life. The story of his tender love for 
 Mary ; of his devotion to the interests of his brothers and 
 sisters ; of his undefiled purity ; of his long vigils on the 
 mountains till the morning called Him back to his toils ; of 
 his deep acquaintance with Scripture ; of his speech about 
 the Father — had reached the Baptist's ears. He had come 
 to entertain the profoundest respect amounting to veneration 
 
70 Cbe ^atttfeBtattott of iht ^zzzi&h* 
 
 for his Kinsman ; and, as He presented Himself for baptism, 
 John felt that there was a whole heaven of difference 
 between Him and all others. These publicans and 
 sinners, these Pharisees and scribes, these soldiers and 
 common people — had every need to repent, confess, and be 
 forgiven ; but there was surely no such need for Him, who 
 had been always, and by general acknowledgment, " holy, 
 harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners." " I have 
 need," said he, "to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou 
 to me?" (Matt. iii. 14). 
 
 There may have been, besides, an indescribable presenti- 
 ment that stole over that lofty nature — like that knowledge 
 of good men and bad which is often given to noble 
 women. He knew men ; his eagle eye had searched their 
 hearts, as he had heard them confess their sins ; and at a 
 glance he could tell what was in them. A connoisseur of 
 souls was he. Among all the pearls that had passed 
 through his hands — some goodly ones among them — none 
 had seemed so rare and pure as this ; it was a pearl of 
 great price, for which a man might be prepared to part with 
 all he possessed, if only to obtain it. There was an inde- 
 finable majesty, a moral glory, a tender grace, an ineffable 
 attractiveness in this Man, which was immediately appre- 
 ciated by the greatest of woman-born, because of his own 
 intrinsic nobility and greatness of soul. It needed a Baptist 
 to recognise the Christ. He who had never quailed before 
 monarch or people, directly he came in contact with Christ, 
 cast the crown of his manhood at his feet, and shrank away. 
 The eagle that had soared unhindered in mid-heaven 
 seemed transfixed by a sudden dart, and fell suddenly, with 
 a strange, low cry, at the feet of its Creator. " I have need 
 to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou to me ? " 
 
 II. The Significance of Christ's Baptism. — " Suffer 
 it to be so now : for thus it becometh us to fulfil all 
 
Clrnat's gaptism. 71 
 
 righteousness " — with such words our Lord overruled the 
 objections of his loyal and faithful Forerunner. This is the 
 first recorded utterance of Christ, after a silence of more 
 than twenty years ; the first also of his public ministry : it 
 demands our passing notice. He does not say, " I have 
 need to be baptized of thee " ; nor does He say, " Thou 
 hast no need to be baptized of Me." He does not stay to 
 explain why the greater should be baptized by the less : or 
 why a rite which confessed sin was required for one who 
 was absolutely sinless. It is enough to appeal to the 
 Baptist as his associate in a joint necessary act, becoming 
 to them both as part of the Divine procedure, and therefore 
 claiming their common obedience. " Thus it becometh us 
 (you and me) to fulfil all righteousness." 
 
 In his baptism, our Lord acknowledged the divine 
 authority of the Forerunner. As the last and greatest of 
 the prophets, who was to close the Old Testament era, for 
 " the law and the prophets prophesied until John " ; as the 
 representative of Elijah the prophet, before the great and 
 notable day of the Lord could come ; as the porter of the 
 Jewish fold — John occupied a unique position, and it was 
 out of deference to his appointment by the Father, and as an 
 acknowledgment of his office, that Jesus sought baptism at 
 his hands. 
 
 John's baptism, moreover, was the inauguration of the 
 Kingdom of Heaven. In it the material made way for the 
 spiritual. The old system, which gave special privileges to 
 the children of Abraham, was in the act of passing away, 
 confessing that God could raise up children to Abraham 
 from the stones at the water's edge, and demanding that 
 those who would enter the Kingdom must be born from 
 above, of water and of the Spirit. It was the outward and 
 visible sign that Judaism was unavailing for the deepest 
 needs of the spirit of man, and that a new and more 
 spiritual system was about to take its place ; and Christ 
 
72 Wht iRattifeatation of tht ^easxalj. 
 
 said, in effect, " I, too, though King, obey the law of the 
 Kingdom, and bow my head, that, by the same sign as the 
 smallest of my subjects, I may pass forward to my throne." 
 
 There was probably a deeper reason still. That Jordan 
 water, flowing downwards to the Dead Sea, was symbolical. 
 In the purity of its origin, amid the snows of Hermon, and 
 in the beauty of its earlier course, it was an emblem of 
 man's original constitution, when the Creator made him in 
 Flis own image and pronounced him very good ; but in 
 these sullied and troubled waters hurrying on to the Sea of 
 Death — waters in which thousands of sinners had confessed 
 their sins, with tears and sighs— how apt an emblem was 
 there of the history of our race, contaminated by the evil 
 that is in the world through lust, and meriting the wages of 
 sin — death ! With that race, in its sin and degradation, 
 our Lord now formally identified Himself. His baptism 
 was his formal identification with our fallen and sinful race, 
 though He knew no sin for Himself, and could challenge 
 the minutest inspection of his enemies : " Which of you 
 convinceth Me of sin ? " 
 
 Was He baptized because He needed to repent, or to 
 confess his sins ? Nay, verily ! He was as pure as the 
 bosom of God, from which He came ; as pure as the fire 
 that shone above them in the orb of day ; as pure as the 
 snows on Mount Hermon, rearing itself like a vision of 
 clouds on the horizon : but He needed to be made sin, 
 that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. 
 When the paschal lamb had been chosen by the head of a 
 Jewish household, it was customary to take it, three days 
 before it would be offered, to the priest, to have it sealed 
 with the Temple seal ; so our Lord, three years before his 
 death, must be set apart and sealed by the direct act of the 
 Holy Spirit, through the mediation of John the Baptist. 
 " Him hath God the Father sealed." 
 
 " It becometh us " — I like that word, becometh. If the 
 
Divine Lord thought so much about what was becoming, 
 surely we may. It should not be a question with us, 
 merely as to what may be forbidden or harmful, what may 
 or may not be practised and permitted by our fellow- 
 Christians, or even whether there are distinct prohibitions 
 in the Bible that bar the way — but if a certain course is be- 
 coming. " Need I pass through that rite ? " // is becoming. 
 *' Need I perform that lowly act ? " // is beco filing. " Need 
 I renounce my liberty of action in that respect ? " // 
 would be very becoming. And whenever some hesitant soul, 
 timid and nervous to the last degree, dares to step out, and 
 do what it believes to be the right thing because it is 
 becoming, Jesus comes to it, enlinks his arm, and says, 
 ** Thou art not alone in this. Thou and I stand together 
 here. It becomes us to fill up to its full measure all 
 righteousness." Ah, soul, thou shalt never step forth on a 
 difficult and untrodden path without hearing his footfall 
 behind thee, and becoming aware that in every act of 
 righteousness Christ identifies Himself, saying, " Thus it 
 becometh us to fulfil all righteousness." 
 
 A friend suggests that the Lord Jesus was here referring 
 to the sublime prophecy of Daniel ix. 24. That He might 
 make an end of sin and bring in everlasting righteousness, 
 it was essential that the Lamb of God should confess the 
 sins of the people as his own (see Psa. Ixix. 5). This was 
 his first step on his journey to the Cross, every step of 
 which was in fulfilment of all righteousness, in order that 
 He might bring in everlasting righteousness. 
 
 " Then he suffered Him." Some things we have to do 
 for Christ, and some to bear for Him. Active virtues are 
 great ; but the passive ones are rarer and cost more, 
 especially for strong natures like the Baptist's. But, in all 
 our human life, there is nothing more attractive than when 
 a strong man yields to another, accepts a deeper interpre- 
 tation of duty than he had perceived, and is prepared to set 
 
iside his strong convictions of propriety before the tender 
 pleadings of a still, soft voice. Yield to Christ, dear heart. 
 Suffer Him to have his way. Take his yoke, and be meek 
 and lowly of heart — so shalt thou find rest. 
 
 III. The Designation of the Messiah. — It is not 
 to be supposed that the designation of Jesus as the Christ 
 was given to any but John. It was apparently a private 
 sign given to him, as the Forerunner and Herald, through 
 which he might be authoritatively informed as to the 
 identity of the Messiah. To say nothing of the impos- 
 sibility of ordinary and unanointed eyes beholding the 
 descent of the Holy Spirit, John's own statements seem to 
 point clearly in this direction. He says, "I knew Him not " 
 (i.e., as Son of God), " but He that sent me to baptize with 
 water, He said unto me, ' Upon whomsoever thou shalt see 
 the Spirit descending, and abiding upon Him, the same is 
 He that baptizeth with the Holy Spirit.' And I have seen, 
 and have borne witness that this is the Son of God " 
 (John i. 32-34). The same thought appears from putting a 
 perfectly legitimate construction on the words of the first 
 evangelist : " Lo, the heavens were opened unto him " {i.e., 
 the Baptist), " and he saw the Spirit of God descending as 
 a dove, and coming upon Him " (Matt. iii. 16). 
 
 What a theophany was here ! As the Man of Nazareth 
 emerged from the water, the sign for which John had been 
 eagerly waiting and looking was granted. He had believed 
 he would see it, but had never thought to see it granted to 
 one so near akin to himself. We never expect the great 
 God to come to us ! And the exclamation, Zo, indicates his 
 startled surprise. He saw far away into the blue vault, 
 which had opened into depth after depth of golden glory. 
 The vail was rent to admit of the coming forth of the 
 Divine Spirit, who seemed to descend in visible shape — as 
 a dove might, with gentle, fluttering motion — and to alight 
 
** ikl^ gdobctr ^0tt/* 75 
 
 on the head of the Holy One, who stood there fresh from 
 his baptism. The stress of the narrator, as he told the 
 story afterwards, was that the Spirit not only came, but 
 abode. Here was the miracle of miracles, that He should 
 be willing to abide in any human temple, who for so many 
 ages had wandered restlessly over the deluge of human sin, 
 seeking a resting-place, but finding none. Here, at least, 
 was an ark into which this second Noah might pull in the 
 fluttering dove, unable to feed, like the raven, on corruption 
 and death. 
 
 The voice of God from heaven proclaimed that Jesus of 
 Nazareth was his beloved Son, in whom He was well 
 pleased ; and the Baptist could have no further doubt that 
 the Desire of all Nations, the Lord whom his people sought, 
 the Messenger of the Covenant, had suddenly come to his 
 temple to act as a refiner's fire and as fullers' soap. " John 
 bare witness, saying, I have beheld the Spirit descending as 
 a dove out of heaven ; and it abode upon Him." " John 
 beareth witness of Him and crieth " (John i. 15, 32). 
 
 How much that designation meant to Christ ! It was his 
 Pentecost, his consecration and dedication to his life-work ; 
 from thenceforth, in a new and special sense, the Spirit of 
 the Lord was upon Him, and He was anointed to preach. 
 But it was still more to the Baptist. He knew that his 
 mission was nearly fulfilled, that his office was ended. He 
 had opened the gate to the true Shepherd, and must now 
 soon consign to Him all charge of the flock. Jesus must 
 increase, while he decreased. He that was from heaven 
 was above all ; as for himself, he was of the earth, and spake 
 of the earth. The Sun had risen, and the day-star began 
 to wane. 
 
VIII. 
 
 ^oi tijat Ii0ljt, but a mittwsa, 
 
 (John i. 8.) 
 
 •• Nothing resting in its own completeness 
 Can have worth or beauty ; but alone 
 Because it leads and tends to farther sweetness, 
 Fuller, higher, deeper than its own. 
 
 *' Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning, 
 Gracious though it be, of her blue hours ; 
 But is hidden in her tender leaning 
 To the summer's richer wealth of flowers. " 
 
 A. A. Proctor. 
 
 THE baptism and revelation of Christ had a mar- 
 vellous effect on the ministry of the Forerunner. 
 Previous to that memorable day, the burden of 
 his teaching had been in the direction of repentance and 
 confession of sin. But afterwards, the whole force of his 
 testimony was towards the person and glory of the Shepherd 
 of Israel. He understood that for the remainder of his 
 brief ministry, which perhaps did not greatly exceed six 
 months, he must bend all his strength to announcing to 
 the people the prerogatives and claims of Him who stood 
 amongst them, though they knew Him not. " There came 
 a man, sent from God, whose name was John. The same 
 came for witness, that he might bear witness of the Light, 
 that all might believe through him. He was not the Light, 
 but came that he might bear witness of the Light." 
 
 Our subject, therefore, naturally divides itself into two 
 divisions : John's admissions about himself, and his testi- 
 mony to the Lord. And it is interesting to notice that 
 they were given on three successive days, as appears from 
 the twofold use of the phrase, " On the morrow." " On 
 the morrow" {i.e., after he had met and answered the 
 
l^eBentmBnt nf tlje ^attljc&nm. 77 
 
 deputation from the Sanhedrim), he seeth Jesus coming 
 unto him ..." (i. 29). "Again, on the morrow John 
 was standing, and two of his disciples . . . " (35). 
 
 These events took place at Bethany, or Bethabara, on the 
 eastern bank of the Jordan. The river there is one hundred 
 feet in width, and, except in flood, some five to seven feet 
 deep. It Hes in a tropical valley, the verdure of which is 
 in striking contrast to the desolation which reigns around. 
 
 I. The Baptist's Admissions about Himself. — When 
 the fourth Evangelist uses the word Jews^ he invariably 
 means the Sanhedrim. John had become so famous, and 
 his influence so commanding, that he could not be ignored 
 by the religious leaders of the time. In their hearts they 
 derided him, and desired to do with him '• whatsoever they 
 listed." His preaching of repentance, and his unmeasured 
 denunciation of themselves as a brood of vipers, were not 
 to be borne. But they forbore to meet him. in the open 
 field, and resolved to send a deputation, which might 
 extract some admission from his lips that would furnish 
 them with ground for subsequent action. " The Jews sent 
 unto him from Jerusalem priests and Levites to ask him, 
 * Who art thou ?'...* Why baptizest thou ? ' " The 
 first question was universally interesting ; the second spe- 
 cially so to the Pharisee party, who were the high ritualists 
 of their day, and who were reluctant that a new rite, which 
 they had not sanctioned, should be added to the Jewish 
 ecclesiastical system. 
 
 It is a striking scene. The rushing river ; the tropical 
 gorge ; the dense crowds of people standing thick together ; 
 the Baptist in his sinewy strength and uncouth attire, sur- 
 rounded by the little group of disciples ; while through the 
 throng a deputation of grey-beards, the representatives of 
 a decadent religion, makes its difficult way — these are the 
 principal features of a memorable incident. 
 
78 |lot tbat f igljt, but a Milntzs. 
 
 There was a profound silence, and men craned their 
 necks and strained their ears to see and hear everything, 
 as the deputation challenged the prophet with the inquiry, 
 " Who art thou ? " There was a great silence. Men were 
 prepared to believe anything of the eloquent young preacher. 
 ^' The people were in expectation, and all men reasoned in 
 their hearts concerning John, whether haply he were the 
 Christ " (Luke iii. 15). If he had given the least encourage- 
 ment to their dreams and hopes, they would have unfurled 
 again the tattered banner of the Maccabees ; and beneath 
 his leadership would have swept, like a wild hurricane, 
 against the Roman occupation, gaining, perhaps, a momen- 
 tary success, which afterwards would have been wiped out 
 in blood. " And he confessed, and denied not ; and he 
 confessed, I am not the Christ." 
 
 If a murmur of voices burst out in anger, disappointment, 
 and chagrin, as this answer spread from lip to lip, it was 
 immediately hushed by the second inquiry propounded, 
 *' What then ? Art thou Elijah ? " (alluding to the predic- 
 tion of Malachi iv. 5). If they had worded their question 
 rather differently, and put it thus, " Hast thou come in the 
 power of Elias ? " John must have acknowledged that it was 
 so ; but if they meant to inquire if he were literally Elijah 
 returned again to this world, he had no alternative but to 
 say, decisively and laconically, " I am not." 
 
 There was a third arrow in their quiver, since the other 
 two had missed the mark : and amid the deepening 
 attention of the listening multitudes, and in allusion to 
 Moses' prediction that God would raise up a Prophet like 
 to himself (Deut. xviii. 15 ; Acts iii. 22 ; vii. 37), they said, 
 "Art thou the Prophet? " and he answered, " No." 
 
 The deputation was nonplussed. They had exhausted 
 their repertory of questions. Their mission threatened to 
 become abortive, unless they could extract some positive 
 admission. They must put a leading question j and their 
 
Wht gapttst's CrettEtttials. 79 
 
 spokesman, for the fourth time, challenged the strange 
 being, whom they found it so hard to label and place on 
 any shelf of their ecclesiastical museum. " They said 
 therefore unto him, * Who art thou ? — that we may give an 
 answer to them that sent us.' What sayest thou of thy- 
 self ? " " He said, ' I am the voice of one crying in the 
 wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said ^ 
 Isaiah the prophet.' " 
 
 How infinitely noble ! How characteristic of strength ! 
 A weak man would have launched himself on the flowing 
 tide of enthusiasm, and allowed himself to be swept away by 
 its impetuous rush. What a mingling of strength and 
 humility ! When men suggested that he was the Christ, 
 he insisted that he was only a voice — the voice of the 
 herald, whom men hardly notice, because they strain their 
 eyes in the direction from which he has come, to behold 
 the King Himself. When they complimented him on his 
 teaching, he told them that He who would winnow the 
 wheat from the chaff was yet to appear. And when they 
 crowded to his baptism, he reiterated that it was only the 
 baptism of negation, ofwater^ but the Christ would baptize 
 with the Holy Ghost and with fire. 
 
 Why was this ? Ah, he knew his limitations ! He was 
 the greatest-born of woman, yet he knew that his bosom was 
 not broad enough, nor his heart tender enough, to justify 
 liim in bidding all weary and heavy-laden ones to come to 
 him for rest ; he could not say that he and God were one, 
 and include himself with the Deity, in the majestic pronoun, 
 we ; he never dared to ask men to believe in himself as they 
 believed in the Father : but there came after him One who 
 dared to say all these things ; and this is the inevitable con- 
 clusion, that either Jesus was inferior to John in all that 
 goes to make a strong and noble character, or that Jesus 
 was all that John said He was, " The Son of God, and King 
 of Israel." There is no third suggestion possible. We 
 
8o llot tljat f ijgbt, but a Wiiinzzs. 
 
 must either estimate Jesus as immeasurably inferior, cr 
 incomparably superior, to the strong, sane, Spirit-filled 
 prophet, who never wearied in declaring the impassable 
 chasm that yawned between them. 
 
 Such humility always accompanies a true vision of Christ. 
 If we view it from the low ground, the mountain may 
 appear to reach into the sky ; but when we reach the 
 mountain-top, we are immediately aware of the infinite 
 distance between the highest snow-peak and the nearest 
 star. To the crowds John may have seemed to fulfil all 
 the essential conditions of the prophetic portraiture of the 
 Messiah ; but ke stood on the mountain, and knew how 
 infinitely the Christ stood above him. This is apparent in 
 his reply to the final inquiry of the Sanhedrim, " And they 
 asked him, and said unto him, ' Why, then, baptizest thou, 
 if thou art not the Christ, neither Elijah, neither the 
 Prophet?'" And John said in efiect, " I baptize because I 
 was sent to baptize, and I know very well that my work in 
 this respect is temporary and transient ; but what matters 
 that ? In the midst of you standeth One whom ye know 
 not, even He that cometh after me, the latchet of whose 
 shoe I am not worthy to unloose. The Christ is come. 
 Have not I seen Him, standing amid your crowds, yea, 
 descending these very banks ? " 
 
 The people must have turned one to another, as he 
 spoke. What ! Had the Messiah come ! It could hardly 
 be. There had been no prodigies in earth or sky worthy of 
 his advent. How could He be amongst them, and they 
 unaware ! But it was even so, and it is so still. The 
 Christ is in us, and with us still. There may be no tran- 
 scendent symptoms of his blessed presence, as He stands in 
 the little groups of two and three gathered in his name ; but 
 the eye of faith detects Him. Where others see only the 
 bare cliffs of Patmos, or the mines with their gangs of 
 convicts, the anointed gaze beholds a face brighter than the 
 
Spiritual Pinion, 8i 
 
 sun ; the purged ear catches the accents of a voice like the 
 murmur of waters on the still night air. Remember how 
 He said, " He that loveth Me shall be loved of my Father ; 
 and I will love him, and will manifest Myself to him." As 
 the Holy Spirit revealed Him to John, so He will reveal 
 Him to us, if only, like John, we will be content with nothing 
 less, and wait expectant with the heart on the outlook for the 
 manifestation of the Son of God; for so He promised, 
 saying, " He shall take of mine, and shall declare it unto 
 you." And when the child of faith speaks thus, with the 
 accent of conviction, of what he has seen, and tasted, and 
 handled, of the Word of life, it is not strange that the 
 children of this world, whose eyes are bHnded, begin to 
 question and deride. What is there to be seen that they 
 cannot see? What heard that they cannot detect? Ah, 
 " the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of 
 God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he 
 know them, because they are spiritually discerned." "There 
 standeth One among you," said the Baptist, "whom ye 
 know not." 
 
 n. The Baptist's Witness to the Lord. — Six weeks 
 passed by from that memorable vision of the opened heaven 
 and the descending Spirit, and John had eagerly scanned 
 every comer to the river-bank to see again that divinely 
 beautiful face. But in vain : for Jesus was in the wilder- 
 ness, being tempted of the devil, for forty days and nights, 
 the companion of wild beasts, and exposed to a very 
 hurricane of temptation. 
 
 At the end of the six weeks, the interview with the depu- 
 tation from the Sanhedrim took place, which we have 
 already described; and on the day after, when his confession 
 of inferiority was still fresh in the minds of his hearers, 
 when some were criticising and others pitying, when 
 symptoms that the autumn of his influence had set in were 
 
 L 
 
82 l^ot tlrat f tglrt, but a Witness. 
 
 in the air, his eye flashed, his face ht up, and he cried, 
 saying : " This is He of whom I said, ' After me cometh a 
 man who is become before me, for He was before me.' 
 Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
 the world." 
 
 Did all eyes turn towards the Christ? Was there a ripple 
 of interest and expectancy through the crowd ? Did any 
 realize the unearthly beauty and spiritual power of his 
 presence ? We know not. Scripture is silent, only telling 
 us that on the following day, when, with two disciples, he 
 looked on Jesus as He walked, and repeated his affirmation, 
 " Behold the Lamb of God," those two disciples followed 
 Him, never to return to their old master — who knew it 
 must be so, and was content to decrease if only He might 
 increase. 
 
 Let us notice the successive revelations which were made 
 to John, and through him to Israel, who, you remember, 
 held him, as they had every warrant for doing, to be in the 
 deepest sense a prophet of the Lord. This conviction has 
 been definitely endorsed by succeeding ages, which have 
 classed him as one of the six greatest men that ever left 
 their mark on the world. 
 
 {}) He rightly conceived of Chris fs pre-existence. "He 
 was before me" (John i. 30). The phrase resembles 
 Christ's own words, when He said : " Before Abraham was, 
 I am." In John's case it developed soon after into another 
 and kindred expression : " He that cometh from above, is 
 above all" (John iii. 31). With such words the Baptist 
 taught his disciples. He insisted that Jesus of Nazareth 
 had an existence anterior to Nazareth, and previous to his 
 birth of the village maiden. He recognised that his goings 
 had been of old, even from everlasting, that He was the 
 mighty God, the Father of the Ages, and the Prince of 
 Peace. As for himself, he was of the earth, and of the 
 earth he spoke ; as for this One, He came from above, and 
 
'* ^thalb m f amij nf (Bohr 83 
 
 was above all. It is not surprising, therefore, that one of 
 his disciples, catching his Master's spirit, wrote : "In the 
 beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, 
 and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning 
 with God. All things were made by Him." 
 
 (2) He rightly apprehended the sacrificial aspect of Chris f s 
 work. " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 
 sin of the world." Was it that his priestly lineage gave 
 Him a special right to coin and use this appellation ? It 
 was, without doubt, breathed into his heart by the Holy 
 Spirit; but his whole previous training, as the son of a 
 priest, fitted him to receive and transmit it. An attempt 
 has been made to limit the meaning of these words to the 
 personal character of Jesus, his purity, and gentleness ; but, 
 to the Jews who listened, the latter part of his exclamation 
 could have but one significance. They would at once 
 connect with his words, those of the Law, the Prophets, and 
 the Psalms. "The goat shall bear upon him all their 
 iniquities unto a solitary land." "He bare the sin of many." 
 " He is led as a lamb to the slaughter." 
 
 From the slopes of Mount Moriah, a young voice has 
 expressed the longing of the ages, " Behold the fire and the 
 wood ; but where is the lamb ? " This has been the cry of 
 the human heart in all generations. From the days of Abel 
 men have brought the firstlings of their flocks, laying them 
 on the altar, and consuming them with fire ; but there was 
 always a sense of failure and insufficiency. Through the 
 ages, and in every clime, priest after priest offered the lamb 
 upon the altar, but by the very fact of continual repetition, 
 bore witness to the insufficiency of its propitiation. "Every 
 priest, indeed," is the comment of inspiration, "standeth 
 day by day ministering and offering oftentimes the same 
 sacrifices, the which can never take away sins." Must not 
 the hearts of hundreds of saintly priests have been filled 
 with the same inquiry, Where is the lamb? As the 
 
84 ' laot tlyat f tglrt, Iiut a tSExtncss. 
 
 prophets understood more clearly the nature of God's 
 dealing with man — as, for instance, Micah saw that even 
 the offering of the first-born could never atone for the sin 
 of the soul — may we not suppose that from their lips also 
 the same inquiry was elicited. Where is the lamb ? Nature 
 cannot answer that cry. She is fascinating, especially when 
 she dimples with the smile of spring, and unveils her face in 
 summer to receive the caresses of the sun. But with all her 
 beauty and fascination she cannot answer the entreaty of 
 the conscience that the penalty of sin may be removed, its 
 power broken, so that man may walk with God with a 
 fearless heart. Animals at' the best are only symbols of the 
 complete solution to the ever-recurring problem of human 
 sin : thus from all the ages goes forth the cry, Where is the 
 lamb? Then from his heaven God sends forth his Son to 
 be the sufficient answer to the universal appeal : and the 
 heaven-sent messenger, from his rocky pulpit, as he sees 
 Jesus coming to him, cries, " Behold the Lamb of God, 
 which taketh away the sin of the world." 
 
 Dear soul, thou mayest venture on Him. He is God's 
 Lamb ; on Him the sin of our race has been laid, and He 
 stood before God with the accumulated load — " made sin "; 
 the iniquity of us all was laid upon Him ; wounded for our 
 transgressions ; bruised for our iniquities ; chastised for our 
 peace ; stricken for our transgression ; bearing the sin of 
 many. As the first Adam brought sin on the race, the 
 second Adam has put it away by the sacrifice of Himself. 
 Men are lost now, not because of Adam's sin, nor because 
 they were born into a race of sinners, but for the sin which 
 they presumptuously and wilfully commit, or because by 
 unbelief they contract themselves out of the benefits of 
 Christ's death. The servant who had been forgiven by his 
 king, but took his brother by the throat, brought back 
 upon himself the full penalty from which the royal warrant 
 had freed him ; and if any one of us cling to sin, rejecting 
 
^\jt gapttam of tlje %mt. 85 
 
 and trampling under foot the Saviour's work on our behalf, 
 we cancel so far all those benefits of our Saviour's passion 
 which otherwise would accrue, and bring back upon our- 
 selves the penalties from which He would fain have 
 delivered us. 
 
 (3) He understood the baptism of the Holy Spirit. " The 
 same is He that baptizeth with the Holy Spirit." As Son 
 of God, our Saviour from all eternity was one with the 
 Holy Spirit in the mystery of the blessed Trinity ; but as 
 "the one Man," He received in his human nature the 
 fulness of the Divine Spirit. It pleased the Father that in 
 Him should all the fulness of the Godhead dwell, that He 
 might be able to communicate Him to all the sons of men 
 who were united to Him by a living faith. Thus it fell that 
 He was able to assure his disciples that if they waited in 
 Jerusalem for the promise of the Father, as John baptized 
 with water, they should be baptized with the Holy Spirit 
 (Acts i. 4, 5). 
 
 The term baptism^ as applied to the Holy Spirit, had 
 better be confined to those marvellous manifestations of 
 spiritual power which are recorded in Acts ii., viii., x., xix. ; 
 whilst the word Jilli?tg should be used of those experiences 
 of the indwelling and anointmg of the Divine Spirit which 
 are within the reach of us all. Still, we may all adopt the 
 words of the Baptist, and tell our living Head that we have 
 need to be baptized of Him — need to be plunged into the 
 fiery baptism ; need to be searched by the stinging flame ; 
 need to be cleansed from dross and impurity ; need to be 
 caught in the transfiguring, heaven-leaping energy of the 
 Holy Spirit, borne upon his bosom into the rare atmo- 
 sphere where the seven lamps burn always before the throne 
 of God. The blood of the Lamb and the fire of the Holy 
 Spirit are thus iraxtricably united. 
 
 (4) He beheld the mystery of the Holy Trinity. For the 
 first time this was made manifest to man. On the one hand 
 
86 llot tlrat f t0lTt, but a Mitntzs. 
 
 there was the Father speaking from heaven ; on the other 
 the Spirit descending as a dove — and between them was the 
 Son of Man who was proclaimed to be the Son of God, the 
 beloved Son. Surely John might say that flesh and blood 
 had not revealed these things, but they had been made 
 known to him by a divine revelation. 
 
 The doctrine of the Holy Trinity is a profound mystery, 
 hidden from the intellect, but revealed to the humble and 
 reverent heart ; hidden from the wise and prudent, and 
 revealed to babes. Welcome Jesus Christ as John did; 
 and, as to John, so the whole wonder of the Godhead will 
 be made known to thy heart. Thou wilt hear the Father 
 bearing witness to his Son ; thou wilt see how clearly the 
 Son reveals the Father, and achieves redemption ; thou 
 shalt know what it is to stand beneath the open heaven 
 and behold and participate in the Divine anointing. Of 
 what good is it to reason about the Trinity if thou hast no 
 spiritual appetite for the gifts of the Trinity ? But if this is 
 thine, and thou openest thine heart, thou wilt receive the 
 gift and understand the doctrine. 
 
 (5) He appreciated the Divine Sonship of Christ. "I have 
 seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God." 
 This witness counts for much. John knew men, knew him- 
 self, knew Christ. He would not have said so much unless 
 he had been profoundly convinced ; and he would not have 
 been profoundly convinced unless irrefragable evidence had 
 been presented to him. What though, when on the follow- 
 ing day he repeats his exclamation, his whole congregation 
 leaves him to follow the Man of Nazareth to his home? 
 The heart of the Forerunner is satisfied, for he has heard 
 the Bridegroom's voice. The Son of God has come, and 
 has given him an understanding that he might know Him 
 that is true. 
 
IX. 
 
 *' '%t must tttrr^aa^, but J must httxtti^tJ* 
 
 (John hi. 30.) 
 
 " Where is the lore the Baptist taught, 
 
 The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue ? 
 The much -en during wisdom, sought 
 
 By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among ? 
 Who counts it gain 
 His light would wane, 
 So the whole world to Jesus throng ? " 
 
 Keble. 
 
 FROM the Jordan Valley our Lord returned to Galilee 
 and Nazareth. The marriage feast of Cana, his 
 return to Jerusalem, the cleansing of the Temple, 
 and the interview with Nicodemus, followed in rapid suc- 
 cession. And when the crowds of Passover pilgrims were 
 dispersing homewards, He also left the city with his dis- 
 ciples, and began a missionary tour throughout the land 
 of Judaea. 
 
 This tour is not much dwelt upon in Scripture. We only 
 catch a glimpse of it here in the 22 nd verse, and again in 
 the address of the apostle Peter to Cornelius, where he 
 speaks of Christ preaching good tidings of peace through- 
 out all Judaea (Acts x. 36, 37). How long it lasted we 
 cannot tell ; but it must have occupied some months, for 
 He tarried from time to time at diiferent points. 
 
 It is not likely that our Lord unfolded his Messianic 
 character, or taught with the same clearness as in after 
 days. For the most part. He would adopt the cry of the 
 Baptist. Of the commencement of his ministry it is 
 recorded: "Jesus came, . . . preaching the Gospel 
 of God, and saying, * The time is fulfilled, and the King- 
 dom of God is at hand : repent ye, and believe in the 
 
88 '* He must ittrrease, but If must trerreaae." 
 
 Gospel'" (Mark i. 14, 15). But his deeds declared his 
 royalty. 
 
 Wherever He went He was welcomed with vast enthusi- 
 asm. The scenes which had occurred a few months before 
 to inaugurate the Baptist's ministry were re-enacted. The 
 progress of the heaven-sent Teacher (John iii. 2) was 
 accompanied by immense throngs of people, who, wearied 
 with the tiresome exactions of Pharisee and scribe, turned 
 with eagerness to the humanness and holiness of the True 
 Shepherd. It is said that cattle, sick and harried with 
 the voyage across the Atlantic, will show signs of revival 
 as they sniff the first land breezes laden with the breath of 
 the clover fields. 
 
 During all this time the Baptist was continuing his pre- 
 paratory work in the Jordan Valley, though now driven by 
 persecution to leave the western bank for ^non and Salim 
 on the eastern side, where a handful of followers still clung 
 to him. "John was not yet cast into prison," but the 
 shadow of his impending fate was already gathering over 
 him; and so he was baptizing in ^non, near to Salim, 
 where the Jordan sweeps out into broad sheets of water, 
 eminently suitable for his purpose. Thither they came 
 and were baptized. The morning star lingers in the same 
 heavens with the sun, whom it has announced ; but its 
 lustre has paled, and its glories are shorn. 
 
 It would appear from the R.V. (ver. 25) that a Jew, 
 probably an emissary of the Sanhedrim, brought tidings 
 to that little circle of true-hearted disciples of the work 
 that Jesus was doing in Judaea, and drew them into a 
 discussion as to the comparative value of the two bap- 
 tisms. It was acknowledged that Jesus did not, with his 
 own hands, perform the rite of baptism, probably for reasons 
 afterwards cited by his great apostle (iv. 2 ; compare i Cor. 
 i. 14-17) : but it would be administered by his disciples, at 
 his direction, and with his countenance ; and therefore it 
 
©Ire iEoral ^xtatntzz of tlje fgapttat. 89 
 
 could be reported to the Baptist by his disciples, who came 
 to him with eyes flashing with indignation, and faces heated 
 with the excitement of the discussion : " Rabbi, He that was 
 with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou hast borne witness, 
 the same baptizeth, and all men come to Him" (ver. 26). 
 
 It was as though they said, " Master, is it not too bad ? 
 See how thy generous testimony has been requited ! In 
 the day of thy glory thou wert too profuse in thy acknow- 
 ledgments, too prodigal in thy testimonials. Now this new 
 Teacher has taken a leaf out of thy programme ; He too is 
 preaching, baptizing, and gathering a school of disciples." 
 But there was no tinder in that noble breast which these 
 jealous sparks could kindle. Nothing but love dwelt there. 
 He had been plunged into the baptism of a holy love, 
 which had burnt out the selfishness and jealousy, which 
 were as natural to him as to us all. It was as when a spark 
 falls into an ocean and is instantly extinguished. Thus his 
 reply will ever rank among the greatest utterances of mortal 
 man. The Lord said that of those born of woman none was 
 greater than John ; and, if by nothing else, by these words 
 his moral stature and superlative excellence were vindicated. 
 He seemed great when his voice rang like a clarion through 
 Palestine, attracting and thrilling the mighty throngs ; great, 
 when he dared to tell Herod that it was unlawful for him to 
 have his brother's wife, uttering words which those palace 
 walls must have been startled to hear ; great, when he 
 baptized Him for whom the world was waiting, and who was 
 declared to be the Son of God with power : but he never 
 seemed so great as when he refused to enter into those 
 acrimonious altercations and discussions, and said simply, 
 *' A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from 
 heaven." 
 
 I. John counted Influence and Position as Divine 
 Gifts. — What startling differences obtain among men — 
 
 M 
 
90 **%t must inrrcaae, but J must tztvzast," 
 
 Peter and John, Calvin and Melancthon, John Knox and 
 Samuel Rutherford, Kingsley and Keble ! Each of these 
 has left his imprint on human history ; each so needful to do 
 his own special work, but each so diverse from all others. 
 We are sometimes tempted to attribute their special powers 
 and success to their circumstances, their times, their parents 
 and teachers ; but there is a deeper and more satisfactory 
 explanation. Adopting the words of the Forerunner, we 
 may say — They had nothing that they had not received 
 from heaven, by the direct appointment and decree of 
 God. 
 
 It was thus that the Baptist reasoned : "Whatever success 
 and blessing I had are due to the appointment of Him who 
 I sent me to preach his Gospel and announce the advent of 
 ' his Son. Every man has his work and sphere appointed 
 him of God. If this new Teacher meet with such success, 
 we have no right to be jealous of Him, lest we sin against 
 God, who has made Him what He is. And if we have not 
 the same crowds as once, let us be content to take this, too, 
 as the appointment of Heaven, glad to do whatever is 
 assigned to us, and to leave all results with God." 
 
 This is a golden sentence, indeed ! — "A man can receive 
 nothing, except it be given him from heaven." Hast thou 
 great success in thy life-work ? Do crowds gather around 
 thy steps and throng thy audience-chamber ? Do not 
 attribute them to thyself. They are all the gifts of God's 
 grace. He raiseth up one and setteth down another. 
 Thou hast nothing that thou hast not received ; and if thou 
 hast received it, see to it that thou exercise perpetually the 
 faculty of receptiveness, so that thou mayest receive more 
 and more, grace on grace. The river in its flow should 
 hollow out the channel-bed through which it flows. Be 
 thankful, but never vain. He who gave may take. Great 
 talents bestowed imply great responsibility in the day of 
 reckoning. Be not high-minded, but fear. Much success 
 
^lyotrglrts on (Bnb^. 91 
 
 can only be enjoyed without injury to the inner life by 
 being considered as the dear gift of Christ, to be used 
 for Him. 
 
 Hast thou but one talent, and little success ? — yet this is 
 as God has willed it. He might have given more had He 
 willed it so ; be thankful that He has given any. Use 
 \vhat thou hast. The five barley loaves and two small 
 fishes will so increase, as they are distributed, that they will 
 supply the want of thousands. Do not dare to envy one 
 more successful and used than thyself, lest thou be con- 
 victed of murmuring against the appointment of thy Lord. 
 
 Here, too, is the cure of jealousy, which more than 
 anything else blights the soul of the servant of God. To an 
 older minister, who has passed the zenith of his popularity 
 and power, it is often a severe trial to see younger men 
 stepping into positions which he once held and has been 
 compelled to renounce. He is mightily tempted to dis- 
 parage their power, and condemn them by faint praise ; or, 
 if he praise, to add one biting comment which undoes the 
 generosity and frankness of the eulogium. Why should this 
 younger man, who was not born when his own ministry was 
 at full tide, now carry all before him, while the waves are 
 quietly withdrawing from the margin of seaweed they once 
 cast up ! Thoughts like these corrode and canker the soul ; 
 and there is no arrest to them, unless, by a definite effort of 
 the Spirit-energised will, the soul turns to God with the 
 words : " A mr.n can receive nothing, except it be given 
 him from heaven. I had my glad hours of meridian glory, 
 and have still che mellow light of a summer sunset. It was 
 God's gift to me, as rest is now ; and I will rejoice that He 
 raises up others to do his work. I will rejoice that the King- 
 dom is coming, that Christ is satisfied, that men are being 
 saved ; this shall be my joy, and it shall be fulfilled." 
 
 How much misery, heart-burning, and disappointment 
 would be saved if, at the beginning of life, each of us 
 
92 ** Se must inrrcase, but i must Jreaease." 
 
 inquired seriously what that special work in the world might 
 be to which he was called, and for which he is fitted. 
 Then, instead of being poor imitations, we might be good 
 originals. Instead of spending our time in going off on 
 side issues, we might bend all our strength to the main 
 purpose of our existence, God has meant each of us for 
 something ; incarnating in us one of his own great thoughts, 
 and equipping us with all material that is necessary for its 
 realization. We may probably discover its meaning by the 
 peculiarities of our mental endowments or the advice of 
 friends ; by the necessity of our circumstances or the 
 prompting of the Holy Spirit. Otherwise we must be 
 content to go on making each day according to the pattern 
 shown us — not as a whole, but in detail — sure that some 
 day each bit and scrap, each vail and hanging, will find its 
 place, and the tabernacle of our life stand complete. 
 
 Every name is historic in God's estimate. The obscurest 
 among us has his place in the Divine plan, his lesson to 
 learn, his work to do. The century opening before us can 
 no more dispense with us than an orchestra with the piccolo. 
 A pawn on God's chessboard may take a knight, or give 
 check to a king. "We are his workmanship, created in 
 Christ Jesus unto good works which God has before pre- 
 pared (r.v.), that we should walk in them" (Eph. ii. lo). 
 
 II. John caught sight of a Fullee. and Richer 
 Ideal than his own. — Tidings had, without doubt, been 
 brought to him of our Lord's first miracle in Cana of 
 GaUlee. We know that it had made a great impression on 
 the little group of ardent souls, who had been called to 
 share the village festivities with their newly- found Master ; 
 and we know that some of them were still deeply attached 
 to their old friend and leader. From these he would learn 
 the full details of that remarkable inauguration of this long- 
 expected ministry. How startled he must have been at the 
 
Cfrnattan Conaerration. 93 
 
 first hearing ! He had announced the Husbandman with 
 his fan to thoroughly winnow his floor ; the Baptist with his 
 fire ; the Lamb of God, holy, harmless, and separate from 
 sinners. But the Messiah opens his ministry among men by 
 mingling with the simple villagers in their wedding joy, and 
 actually ministers to their innocent mirth, as He turns the 
 water into wine ! The Son of Man has come " eating and 
 drinking " ! What a contrast was here to the austerity of 
 the desert, the coarse raiment, the hard fare ! " John the 
 Baptist came neither eating nor drinking." Could this be 
 He? And yet there was no doubt that the heaven had 
 been opened above Him, that the Dove had descended, 
 and that God's voice had declared Him to be the " Beloved 
 Son." But what a contrast to all that he had looked for ! 
 
 Further reflection, however, on that incident, in which 
 Jesus manifested forth his glory, and the cleansing of the 
 Temple which immediately followed, must have convinced 
 the Baptist that this conception of holiness was the true 
 one. His own type could never be universal or popular. 
 It was not to be expected that the mass of men could be 
 spared from the ordinary demands of daily life to spend 
 their days in the wilderness as he had done ; and it would 
 not have been for their well-being, or that of the world, if 
 his practice had become the rule. It would have been a 
 practical admission that ordinary life was common and 
 unclean; and that there was no possibility of infusing it 
 with the high principles of the Kingdom of Heaven. Conse- 
 cration to God would have become synonymous with the 
 exclusion of wife and child, of home and business, of music 
 and poetry, from the soul of the saint; whereas its true 
 conception demands that nothing which God has created 
 can be accounted common or unclean, but all may be 
 included within the encircling precincts of the Redeemer's 
 Kingdom. The motto of Christian consecration is, there- 
 fore, given in that remarkable assertion of the apostle ; 
 
94 ''S^ «t«»t increase, htit M must trecrease/* 
 
 "Every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be 
 rejected, if it be received with thanksgiving : for it is 
 sanctified through the Word of God and prayer" (i Tim. 
 
 iv. 4, 5)- 
 
 John saw, beneath the illuminating ray of the Holy Spirit, 
 that this was the Divine Ideal; that the Redeemer could 
 not contradict the Creator; that the Kingdom was con- 
 sistent with the home ; and the presence of the King with 
 the caress of woman and the laughter of the child, and the 
 innocent mirth of the village feast. This he saw, and cried 
 in effect : " That village scene is the key to the Messiah's 
 ministry to Israel. He is not only Guest at a bride- 
 groom's table, but the Bridegroom Himself. He has come 
 to woo and win the chosen race. Of old they were called 
 Hephzibah and Beulah; and now those ancient words come 
 back to mind with newly-minted meaning, with the scent 
 of spring. Our land, long bereaved and desolate, is to 
 be married. Joy, joy to her ! The Bridegroom is here. 
 He that hath the bride is the Bridegroom. As for me, I 
 am the Bridegroom's friend, sent to negotiate the match, 
 privileged to know and bring together the two parties in 
 the blessed nuptials — blessed with the unspeakable gladness 
 of hearing the Bridegroom's manly speech. Do you tell me 
 that He is preaching, and that all come to Him ? That 
 is what I have wanted most of all. This my joy, therefore, 
 is fulfilled. ' He must increase, but I must decrease.' " 
 
 III. John had enlarged Perception of the true 
 Nature of Christ. — It has been questioned whether the 
 paragraph which follows (John iii. 31-36) was spoken by the 
 Baptist, or is the comment of the Evangelist. With many 
 eminent commentators, I incline strongly to the former view. 
 The phraseology employed in this paragraph is closely 
 similar to the words addressed by Christ to Nicodemus, 
 and often used by Himself, as in John v.; and they may 
 
well have filtered through to the Baptist, by the lips of 
 Andrew, Peter, and John, who would often retail to their 
 venerated earliest teacher what they heard from Jesus. 
 
 Consider, then, the Baptist's creed at this point of his 
 career. He believed in the heavenly origin and divinity of 
 the Son of Man— that He was from heaven and above all. 
 He believed in the unique and divine source of his teaching 
 — that He did not communicate what He had learnt at 
 second-hand, but stood forth as one speaking what He 
 knows, and testifying what He has seen — " For He whom 
 God has sent, speaketh the words of God." He believed in 
 his copious enduement with the Holy Spirit. Knowing 
 that human teachers, at the best, could only receive the 
 Spirit in a hmited degree, he recognised that when God 
 anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit there was 
 no limit, no measuring metre, no stint. It was copious, 
 rich, unmeasured — so much so that it ran down from his 
 head, as Hermon's dews descend to the lonely heights of 
 Zion. He believed in his near relationship to God, using 
 the well-known Jewish phrase of sonship to describe his 
 possession of the Divine nature in a unique sense, and 
 recaUing the utterance of the hour of baptism, to give 
 weight to his assurance that the Father loved Him as Son. 
 Lastly, He believed in the mediatorial function of the Man 
 of Nazareth — that the Father had already given all things 
 into his hand; and that the day was coming when He 
 would sit on the throne of David, yea, on the mediatorial 
 throne itself. King of kings, and Lord of lords, the keys 
 of Death and Hades, of the realms of invisible existence 
 and spiritual power, hanging at his girdle. 
 
 To that creed the Baptist added a testimony, which has 
 been the means of light and blessing to myriads. Being 
 dead, he yet has spoken through the ages, assuring us that 
 to believe on Jesus is to have, as a present fact, eternal hfe, 
 the Ufe which fills the Being of God and defies time and 
 
4. 
 
 96 ** ^e must tntrcase, but J must ircrreasc/* 
 
 change. Faith is the act by which we open our heart to 
 receive the gift of God ; as earth bares her breast to sun 
 and rain, and as the good wife flings wide her doors and 
 windows to let in the spring sunshine and the summer air. 
 Ah, reader, I would that thou hadst this faith ! The open 
 heart towards Christ ! The yielded will ! Thou needst 
 only will to have Him, and He has already entered, though 
 thou canst not detect his footfall, or the chime of the bells 
 around his garment's hem. And to shut thy heart against 
 Him not only excludes the life which might be thine, but 
 incurs the wrath of God. 
 
 T/iere are two concluding thoughts. First : The only 
 hope of a decreasing self is an increasing Christ. There 
 is too much of the self-life in us all ; chafing against God's 
 will, refusing God's gifts, instigating the very services we 
 render to God, simulating humility and meekness for the 
 praise of men. But how can we be rid of this accursed 
 self-consciousness and pride ? Ah ! we must turn our 
 back on our shadow, and our face towards Christ. We 
 must look at all things from his standpoint, trying to realize 
 always how they affect Him, and then entering into his 
 emotions. It has been said that "the woman who loves 
 thinks with the brain of the man she loves " ; and surely 
 if we love Christ with a constraining passion, we shall think 
 his thoughts and feel his joys, and no longer live unto 
 ourselves, but unto Him. 
 
 " Love took up the Harp of Life 
 
 And smote on all its chords with might ; 
 Smote the chord of self, that trembling, 
 Passed in music out of sight." 
 
 Second : we must view our relationship to Christ as 
 the betrothal and marriage of our soul to our Maker and 
 Redeemer, who is also our Husband. "Wherefore, my 
 brethren," says the apostle, " ye also were made dead to 
 the law through the body of Christ ; that ye should be 
 
Clje ^oitt of tire geloiietr. 97 
 
 married to another, even to Him who was raised from the 
 dead, that we should bring forth fruit unto God " (Rom, 
 vii. 4). 
 
 The Son of God is not content to love us. He cannot 
 rest till He has all our love in return. "He looketh in 
 at the windows " of the soul, " and showeth Himself 
 through the lattice." Our Beloved speaks, and says unto 
 us, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away." 
 And, as our response. He waits to hear us say : 
 
 " My Beloved is mine, and I am his ; 
 He feedeth his flock among the lilies. 
 Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, 
 Turn, my Beloved ! " 
 
 N 
 
X. 
 
 (Mark vi.) 
 
 ♦• The number of thine own complete, 
 Sum up and make an end ; 
 Sift clean the chaff, and house the wheat ; 
 And then, O Lord, descend, 
 
 •' Descend, and solve by that descent 
 This mystery of life ; 
 Where good and ill, together blent, 
 Wage an undying strife." 
 
 J. H. N. 
 
 OUR Story brings us next to speak of the Baptist's 
 relations with Herod Antipas, son of the great 
 Herod, a contemptible princeling who inherited a 
 fourth part of his father's dominions (hence known as the 
 Tetrarch), ruling over Galilee and part of Perea. For the 
 most part he lived at Tiberias, in great state, which he had 
 imported from Rome, where he had spent part of his early 
 life. From an early age he had been entrusted with 
 despotic power, and, as the natural and inevitable result, 
 had become sensual, weak, capricious, and cruel. 
 
 It is of the collision between this man, whom our Lord 
 compared to a fox, and John the Baptist, that we have now 
 to treat. We need only notice here that every great 
 character on the page of history has had his vehement 
 antagonist. Moses, Pharaoh; Elijah, Ahab; Jeremiah, 
 Jehoiakim ; Paul, Nero ; Savonarola, the Medici ; Luther, 
 the Emperor Charles V. ; John Knox, Queen Mary. 
 
 I. The Cause of the Collision. — All the world had 
 flocked to see and hear John the Baptist. Every mouth 
 was full of his eccentricities and eloquence. Marvellous 
 stories were being told of the effect which he had produced 
 
Wintitv floral ^ttrtretUattce. 99 
 
 on the lives of those who had come under his influence. 
 All this was well known to Herod. His spies were present 
 in every great gathering, and served the purpose of the 
 newspaper of to-day; so that he was well informed of all the 
 topics that engaged the popular mind. 
 
 For some months, also, Herod had watched the career of 
 the preacher. When he least expected it, he was under the 
 surveillance of the closest criticism. A fierce light, like that 
 which beats about a throne, fell strongly on his most secret 
 actions. And the result had been perfectly satisfactory. 
 Herod felt that John was a true man. He observed him, 
 and was satisfied that he was a just man and a holy. 
 Reasons of state forbade the king from going in person to 
 the Jordan Valley ; but he was extremely eager to see and 
 hear this mighty man of God : and so, one day, at the close 
 of a discourse, an argument with the Pharisees, or the 
 administration of the rite of baptism, John found himself 
 accosted by one of the court chamberlains, and summoned 
 to deliver his message before the court. Herod " sent for 
 him." 
 
 We might wonder how it could happen that a man like 
 Herod, who notoriously lived in a glass house, so far as 
 character went, should be so willing to call in so merciless a 
 preacher of repentance as John the Baptist was — before 
 whose words, flung like stones, full many a glass house had 
 crashed to the ground, leaving its tenant unsheltered before 
 the storm. But it must be remembered that most men, 
 when they enter the precincts of the court, are accustomed 
 to put velvet in their mouths ; and, however vehement they 
 may have been in denouncing the sins of the lower classes, 
 they change their tone when face to face with sinners in 
 high places. Herod, therefore, had every reason to presume 
 that John would obey this unwritten law ; and, whilst de- 
 nouncing sin in general, would refrain from anything 
 savouring of the direct and personal. 
 
100 ®Ije ll:tt0'B (Kourta* 
 
 Another reason probably actuated Herod. He knew that 
 the land was filled with the fame of the Baptist, and it 
 seemed an easy path to popularity, and likely to divert 
 attention from his private sins, which had made much 
 scandal, to patronize the religion of the masses. At this 
 point he probably entertained much the same feeling to- 
 ward the desert-prophet that led Simon the Pharisee to 
 invite Jesus to eat with him. "Yes, let John the Baptist 
 come. Court life is dreary and monotonous enough. It 
 will make a little diversion, like a breath of fresh air on a 
 sultry day. It is worth risking a little roughness in his 
 speech, and uncouthness in his manner, if only he while 
 away an afternoon. Besides, it will please his following, 
 which is considerable. Let him come, by all means." 
 
 We are reminded of a similar scene in Old Testament 
 history, when, at the solicitation of Jehoshaphat, Ahab sent 
 for Micaiah. "The messenger that went to call Micaiah 
 spake unto him, saying, ' Behold, the words of the prophets 
 declare good to the king with one mouth; let thy word 
 therefore, I pray thee, be like one of theirs, and speak thou 
 good.' » 
 
 One interpretation of Mark vi. 20 suggests that the 
 Baptist's first sermon before Herod was followed by 
 another, and yet another. The Baptist dealt with general 
 subjects, urged on the King's attention some minor reforms, 
 which were not too personal or drastic, and won his genuine 
 regard. We are told that he used to hear {t/ie iynperfect 
 tense) him gladly, and " did many things." It was a relief 
 to Herod's mind to feel that there were many things which 
 he could do, many wrongs which he could set right, while 
 the main wrong of his life was left untouched. Ah ! it is 
 remarkable how much men will do in the direction of 
 amendment and reform, if only, by a tacit understanding, 
 nothing is said, or hinted at, which threatens the one sin in 
 which the heart's evil has concentrated itself. But John 
 
** art is JUJt f aluful/* loi 
 
 knew that his duty to Herod, to truth, to pubHc morality, 
 demanded that he should go further, and pierce to the 
 dividing asunder of soul and spirit, of the joints and 
 marrow; and therefore on one memorable occasion he 
 accosted the royal criminal with the crime of which men 
 were speaking secretly everywhere, and uttered the memor- 
 able sentence which could not be forgiven : " It is not 
 lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife." 
 
 We can imagine how some room in the palace, which had 
 often been the scene of wild riot, would be improvised as 
 an audience chamber, filled with seats, and crowded on 
 each occasion of the Baptist's appearance with a strange 
 and brilliant throng. In the midst, the king and the 
 woman with whom he was living in illicit union ; next 
 them her daughter, Salome ; around them courtiers and 
 ladies, nobles and pages, soldiers and servants. On all 
 sides splendid dresses, magnificent uniforms, rare jewels, 
 luxurious upholstery, added light and colour to the scene. 
 
 The sermon began. As was John's wont, he arraigned 
 the sin, the formalism, the laxity of the times ; he pro- 
 claimed the advent of the Kingdom, the presence of the 
 King ; he demanded, in the name of God, repentance and 
 reform. Herod was, as usual, impressed and convinced ; 
 he assented to the preacher's propositions ; already he had 
 settled himself into his usual posture for hearing gladly. It 
 was as when we watch summer-lightning playing around 
 the horizon ; we have no fear so long as it is not forked. 
 
 Presently, however, John becomes more personal and 
 direct than ever before. He begins, in no measured 
 terms, to denounce the sin of men in high places, and 
 holds up the dissoluteness which disgraced the court. 
 As he proceeds, a breathless silence falls on the crowd 
 sitting, or hanging around him, their dresses in curious 
 contrast to his severe garment of camel's hair ; their 
 nervous dread in as great contrast to his incisive and 
 
I02 ^Ije Siitt0*s Courts. 
 
 searching eloquence. Here were the people clothed in soft 
 raiment, and accustomed to sumptuous fare, bending as reeds 
 before the gusts of wind sweeping fiercely across the marsh. 
 
 Finally, the preacher comes closer still, and pointing to 
 the princess who sat beside Herod, looking Herod in the 
 face, he exclaims : " It is not lawful for thee to have thy 
 brother's wife." 
 
 We need not dwell on all the terrible details of that dis- 
 graceful sin. But every circumstance which could deepen 
 its infamy was present. Herod's wife, the daughter of 
 Aretas, King of Arabia, was still living; as was Philip, 
 the husband of Herodias. The liaison commenced at 
 Rome, when Herod was the guest of his brother Philip, 
 while apparently engaged on a mission of holy devotion 
 to the religious interests of the Jewish nation. 
 
 The ground of John's accusation calls for a heavier 
 emphasis than appears in a superficial consideration of 
 the words. He might have said : " It is not expedient ; 
 your wife's father will rise in arms against you, and threaten 
 the Eastern border of your kingdom. It is not expedient 
 to run the risk of war, which may give Rome a further 
 excuse against you." He might have said : " This is an 
 unwise step, as it will cut you off from your own family, 
 and leave you exposed to the brunt of popular hate." He 
 might have said : " It is impolitic and incautious to risk 
 the adverse judgment of the Emperor." But he said none 
 of these things. He took the matter to a higher court. 
 He arraigned the guilty pair before God ; and, laying his 
 axe at the root of the tree — calling on Herod's conscience, 
 long gagged and silent, to take part in the impeach- 
 ment — he said, in effect : " I summon you before the bar 
 of God, and in the pure light which streams from his holy 
 Oracle, your consciences being witnesses against you, you 
 know perfectly well that it is not right for you to be Uving 
 as you are living. ' Thou shalt not commit adultery.' " 
 
W\jz ^zbtn^B of ^Broirias. 103 
 
 Every hearer stood aghast. A death-Hke hush fell on 
 the assembly, which probably broke up in dismay. So 
 paralyzed was every one that no hand was laid on the 
 preacher. We are expressly told that " Herod sent forth 
 and laid hold upon John" (Mark vi. 17); from which 
 we infer that the fearless preacher passed out through 
 the paralyzed and conscience-stricken assemblage, leaving 
 dismay, like that which befell the roysterers in Belshazzar's 
 court, when the hand of the Almighty traced the mysterious 
 characters on the palace w^all in lines of fire. 
 
 The first feeling of awe and conscience-stricken remorse 
 would, however, soon pass off. Some would hasten to 
 condole with Herodias ; some to sympathize with Herod. 
 Herodias would retire to her apartments, accompanied by 
 her high ladies, vowing fiery vengeance on the preacher — a 
 very Jezebel, thirsting for the blood of another Elijah. 
 Throughout Herod's court there would be an effort to 
 dismiss the allusion as " Altogether uncalled for ; " as 
 "What might have been expected from such a man;" as 
 *' A gross breach of manners ; " as " An affront against 
 delicacy of taste." 
 
 But Herodias would give her paramour no rest; and, 
 perhaps one evening, when John had retired for meditation 
 and prayer, his disciples being off their guard and the 
 people absent, a handful of soldiers arrested him, bound 
 him, and led him off to the strong castle of Machaerus. 
 
 II. John's Imprisonment and its Opportunities. — 
 The castle of Machserus was known as "the diadem," or 
 " the black tower." It lay on the east side of the Dead 
 Sea, almost on a line with Bethlehem. The ruins of the 
 castle are still to be seen, in great masses of squared stone, 
 on the top of a lofty hill, surrounded on three sides by 
 unscaleable precipices, descending to such depths that 
 Josephus says the eye could not reach their bottom. 
 
I04 ^h^ 5in0*a Courts. 
 
 The fourth side is described as only a little less terrible. 
 Wild desolation reigned far and near. A German traveller 
 mentions the masses of lava, brown, red, and black, varied 
 with pumice-stone, distributed in huge broken masses, or 
 rising in perpendicular cliffs ; whilst the rushing stream, far 
 below, is overgrown with oleanders and date-palms, willows, 
 poplars, and tall reeds. Here and there, thick mists of 
 steam arise, where the hot sulphur springs gush from the 
 clefts of the rocks. 
 
 On this impregnable site, Dr. Geikie tells us that Herod 
 had erected a great wall, enclosing the summit of the hill, 
 with towers two hundred feet high at the corners, and in 
 the space thus gained had built a grand palace, with rows of 
 columns of a single stone apiece, halls lined with many- 
 coloured marbles, magnificent baths, and all the details of 
 Roman luxury, not omitting huge cisterns, barracks, and 
 store-houses, with everything needed in case of a siege. 
 From the windows there was a magnificent view of the 
 Dead Sea, the whole course of the Jordan, Jerusalem, 
 Hebron, the frowning fortress of Marsaba, and away to the 
 north, the wild heights of Pisgah and Abarim. Detached 
 from the palace was a stern and gloomy keep, with under- 
 ground dungeons still visible, hewn down into the solid 
 rock. This was the scene of John's imprisonment. 
 
 The Evangelist says expressly that they dound the child of 
 the desert-wastes, with his love for dear liberty — sensitive 
 to the touch of the sunshine and the breeze, to the beauty 
 that lay over the hills, accustomed to go and come at his 
 will— as though it were the last indignity and affront to 
 fetter those lithe and supple limbs, and place them under 
 constraint. Ah, it is little short of a sin to encage a wild 
 bird, beating its heart against the bars of its narrow cage, 
 when the sun calls it to mount up with quivering ecstasy to 
 the gates of day ; but what a sin to bind the preacher of 
 righteousness, and imprison him in sunless vaults — what an 
 
^\)t Epbraibinga of Consricnre. 105 
 
 agony ! What a contrast between the gay revelry that 
 reigned yonder within the palace, and the slow torture 
 which the noble spirit of the Baptist was doomed to suffer 
 through those weary months ! 
 
 Is there anything like that in your life, my reader ? In 
 many an old castle the attention of the visitor is directed to 
 a haunted room, where ghosts are said to walk at night; 
 but in how many hearts there are dark subterranean apart- 
 ments, where conscience, gagged and bound, lies im- 
 prisoned ! Outwardly there is the gaiety and mirth as of a 
 palace ; but inwardly there is remorse, misery, unrest. In 
 lonely hours there is a voice which pierces the thickest 
 walls of your assumed indifference, and rings up into the 
 house of your life, where the soul seeks to close its ear in 
 vain. It is a sad, monotonous, heart-piercing cry which 
 that voice repeats : " It is not lawful, not lawful, not law- 
 ful." Whenever there is a moment of silence and respite, 
 you hear it — " Not lawful, not lawful." And nothing can 
 stay it but repentance, confession, restitution, so far as 
 may be, and the blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, which 
 cleanseth from all sin. 
 
 From time to time it would seem as though the strict- 
 ness of John's imprisonment was relaxed. His disciples 
 were permitted to see him, and tell him of what was 
 happening in the world without ; but stranger than all, he 
 was summoned to have audiences with Herod himself. 
 
 Another rendering of Mark vi. 19, 20, which is perfectly 
 legitimate, and is favoured by the R.V., suggests that the 
 king was ill at ease, and swept to and fro by very different 
 currents. 
 
 First, he was deeply incensed. As he thought of the 
 manner in which the Baptist had treated him, denouncing 
 him before his court, the fire of anger burnt fiercely within 
 his breast; and he had beside him a Lady Macbeth, a 
 beautiful fiend and temptress, who knew that while the 
 
io6 ^\}t %inQ*z Courts. 
 
 Baptist lived, and dared to speak as he had done, her 
 position was not safe. She knew Herod well enough to 
 dread the uprising of his conscience at the appeals of truth. 
 And perpetually, when she saw her chance, she whispered 
 in Herod's ear, " The sooner you do away with that man 
 the better. You don't love me perfectly, as long as you 
 permit him to breathe. Unmannerly cur ! " " Herodias set 
 herself against him, and desired to kill him ; but she could 
 not." 
 
 On the other side, Herod was in fear. He feared John, 
 ''knowing that he was a righteous man and a holy." He 
 feared the people, because they held him for a prophet. 
 And, beneath all, he feared God, lest he should step in to 
 avenge any wrong perpetrated against his servant. 
 
 Between these two influences he was " much perplexed '^ 
 (Mark vi. 20, r.v.). When he was with Herodias, he 
 thought as she did, and left her, almost resolved to give 
 the fatal order ; but when he was alone, the other influence 
 made itself felt, and he would send for John : 
 
 "I would like to see him again, chamberlain — tell the 
 gaoler to send the Baptist hither ; let his coming to my 
 private room be, however, kept secret. I don't want all my 
 court blabbing." 
 
 And the gaoler would come to the cell door, and call to 
 his prisoner, with a mixture of effrontery and obsequious- 
 ness, " Up, man; the king wants you. Put on your softest 
 speech. It will serve you better than that raspir.g tongue of 
 yours. Why cannot you leave the king and his private 
 affairs alone ? They are no business of yours or mine." 
 
 And might not Herod attempt to induce the prophet to 
 take back his ruthless sentence? "Come," he might say, 
 "you remember what you said. If you unsay that sentence, 
 I will set you free. I cannot, out of respect for my consort, 
 allow such words to remain unretracted. There, you have 
 your freedom in your own hands. One word of apology. 
 
gihotiott to ^rutlj. 107 
 
 and you may go your way ; and my solemn bond is yours, 
 that you shall be kept free from molestation." 
 
 If such an offer were made, it must have presented a 
 strong temptation to the emaciated captive, whose physique 
 had already lost the elasticity and vigour of his early man- 
 hood, and was showing signs of his grievous privation. But 
 he had no alternative ; and, however often the ordeal was 
 repeated, he met the royal solicitation with the same unwa- 
 vering reply : " I have no alternative. It is not lawful for 
 thee to have thy brother's wife. I should betray my God, 
 and act treacherously to thyself, if I were to take back one 
 word which I have spoken ; and thou knowest that it is so." 
 And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and a 
 judgment to come, the royal culprit trembled. 
 
 John could do no other ; but it was a sublime act of 
 devotion to God and Truth. He had no thought for 
 himself at all, and thought only of the choice and destiny of 
 that guilty pair, from which he would warn and save them, 
 if he might. Well might the Lord ask, in after days, if John 
 were a reed shaken with the wind. Rather he resembled a 
 forest tree, whose deeply-struck and far-spreading roots 
 secure it against the attack of the hurricane ; or a mighty 
 Alp, which defies the tremor of the earthquake, and rears 
 its head above the thunder-storms, which break upon its 
 slopes, to hold fellowship with the skies. 
 
 How many men are like Herod ! They resemble the 
 superficial ground, on which the seed springs into rapid and 
 unnatural growth ; but the rock lies close beneath the 
 surface. Now they are swayed by the voice of the preacher, 
 and moved by the pleadings of conscience, allowed for one 
 brief moment to utter its protests and remonstrances ; and 
 then they feel the fascination of their sin, that unholy 
 passion, that sinful habit, that ill-gotten gain — and aie 
 sucked back from the beach, on which they were almost 
 free, into the sea of ink and death. 
 
io8 i;ire llttt0'a Courts. 
 
 You may be trying, my reader, to steer a middle course 
 between John the Baptist and Herodias. Now you resolve 
 to get free of her guilty charms, and break the spell that 
 fascinates you. Merlin will emancipate himself from 
 Vivien, before she learn his secret, and dance with it down 
 the wood, leaving him dishonoured and ashamed. But, 
 within an hour, the Syren is again singing her dulcet notes, 
 and drawing the ship closer and closer to the rocks, with 
 their black teeth, waiting to grind it to splinters. Oh that 
 there might come to you the voice that spoke with such 
 power to Augustine, and that like him you might now and 
 here yield yourself to it ; so that when the temptress, what- 
 ever form she may assume, approaches you with the 
 whisper : " I am she^ Augustine," you may answer : " But I 
 am not he ! " 
 
 So John was left in prison. Month after month he 
 languished in the dark and stifling dungeon, wondering a 
 little, now and again, why the Master, if He were the Son 
 of God, did not interpose to work his deliverance. But of 
 that anon. 
 
 III. Herod's Inevitable Deterioration. — Again and 
 again John was remanded to his cell. Probably twelve 
 months passed thus. But each time the king failed to act 
 on the preacher's remonstrances ; he became more imper- 
 vious to his appeals, more liable to the sway of passion. 
 Thus, when a supreme moment came, in which he was 
 under the influence of drink and unholy appetite, and the 
 reign of such moral nature as remained was greatly enfeebled, 
 it is not to be wondered at that Herodias had her way, and 
 before her murderous request the last thin fence of resist- 
 ance broke down, and he gave orders that it should be as 
 she desired. 
 
 The story does not end here. He not only murdered 
 John the Baptist, but he inflicted a deadly wound on his 
 
'' ^ ^in nnta geatlr/* 109 
 
 own moral nature, from which it never recovered, as we 
 shall see. Ultimately he had no thought in the presence of 
 Christ other than to see Him work a miracle ; and when his 
 desire was refused, set him at nought with his mighty men, 
 mocked his claims to be the King of Israel, did not scruple 
 to treat Him with indignity and violence, and so dismissed 
 Him. 
 
 Is it wonderful that our Lord was speechless before such 
 a man ? What else could He be ? The deterioration had 
 been so awful and complete. For the love of God can say 
 nothing to us, though it be prepared to die on our behalf, 
 so long as we refuse to repent of, and put away, our sin. 
 We remember some solemn words, which may be applied 
 in all their fearful significance to that scene : " There is a 
 sin unto death ; not concerning this do I say that he should 
 make request." 
 
XI. 
 
 "M man te?" 
 
 (Matthew xi.) 
 
 " He fought his doubts and gathered strength, 
 He would not make his judgment blind, 
 He faced the spectres of the mind 
 And laid them ; — thus he came, at length, 
 •* To find a stronger faith his own, 
 
 And Power was with him in the night, 
 Which makes the darkness and the light, 
 And dwells not in the light alone." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 IT is very touching to remark the tenacity with which 
 some few of John's disciples clung to their great 
 leader. The majority had dispersed : some to their 
 homes ; some to follow Jesus. Only a handful lingered 
 still, not alienated by the storm of hate which had broken 
 on their master, but drawn nearer, with the unfaltering 
 loyalty of unchangeable affection. They could not forget 
 what he had been to them — that he had first called them to 
 the reality of living ; that he had taught them to pray ; that 
 he had led them to the Christ : and they dare not desert 
 him now, in the dark sad days of his imprisonment and 
 sorrow. 
 
 What an inestimable blessing to have friends like this, 
 who will not leave our side when the crowd ebbs, but draw 
 closer as the shadows darken over our path, and the prison 
 damp wraps its chill mantle about us ! To be loved hke that 
 is earth's deepest bhss ! These heroic souls risked all the 
 peril that might accrue to themselves from this identification 
 with their master ; they did not hesitate to come to his cell 
 with tidings of the great outer world, and specially of what 
 He was doing and saying, whose life was so mysteriously 
 
$0WS ^tS0tiTilt0S. Ill 
 
 bound up with his own. " The disciples of John told him 
 of all these things " (Luke vii. i8, r.v.). 
 
 It was to two of these choice and steadfast friends that 
 John confided the question which had long been forming 
 within his soul, and forcing itself to the front. "And John, 
 calhng unto him two of his disciples, sent them to the 
 Lord, saying, Art Thou He that cometh, or look -we for 
 another ? " 
 
 I. John's Misgivings.— Can this be he who, but a few 
 months ago, had stood in his rock-hewn pulpit, in radiant 
 certainty? The brilliant eastern sunlight that bathed his 
 figure, as he stood erect amid the thronging crowds, was 
 the emblem and symbol of the light that filled his soul. 
 No misgiving crossed it. He pointed to Christ with 
 unfaltering certitude, saying. This is He, the Lamb of 
 God, the Son of the Father, the Bridegroom of the soul. 
 How great the contrast between that and this sorrowful 
 cry, "Art Thou He?" 
 
 Some commentators, to save his credit, have supposed 
 that the embassy was sent to the Lord for the sake of the 
 disciples, that their hearts might be opened, their faith con- 
 firmed — and that they might have a head and leader when 
 he was gone. But the narrative has to be greatly strained 
 and dragged out of its obvious course to make it cover the 
 necessities of such an hypothesis. It is more natural to 
 think that John the Baptist was for a brief spell under a 
 cloud, involved in doubt, tempted to let go the confidence 
 that had brought him such ecstatic joy when he first saw 
 the Dove descending and abiding. 
 
 The Bible does not scruple to tell us of the failures of its 
 noblest children : of Abram, thinking that the Egyptians 
 would take his life ; of Elijah, stretching himself beneath 
 the shadow of the desert bush, and asking that he might 
 die ; of Thomas, who had been prepared to die with his 
 
112 ^^^rt movi le?'' 
 
 Lord, but could not believe that He was risen. And in this 
 the Spirit of God has rendered us untold service, because 
 we learn that the material out of which He made the 
 greatest saints was flesh and blood like ourselves ; and that 
 it was by Divine grace, manifested very conspicuously 
 towards them, that they became what they were. If only 
 the ladder rests on the low earth, where we live and move 
 and have our being, there is some hope of our climbing 
 to stand with others who have ascended its successive 
 rungs and reached the starry heights. Yes, let us believe 
 that, for some days at least, John's mind was overcast, his 
 faith lost its foothold, and he seemed to be falling into 
 bottomless depths. Ife sent them to Jesus, saying, Art 
 Thou He that should come ? We can easily trace this lapse 
 of faith to three sources. 
 
 (i) Depression. He was the child of the desert. The 
 winds that swept across the waste were not freer. The 
 boundless spaces of the Infinite had stretched above him, 
 in vaulted immensity, when he slept at night or wrought 
 through the busy days; and as he found himself cribbed, 
 cabined, and confined in the narrow limits of his cell, 
 his spirits sank. He pined with the hunger of a wild 
 thing for liberty — to move without the clanking fetters ; 
 to drink of the fresh water of the Jordan ; to breathe the 
 morning air ; to look on the expanse of nature. Is it hard 
 to understand how his deprivations reacted on his mental 
 and spiritual organization, or that his nervous system lost 
 its elasticity of tone, or that the depression of his physical 
 life cast a shadow on his soul ? 
 
 We are all so highly strung, so delicately balanced. 
 Often the lack of spiritual joy and peace and power in 
 prayer is attributable to nothing else than our confinement 
 in the narrow limits of a tiny room ; to the foul, gaseous 
 air we are compelled to breathe ; to our inability to get 
 beyond the great city, with its wilderness of brick, into 
 
gisapjiomteti W^pea. 113 
 
 the country, with its blossoms, fields, and woodland glades. 
 In a large number of spiritual maladies the physician is 
 more necessary than the minister of religion ; a holiday 
 by the seaside or on the mountains, than a convention. 
 
 What an infinite comfort it is to be told that God knows 
 how easily our nature may become jangled and out of tune. 
 He can attribute our doubts and fears to their right source. 
 He knows the bow is bent to the point of breaking, and the 
 string strained to its utmost tension. He does not rebuke 
 his servants when they cast themselves under juniper bushes, 
 and ask to die ; but sends them food and sleep. And when 
 they send from their prisons, saying, Art Thou He ? there 
 is no word of rebuke, but of tender encouragement and 
 instruction. 
 
 (2) Disappointment. When first consigned to prison, he 
 had expected every day that Jesus would in some way 
 deliver him. Was He not the opener of prison-doors ? 
 Was not all power at his disposal ? Did He not wield the 
 sceptre of the house of David ? Surely He would not let 
 his faithful follower lie in the despair of that dark dungeon ! 
 In that first sermon at Nazareth, of which he had been 
 informed, was it not expressly stated to be part of the Divine 
 programme, for which He had been anointed, that He 
 would open prison-doors, and proclaim liberty to captives ? 
 He would surely then send his angels to open his prison- 
 doors, and lead him forth into the light ! 
 
 But the weeks grew to months, and still no help came, 
 It was inexplicable to John's honest heart, and suggested 
 the fear that he had been mistaken after all. We can 
 sympathize in this also. Often in our lives we have 
 counted on God's interfering to deliver us from some 
 intolerable sorrow. With ears alert, and our heart throb- 
 bing with expectancy, we have lain in our prison-cell listen 
 ing for the first faint footfall of the angel ; but the weary 
 hours have passed without bringing him, and we have 
 P 
 
114 *'M Clrou 1^?" 
 
 questioned whether God were mindful of his own ; whether 
 prayer prevailed ; whether the promises were to be literally 
 appropriated by us ? 
 
 (3) Partial views of Christ. " John heard in the prison 
 the works of Jesus." They were wholly beneficent and 
 gentle, 
 
 " What has He done since last you were here ? " 
 
 " He has laid his hands on a few sick folk, and healed 
 them ; has gathered a number of children to his arms, and 
 blessed them ; has sat on the mountain, and spoken of rest 
 and peace and blessedness." 
 
 " Yes ; good. But what more ? " 
 
 " A woman touched the hem of his garment, and trem- 
 bled, and confessed, and went away healed." 
 
 "Good! But what more ? " 
 
 "Well, there were some bHnd men, and He laid his 
 hands on them, and they saw." 
 
 " Is that all ? Has He not used the fan to winnow the 
 wheat, and the fire to burn up the chaff? This is what I 
 was expecting, and what I have been taught to expect by 
 Isaiah and the rest of the prophets. I cannot understand 
 it. This quiet, gentle Ufe of benevolence is outside my 
 calculations. There must be some mistake. Go and ask 
 Him whether we should expect another^ made in a different 
 mould, and who shall be as the fire, the earthquake, the 
 tempest, while He is as the still small voice." 
 
 John had partial views of the Christ — he thought of Him 
 only as the Avenger of sin, the Maker of revolution, the 
 dread Judge of all. There was apparently no room in his 
 conception for the gentler, sweeter, tenderer aspects of his 
 Master's nature. And for want of a clearer understand- 
 ing of what God by the mouth of his holy prophets had 
 spoken since the world began, he fell into this Slough of 
 Despond. 
 
 It was a grievous pity ; yet let us not blame him too 
 
^i0ttB tsf tbe Christ. 115 
 
 vehemently, lest we blame ourselves. Is not this what we 
 do ? We form a notion of God, partly from what we 
 think He ought to be, partly from some distorted notions 
 we have derived from others ; and then because God fails 
 to realize our conception, we begin to doubt. We think, 
 for instance, that if there be a righteous God, He will not 
 permit wrong to triumph; little children to suffer for the 
 sins of their parents ; the innocent to be trodden beneath 
 the foot of the oppressor and the proud ; or the dumb 
 creatures to be tortured in the supposed interest of medical 
 science. Surely God will step out of his hiding-place and 
 open all prisons, emancipate all captives, and wave a hand 
 of benediction over all creation. Thus we think and say ; 
 and then, because the world still groans and travails, we 
 question whether God is in his high heaven. Like John, 
 men have a notion, founded on some faulty knowledge of 
 Scripture, that God will act in a certain preconceived way, 
 in the thunder, the whirlwind, and the fire ; and when 
 God does not, but pursues his tender, gentle ministries, 
 descending in summer showers, speaking in soft, still tones, 
 distilling in the dew-drops, winning his empire over men by 
 love, they say — " Is this He ? " 
 
 II. The Lord's Reply.—" In that hour He cured many 
 of diseases, and plagues, and evil spirits ; and on many that 
 were blind He bestowed sight." Through the long hours of 
 the day, the disciples stood in the crowd, while the pitiable 
 train of sick and demon-possessed passed before the Saviour, 
 coming in every stage of need, and going away cleansed 
 and saved. Even the dead were raised. And at the close 
 the Master turned to them, and with a deep significance in 
 his tone, said, " Go your way, and tell John what things ye 
 have seen and heard ; the blind receive their sight, the lame 
 walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead 
 are raised up, the poor have good tidings preached to them. 
 
ii6 '*^xi Won le?" 
 
 And blessed is he, whosoever shall find none occasion of 
 stumbling in Me." 
 
 (i) // was Indirect. He did not say, I am He that was to 
 come, and there is no need to look for another. Had He 
 done so, He might have answered John's intellect, but not 
 his heart. After a few hours the assurance would have 
 waxed dim, and he would have questioned again. He 
 might have wondered whether Jesus were not Himself 
 deceived. One question always leads to another, so long as 
 the heart is unsatisfied; hence the refusal on the part of 
 our Lord to answer the question, and his evident deter- 
 mination to allay the restlessness and disquietude of the 
 heart that throbbed beneath. 
 
 God might, had He so willed, have written in starry 
 characters across the sky the Divine words, " I am Jehovah, 
 and ye shall have no other gods beside Me " ; or He might 
 have flashed it, and obliterated it to flash it again, as the 
 electric cylinders which serve the purposes of advertisements 
 in our large cities by night. This might have awed the 
 intellect, but it would not have convinced the heart. Were 
 this God's method, we should miss the benediction on 
 those who have not seen and yet have believed. We should 
 miss the discipline of waiting until our doubts are dissolved 
 by the Spirit of God. The intellect might be temporarily 
 overpowered with the evidence ; but the soul, the heart, 
 and the spirit, would miss the true knowledge that comes 
 through purity, faith, and waiting upon God — the deepest 
 knowledge of all. Besides, though one were to rise from 
 the dead, and come to men with the awe of the vision of 
 the other world stamped on his face, they would not believe. 
 The evidence of the unseen and eternal must be given, not 
 to the startled physical sense, but to the soul. Some other 
 deeper method must be adopted ; the heart must be taught 
 to wait, trust, and accept those deep intuitions and revela- 
 tions which establish the being of God. 
 
W\jt gianjjIittB nf ^aitznzt, 117 
 
 (2) T^e Answer was Mysterious. Surely, if He were able 
 to do so much, He could do more. The power that healed 
 the sick and lame and blind, and cast out demons, could 
 surely deliver John. It made his heart the more wistful, to 
 hear of these displays of power. He had to learn that the 
 Lord healed these poor folks so easily because the light soil 
 of their nature could not bear the richer harvests ; because 
 their soul could not stand the cutting through which 
 alone the brilliant facets which were possible to his could 
 be secured. It was because John was a royal soul, the 
 greatest of woman born, because his nature was capable 
 of yielding the best results to the Divine culture, that he 
 was kept waiting, whilst others caught up the blessing and 
 went away healed. Only three months remained of life, 
 and in these the discipline of patience and doubt must 
 do their perfect work. 
 
 That is where you have made a mistake. You have 
 thought God was hard on you, that He would help every- 
 body but you; but you have not understood that your 
 nature was so dear to God, and so precious in his sight, 
 and so capable of the greatest development, that God loved 
 you too much to let you off so Hghtly, and give you what 
 you wanted, and send you on your way. God could have 
 given you sight, made that lame foot well, restored the 
 child to health, and opened the iron prison door of your 
 circumstances. He could ; but for all eternity you will 
 thank Him He did not, because you are capable of 
 something else. We are kept waiting through the long 
 years — not that He loves us less, but more ; not that He 
 refuses what we ask, but that in the long strain and tension 
 He is making us partakers of his blessedness. John's 
 nature would presently yield a martyr and win a martyr's 
 crown : was not that reason enough for not giving him at 
 once the deliverance he sought ? 
 
 (3) The Afiswer was Sufficient. Together with the works 
 
ii8 ^^^rt mjon l£?'* 
 
 of beneficence, the Lord drew John's attention to words he 
 seemed in danger of forgetting : " Strengthen ye the weak 
 hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to them that 
 are of a fearful heart, Be strong ; fear not ! Behold, your 
 God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of 
 God. He will come and save you. Then the eyes of 
 the blind shall be opened; and the ears of the deaf shall 
 be unstopped ; then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and 
 the tongue of the dumb shall sing; for in the wilderness 
 shall waters break out, and streams in the desert." "The 
 Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord hath 
 anointed Me to preach good tidings unto the meek ; He 
 hath sent Me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim 
 liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to 
 them that are bound." The Lord strove to convince the 
 questioner that his views ^vere too partial and limited, and 
 to send him back to a more comprehensive study of the 
 old Scriptures. It was as though Jesus said, " Go to your 
 master, and tell him to take again the ancient prophecy 
 and study it. He has taken the sterner predictions to 
 the neglect of the gentler, softer ones. It is true that I 
 am to proclaim the day of vengeance ; but first I must 
 reveal the acceptable year. It is true that I am to come 
 as a Mighty One, and my arm shall rule for Me ; but it 
 is also true that I am to feed my flock like a Shepherd, and 
 gather the lambs in my arm." 
 
 We make the same mistake. We have but a partial view 
 of Christ, and need to get back to the Bible afresh, and 
 study anew its comprehensive words ; then we shall come to 
 understand that the present is the time of the hiding of 
 his power, the time of waiting, the time of the gentler 
 ministries. Some day He will gird on his sword ; some day 
 He will winnow his floor ; some day He will ride in a 
 chariot of flame ; som-e day He will sit upon the throne 
 and judge those who oppress the innocent and take 
 
^ I^Eto gcatxtutrc. 119 
 
 advantage of the poor. We have not yet seen the end of 
 the Lord : we have not all the evidence. This is our 
 mistake. But our Saviour is offering us every day evidences 
 of his Divine and loving power. Last week I saw Him 
 raise the dead ; yesterday, before my eyes, He struck the 
 chains from a prisoner ; at this hour He is giving sight 
 to the blind ; to-morrow He will cast out demons. The 
 world is full of evidences of his gracious and Divine power. 
 They are not so striking and masterful as deeds of judg- 
 ment and wrath might be — they need a quicker eye, a purer 
 heart to discern ; but they are not less significant of the 
 fact that He liveth who was dead, and that He is alive for 
 evermore. And these are sufficient, not only because of 
 the transformations which are effected, but because of their 
 moral quality, to show that there is One within the vail 
 who lives in the power of an indissoluble life. 
 
 in. A New Beatitude. — " Blessed is he, whosoever 
 shall not be offended in Me." Our Lord put within the 
 reach of his noble Forerunner the blessedness of those who 
 have not seen and yet have believed ; of those who trust 
 though they are slain ; of those who wait the Lord's 
 leisure ; and of those who cannot understand his dealings, 
 but rest in what they know of his heart. This is the beati- 
 tude of the unoffended, of those who do not stumble over 
 the mystery of God's dealings with their life. 
 
 This blessedness is within our reach also. There are 
 times when we are overpowered with the mystery of life 
 and nature. The world is so full of pain and sorrow, 
 the litany of its need is so sad and pitiful, strong hearts 
 are breaking under an intolerable load ; while the battle 
 seems only to the strong and the race to those who, 
 by some mysterious providence, come of a healthy, though 
 not specially moral or religious, stock. And if the inci- 
 dence of pain and sorrow on the world be explained by its 
 
I20 ^*^rt fijou le?" 
 
 ungodliness, why does nature groan and travail? why are 
 the forest glades turned into a very shambles? why does 
 creation seem to achieve itself through the terrific struggle 
 for survival ? 
 
 God's children are sometimes the most bitterly tried. 
 For them the fires are heated seven times ; days of weari- 
 ness and nights of pain are appointed them ; they suffer, 
 not only at the hand of man, but it seems as though God 
 Himself were turned against them, to become their enemy. 
 The heavens seem as brass to their cries and tears, and the 
 enemy has reason to challenge them with the taunt, 
 " Where is now your God ! " The waters of a full cup are 
 wrung out in days like these ; and the cry is extorted, 
 " How long, O Lord, how long ? " 
 
 You and I have been in this plight. We have said, 
 ** Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Has He in anger 
 shut up his tender mercies?" From our prison-cell we 
 send up the appeal to our Brother in the glory: " Help us; 
 for if Thou leavest us to our fate, we shall question if Thou 
 art He." We are tempted to stumbling. We are like to 
 fall over the mysteries of God's dealings with us. We are 
 more able than ever before to appreciate the standpoint 
 occupied by Job's wife, when she said to her husband, 
 ** Curse God, and die." 
 
 Then we have the chance of inheriting a new beatitude. 
 By refusing to bend under the mighty hand of God — 
 questioning, chafing, murmuring — we miss the door which 
 would admit us into rich and unalloyed happiness. W^e 
 fumble about the latch, but it is not lifted. But if we will 
 quiet our souls like a weaned child, anointing our heads, 
 and washing our faces, light will break in on us as from the 
 eternal morning; the peace of God will keep our hearts and 
 minds, and we shall enter on the blessedness which our 
 Lord unfolded before the gaze of his faithful Forerunner. 
 
XII. 
 
 ^om sxzaUx than loljit i\)t fSaptist, ^zt ♦ ♦ 
 
 (Matthew xi.) 
 
 " Search thine own heart. What paincth thee 
 In others, in thyself may be ; 
 All dust is frail, all flesh is weak ; 
 Be thou the same man thou dost seek ! 
 
 *' Where now with pain thou treadest, trod 
 The whitest of the saints of God ! 
 To show thee where their feet were set, 
 The light which led them shineth yet." 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 WHILE John's disciples were standing there, our 
 Lord said nothing in his praise ; but as soon as 
 they had departed, the flood-gates of his heart 
 were thrown wide open, and He began to speak to the 
 multitudes concerning his faithful servant. It was as though 
 He would give him no cause for pride by what He said. 
 He desired to give his friend no additional temptation dur- 
 ing those lonely hours. We say our kind things before each 
 other's faces ; our hard things when the back is turned. 
 It is not so with Christ. He passes his most generous 
 encomiums when we are not there to hear them. Christ 
 may never tell you how greatly He loves and values you ; 
 but while you lie there in your prison, with sad and over- 
 cast heart, He is saying and thinking great things about you 
 yonder. 
 
 I. The Time Chosen for the Lord's Commendation 
 OF THE Baptist. — It was when John had fallen beneath his 
 usual level, below high-water mark, that Jesus uttered his 
 Q 
 
122 ^onz Qvzatzx tlratt |oljn tljc gaptxat, ^et . . . 
 
 warmest and most generous words of appreciation — 
 " Among them that are born of women, there hath not risen 
 a greater than John the Baptist." 
 
 " But, dost Thou really mean, most holy Lord, that this 
 one is the greatest born of woman ? " 
 
 " Certainly," saith Christ, in effect. 
 
 *' But he has asked if Thou art really the Messiah." 
 
 " I know it," saith the Lord. 
 
 "But how canst Thou say that he is to be compared 
 with Moses, Isaiah, or Daniel? Did they doubt Thee 
 thus ? And how canst Thou say that he is not a reed 
 shaken with the wind, when, but now, he gave patent 
 evidence that he was stooping beneath the hurrying tread 
 of gales of doubt and depression ? " 
 
 " Ah," the Master seems to say, " Heaven judges, not by 
 a passing mood, but by the general tenor and trend of a 
 man's life ; not by the expression of a doubt, caused by 
 accidents which may be explained, but by the soul of man 
 within him, which is as much deeper than the emotions as 
 the heart of the ocean is deeper than the cloud-shadows 
 which hurry across its surface." 
 
 Yes, the Lord judges us by that which is deepest, most 
 permanent, most constant and prevalent with us ; by the 
 ideal we seek to apprehend ; by the decision and choice of 
 our soul ; by that bud of possibility which lies as yet furled, 
 and unrealized even by ourselves. 
 
 There is a remarkable parallel to this incident in the Old 
 Testament. When we are first introduced to Gideon, the 
 youngest son of Joash the Abi-ezrite, he is not in a very 
 dignified position. He is threshing wheat by the wine-press, 
 to hide it from the hosts of Midian, which devoured the 
 produce of the entire country. There was no moral wrong 
 in eluding the vigilance of the Midian spies, in transporting 
 the wheat from the open country, where the wind might 
 fan away the chaff, to the comparative seclusion and 
 
Cljriat'a ^jjprcriation. 123 
 
 unlikeliness of the wine-press ; but there was nothing spe- 
 cially heroic or inspiring in the spectacle. Yet, when the 
 angel of the Lord appeared unto him, he said, " The Lord 
 is with thee, thou mighty man of valour." 
 
 " Mighty man of valour ! " At first there is an apparent 
 incongruity between this high-sounding salutation and the 
 bearing of the man to whom it was addressed. Surely 
 such an address is far-fetched and fulsome ; yet subsequent 
 events prove that every syllable of it was deservedly true. 
 Gideon was a mighty man of valour, and God was with 
 him. The heavenly messenger read beneath the outward 
 passing incident, and saw under the clumsy letters of the 
 palimpsest the deep and holy characters which were awaiting 
 the moment of complete discovery. 
 
 Is not this, in fact, the meaning of the apostle, when he 
 says that faith is reckoned to us for righteousness ? In the 
 fullest sense, of course, we know that to each believer in 
 Jesus there is reckoned the entire benefit of his glorious 
 person and work, so that we are accepted in the Beloved, 
 and He is "made unto us . . . Righteousness." But 
 there is another sense in which faith is reckoned to us for 
 righteousness, because it contains within itself the power 
 and potency of the perfect life. It is the seed-germ from 
 which is developed in due course the plant, the flower, the 
 bud, the seed, and the reproduction of the plant in unend- 
 ing succession. God reckoned to Abraham all that his 
 faith was capable of producing, which it did produce, and 
 which it would have produced had he possessed all the 
 advantages which pertain to our own happy lot. There is 
 thus the objective and the subjective : in virtue of the first, 
 through faith in Jesus, all his righteousness is accounted to 
 us; in virtue of the second, God reckons to us all that 
 blessed flowering and fruitage of which our faith will be 
 capable, when patience has had its perfect work and we are 
 perfect and entire, wanting nothing. 
 
124 ^ont greater tl^att Joljtt tlje gajjttat, ^ct . . • 
 
 II. The Outstanding Features of John's Character 
 AND Ministry to which our Lord drew attention. — 
 (i) His Independence. "What went ye out into the wilder- 
 ness to behold? A reed shaken with the wind?" The 
 language of the Bible is so picturesque, so full of natural 
 imagery, that it appeals to every age, and speaks in every 
 language of the world. If its descriptions of character had 
 been given in the language of the philosopher or academist, 
 what was intelligible to one age would have been perplexing 
 or meaningless to the next. Remember that the long 
 gallery in the Pyramids, which was directed to the pole-star 
 when they were constructed, is now hopelessly out of course, 
 because the position of the pole-star, in relation to the earth, 
 has so entirely altered ; and what is true among the spheres 
 is true in the use of terms. But the Word of God employs 
 natural figures and parables, which the wayfaring man, 
 though a fool, comprehends at a glance. 
 
 Who, for instance, on a gusty March day, has not watched 
 the wind blowing lustily across a marsh or the reedy margin 
 of a lake, compelling all the reeds to stoop in the same 
 direction ? Has one resisted the current or stood stoutly 
 forth in protesting non-compliance ? Has one dared to 
 adopt an unbending posture ? Not one. They have been 
 as obsequious as were all the king's servants that were in 
 the king's gate to the imperious Haman when he happened 
 to enter the palace. 
 
 Thus, when our Lord asked the people whether John 
 resembled a reed shaken by the wind, and implied their 
 answer in the negative, could He have more clearly indi- 
 cated one of the most salient characteristics of John's 
 career— -his daring singularity, his independence of mere 
 custom and fashion, his determination to follow out the 
 pattern of his own hfe as God revealed it to him ? In this 
 he resembles the good Nehemiah, when he refers to the 
 usual practice of men of his position, and says, " So did not 
 
®is intrepentrcttce. 125 
 
 I, because of the fear of the Lord"; or the three young 
 men Avho, when all the myriads fell down and worshipped 
 Nebuchadnezzar's golden image, remained erect. In the 
 singularity of his dress and food ; in the originality of his 
 message and demand for baptism; in his independence of 
 the religious teachers and schools of his time ; in his refusal 
 to countenance the flagrant sins of the various classes of the 
 community, and especially in his uncompromising denuncia- 
 tion of Herod's sin — he proved himself to be as a sturdy oak 
 in the forest of Bashan, or a deeply-rooted cedar in Lebanon, 
 and not as a reed shaken by the wind. 
 
 Many a saintly soul has followed him since along this 
 difficult and lonely track. Indeed, it is the ordinary path 
 for most of the choicest spirits of these Christian centuries. 
 I do not say of all, because the great Gardener has his 
 violets and lilies in sheltered spots ; but certainly most of 
 the trees of his right-hand planting have not stood thickly- 
 planted in the sheltered woodland, but have braved the 
 winds sweeping in at the gates of the hills. 
 
 You, my reader, admire, but feel you cannot follow. 
 When your companions and friends are speaking depreci- 
 ating and ungenerous words of some public man whom you 
 love ; when unkind and scandalous stories are being passed 
 from lip to lip ; when a storm of execration and hatred is 
 being poured on a cause, which in your heart you favour 
 and espouse — you find it easier to bow before the gale, with 
 all the other reeds around you, than to enter your protest, 
 even though you stand alone. Yet the reed thrust by the 
 soldiers into the hands of Christ may become the rod of 
 iron with which He rules the nations. He can take the 
 most pliant and yielding natures, and make them, as He 
 made Jeremiah, " a defenced city, and an iron pillar, and 
 brazen walls, against the whole land." Thou canst not ; 
 but He can. He will strengthen thee ; yea, He will help 
 thee ; yea, He will uphold thee with the right hand of his 
 
126 ^onz greater tljan Joljtt tlire gaptxst, get . . . 
 
 righteousness. Keep looking steadfastly up to Him, that 
 He may teach thy hands to war, and thy fingers to fight ; 
 for thou shalt be able to do all things through Him that 
 strengtheneth thee. 
 
 (2) His simplicity. A second time the Master asked the 
 people what they went forth into the wilderness to behold ; 
 and by his question implied that John was no Sybarite 
 clothed in soft raiment, and feasting in luxury, but a strong, 
 pure soul, that had learnt the secret of self-denial and 
 self-control. Too many of us are inclined to put on the 
 soft raiment of self-indulgence and luxury. We are the 
 slaves of fashion, or we are perpetually considering what 
 we shall eat, what we shall drink, and with what we shall be 
 clothed : or we act as though we supposed that life con- 
 sisted in the number of things we possessed, and the variety 
 of servants that waited upon us : whereas the exact con- 
 trary is the case.^i The real happiness of life consists not in 
 increasing our possessions, but in limiting our wants. 
 
 To all my young brothers and sisters who may read this 
 page, and who have yet the making of their lives in their 
 own hands, I would say, with all my heart, learn to do 
 without the soft clothing and the many servants which 
 characterise kings' courts. At table have your eye on the 
 simpler dishes, those which supply the maximum of nutri- 
 ment and strength, and do not allow your choice to be 
 determined by what pleases the palate or gratifies the taste. 
 A young friend stood me out the other day against some 
 article of diet, which was acknowledged to be the more 
 nutritious (it was whole-meal bread), because another was 
 sweeter and more palatable (some white, light French rolls, 
 from which all the nutriment had been extracted). This is 
 the deliberate preference of the fare of kings' courts to 
 Daniel's pulse and the Baptist's locusts and wild honey. 
 Please note, here, that there was nothing inconsistent in 
 his taking honey. We are not to refuse a certain diet 
 
®Ij£ ^implidt^ of Ijis S^ife, 127 
 
 because it is pleasant ; but we are not to choose it because 
 it is so. 
 
 So with dress. Our Master does not require of us to 
 dress grotesquely, or to attract notice by the singularity and 
 grotesqueness of our attire. We must dress suitably and in 
 conformity with that station in life to which He has called 
 us. But what a difference there is between making our 
 dress our main consideration, and considering first and 
 foremost the attire of the soul in meekness and truth, -' 
 purity and unselfishness. They who are set upon these 
 may be trusted to put the other in the right place. But, on 
 the whole, the truly consecrated soul should study sim- 
 plicity. It should not endeavour to attract notice by glaring 
 colours or extravagant display. It ought not to seek a large 
 variety of dresses and costumes, but be satisfied with what 
 may be really needed for the exigencies of climate and 
 health. Let it take no pleasure in vying with others, 
 because dress is a question of utility and not of pride. 
 On the whole, we should set our faces against the soft 
 raiment which enervates the health, and unfits us to stretch 
 out our hands in ready help to those who need assistance 
 along the highways of life. 
 
 So with service. It is not well to depend on others. 
 If it is part of our lot to be surrounded by servants, let 
 us accept their offices with grace and kindliness, but never 
 allow ourselves to lean on them. We should know how to 
 do everything for ourselves, and be prepared to do it when- 
 ever it is necessary. Of course, with some of us, it is 
 essential that we should have servants, that we may be 
 set free to do the special work of our hves. Nothing 
 would be more unfortunate than that those who are highly 
 gifted in some special direction should fritter away their 
 time and strength in doing trifles which others could do for 
 them equally well. To think of a physician whose con- 
 sulting room was crowded with patients needing help which 
 
128 ^onz greater tijatt Jfolrtt tire gaptiat, ^et ♦ . . 
 
 he alone, of all men living, could give, spending the pre- 
 cious morning hours in the minutiae of household arrange- 
 ments, blacking his boots, or preparing his food ! Let 
 these things be left to those who cannot do the higher work 
 to which he is called. 
 
 This is the secret of making the best of your life. Dis- 
 cover what you can do best — the one thing which you are 
 called to do for others, and which probably no one else can 
 do so well. Set yourself to do this, devolving on voluntary 
 or paid helpers all that they can do as well as, and perhaps 
 better than, yourself. It was in this spirit that the apostles 
 said, " It is not fit that we should forsake the Word of God 
 and serve tables. Look ye out, therefore, men . . . whom 
 we may appoint over this business ; but we will continue 
 steadfastly in prayer, and in the ministry of the Word." 
 
 It is specially the temptation of Eastern life, where the 
 climate is enervating and service is cheap and plentiful, to 
 seek the soft raiment and the large assistance of attendants, 
 and it is almost impossible to yield to one or the other 
 without relaxing the fibre of the soul. The temptation 
 is always around us; and it is well to look carefully into 
 our Hfe from time to time, to be quite sure, lest almost 
 insensibly its strong energetic spirit may not be in process of 
 deterioration — as the soldiers of Hannibal in the plains of 
 Capua. If so, resolve to do without, not for merit's sake, 
 but to conserve the strength and simplicity of your soul. 
 
 (3) His noble office. " But wherefore went ye out ? — to 
 see a prophet ? Yea, I say unto you, and much more than 
 a prophet." Nothing is more difficult than to measure 
 men while they are living. Whilst the fascination of their 
 presence and the music of their voice are in the air, we are 
 apt to exaggerate their worth. The mountain towers so far 
 above us that we are apt, in the absence of other mountains, 
 or in our too great proximity to it, to think of it as the 
 greatest of all the mountain-range. But it is not so, as we 
 
His Iplace in tht gtiiine €rottom^. 129 
 
 discover when we remove further. But subsequent ages, so 
 far from correcting, have only confirmed our Saviour's esti- 
 mate of his Forerunner. We are able to locate him in the 
 Divine economy. He was a prophet, yes, and much more. 
 To employ the predictive words of Malachi, he was Jehovah's 
 messenger, the courier who announced the advent of the 
 King, the last of the prophets — for all the prophets and the 
 law prophesied until John — and the herald of that new and 
 greater era, whose gates he opened, but into which he was 
 not permitted to enter. 
 
 But our Lord went further, and did not hesitate to class 
 John with the greatest of those born of woman. He was 
 absolutely in the front rank. He may have had peers, but 
 no superiors; equals, but no over-lords. Who may be 
 classed with him, we cannot, dare not, say. But probably 
 Abraham, Moses, Paul. " There hath not arisen a greater 
 than John the Baptist." No brighter star shines in the 
 celestial firmament than that of this brief young life, which 
 had only time enough to proclaim the advent of the Lord, 
 and after some brief six months of ministry by the Jordan, 
 followed by twelve months in the gaol, waned here to shine 
 in undimming brilliancy yonder. 
 
 There was a further tribute paid by our Lord to his noble 
 servant. Some two or three centuries before, Malachi had 
 foretold that Elijah, the prophet, would be sent before the 
 great and terrible day of the Lord came ; and the Jews were 
 always on the outlook for his coming. Even to the present 
 day a chair is set for him at their religious feasts. This is 
 what was meant when they asked the Baptist, at the com- 
 mencement of his ministry, if he were Elijah. He shrank, 
 as we have seen, from assuming so great a name, though he 
 could not have refused the challenge, had it been worded to 
 include the spirit and power of the great prophet of Thisbe. 
 But here our Lord went beyond John's own modest, self- 
 depreciating estimate, and declared, "If ye are willing to 
 
 R 
 
130 ^ant greater tljatt $ohn tire gaptist, get . . . 
 
 receive it, this is Elijah which is to come." As He descended 
 from the Mount of Transfiguration, He returned to the 
 same subject : " And they asked Him, saying, The scribes 
 say that EHjah must first come. And He said unto them, 
 Ehjah indeed cometh first, and restoreth all things. . . . 
 But I say unto you that Elijah is come, and they have also 
 done unto him whatsoever they listed, even as it is written 
 of him " (Mark ix. 9-13). 
 
 in. The Master's Reservation. Let us again quote 
 His memorable words : " Among them that are born of 
 women there hath not arisen a greater than John the 
 Baptist ; yet he that is but little in the Kingdom of heaven 
 is greater than he" (Matt. xi. 11, r.v.). 
 
 The greatness of John the Baptist shone out in con- 
 spicuous beauty in his meek confession of inferiority. It is 
 always a sign of the greatest knowledge, when its possessor 
 confesses himself to be as a child picking up shells on the 
 shores of a boundless ocean. And the Baptist's greatness 
 was revealed in the lowliness of his self-estimate. 
 
 When the Lord Jesus summarized his own character He 
 said, "I am meek and lowly in heart." In doing so He 
 expressed the character of God; for He was the Revealer of 
 God, "the brightness of his glory, and the express image 
 of his person." He was " God manifested in flesh." He 
 was not only the Son of God, He was God the Son : " He 
 that hath seen Me hath seen the Father. I and the Father 
 are one." The greatness of John was proved in this, that 
 Uke his Lord he was meek and lowly in heart. Neither 
 before nor since has a son of Adam lived in whom these 
 divine qualities were more evident. No sublimer, no more 
 God-like utterance ever passed the lips of man than John's 
 answer to his disciples : "A man can receive nothing except 
 it have been given him from heaven. He must increase, but 
 I must decrease" (see the whole passage, John iii. 27-36). 
 
Clre ^pmt of iJtBekttess. 131 
 
 The very same spirit of meekness was speaking in John 
 as acted in his Lord, when, knowing that the Pharisees had 
 heard that Jesus was making and baptizing more dis- 
 ciples than John (though Jesus Himself baptized not, but 
 his disciples), " He left Judea and departed into Galilee." 
 What divisions might have been avoided in the Church had 
 his people followed his example ! But there was no man, 
 not even the apostle John or Paul, whose spirit accorded 
 more exactly with the Master's than his faithful and self- 
 effacing herald and forerunner, John the Baptist. It might 
 well be said, that of them that were born of women there 
 had not arisen a greater than he. 
 
 But what was in our Lord's thought when He made the 
 reservation, " Ve^ he that is but little in the Kingdom of 
 heaven is greater than he " ? It has been suggested that the 
 Lord was speaking of John not only as a man, but as a 
 prophet, and that this declaration applies more particularly 
 to John as a prophet. The words of the evangelist Luke 
 are noticeable — "There hath not risen a greater prophet 
 than John the Baptist " : because to balance the sentence it 
 seems needful to supply the word prophet in the second 
 clause — " The least prophet in the Kingdom of heaven is 
 a greater prophet than he." John could say, " Behold the 
 Lamb of God " ; but the least of those who, being scattered 
 abroad, went everywhere proclaiming the word of the 
 Kingdom, preached " Jesus and the resurrection." 
 
 But there is another way of interpreting Christ's words. 
 John ushered in the Kingdom, but was not in it. He pro- 
 claimed a condition of blessedness in which he was not 
 permitted to have a part. And the Lord says that to be in 
 that Kingdom gives the opportunity of attaining to a great- 
 ness which the great souls outside its precincts cannot lay 
 claim to. There is a greatness which comes from nature, 
 and another greatness from circumstances. The child on 
 the mountain is higher than the giant in the valley. The 
 
132 l^ntte greater tljatt %o\jn tljt gapttst, ^et . . • 
 
 boy in our village schools knows more on certain subjects 
 than Socrates or Confucius, the greatest sages of the world. 
 The least instructed in the Kingdom of heaven is privileged 
 to see and hear the things which prophets and kings longed 
 and waited for in vain. The least in the higher dispensation 
 may know and understand more than the loftiest souls of 
 the dispensations that have preceded. 
 
 And may there not be even more than this ? The charac- 
 ter of John was strong, grand in its wild magnificence — like 
 some Alpine crag, with the pines on its slopes and the deep 
 dark lake at its foot; he had courage, resolution, an iron 
 will, a loftiness of soul that could hold commerce with the 
 unseen and eternal. He was a man capable of vast heights 
 and depths. He could hold fellowship with the eternal 
 God as a man speaks with his friend, and could suffer 
 unutterable agonies in self-questioning and depression. 
 But is this the loftiest ideal of character? Is it the most 
 desirable and blessed ? Assuredly not ; and this may have 
 been in the Saviour's mind when He made his notable reser- 
 vation. To come neither eating nor drinking ; to be stern, 
 reserved, and lonely ; to live apart from the homes of men ; 
 to be the severe and unflinching rebuker of other men's sins 
 — this was not the loftiest pattern of human character. 
 
 There was something better, as is manifest in our Lord's 
 own perfect manhood. The balance of quaUty ; the power 
 to converse with God, mated with the tenderness that enters 
 the homes of men, wipes the tears of those that mourn, and 
 gathers little children to its side ; that has an ear for every 
 complaint, and a balm of comfort for every heart-break; 
 that pities and soothes, teaches and leads ; that is able not 
 only to commune with God alone in the desert, but brings 
 Him into the lowliest deeds and commonplaces of human 
 life — this is the type of character which is characteristic of the 
 Kingdom of heaven. It is described best in those inimitable 
 beatitudes which canonize, not the stern and rugged, but 
 
®ije (irtatess of Sumilit^* 133 
 
 the sweet and tender, the humble and meek ; and stamp 
 Heaven's tenderest smile on virtues which had hardly found 
 a place in the strong and gritty character of the Baptist. 
 
 Yes, there is more to be had by the humble heart than 
 John possessed or taught. The passive as well as the active; 
 the glen equally with the bare mountain peak ; the feminine 
 with the masculine ; the power to wait and be still, combined 
 with the swift rush to capture the position ; the cross of 
 shame as well as the throne of power. And if thou art the 
 least in the Kingdom of God, all this may be thine, by the 
 Holy Spirit, who introduces the very nature of the Son of 
 Man into the heart that loves Him truly. " He that is least 
 in the Kingdom of heaven is greater than he." 
 
XIII. 
 
 ^ IBurtttng antr ^Ijintttg lamp^ 
 
 (John v. 35.) 
 
 ' ' Men as men 
 Can reach no higher than the Son of God, 
 The Perfect Head and Pattern of Mankind. 
 The time is short, and thus sufificeth us 
 To Hve and die by ; and in Him again 
 We see the same first starry attribute, 
 ' Perfect through stiffe7-i7ig,' our salvation's seal, 
 Set in the front of His humanity. . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton King. 
 
 OUR Master, Christ, was on his trial. He was 
 challenged by the religious leaders of the people 
 because He had dared to heal a man and to 
 command him to carry his bed — his straw pallet — on the 
 Sabbath day. He was therefore accused, and, so to speak, 
 put in his defence. 
 
 Of course we must not for a moment think that our Lord 
 was lax in his observance of the Sabbath, but simply that 
 He desired to emancipate the day from the intolerable bur- 
 dens and restrictions with which the Jewish leaders had 
 surrounded it. It was his desire to show, for all after time, 
 that the Sabbath was made for useful purposes, and spe- 
 cially for deeds of mercy, beneficence, and gentle kindness. 
 The Lord Jesus was maligned and persecuted because He 
 was the Emancipator of the Sabbath day from foolish and 
 mistaken notions of sanctity. 
 
 It is of the greatest importance that we should do what 
 we may to conserve one rest-day in seven to our country 
 and our world ; and I cannot help noticing in the story of 
 the life of the great statesman and Christian, who recently 
 
^\jt Itesf-gav. 135 
 
 passed from us, how careful he was to guard the day from 
 unnecessary intrusion. It has been attested by those who 
 knew him well, that physically, intellectually, and spiritually, 
 the Lord's day to him was a priceless blessing. Let your 
 rest on the one rest-day consist, not in lolling idly and 
 carelessly, but in turning your faculties in some other direc- 
 tion ; because the truest rest is to be found, not in luxurious 
 ease, but in using the fresh vigour of your hfe in other com- 
 partments of the brain than those which have been worn by 
 the demands of the six days. Then, fresh from the Sunday- 
 school class, the worship of the church, and the sermon, 
 you will return to the desk or office, or whatever may be 
 your toil, with new and rejuvenated strength. 
 
 There is a great distinction between shining and burning: 
 shining is the light-giving, the illuminating, that comes forth 
 from the enkindled wick ; but it cannot shine unless it 
 burns. The candle that gives light wastes inch by inch as 
 it gives it. The very wick of your lamp, that conducts the 
 oil to the flame, chars, and you have to cut it off bit by bit 
 until the longest coil is at length exhausted. We must 
 never forget that, if we would shine, we must burn. Too 
 many of us want to shine, but are not prepared to pay the 
 cost that must be faced by every true man that wants to 
 illuminate his time. We must burn down until there is but 
 an eighth of an inch left in the candlestick, till the light 
 flickers a little and drops, makes one more eager effort, and 
 then ceases to shine — "a burning and shining light." 
 
 Obviously, then, we have first //ze comparison between John 
 and the candle^ or lamp ; then we have the necessary expendi- 
 ture^ burning to shine ; and, thirdly, we have the misuse that 
 people may make of their opportunities. 
 
 I. The Lord's Comparison. — "John was a burning and 
 shining lamp." In the original a great contrast is suggested 
 between la77ip^ as it is given in the Revised Version, and 
 
136 ^ gurnttt0 atttr ^lTmttt0 |famp. 
 
 light. The Old Version put it thus : " He was a burning 
 and shining hght " ; but the Revised Version puts it thus : 
 " He was a burning and shining lamp " : and there is a 
 considerable difference between the two. In the first 
 chapter of the Gospel, the apostle John tells us, speaking 
 of the Baptist, that he was not that Light, but was sent to 
 bear witness of that Light, that all men through him [John] 
 might beUeve. "That was the True Light, which lighteth 
 every man coming into the world." 
 
 Jesus Christ is the Light of the World ; and I believe 
 that in every age He has been waiting to illumine the hearts 
 and spirits of men, reminding us of the expression in the 
 Book of Proverbs — and it is wonderfully significant — " The 
 spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." 
 
 Here is a candle, yonder is the wick; but it gives no 
 light. The air may be full of luminousness, but as yet it 
 has found no point on which to kindle and from which to 
 irradiate. But, see, of a sudden the light gathers to the 
 candle-wick, which had stood helpless and useless, touches 
 it, and it begins to shine with a light not its own. It is 
 borrowed light, caught from some burning cone of flame. 
 
 Men are born into the world like so many unlighted 
 candles. They may stand in chaste candlesticks, all of 
 gold or silver, of common tin or porcelain. But all are by 
 nature unlit. On the other hand, Jesus Christ, the Light of 
 men, waits with yearning desire, and, as each successive 
 generation passes across the stage of human life, He is 
 prepared to illumine the spirits which are intended to be 
 the candles of the Lord. In these ages He illumines us 
 with the Gospel ; but I believe that all moral intuitions, all 
 instincts of immortality, all cravings after God, all gropings 
 in the dark for the true Light, all helpful moral revolutions 
 which have swept over mankind, have been the result of his 
 influence, who, as the true Light, lighteth every man coming 
 into the world. Whenever and wherever a man has flamed 
 
Ut Si0ljt 0f fife. 137 
 
 up with unusual fervour and spiritual power, with a desire 
 to help his fellows, and has shone like a torch, we must 
 beheve that he was illumined by the Son of God, the 
 Wisdom of the Book of Proverbs, whom he may not have 
 known, but whom he would recognise as soon as he crossed 
 the portal of the New Jerusalem. He lighteth every man; 
 He is wining to illumine every man that comes into the 
 world. 
 
 This conception casts a considerable hght on some of the 
 enigmas of human experience. We have known illiterate, 
 uncultured men, without many gifts of style or grace of 
 speech, yet they have shone to such an extent that every one 
 in their neighbourhood has been lit by the radiance that 
 has streamed from them. On the other hand, we have met 
 men who have passed through a college course and been 
 carefully trained for their life-work ; important pulpits and 
 opportunities of great usefulness have been opened to them ; 
 but their lives have been a disappointment. Why ? Ah, 
 the answer is easy. The former class were as candles, 
 made of ordinary wax, and placed in inconspicuous candle- 
 sticks, which had been ignited by the fire of God through 
 the Holy Spirit ; and the latter were hke exquisitely pre- 
 pared candlesticks, the candles in which had never been 
 kindled by the fire of God. There are hundreds of pro- 
 fessing Christians, and some may read these pages, who 
 have never really been kindled ; who have never been 
 touched by the Son of God; who do not know what it is to 
 shine with his light and to burn with his fire. 
 
 What is the process of Hghting ? The wick of the candle 
 is simply brought into contact with the flame, and the flame 
 leaps to it, kindles on it, without parting with any of its 
 vigour or heat, and continues to burn, drawing to itself the 
 nourishment which the candle supplies. So let Jesus Christ 
 touch you. Believe in the Light, that you may become a 
 child of the Light. Take off the extinguisher; cast away 
 
138 ^ gxtrnxtt0 antr ^bmitt0 |£am|r. 
 
 your prejudice ; put off those misconceptions ; have done 
 with those unworthy habits : putting them all aside, let 
 Jesus kindle you. "Arise, shine; for thy light is come." 
 "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead ; and 
 Christ shall give thee light." 
 
 We were kindled that we might kindle others. I would 
 like, if I might have my choice, to burn steadily down, with 
 no guttering waste, and as I do so to communicate God's 
 fire to as many unlit candles as possible ; and to burn on 
 steadily until the socket comes in view, then to light, in the 
 last flicker, twenty, thirty, or a hundred candles at once ; so 
 that as one expires they may begin burning and spreading 
 light which shall shine till Jesus comes. Get light from 
 Christ, then share it ; and remember that it is the glory of 
 fire that one little candle may go on lighting hundreds of 
 candles — one insignificant taper may light all the lamps of a 
 cathedral church, and yet not be robbed of its own Httle 
 glow of flame. Andrew was lit by Christ Himself, and passed 
 on the flame to Simon Peter, and he to three thousand more 
 on the Day of Pentecost. Every Christian soul illumined 
 by the grace of God thus becomes, as John the Baptist 
 was, a lamp. But there is always the same impassable 
 chasm between these and the Lord. They are derived ; 
 He is original. They need to be sustained and fed; He 
 is the fountain of Light : because, as the Father hath life 
 in Himself, He hath given to Him also to have life in 
 Himself, and his life is the light of men. 
 
 II. The Inevitable Expenditure. — " He was a burn- 
 ing and shining lamp." If you would shine, you must burn. 
 The ambition to shine is universal ; but all are not prepared 
 to pay the price by which alone they can acquire the right to 
 give the true light of life. There are plenty of students who 
 would win all the prizes, and wear all the honours, apart 
 from days and nights of toil ; but they find it a vain 
 
^Ij:tt!tt0, hzcan&t gurmttg. 139 
 
 ambition. Before a man can become Senior Wrangler he 
 must have burnt, not only the midnight oil, but some of the 
 very fibre of his soul. Conspicuous positions in the literary 
 and scientific world are less the reward of genius than of 
 laborious, soul-consuming toil. The great chemist will work 
 sixteen hours out of twenty-four. The illustrious author 
 acquires, by profound research, the materials which he 
 weaves into his brilliant page. Such men shine because 
 they burn. 
 
 But this is pre-eminently the principle in the service of 
 Christ. It was so with the Lord Himself. He shone, and his 
 beams have illumined myriads of darkened souls, and shall 
 yet bring dawn throughout the world ; but, ah, how He 
 burned ! The disciples remembered that it was written 
 of Him : " The zeal of thy house hath eaten Me up." 
 He suffered, that He might serve. He would not save 
 Himself, because He was bent on saving others. He 
 ascended to the throne because He spared not Himself 
 from the cruel tree. Pilate marvelled that his death came 
 so soon, and sent for the centurion to be certified that in so 
 few hours He had succumbed. But he did not realize that 
 in three short years He had expended his vital strength so 
 utterly, that there was no reserve to fall back upon. There 
 had been an inward consumption, an exhaustion of nervous 
 power, a wearing down of the springs of vitality. He shone 
 because of the fire that burned within Him. 
 
 It was so with the great apostle, who said that he filled 
 up that which was lacking in the afflictions of Christ, not of 
 course, that there was any lack in the work of propitiation 
 which required his further help, but that the saints are called 
 to share with their Lord his sorrows for men, his tears, to 
 lift the burdens and crosses of others, to give of their very 
 life-blood for the replenishing of the exhausted fountains of 
 human faith, and hope, and love. Paul gave freely of his 
 best. He shone because he never hesitated to burn. 
 
I40 ^ gurtting aitlr §^)jintnQ yamjj. 
 
 Remember how he affirmed that he was pressed down, 
 perplexed, pursued, and always bore about in his body the 
 dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus might be 
 manifested in his mortal flesh. The price paid for the life 
 that wrought in the hearts of his converts was that death 
 should work in himself. 
 
 All the saints have passed through similar experiences. 
 They knew, as Cranmer said, that they could never hope to 
 kindle a fire that should never be put out, unless they were 
 prepared to stand steadily at the stake and give their bodies 
 to be burned. But they counted not their lives dear unto 
 them, if they might but finish their course with joy, and the 
 ministry which they had received of the Lord Jesus, to 
 testify the Gospel of the grace of God. The men and 
 women who shine as beacon-lights across the centuries are 
 those whose tears were their meat day and night, whose 
 prayers rose with strong cryings and tears; while, as with 
 Palissy, the Huguenot potter, the very furniture of the 
 house was brought out to feed the flame in which the 
 precious glaze was being precipitated. 
 
 If the Christian worker longs to benefit the poor slum 
 district in which he is located, he must be prepared to live 
 amongst the people and expend himself. Presently, in his 
 hollow cheeks, his sallow complexion, his attenuated form, 
 his diminishing strength, you will see that he is paying the 
 price for his loo-candle illuminating power, because he 
 is being consumed. Every successful worker for God must 
 learn that lesson. You must be prepared to suffer ; you 
 can only help men when you die for them. If you desire 
 to save others you cannot save yourself ; you must be pre- 
 pared to fall into the ground and die, if you would not 
 abide alone : there must be with you, as with Paul, the 
 decaying of the outward man, that the inward man may be 
 renewed day by day. You must be prepared to say with 
 him, " Death worketh in us, but life in you." 
 
** f et 5our f igljt §^htntr 141 
 
 If you burn, you will shine. The burning and the shining 
 do not always go together ; often the burning goes on a 
 long time without much illumination resulting from the 
 expenditure. Those who are rich in gifts and natural en- 
 dowments cast in much, and the poor cast in all their 
 living ; this they continue to do, year after year, and none 
 seems to heed the awful cost at which their testimony is 
 given. Moreover, to use a well-known phrase, the game 
 hardly seems worth the candle. The area they influence is 
 so limited, the souls affected so few, the glimmer of their 
 light, like a street-lamp in a fog, hardly reaches across the 
 street or to the ground. Sometimes it appears only to 
 make the darkness denser and thicker. In many cases, the 
 saints of God have burnt down to the last film of vital 
 energy and expired, and there has been no shining that the 
 world has taken cognisance of. Their bitter complaint has 
 been, "I have laboured in vain; I have spent my strength 
 for nought, and in vain." But even these shall shine. 
 They shall shine as the stars for ever and ever in that 
 world where all holy and faithful souls obtain their due. 
 
 Let us see to the burning ; God will see to the shining. 
 It is ours to feed the sacred heaven-enkindled flame with 
 the daily fuel of the Word of God and holy service ; and 
 God will see to it that no ray of power or love is wasted. 
 He will place reflectors around us, to catch up and repeat 
 the influences that proceed from us. "The Lord was 
 with Samuel, and did let none of his words fall to the 
 ground." It is ours to keep in company with the risen 
 Lord, listening to Him as He opens to us the Scriptures, 
 until our hearts burn within us ; then, as we hasten to tell 
 what we have seen, tasted, and handled of the Word of 
 Life, there will be a glow on our faces, whether we know it 
 or not ; and men shall say of us : " They have been with 
 Jesus." If we think only of the shining, we shall probably 
 miss both it and the burning. But if we devote ourselves 
 
142 ^ gttrtttn0 antr ^Itjimn^ |?am|r. 
 
 to the burning, even though it involve the hidden work of 
 the mine, the stoke-hole, and the furnace-room, there will 
 be the raying forth of a light that cannot be hid. Where 
 there is the burning heat, there must be the soft, gleaming 
 light. Let there be but summer, and the flowers cover the 
 land. 
 
 J^or the burning and the shining^ God will provide the fuel. 
 The fire which burnt in the bush needed no fuel ; " the 
 bush was not consumed." With us there is perpetual need 
 for the nourishment of the fire of love and the light of hfe 
 by the administration of appropriate fuel. The oil must be 
 supplied to the lamp. The fire cannot be kept burning on 
 the altar apart from the incessant care and attention of the 
 priests. But be of good cheer ; He who hath begun a good 
 work in you will perfect it unto the day of Jesus Christ. 
 All grace will be made to abound towards you, that you may 
 have all sufficiency for all things, and abound to every good 
 work. The Lord will give grace and glory ; no good thing 
 will He withhold from them that walk uprightly. God will 
 supply all your need, according to his riches in glory, by 
 Christ Jesus. It is especially helpful to ponder the full 
 import of the phrase — "the supply of the Spirit of Jesus 
 Christ." It is as though we had access to one of those oil- 
 wells of the west, which seem practically inexhaustible. 
 
 It is a wonderful thing how often God puts his lighted 
 candles in the cellar. We would have supposed that He 
 would have placed a man like John on a pedestal or a 
 throne, that his influence might reach as far as possible. 
 Instead of that He allowed him to spend the precious 
 months of his brief life in prison. And the lamp flickered 
 somewhat in the pestilential damp. It may be that this is 
 your place also. In the silence of a sick chamber, in the 
 obscurity of some country parish, amid obloquy and hatred, 
 you are doomed to spend your slowly-moving years. It 
 seems such a waste. Loneliness and depression are hard to 
 
^ Si^ljt in tire garhness^ i4S 
 
 endure; but the consciousness of accomplishing so little, 
 though at such cost, is very painful. This is your cellar-life, 
 your dungeon experience. Remember that Joseph and 
 Rutherford, John Bunyan and Madame Guyon, have been 
 there before you. Probably, because the cellar is so very 
 dark, God wants to station a candle there, and has placed 
 you there because you can accomplish a work for Him, 
 and for others, of priceless importance. Where is the light 
 needed so much as on a dark landing or a sunken reef? 
 Go on shining, and you will find some day that God will 
 make that cellar a pedestal out of which your light shall 
 stream over the world ; for it was out of his prison cell that 
 John illuminated the age in which his lot was cast, quite as 
 much as from his rock-pulpit beside the Jordan. " I would 
 have you know, brethren," said the apostle, "that the 
 things which happened unto me have fallen out rather unto 
 the progress of the Gospel, so that my bonds became 
 manifest in Christ throughout the Praetorian guard " (Phil, 
 i. 12, 13, R.V.). 
 
 III. Christ's Warning against the Misuse of Oppor- 
 tunities. — "Ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his 
 light." The Greek word rendered rejoice has in it the idea 
 of moths playing around a candle, or of children dancing 
 around a torch-light, as it burns lower and lower. It is as 
 though a light were given to men for an hour, for them to 
 use for some high and sacred purpose ; but they employ it 
 for dancing and card-playing, instead of girding up their 
 loins to serious tasks. " You were willing," says the Master, 
 in effect, " to rejoice, to dance and sing, in his light. You 
 treated his ministry as a pastime. As long as he spoke 
 to you about the coming Kingdom, you listened and were 
 glad ; but when he began to call you to repentance and 
 warn you of wrath to come, you left him." He is now like 
 an almost extinguished lamp. His hour is all but done. 
 
The brief space he was sent to occupy has been fulfilled. 
 " Behold, the night cometh, when no man can work." 
 
 The ministry of the Gospel is but for " an hour." The 
 story of man may be compared to a brief day (i Cor. iv. 3, 
 marg., R.v.) ; and in that day the proclamation of the good 
 news from God occupies but a very limited space. The 
 hour-glass was turned when Jesus ascended, and it is more 
 than likely that the last grains are running through ; then 
 the cry of the herald shall be hushed, and the servants' 
 voices will be no more heard in the streets inviting to the 
 marriage supper, and there shall be none to break or dis- 
 tribute the bread of life. 
 
 With what eager care men should prize these fleeting 
 opportunities, not listening to the preacher's voice, as of one 
 that can make a pleasant sound from the harp or organ — not 
 seeking merely the delight of the ear or intellect ; but taking 
 heed to hear for eternity, receiving in meek and retentive 
 hearts the precious grain as it falls from the sower's hand, 
 and giving diligence that the best possible results may 
 accrue. 
 
 Oh, children of the sunny market-place, playing giddily 
 throughout the long afternoon, take heed lest your oppor- 
 tunities of preparing for the serious work of life slip away 
 unimproved, and you find yourselves face to face with death 
 and judgment without a screen, without hope, and without 
 God. John murdered in prison ; Jesus nailed to the cross ; 
 the apostles and martyrs done to death on the scaffold and 
 at the stake — and the ship drifting on the rocks, without a 
 warning voice to arouse the thoughtless crowd of dice- 
 throwers and dancers to the certainty and nearness of their 
 doom ! 
 
XIV. 
 
 ^d at Wihzxt^. 
 
 (Mark vi. 27,) 
 
 *' Hush my soul, and vain regrets be stilled ; 
 Now rest in Him who is the complement 
 Of whatsoe'er transcends our mortal doom, 
 Of baffled hope and unfulfilled intent ; 
 In the clear vision and aspect of whom 
 All longings and all hopes shall be fulfilled." 
 
 Archbishop Trench. 
 
 THE evangelist Mark tells us, in the twenty-first verse 
 of this chapter, that Herod on his birthday made a 
 supper to his lords, and the high captains, and the 
 chief men of Galilee. Now, of course, Galilee, over which 
 Herod had jurisdiction, and where, for the most part, he 
 dwelt, in the beautiful city of Tiberias, the ruins of which are 
 still washed by the blue waters of the lake, was a considerable 
 distance from the Castle of Machserus, which, as we have 
 seen, was situated in the desolate region on the eastern side 
 of the Dead Sea. There would probably, therefore, have 
 been a martial and noble procession from Galilee, which 
 followed the course of the Jordan to the oasis of Jericho, 
 and then branched off to the old, grim fortress, which, like 
 one of those ruined castles on the Rhine, had been for many 
 years the scene of brigandage, pillage, and bloodshed. 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine that sumptuous and splendid 
 retinue. Roman soldiers and officials in all the splendour 
 of their accoutrements and mounting ; carriages conveying 
 the royal consort, Herodias, Salome, and their ladies ; large 
 numbers of native soldiers; swarthy Bedouin and Greek 
 traders ; priests and levites, who lived on the smile of the 
 Court; court officials, camp-bearers, a motley following 
 
146 ^zt at f tbertf. 
 
 of servants and slaves. In the front of the cavalcade, 
 Herod, on a magnificent steed. The line of march, enlivened 
 by the sound of martial music, and the flaunting of innumer- 
 able banners. Slowly they made their way through those 
 desert solitudes, across the pasture-lands, and finally swept 
 up through the little village that lay at the foot of the hill to 
 the castellated fortress which covered the summit, edging its 
 mighty walls to the brink of the steep clifis. Soon the last 
 straggler would be lost to view, the heavy portcullis fall, and 
 the massive iron gate swing to, and the first step would 
 be taken towards the tragedy> which lay right before 
 Herod's path. One sometimes wonders whether the 
 whole of these circumstances had not been planned by 
 the cunning device of Herodias. In any case, nothing 
 could have been arranged more exactly to suit her murderous 
 schemes. 
 
 The days that preceded the celebration of Herod's birth- 
 day were probably filled with merry-making and carouse. 
 Groups of nobles, knights, and ladies, would gather on the 
 terraces, looking out over the Dead Sea, and away to 
 Jerusalem, and in the far distance to the gleaming waters of 
 the Mediterranean. Picnics and excursions would be 
 arranged into the neighbouring country. Archery, jousts, 
 and other sports would beguile the slowly-moving hours. 
 Jests, light laughter, and buffoonery would fill the air. And 
 all the while, in the dungeons beneath the castle, lay that 
 mighty preacher, the confessor, forerunner, herald, and soon 
 to be the martyr. 
 
 But this contrast was more than ever accentuated on the 
 evening of Herod's birthday, when the great banqueting- 
 chamber was specially illuminated ; the tables decked with 
 flowers and gold and silver plate ; laughter and mirth echo- 
 ing through the vaulted roof from the splendid company 
 that lay, after the Eastern mode, on sumptuous couches, 
 strewing the floor from one end to the other of the spacious 
 
®Itb ^en^aia oi a ^r^at Crime. 147 
 
 hall. Servants, in costly liveries, passed to and fro, bearing 
 the rich dainties on massive salvers, one of which was to be 
 presently besprinkled with the martyr's blood. 
 
 In such a scene, I would have you study the genesis of a 
 great crime, because you must remember that in respect to 
 sin, there is very little to choose between the twentieth 
 century and the first ; between the sin of that civilization and 
 of ours. This is why the Bible must always command the 
 profound interest of mankind — because it does not concern 
 itself with the outward circumstances and setting of the 
 scenes and characters it describes, but with those great 
 common facts of temptation, sin, and redemption, which 
 have a meaning for us all. 
 
 This chapter is therefore written under more than usual 
 solemnity, because one is so sure that, in dealing with 
 that scene and the passions that met there in a foaming 
 vortex, words may be penned that will help souls which 
 are caught in the drift of the same black current, and are 
 being swept down. Perhaps this page shall utter a warning 
 voice to arrest them, ere it be too late, and be a life-buoy, 
 or rope, or brother's hand reached out to save them as they 
 rush past on the boiling waters. For there is help and 
 grace in God by which a Herod and a Judas, a Jezebel 
 and a Lady Macbeth, a royal criminal or an ordinary one, 
 may be arrested, redeemed, and saved. 
 
 In this, as in every sin, there were three forces at work : — 
 First, the predisposition of the soul, which the Bible calls 
 "lust," and "the desire of the mind." "Among whom," 
 says the apostle, "we also all once lived in the lusts of our 
 flesh, doing the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and 
 were by nature children of wrath." Second, the suggestion 
 of evil from without. Finally, the act of the will by which 
 the suggestion was accepted and finally adopted. 
 
 It is, in this latter phase, that sin especially comes in. 
 There may be sin in being able and disposed to sin. The 
 
148 ^ti at ^ibert^, 
 
 possession of a sinful nature needs the atonement and 
 propitiation of the precious blood. There may be sin, 
 also, in dallying with temptation, in not anticipating its 
 advent at a further distance. But, after all, that which 
 is of the essence of sin is in the act of the will, which 
 allows itself to admit and entertain some foul suggestion, 
 and ultimately sends its executioner below to carry its 
 sentence into effect. 
 
 I. The Predetermination towards this Sin. — The 
 word "lust" is now universally employed and understood 
 in one direction only. It is a pity and a mistake ; because 
 we fail to appreciate many of the warning signals which the 
 Spirit of God stations along our path. Any inordinate 
 desire for sensual and pleasurable excitement, whether fixed 
 on a right object, or directed towards a wrong one, comes 
 under the denomination of "lust." Strong and ill-regulated 
 desire or passion, in whatever direction it expresses itself, 
 will work our ruin, and not that alone of impurity, to which 
 this old word is now specially confined. 
 
 In dealing with temptation and sin, we must always take 
 into account the presence in the human heart of that sad 
 relic of the Fall, which biases men towards evil. Every one 
 that has handled bowls on the green is familiar with the 
 effect of the bias. The bowls are not perfect spheres, 
 and are weighted on one side in such a way that, as they 
 leave the hand, they will inevitably turn off from a straight 
 course; and on this account the greater skill is required 
 from the hands that manipulate and impel them. Such a 
 bias has come to us all : first, from our ancestor Adam ; 
 and, secondly, by that law of heredity which has been 
 accumulating its malign and sinister force through all the 
 ages. God alone can compute the respective strength of 
 these forces; but He can, and He will, as each separate 
 soul stands before his judgment bar. 
 
WhB ^tttUQilj oi (Bbii ^nfimntzs. 149 
 
 Herod was the son of the great Herod, a voluptuous, 
 murderous tyrant ; and, from some source or other, he had 
 inherited a very weak nature. Perhaps, if he had come 
 under strong, wholesome influences, he would have lived a 
 passably good life ; but it was his misfortune to fall under 
 the influence of a beautiful fiend, who became his Lady 
 Macbeth, his Jezebel, and wrought the ruin of his soul. It 
 is a remarkable thing, how strong an influence a beautiful 
 and unscrupulous woman may have over a weak man. 
 And for this reason, amongst others, weakness becomes 
 wickedness. The man who allows himself to drift weakly 
 before the strongest influence is almost certain to discover 
 that, in this world, the strongest influences are those which 
 make for sin ; these touch him most closely, and operate 
 most continuously, and find in his nature the best nidus, or 
 nest, in which to breed. 
 
 The influences that suggest and make for sin in this 
 world are so persistent — at every street corner, in every 
 daily newspaper, among every gathering of well-dressed 
 people, or ill — that if my readers have no other failing than 
 that they are weak, I am bound to warn them, in God's 
 name, that unless they succeed in some way, directly or 
 indirectly, in linking themselves to the strength of the Son 
 of God, they will inevitably become wicked. Remember 
 that the men, and especially the women, who are filling our 
 gaols as criminals, were, in most cases, only weak, but they 
 therefore drifted before the strong, black current which flows 
 through the world, and have become objects against whom 
 all parents warn their children. With all my soul — and I 
 have had no small experience of myself and of others — I 
 implore that if you are conscious of your weakness, you 
 shall do what the sea-anemone and the limpet do, which 
 cling to the rock when the storms darken the sky. " Be 
 strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might." e 
 
 Herod was reluctant to take the course to which hild 
 
150 ^zt at fibert^. 
 
 evil genius urged him. He made a slight show of resist- 
 ance, as we have seen — but he did not break with her ; 
 and so she finally had her way, and dragged him to her 
 lowest level. Here was the cause of his ruin, as it may 
 be of yours. You, too, have become allied with one who 
 is possessed by a more imperious will, and dominated by a 
 stronger passion, than yours. You suppose, however, that 
 you can act as a make-weight, a drag on the chariot-wheel ; 
 that you will be able to keep and steady the pace ; and that, 
 when you like, you may arrest the onward progress. Ah, it 
 is not so ! Herodias will have her way with you. You may 
 be reluctant, will falter and hesitate, will remonstrate, will 
 resist, but ultimately you will drift into doing the very sins, 
 the mention of which in your presence brings the red blood 
 to your face. 
 
 Beware, then, of yourself. If you are so impressible to 
 John the Baptist, remember that you may be equally so 
 to evil suggestion : take heed, therefore, to guard against 
 anything in your life that may open the gates of your 
 sensitive nature to a temptation, which you may not be 
 able to withstand. If you are weak in physical health, 
 you guard against draught and fatigue, against impure 
 atmosphere and contagion — how much more should you 
 guard against the scenes and company which may act 
 prejudicially on the health of your soul ? Of all our 
 hours, none are so fraught with danger as those of recre- 
 ation. In these we cast ourselves, with the majority of 
 Gideon's men, on the bank of the stream, with relaxed 
 girdles, drinking at our ease, without a thought of the 
 proximity of the foe ; and, therefore, in these we are more 
 likely to fall. The Christian soldier is never off duty, never 
 out of the enemy's reach, never at liberty to relax his watch. 
 The sentries must always be posted, and the pickets kept 
 
 tiwell out on the veldt. 
 
 sonJt was the most perilous thing that Herod could do, to 
 
^tt ^rrottt|jltcE 0f ^atatt. 151 
 
 have that banquet. Lying back on his divan, lolling on 
 his cushions, eating his rich food, quaffing the sparkling 
 wine, exchanging repartee with his obsequious followers, 
 it was as though the petals and calyx of his soul were all 
 open to receive the first insidious spore of evil that might 
 float past on the sultry air. That is why some of us dare 
 not enter the theatre, or encourage others to enter. This is 
 not the place to enter into a full discussion of the subject ; 
 but, even when a play may be deemed inoffensive and 
 harmless, the sensuous attractions of the place, the glitter, 
 the music, the slightly-dressed figures of the actors and 
 actresses, the entire atmosphere and environment, which 
 appeal so strongly to the lust of the eye, the lust of the 
 flesh, and the pride of life, break down some of the forti- 
 fications, which would otherwise resist the first incidence 
 and assault of evil. The air of the theatre, the ball-room, 
 the race-course, seem so impregnated with the nocuous 
 germs and microbes of evil, that it is perilous for the soul 
 to expose itself to them, conscious as it is of predisposing 
 bias and weakness. It is this consciousness, also, which 
 prompts the daily prayer, " Lead us not into temptation." 
 
 11. Temptation. In the genesis of a sin we must give 
 due weight to the power of the Tempter, whether by his 
 direct suggestion to the soul or by the instrumentality of 
 men and women whom he uses for his fell purpose. In 
 this case Satan's accomplice was the beautiful Herodias — 
 beautiful as a snake, but as deadly. She knew the influence 
 that John the Baptist wielded over her weak paramour, that 
 he was accustomed to attach unmeasured importance to his 
 words, and do " many things." She realized that his con- 
 science was uneasy, and therefore the more liable to be 
 aff'ected by his words when he reasoned of righteousness, 
 temperance, and judgment to come. She feared for the 
 consequences if the Baptist and Herod's conscience should 
 
152 ^Bt at Sihert^. 
 
 make common cause against her. What if her power over 
 the capricious tyrant were to begin to wane, and the 
 Baptist gain more and more influence, to her discredit and 
 undoing ? She was not safe so long as John the Baptist 
 breathed. Herod feared him, and perhaps she feared him 
 with more abject terror, and was bent on delivering her life 
 of his presence. 
 
 She watched her opportunity, and it came on the occasion 
 we have described. The ungodly revel was at its height. 
 Such a banquet as Herod had often witnessed in the 
 shameless court of Tiberius, and in which luxury and 
 appetite reached their climax, was in mid-current. The 
 strong wines of Messina and Cyprus had already done 
 their work. The hall resounded with ribald joke and merri- 
 ment. Towards the end of such a feast it was the custom 
 for immodest women to be introduced, who, by their 
 gestures, imitated scenes in certain well-known mythologies, 
 and still further inflamed the passions of the banqueters. 
 But instead of the usual troupe, which Herod probably 
 kept for such an occasion, Salome herself came in and 
 danced a wild nautch-dance. What shall we think of a 
 mother who could expose her daughter to such a scene, and 
 suggest her taking a part in the half-drunken orgy? To 
 what depths will not mad jealousy and passion urge us, 
 apart from the restraining grace of God ! The girl, alas, 
 was as shameless as her mother. 
 
 She pleased Herod, who was excited with the meeting 
 of the two strong passions, which have destroyed more 
 victims than have fallen on all the battlefields of the 
 world ; and in his frenzy, he promised to give her what- 
 ever she might ask, though it were to cost half his 
 kingdom. She rushed back to her mother with the story 
 of her success. "What shall I ask?" she cried. The 
 mother had, perhaps, anticipated such a moment as this, 
 and had her answer ready. "Ask," she replied instantly. 
 
f^Ije tlTrxutttijlT of Wate. 153 
 
 *' for John the Baptist's head." Back from her mother she 
 tripped into the banqueting-hall, her black eyes flashing 
 with cruel hate, lighted from her mother's fierceness. A 
 dead silence fell on the buzz of conversation, and every 
 ear strained for her reply. " And she came in straightway 
 with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that 
 thou forthwith give me in a charger the head of John the 
 Baptist." 
 
 Mark that word, " forthwith." Her mother and she were 
 probably fearful that the king's mood would change. What 
 was to be done must be done at once, or it might not be 
 done at all. " Quick, quick," the girl seemed to say, " the 
 moments seem like hours ; now, in this instant, give me 
 what I demand. I want my banquet, too ; let it be served 
 up on one of these golden chargers." The imperious 
 demand of the girl showed how keenly she had entered into 
 her mother's scheme. 
 
 It is thus that suggestions come to us ; and, so far as I 
 can understand, we may expect them to come so long as 
 we are in this world. There seems to be a precise analogy 
 between temptation and the microbes of disease. These 
 are always in the air ; but when we are in good health they 
 are absolutely innocuous, our nature offers no hold or resting 
 place for them. The grouse disease only makes headway 
 when there has been a wet season, and the young birds are 
 too weakened by the damp to resist its attack. The potato 
 blight is always lying in wait, till the potato plants are 
 deteriorated by a long spell of rain and damp ; it is only 
 then that it can effect its fell purpose. The microbes of 
 consumption and cancer are probably never far away from 
 us, but are powerless to hurt us, till our system has become 
 weakened by other causes. So temptation would have no 
 power over u?, if we were in full vigour of soul. It is only 
 when the vitality of the inward man is impaired, that we are 
 unable to wit iistand the fiery darts of the wicked one. 
 u 
 
154 ^^t at liberty. 
 
 This shows how greatly we need to be filled with the life 
 of the Son of God. In his life and death, our Lord, in our 
 human nature, met and vanquished the power of sin and 
 death ; He bore that nature into the heavenly places, whence 
 He waits to impart it, by the Holy Spirit, to those who are 
 united with Him by a living faith. Is not this what the 
 apostle John meant, when he said that his converts — his 
 little children — could overcome, because greater was He 
 that was in them than he that was in the world ? He who 
 has the greatest and strongest nature within him must over- 
 come an inferior nature ; and if you have the victorious 
 nature of the living Christ in you, you must be stronger 
 than the nature which He bruised beneath his feet. 
 
 III. The Consent of the Will. — " The king was 
 exceeding sorry." The girl's request sobered him. His 
 face turned pale, and he clutched convulsively at the 
 cushion on which he reclined. On the one hand, his 
 conscience revolted from the deed, and he was more than 
 fearful of the consequences ; on the other, he said to him- 
 self, " I am bound by my oath. I have sworn ; and my 
 words were spoken in the audience of so many of my chief 
 men, I dare not go back, lest they lose faith in me." " And 
 straightway the king sent forth a soldier of his guard and 
 commanded to bring the Baptist's head." 
 
 Is it not marvellous that a man who did not refrain from 
 doing deeds of incest and murder, should\be so scrupulous 
 about violating an oath that ought never to have been 
 sworn? You have thought that you were bound to go 
 through with your engagement, because you had pledged 
 yourself, although you know that it would condemn you to 
 lifelong misery and disobedience to the law of Christ. But 
 stay for a moment, and tell me ! What was your state of 
 mind when you pledged your word ? Were you not under 
 the influence of passion ? Did you not form vour plan in 
 
tlljB gaptist gelreabctr. 155 
 
 the twilight of misinformation, or beneath the spell of some 
 malign and unholy influence, that exerted a mesmeric power 
 over you ? Looking back on it, can you not see that you 
 ought never to have bound yourself, and do you not feel 
 that if you had your time again you would not bind your- 
 self? Then be sure that you are not bound by that "dead 
 hand." You must act in the clearer, better light, which 
 God has communicated. Even though you called on the 
 sacred name of God, God cannot sanction that which you 
 now count mistaken, and wrong. You had no right to 
 pledge half the kingdom of your nature. It is not yours to 
 give, it is God's. And if you have pledged it, through 
 mistake, prejudice, or passion, dare to believe that you are 
 absolved from your vow, through repentance and faith, and 
 that the breach is better than the observance. 
 
 "And he went and beheaded John in prison." Had the 
 Baptist heard aught of the unseemly revelry? Had any 
 strain of music been wafted down to him? Perhaps so. 
 Those old castles are full of strange echoes. His cell was 
 perfectly dark. He might be lying bound on the bare 
 ground, or some poor bed of straw. Was his mind 
 glancing back on those never-to-be-forgotten days, when 
 the heaven was opened above him, and he saw the 
 descending Dove ? Was he wondering why he was allowed 
 to lie there month after month, silenced and suffering? 
 Ah, he did not know how near he was to liberty ! 
 
 There was a tread along the corridor. It stopped out- 
 side his cell. The light gleamed under the door; the heavy 
 wards of the lock were turned : in a moment more he saw 
 the gleam of the naked sword, and guessed the soldier's 
 errand. There was no time to spare ; the royal message 
 was urgent. Perhaps one last message was sent to his 
 disciples ; then he bowed his head before the stroke ; the 
 body fell helpless here, the head there, and the spirit was 
 free, with the freedom of the sons of God, in a world where 
 
iS6 ^tt at f ibcrij. 
 
 such as he stand among their peers. Forerunner of the 
 Bridegroom here, he was his forerunner there also ; and the 
 Bridegroom's friend passed homeward to await the Bride- 
 groom's coming, where he ever hears the voice he loves. 
 
 "And the soldier brought his head in a charger, and 
 gave it to the damsel ; and the damsel gave it to her 
 mother." There would not be so much talking while the 
 tragedy was being consummated. The king and courtiers 
 must have been troubled under the spell of that horror, as 
 Belshazzar when the hand wrote in characters of mystery 
 over against the sacred candlestick. And when the soldier 
 entered, carrying in the charger that ghastly burden, they 
 beheld a sight which was to haunt some of them to their 
 dying day. Often Herod would see it in his dreams, and 
 amid the light of setting suns. It would haunt him, and 
 fill his days and nights with anguish that all the witchery of 
 Herodias could not dispel. 
 
 Months afterwards, when he heard of Jesus, the con- 
 science-stricken monarch said : '' It is John the Baptist, 
 whom I beheaded ; he is risen from the dead." And still 
 afterwards, when Jesus Himself stood before him, and 
 refused to speak one word, he must have associated that 
 silence and his deed together, as having a fatal and 
 necessary connection. 
 
 So the will, which had long paltered with the temptress, at 
 last took the fatal step, and perpetrated the crime which 
 could never be undone. There is always a space given, 
 during which a tempted soul is allowed time to withdraw 
 from the meshes of the net of temptation. Sudden falls 
 have always been preceded by long dallying with Delilah. 
 The crashing of the tree to the earth has been prepared for 
 by the ravages of the borer-worm, which has eaten out 
 its heart. 
 
 If you have taken the fatal step, and marred your life by 
 some sad and disastrous sin, dare to believe that there is 
 
^ ipiare of ^cpentattcc. 157 
 
 forgiveness for you with God. Men may not forgive, but 
 God will. As far as the east is from the west, so far will 
 He remove our transgressions from us. Perhaps we can 
 never again take up public Christian work ; but we may 
 walk humbly and prayerfully with God, sure that we are 
 accepted of Him, and forgiven, though we can hardly 
 forgive ourselves. 
 
 But if we have not yet come to this, let us devoutly 
 thank God, and be on the watch against any influences 
 that may drift us thither. We may yet retreat. We may yet 
 disentangle ourselves. We may yet receive into our natures 
 the living power of the Lord Jesus. We may yet cut off 
 the right hand and right foot, and pluck out the right eye, 
 which is causing us to offend. Better this, and go into life 
 maimed, than be cast, as Herod was, to the fire and worm 
 of unquenchable remorse. 
 
XV. 
 
 (Matthew xiv. 12.) 
 
 *' When some beloved voice, that was to you 
 Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, 
 And silence, against which you dare not cry, 
 Aches round you like a strong disease and new, — 
 What hope, what help, what music will undo 
 That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh, 
 Not reason's subtle count. . . . Nay, none of these ! 
 Speak, Thou availing Christ !— and fill this pause." 
 
 E. B. Browning. 
 
 WE have beheld the ghastly deed with which Herod's 
 feast ended — the golden charger, on which lay 
 the freshly-dissevered head of the Baptist, borne 
 by Salome to her mother, that the two might gloat on it 
 together. Josephus says that the body was cast over the 
 castle wall, and lay for a time unburied. Whether that 
 were so, we cannot tell ; but, in some way, John's disciples 
 heard of the ghastly tragedy, which had closed their master's 
 life, and they came to the precincts of the castle to gather 
 up the body as it lay dishonoured on the ground, or ventured 
 into the very jaws of death to request that it might be given 
 to them. In either case, it was a brave thing for them to 
 do ; an altogether heroic exploit, which may be classed in 
 the same category with that of the men of Jabesh-Gilead, 
 who travelled all night through the country infested by the 
 Phihstines to rescue the bodies of Saul and his sons from 
 the temple of Bethshan. 
 
 The headless body was then borne to a grave, either in 
 the grim, gaunt hills of Moab, or in that little village, away 
 on the southern slopes of the Judaean hills, where, some 
 
**^zli J^sua." 159 
 
 thirty years before, the aged pair had rejoiced over the 
 growing lad. God knows where that grave Hes ; and some 
 day it will yield up to honour and glory the body which was 
 sown in weakness and corruption. 
 
 Having performed the last sad rites, the disciples " went 
 and told Jesus." Every mourner should go along the path 
 they trod, to the same gentle and tender Comforter ; and if 
 any who read these words have placed within the narrow con- 
 fines of a grave the precious remains of those dearer than Hfe, 
 let them follow where John's disciples have preceded them, 
 to the one Heart of all others in the universe which is able 
 to sympathize and help ; because it also has sorrowed unto 
 tears at the grave of its beloved, even though it throbbed 
 with the fulness of the mighty God. Go, and tell Jesus ! 
 
 The telling will bring relief. Though the great High- 
 Priest knows all the story, He loves to hear it told, because 
 of the relief which the recital necessarily imparts to the sur- 
 charged soul. He will tell you that your brother shall rise 
 again ; that your child is safe in the flowery meadows of 
 Paradise ; that those whom you have loved and lost are 
 engaged in high service amid the ministries of eternity; 
 that every time-beat is bringing nearer the moment of 
 inseparable union. 
 
 It is not, however, on these details that we desire to 
 dwell, but to use the scenes before us as a background 
 and contrast to magnify certain features in the death, grave, 
 and abiding influence of Jesus of Nazareth. 
 
 I. Contrast the Death of John and that of Jesus. 
 — There were many points of similarity between their 
 careers. These two rivers sprang from the same source, 
 in a quiet glen far up among the hills ; lay in deep lagoons 
 during their earlier course ; leapt down in the same mighty 
 torrent when their time had come ; and for the first few 
 miles watered the same tract of country. 
 
i6o W\jz (Srabc of JJolrn, anb ^tt0tlT£r (^xabt* 
 
 It would be possible to enumerate a large number of 
 identical facts of the life-courses of the two cousins. Their 
 births were announced, and their ministries anticipated, 
 under very special circumstances ; Mary was unmarried, 
 and Elisabeth past age — and an angel of the Lord came 
 to each, John seemed, to the superficial view, the stronger 
 and mightier of the two ; but Jesus followed close behind 
 and took up a similar burden, as He bade the people repent 
 and believe the Gospel. They were alike in attending no 
 prophetic school, and avoiding each of the great Jewish 
 sects. Neither Hillel nor Shammai could claim them. 
 They had no ecclesiastical connections ; they stood aloof 
 from the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Herodians and 
 Essenes. They attracted similar attention, gathered the 
 same crowds, and protested against the same sins. Rearing 
 the same standard, they summoned men from formality and 
 hypocrisy to righteousness and reality. They incurred the 
 same hatred on the part of the religious leaders of their 
 nation, and suffered violent deaths — the one beneath the 
 headsman's blade in the dungeons of Herod's castle ; the 
 other on the cross, at the hand of Pilate and the Roman 
 soldiers. Each suffered a death of violence at the hand 
 of men whom he had lived to succour ; each died when the 
 life-blood throbbed with young manhood's prime, and while 
 there was sweet fragrance as of early summer; each was 
 loved and mourned by a little handful of devoted followers. 
 
 But there the similarity ends, and the contrast begins. 
 With John, it was the tragic close of a great and epoch- 
 making career. When he died men said — Alas ! a prophet's 
 voice is silenced. What a pity that in a moment of passion 
 the tyrant took his life ! Let him sleep ! Rest will be 
 sweet to one who expended his young strength with such 
 spendthrift extravagance ! Such men are rare ! Ages 
 flower thus but once, and then years of barrenness ! But 
 as we turn to the death of Jesus, other feelings than 
 
^hz ^itt-gearer. i6i 
 
 those of pity or regret master us. We are neither surprised, 
 nor altogether sorry. We do not recognise that there is in 
 any sense an end of his work — rather it is the beginning. 
 The corn of wheat has fallen into the ground to die, that it 
 may not abide alone, but bear much fruit. Here, at the 
 Cross, is the head of waters, rising from unknown depths, 
 which are to heal the nations ; here the sacrifice is being 
 offered w*hich is to expiate the sin of man, and bring peace 
 to myriads of penitents ; here the last Adam at the tree 
 undoes the deadly work wrought by the first at another 
 tree. This is no mere martyr's last agony ; but a sacrifice, 
 premeditated, prearranged, the effects of which have already 
 been prevalent in securing the remission of sins done afore- 
 time. This is an event for which millenniums have been 
 preparing, and to which millenniums shall look back. 
 John's death affected no destiny but his own ; the death of 
 Jesus has affected the destiny of our race. As his fore- 
 runner explained, He was the Lamb of God who bore 
 away the sin of the world. The Lord hath laid on Him 
 the iniquity of us all. 
 
 But there is another contrast. In the case of John, the 
 martyr had no control on his destiny ; he could not order 
 the course of events ; there was no alternative but to 
 submit. When he opened his ministry, he had no thought 
 that such a fate would befall. As he stood boldly forth 
 upon his rock-hewn pulpit, and preached to the eager 
 crowds, do you suppose that the idea ever flashed across 
 his mind that his path, carpeted with flowers and lined on 
 either side with applause, could end in the loneliness of a 
 desert track, lying across a barren waste where no man 
 dwelt or came, and where the vast expanse engulphs the last 
 cry of the perishing ? But, from the first, Jesus meant to 
 die. If, eight centuries ago, you had seen the first outlines 
 drawn of the Cologne Cathedral, whose noble structure has 
 been brought to completion within only the la.st decades, 
 
 X 
 
1 62 ^}jz drabe of Jolrtt, antr ^notljer (irafcrc. 
 
 you would have been convinced that the completed fabric 
 would enclose a cross ; so the life of Jesus, from the 
 earliest, portended Calvary. He had received power and 
 commandment from the Father to lay down his life. For 
 this cause He was born, and for this He came into the 
 world. Others die because they have been born : Jesus 
 was born that He might die. 
 
 In his great picture of the Carpenter's shop, Millais 
 depicts the shadow of the Cross, flung back by the growing 
 lad, on the wall, strongly-defined in the clear oriental light. 
 Mary beholds it with a look of horror on her face. The 
 thought is a true one. From the earliest, the Cross cast 
 its shadow over the life of the Son of Man. He was never 
 deceived as to his ultimate destiny. He told Nicodemus 
 that He must be lifted up. He knew that as the Good 
 Shepherd He would have to give his life for the sheep. 
 He assured his disciples that He would be delivered up to 
 the chief priests and scribes, who would condemn Him to 
 death, crucify, and slay. Man does not need primarily the 
 teacher, the example, nor the miracle- worker; but the Saviour 
 who can stand in his stead, and put away his sin by the sacri- 
 fice of Himself. When the soul is burdened with the weight 
 of its sins, and the conscience is ill at ease, whither can we 
 turn save to the Cross, on which the Prince of Glory died ! 
 
 What answer and explanation can be given to account 
 for the marvellous spell that the Cross of Christ exerts 
 over the hearts of men ? You cannot trace it to the 
 influence of early association merely, or to the effect of 
 heredity, or to the fact of our having come of generations 
 which have turned to the green hill far away, in life and 
 death ; because if you take the preaching of the Cross to 
 savage and heathen tribes, who have no advantage of 
 Christian centuries behind them, whenever you begin to 
 explain its significance, the sob of the soul is hushed, and 
 its dread dissipated. Tears of anguish are changed into 
 
^Ijz ^zzuvtntton of Jesus. 163 
 
 tears of penitence. The shuttles of a new hope begin to 
 weave the garments of a new purity. No other death 
 affects us thus or effects so immediate a transformation. And 
 may not this be cited as the proof that the death of Jesus 
 is unique; the supreme act of love; the gift of that Father- 
 heart which knew the need of the world, and the only way 
 of appeasing it ? 
 
 II. Contrast the Grave of John and that of Jesus. 
 — Men have alleged that the Lord did not really rise from 
 the dead, and that the tale of his resurrection, if it were not 
 a fabrication, was the elaboration of a myth. But neither of 
 these alternatives will bear investigation. On the one hand, 
 it is absurd to suppose that the temple of truth could be 
 erected on the quagmire and morass of falsehood — impossible 
 to believe that the one system in the world of mind which 
 has attracted the true to its allegiance, and been the stimulus 
 of truth-seeking throughout the ages, can have originated in 
 a tissue of deliberate falsehoods. On the other hand, it is a 
 demonstrated impossibility that a myth could have found 
 time to grow into the appearance of substantial fact during 
 the short interval which elapsed between the death of Christ 
 and the first historical traces of the Church. 
 
 In this connection, it is interesting to consider one 
 sentence dropped by the sacred chronicler. He tells us, 
 that when Herod heard of the works of Jesus, he said 
 immediately, " It is John the Baptist — he is risen from the 
 dead." Herod could not believe that that mighty person- 
 ality was quenched, even for this life, by that one blow of 
 the executioner's sword. Surely he had risen ! There was 
 a feverish dread that he would yet be confronted by the 
 murdered man, whose face haunted his dreams. His 
 courtiers, ready to take the monarch's cue, would be equally 
 credulous. From one to another the surmise would pass — 
 " John the Baptist is risen from the dead." 
 
1 64 '^ht (Srabe of foljn, aittr ^notljcr (Srabc. 
 
 Why, then, did that myth not spread, until it became 
 universally accredited ? Ah, there was no chance of such a 
 thing, for the simple reason that there was the grave of 
 John the Baptist to disprove it. If Herod had seriously 
 believed it, or the disciples of John attempted to spread it, 
 nothing would have been easier than to exhume the body 
 from its sepulture, and produce the ghastly but indubitable 
 refutation of the royal delusion. 
 
 When the statement began to spread and gain credence 
 that Christ had risen from the dead; when Peter and John 
 stood up and affirmed that He was living at the right hand 
 of God ; if it had been a mere surmise, the fond delusion of 
 loyal and faithful hearts, an hallucination of two or three 
 hysterical women — would it not have been easy for the 
 enemies of Christianity to go forthwith to the grave in the 
 garden of Joseph, and produce the body of the Crucified, 
 with the marks of the nails in hands and feet ? Why did 
 they not do it ? If it be said that it could not be produced, 
 oecause it had been taken away, let this further question be 
 answered : Who had taken it away ? Not his friends ; for 
 they would have taken the cerements and wrappings with 
 which Joseph and Nicodemus had enswathed it. Not his 
 enemies; for they would have been only too glad to produce 
 it. What glee in the grim faces of Caiaphas and Annas, if at the 
 meeting of the Sanhedrim, called to deal with the new heresy, 
 there could have been given some irrefragable proof that the 
 body of Jesus was still sepulchred, if not in Joseph's tomb, yet 
 somewhere else, to which their emissaries had conveyed it ! 
 
 It is difficult to exaggerate the significance and force of 
 this contrast. And the devout soul cannot but derive comfort 
 from comparing the allegation of the superstitious king, 
 which could have been so easily refuted by the production 
 of the Baptist's body, with that of the disciples, which was 
 confirmed and attested by the condition of the grave which, 
 in spite of the watch and ward of the Roman soldiers, had 
 
Wht folloiozvsi of Joljtt, anb cf ffcsits. 165 
 
 been despoiled of its prey on the morning of the third day. 
 Herod expected John to rise, and gave his royal authority 
 to the rumour of his resurrection ; but it fell to the ground 
 still-born. The disciples did not expect Jesus to rise. They 
 stoutly held that the women were mistaken, when they 
 brought to them the assurance that it was even so. But as 
 the hours passed, the tidings of the empty grave were 
 corroborated by the vision of the Risen Lord, and they 
 were convinced that He who was crucified in weakness was 
 living by the power of God. There could, henceforth, be 
 no hesitation in their message to the world. "The God of 
 our fathers hath glorified his Son Jesus, whom ye denied 
 in the presence of Pilate, when he was determined to let 
 Him go. . . . But ye killed the Prince of Life, whom 
 God raised from the dead." Thank God, we have not 
 followed cunningly-devised fables. "Now is Christ risen 
 from the dead, and become the first-fruits of them that 
 slept. And as by man came death, by man came also the 
 resurrection of the dead." 
 
 HI. The Contrast between the Effects of their 
 TWO Deaths on the Followers of John the Baptist 
 AND OF Jesus respectively. — What a picture for an artist 
 of sacred subjects is presented by the performance of the 
 last rites to the remains of the great Forerunner ! There 
 was probably neither a Joseph nor a Nicodemus among his 
 disciples ; certainly no Magdalene nor mother. Devout 
 men bore him to his grave, and made great lamentation 
 over him. He had taught them to pray, to know God, to 
 prepare for the Kingdom of God. They had also fasted oft 
 beneath his suggestion ; but they were destined to experi- 
 ence what fasting meant, after a new fashion, now that their 
 leader was taken away from them. 
 
 The little band broke up at his grave. Farewell ! they 
 said to him ; farewell to their ministry and mission ; farewell 
 
1 66 CIjc drabe of Jobtt, atttr ^notljer (Urahe. 
 
 to one another. " I go back to my boats and fishing-nets," 
 said one ; and " I to my farm," said another ; and "We shall 
 go and join Jesus of Nazareth," said the rest. "Good-bye !" 
 *' Good-bye ! " And so the little band separated, never to 
 meet in a common corporate existence again. 
 
 When Jesus lay in his grave, this process of disintegration 
 began at once among his followers also. The women went 
 to embalm Him ; the men were apart. Peter and John broke 
 off together — at least they ran together to the sepulchre ; 
 but where were the rest ? Two walked to Emmaus apart ; 
 whilst Thomas was not with them when Jesus came on the 
 evening of Easter Day. As soon as the breath leaves the 
 body disintegration begins ; and when Jesus was dead, as 
 they supposed, the same process began to show itself. Soon 
 Peter would have been back in Gennesaret; Nathanael 
 beneath his fig-tree ; Luke in his dispensary ; and Matthew 
 at his toll-booth. 
 
 What arrested that process and made it impossible ? Why 
 did the day, which began with a certain amount of separ- 
 ation and decay, end with a closer consolidation than ever, 
 so that they were, for the most part, gathered in the upper 
 room ; and forty days after they were all with one accord in 
 one place ? Why was it that they who had been like timid 
 deer, before He died, became as lions against the storm 
 of Pharisaic hate, and stronger as the weeks passed ? 
 
 There is only one answer to these questions. The 
 followers of Jesus were convinced by irrefragable proofs that 
 their Master was living at the right hand of power; nay, that 
 He was with them all the days — nearer them than ever 
 before, as much their Head and Leader as at any previous 
 moment. When the shepherd is smitten, the flock is 
 scattered; and this flock was not scattered, because the 
 Shepherd had recovered from his mortal wound, and was 
 alive for evermore. 
 
 And surely the evidence which sufficed for them is 
 
''Ije is ^izznV* 167 
 
 enough for us. Again and again, in dark hours, when I 
 have longed to have the demonstration of sense added to 
 that of faith, it has been an untold comfort to feel that 
 sufficient evidence was given to the Lord's disciples to per- 
 suade them against their contrary expectations and unbelief; 
 to hold them together in spite of every possible inducement 
 to disperse ; and to transform a number of units into the 
 Church, against which the gates of hell have not been able 
 to prevail. If they were convinced, we may be. If their 
 eyes beheld and their hands touched the body of the risen 
 Lord, we may be of good cheer. Their behaviour proves 
 that they were thoroughly convinced. They acted as only 
 those can act whose feet are on a rock. They knew 
 whom they had believed ; and they had no doubt that He 
 would perfect the work which He had begun. What He 
 had begun in the flesh. He would perfect in the Spirit. 
 
 In after days Peter spoke of Him as the Prince, or File- 
 leader of Life; and suggests the conception, that through 
 all the ages He is marching on through the gates of death 
 and the grave, unlocking them for us, and opening the path- 
 way into the realms of more and more abundant life. Let 
 us follow Him. It is not for us to linger around the grave : 
 even John's disciples forbore to do this. But let us join 
 ourselves by faith with our Prince and Leader, our Head 
 and Captain, as He waits to succour us from the excellent 
 glory, sure that where He is, we too shall be ; but in the 
 meanwhile we are assured that He is not in the grave, where 
 loving hands laid Him, but risen, ascended, glorified — our 
 Emmanuel, our Bridegroom, our Love and Life. "The 
 Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want : . . . He leadeth 
 me; . . . He makethmeto lie down; . . . He restoreth my 
 soul. . . . Though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, . . . Thou ar^ with me." 
 
XVI. 
 
 (John x. 40-42.) 
 
 *' Shine Thou upon us, Lord, 
 True Light of men, to-day; 
 And through the written Word 
 
 Thy very self display ; 
 That so from hearts which burn 
 
 With gazing on Thy face, 
 Thy little ones may learn 
 The wonders of Thy grace. " 
 
 J. Ellerton. 
 
 ** T3 EYOND Jordan ! " To the Jews that dwelt at 
 jTj Jerusalem that was banishment indeed. The 
 tract of country beyond Jordan was known as 
 Perea, and was very sparsely populated. There were some 
 tracts of fertile country, dotted by a few scattered villages, 
 but no one of repute lived there; and the refinement, 
 religious advantages, and social life of the metropolis, were 
 altogether absent. Perea was to Jerusalem what the High- 
 lands, a century ago, were to Edinburgh. There our Lord 
 spent the last few months of his chequered career. 
 
 But why? Why did the Son of Man banish Himself 
 from the city He loved so dearly? Surely the home at 
 Bethany would have welcomed Him ? Or, failing this, for 
 any reason over which the sisters had no control. He might 
 have found a temporary home at Nazareth, where He had 
 been brought up; or Capernaum, in which He had wrought 
 so many of his mighty works, might have provided Him a 
 palace, whose white marble steps would have been lapped 
 by the blue waters of the lake ! Not so ! The Son of Man 
 
^czzvi Moliixttzsi. 169 
 
 had not where to lay his head. The nation, whose white 
 flower He was, had rejected Him; and the world, for which 
 He came to shed his blood, knew Him not. The religious 
 leaders of the age were pursuing Him with relentless malice, 
 and would have taken his life before the predestined hour 
 had arrived, had He not escaped from their hands, and gone 
 away " beyond Jordan into the place where John was at the 
 first baptizing ; and there He abode : and many came unto 
 Him." 
 
 There was a peculiar fascination to the Lord Jesus in 
 those soHtudes, because of their connection with the Fore- 
 runner. Those desert solitudes had been black with crowds 
 of men. Those hill-slopes had been covered with booths 
 and tents, in which the mighty congregations tabernacled, 
 whilst they waited on his words. Those banks had wit- 
 nessed the baptism of thousands of people, who, in the 
 symbolic act of baptism, had put away their sins. And the 
 villagers, who lived around, could tell wonderful tales of the 
 radiant opening of that brief but epoch-making ministry ; 
 they could speak for hours together about the habits of 
 the austere preacher, and the marvellous power of his 
 eloquence. 
 
 As Jesus and his disciples wandered from place to place, 
 Andrew would indicate the spot where he was baptized; 
 and John and he would recall together the place where they 
 were standing when their great teacher and master pointed 
 to Jesus as He walked, and said, "Behold the Lamb of 
 God." Bartholomew would find again the spot where 
 Jesus accosted him as the guileless Israelite, a salutation 
 for which also he had been prepared by the preaching of 
 the Forerunner. Two or three could locahze the scene 
 where the deputation from the Sanhedrim accosted the 
 Baptist with the enquiry, " Who art thou ? " 
 
 It was as though, years after the Battle of Waterloo, some 
 soldiers of the Iron Duke had visited the historic cornfields, 
 
and had recited their reminiscences of the memorable 
 incidents of that memorable fight. Here the long, thin red 
 line stood during the whole day. There Napoleon waited 
 to see the effect of the last charge of his cavalry. Yonder, 
 through the wood, Blucher's troops hurried to reinforce 
 their brothers in arms. And down those slopes the old 
 Guard broke with a cheer, as the Duke gave the long- 
 looked-for word. It was in some such spirit that our Lord 
 and his apostles revisited those scenes, where many of them 
 had seen the gate of heaven opened for the first time. 
 
 Probably our Lord would resume his ministry of preach- 
 ing the good tidings. He could not be in any place where 
 the sins and sorrows of men called for his gracious words, 
 without speaking them ; and to Him they probably brought 
 the lame, the blind, the sick, and paralyzed — and He healed 
 them all. Many came to Him, and went away blessed and 
 helped. So much so, that the people could not help 
 contrasting the two ministries. There was a touch of 
 disparagement in their comments on the Baptist's ministry. 
 •' They said, John indeed did no miracle." No lame man 
 had leaped as an hart; the tongue of no dumb man had 
 sung; no widow had received her son raised to life from his 
 hands ; no leper's flesh had come to him, as the flesh of 
 a little child. It was quite true — John had done no 
 miracle. 
 
 But with this slight disparagement, there was a generous 
 tribute and acknowledgment. " But all things whatsoever 
 John spake of this Man were true." He said that He was 
 the Lamb of God, pure and gentle, holy, harmless, and 
 undefiled ; and it was true. He said that He would use 
 his fan, separating the wheat from the chaff; and it was 
 true. He said that He would baptize with fire ; and it was 
 true. He said that He was the Bridegroom of Israel ; and 
 it was true. He did no miracle, but he spoke strong, true 
 words of Jesus, and they have been abundantly verified. 
 
^ohtxn piracies. 171 
 
 And these simple-hearted people of Perea did what the 
 Pharisees and scribes, with all their fancied wisdom, had 
 failed to do : they put the words of the Baptist and the life 
 of Jesus together, and reasoned that since this had fitted 
 those, as a key fits the lock, therefore Jesus was indeed the 
 Son of God and the King of Israel ; and " many believed 
 on Him there." 
 
 I. Life without Miracles. — The people were inclined 
 to disparage the life of John because there was no miracle 
 in it. But surely his whole life was a miracle ; from first to 
 last it vibrated with Divine power. And did he work no 
 miracle ? If he did not open the eyes of the bHnd, did not 
 multitudes, beneath his words, come to see themselves 
 sinners, and the world a passing show, and the Eternal as 
 alone enduring and desirable ? If he did not lay his 
 priestly hand on leprous flesh, as Jesus did, did not many 
 a moral leper go from the waters of his baptism, with new 
 resolves and purposes, to sin no more ? If he did not raise 
 dead bodies, did not many, who were immured in the graves 
 of pride, and lust, and worldliness, hear his voice, and come 
 forth to the life — which is life indeed ? No miracles ! Surely 
 his life was one long pathway of miracle, from the time of 
 his birth of aged parents, to the last moment of his protest 
 against the crimes of Herod ! 
 
 This is still the mistake of men. They allege that the 
 age of miracles has passed. If they admit that such 
 prodigies may possibly have happened once, they insist 
 that the world has grown out of them, and that with its 
 arrival at maturity the race has put them away as childish 
 things. God, they think, is either Absentee, or the Creature 
 of Laws, which He established, and which now hold Him, as 
 the graveclothes held Lazarus. No miracles ! But last 
 summer He made the handfuls of grain, which the farmers 
 cast on the fields, suffice to feed all the population of the 
 
172 ^ct peaking. 
 
 globe — as easily as He made five barley loaves provide a full 
 meal for more than ten thousand persons. No miracles ! 
 But last autumn, in ten thousand vineyards, He turned the 
 dews of the night and the showers of the morning into the 
 wine that rejoices man's heart ; as once, in Cana, He 
 changed the water drawn from the stone jars into the 
 blushing wine. No miracles ! Explain, then, why it is, 
 that though ice is of denser specific gravity than water, it 
 does not sink to the bottom of rivers and ponds, by which 
 they would be speedily transformed into masses of ice, but 
 floats on the surface of the water, affording a pathway across 
 from bank to brae, as Jesus once walked on the water from 
 the shores of the Lake of Galilee ! No miracles ! It was 
 only yesterday that He cleansed a leper ; and healed a sin- 
 sick soul ; and raised from his bier a young man dead in 
 trespasses and sins ; and took a maiden by the hand, saying, 
 Talitha cumi, " Maid, arise ! " As I passed by, I saw Him 
 strike a rock, and torrents of tears gushed out : I beheld 
 a tree, with its sacred burden, and the serpent-poison 
 ceased to inflame : I saw the iron swim against its natural 
 bent, and the lion crouch as though it beheld an angel of 
 God with a flaming sword. Again, the seas made a passage 
 for the sacramental hosts, and the waters shrank away before 
 the touch of the Priestly feet, making a passage through the 
 depths. No ; it is still the age of miracles. 
 
 Let us not disparage the age in which we live. To look 
 back on the Day of Pentecost with a sigh, as though there 
 were more of the Holy Spirit on that day than to-day ; and 
 as though there were a larger Presence of God in the upper 
 room than in the room in which you sit, is a distinct 
 mistake and folly. We may not have the sound as of a 
 rushing mighty wind, nor the crowns of fire ; there is no 
 miracle to startle and arrest : but the Holy Spirit is with 
 the Church in all the old gracious and copious plenitude ; 
 the river is sweeping past in undiminished fulness ; though 
 
(itir otun ^03. 173 
 
 there may not be the flash of the electric spark, the atmo- 
 sphere is as heavily charged as ever with the presence and 
 power of the Divine Paraclete. The Lord said of the 
 Baptist — though he wrought no miracle — that there was 
 none greater of those born of woman ; and perchance He is 
 pronouncing that this age is greater than all preceding ages 
 in its possibilities. In His view, it may be that greater 
 deeds may be attempted and accomplished by the Church 
 of to-day than ever in that past age, when she grappled 
 with and vanquished the whole force of Paganism. 
 
 If there is any failure, it is with ourselves. We have not 
 believed in the mighty power and presence of God, because 
 we have missed the outward and visible sign of his working. 
 We have thought that He was not here, because He has 
 not been in the fire, the earthquake, or the mighty wind 
 which rends the mountains. We have become so accustomed 
 to associate the startling and spectacular with the Divine, 
 that we fail to discover God, when the heaven is begemmed 
 with stars, and the earth carpeted with flowers : as though 
 the lightning were more to us than starlight, and the 
 destructive than the peaceful and patient constructive 
 forces, which are ever at work building up and repairing 
 the fabric of the universe. 
 
 Do not look back on the Incarnation, or forward to the 
 Second Advent, as though there were more of God in either 
 one or the other than is within our reach. God is ; God is 
 here; God is indivisible : all of God is present at any given 
 point of time or place. He may choose to manifest Himself 
 in outward signs, which impress the imagination more at 
 one time than another ; the faith of the Church may be 
 quicker to apprehend and receive in one century than the 
 next : but all time is great — every age is equally his work- 
 manship, and equally full of his wonder-working power. 
 Alas for us, that our eyes are holden ! 
 
 Let us not disparage the ordinary and cormnonplace. We 
 
174 ^^t ^pcahin^. 
 
 are all taught to run after the startling and extraordinary — 
 the statesman who accomplishes the coup d'etat \ the painter 
 who covers a large canvas with a view to scenic effects ; the 
 preacher who indulges in superficial and showy rhetoric ; 
 the musician whose execution is brilliant and astonishing. 
 We like miracles ! Whatever appeals to our love for the 
 sensational and unexpected is likely enough to displace our 
 appreciation of the simple and ordinary. When the sun is 
 eclipsed, we all look heavenward j but the golden summer 
 days may be filled with sunlight, which is dismissed with a 
 commonplace remark about the weather. A whole city will 
 turn out to see the illuminations, whilst the stars hardly 
 attract a passing notice. Let there be a show of curiously- 
 shaped orchids, and society is stirred ; but who will travel 
 far to see a woodland glade blue with wild hyacinths, or a 
 meadow-lawn besprent with daisies. Thus our tastes are 
 vitiated and blinded. 
 
 It is good to cultivate simple tastes. The pure and 
 childlike heart will find unspeakable enjoyment in all that 
 God has made, though it be as familiar as a lawn sparkling 
 with dewdrops, a hay-field scented by clover-blooms, a 
 streamlet murmuring over the pebbles, or the drawl of the 
 shingle after a retreating wave. It is a symptom of a weak 
 and unstable nature to be always in search for some new 
 thing, for some greater sensation, for some more startling sign. 
 " Show us a sign from heaven," is the incessant cry of the 
 Pharisee and Scribe : and when the appetite has been once 
 created, it can never be appeased, but is always set on some 
 novelty more marvellous and startling than anything v.'hich 
 has preceded. Be content with a holy ministry which does 
 not dazzle by its fireworks, but sheds a steady sunshine 
 on the sacred page. Cultivate familiarity with the grand, 
 soHd works of our English literature. Avoid the use of 
 extravagant adjectives. Take an interest in the games of 
 children ; in the common round and daily task of servants 
 
jS,otlbin0 €ommon or Andean. 175 
 
 and employes; in the toils and tears of working-girls ; in 
 the struggling lot of the charwoman who scrubs your 
 floors, and the lad who cleans your boots. Do not be 
 always gaping at the window for bands to come down the 
 street ; but be on the pavement before your house with a 
 helping-hand and kindly word for the ordinary folk that 
 labour and are heavy-laden. It is remarkable that in all these 
 there are tragedies and comedies ; the raw material for 
 novels and romances ; the characters which fill the pages of 
 a Shakespeare or George Ehot. All life is so interesting ; 
 but we need eyes to see, and hearts to understand. There 
 has been no age greater than this ; there is no part of the 
 world more full of God than yours ; there is no reason why 
 you should not see Madonnas in the ordinary women, and 
 Last Suppers in the ordinary meals, and Holy Families in 
 the ordinary groups around you — if only you have the 
 anointed eyes of a Raffaelle or a Leonardo de Vinci. If 
 the world seems common or unclean to you, the fault lies 
 in your eyes that have made it so. 
 
 Zef us 7iot disparage ourselves. We know our limitations ; 
 we are not capable of working miracles — our best friends 
 are well acquainted with this, for no eyes are quicker 
 than Love's. We are sparrows, not larks ; clay, not 
 alabaster ;- deal, not mahogany. But if we cannot work 
 miracles, we can speak true, strong words about Jesus 
 Christ ; we can bear witness to Him as the Lamb of God ; 
 we can urge men to repent and believe the Gospel. The 
 world would have been in a sorry plight if it had depended 
 entirely on its geniuses and miracle-workers. Probably it 
 owes less to them than to the untold myriads of simple, 
 humble, obscure, and commonplace people, whose names 
 will never be recorded in its roll-call, but whose lives have 
 laid the foundations on which the superstructure of good 
 order, and government, and prosperity, has been reared. 
 
 Remember that God made you what you are, and placed 
 
170 ^et ^jjEahxn0. 
 
 you. Dare to be yourself — a simple, humble, sincere fol- 
 lower of Jesus. Do not seek to imitate this or the other 
 great speaker or leader. Be content to find out what God 
 made you for, and be that at its best. You will be a bad 
 copy, but a unique original ; for the Almighty always breaks 
 the pattern from which He has made one vase. Above all, 
 speak out the truth, as God has revealed it to you, distorting, 
 exaggerating, omitting nothing ; and long after you have 
 passed away, those who remember you will gather at your 
 grave and say, "he did no miracle — there was nothing 
 sensational or phenomenal in his Ufe-work; but he spake 
 true things about Jesus Christ, which we have tested for 
 ourselves, and are undeniable. Indeed, they led us to 
 believe in Him for ourselves." 
 
 11. The ways in which we may bear Testimony to 
 THE Lord Jesus. — There is no miracle in your life, my 
 reader. You are no genius ; you do not know what it is to 
 have the rush of thought, the power of brilliant speech, the 
 burst of song. You have no wealth, only just enough for 
 your bare sustenance, and nothing to spare. You have no 
 rich blood in your veins, come of a line of heroes or saints. 
 As you look daily into the common routine of your lot, it 
 seems ordinary enough. Be it so ; there is at least one 
 thing you can do, as we have seen — like the Baptist, you 
 may witness for Jesus. 
 
 Speak to others privately. When only two disciples 
 were standing beside him, John preached the same sermon 
 as he had delivered to the crowd the day before, and both 
 of them went to the frail lodging where Jesus was making 
 his abode. There is nothing that more deeply searches a 
 man than the habit of speaking to individuals about the 
 love of God. We cannot do it unless we are in living 
 union with Himself. Nothing so tests the soul. It is 
 easy to preach a sermon, when the inner life is out of 
 
^ohi ia Mitnesa for Jesus. 177 
 
 fellowship with God, because you can preach your ideals, 
 or avenge on others the sins of which you are inwardly 
 conscious ; but to speak to another about Christ involves 
 that there should be an absolutely clear sky between the 
 speaker and the Lord of whom he speaks. But as this 
 practice is the most difficult, it is the most blessed in its 
 reflex influence. To lead another to Jesus is to get nearer 
 Him. To chafe the limbs of some frozen companion is to 
 send the warm blood rushing through your own veins. To go 
 after one lost sheep is to share the shepherd's joy. Whether 
 by letters addressed to relatives or companions, or by per- 
 sonal and direct appeal, let each one of us adopt the sacred 
 practice, which Mr. Moody followed and commended, of 
 allowing no day to pass without seeking to use some oppor- 
 tunity given by God for definite, personal dealings with 
 others. 
 
 The apostle Andrew seems to have specially consecrated 
 his Ufe to this. On each of the occasions he is referred to 
 in the Gospels he is dealing with individuals. He brought 
 his own brother ; was the first to seek after a boy to bring 
 to the Saviour's presence ; and at the close of our Lord's 
 ministry he brings the seeking Greeks. Did he not learn 
 this blessed art from his master, the Baptist ? 
 
 It is requisite that there should be the deliberate reso- 
 lution to pursue this holy habit ; definite prayer for guidance 
 as one issues from the morning hour of prayer ; abiding 
 fellowship wdth the Son of God, that He may give the right 
 word at the right moment ; and a willingness to open the 
 conversation by some manifestation of the humble, loving 
 disposition begotten by the Holy Spirit, which is infinitely 
 attractive and beautiful to the most casual passer-by. 
 
 Speak experimentally. "I saw and bare record." John 
 
 spoke of what he had seen, and tasted, and handled. Be 
 
 content to say, " I was lost, but Jesus found me ; blind, and 
 
 He gave me sight ; unclean, and He cleansed my heart." 
 
 z 
 
178 ^et speaking. 
 
 Nothing goes so far to convince another as to hear the 
 accent of conviction on the Ups of one whose eyes survey 
 the landscape of truth to which he allures, and whose ears 
 are open to the eternal harmonies which he describes. 
 
 Speak from a full heart. The lover cannot but speak 
 about his love ', the painter can do no other than transfer 
 to canvas the conceptions that entrance his soul ; the 
 musician is constrained to give utterance to the chords 
 that pass in mighty procession through his brain. "We 
 cannot but speak the things that we have seen and heard." 
 
 Does it seem difficult to have always a full heart ? Verily, 
 it is difficult, and impossible, unless the secret has been 
 acquired of abiding always in the love of God, of keeping 
 the entire nature open to the Holy Spirit, and of nourishing 
 the inward strength by daily meditation on the truth. We 
 must close our senses to the sounds and sights around us, 
 that our soul may open to the unseen and eternal. We 
 must have deep and personal fellowship with the Father 
 and the Son by the Holy Ghost. We must live at first- 
 hand on the great essentials of our faith. Then, as the 
 vine-sap arises from the root, its throb and pulse will be 
 irresistible in our behaviour and testimony. We shall 
 speak true things about Jesus Christ. Our theme will 
 be evermore the inexhaustible one of Christ — Christ, only 
 Christ — not primarily the doctrine about Him, or the 
 benefits accruing from fellowship with Him, but Himself. 
 
 Thus, some day, at your burying, as men turn home- 
 wards from the new-made grave, and speak those final words 
 of the departed, which contain the most unerring verdict 
 and summing-up of the hfe, they will say, " He will be 
 greatly missed. He was no genius^ not eloquent nor pro- 
 found; but he used to speak about Christ in such a way 
 that he led me to know Him for myself : I owe everything 
 to him. He did no miracle; but whatever he said of Jesus 
 was true." 
 
**^Uzv ^att^ gags/* 179 
 
 III. The Power of Posthumous Influence. — John 
 had been dead for many months, but the stream he had set 
 flowing continued to flow; the harvests he sowed sprang 
 into mature and abundant fruitage ; the wavelets of tremu- 
 lous motion which he had started circled out and on. 
 
 How many voices are speaking still in our lives — voices 
 from the grave ! voices from dying beds ! voices from books 
 and sermons ! voices from heaven ! " Being dead, they yet 
 speak." Let us live so that, when we are gone, our influence 
 shall tell, and the accents of our voice linger. No one lives 
 or dies to himself. Each grain on the ocean-shore affects 
 the position of every other. Each star is needed for the 
 perfect balance of the spheres. Each of us is affecting the 
 lives of all that are now existing with us in the world, or will 
 exist. To untold ages, what we have been and said will 
 affect all other beings for good or ill. We may be forgiven 
 for having missed our opportunities, or started streams of 
 poison instead of life ; but the ill effect can never be 
 undone. 
 
 Parents, put your hands on those young childish heads, 
 and say pure, sweet words of Christ, which will return to 
 memory and heart long after you have gone to your reward ! 
 Ministers of religion, and Sunday school teachers, remember 
 your tremendous responsibility to use to the uttermost the 
 opportunity of saying words which will never die ! Friend, 
 be true and faithful with your friend ; he may turn away 
 in apparent thoughtlessness or contempt, but no right word 
 spoken for Christ can ever really die. It will live in the 
 long after years, and bear fruit, as the seeds hidden in the 
 old Egyptian mummy-cases are bearing fruit to-day in 
 English soil 
 
XVII. 
 
 t spirit antr fetor of (Sltas^ 
 
 (Luke i. 17.) 
 
 " Oh, may I join the choir invisible 
 Of tliose immortal dead who live again 
 In minds made better by their presence : live 
 In pulses stirred to generosity ; 
 In deeds of daring rectitude ; in scorn 
 For miserable aims that end v^'ith self ; 
 In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 
 And with their mild persistence urge man's search 
 To vaster issues." 
 
 GREAT men are God's greatest gifts to our race ; and 
 it is only by their interposition that mankind is 
 able to step up to higher and better levels of life. 
 " The doctrine of evolution is supposed to explain the 
 history of the universe. Men would have us believe that 
 certain forces have been set in motion which have elaborated 
 this great scheme of which we are a part ; and the evolu- 
 tionist would go so far as to say that man himself has been 
 evolved from protoplasm, and that the brains of a Socrates, 
 of a Milton, or of any genius who has left his mark upon 
 the world, have simply emanated from the whole process 
 which culminates in them. We believe, on the contrary, 
 that at distinct points in the history of the universe, there 
 has been a direct interposition of the will and hand of God ; 
 and it is remarkable that in the first chapter of Genesis 
 that august and majestic word create is three times intro- 
 duced, as though the creation of matter, the creation of 
 
(Blti €abtnant anti tljz 0.zia. i8i 
 
 the animal world, and the creation of man, were three dis- 
 tinct stages, at which the direct interposition of the will 
 and workmanship of the Eternal was specially manifest. 
 Similarly, we believe that there have been great epochs in 
 human history, which cannot be accounted for by the pre- 
 vious evolution of moral and religious thought, and which 
 must be due to the fact that God Himself stepped in, and 
 by the direct raising up of a man, who became the apostle of 
 the new era, lifted the race to new levels of thought and 
 action. It is in this light that we view the two illustrious 
 men who were, each in his own measure, the apostles of 
 new epochs in human history — Elijah in the old Covenant, 
 and John the Baptist in the new. 
 
 It is remarkable that the prophet Malachi tells us that 
 the advent of the Messiah should be preceded and heralded 
 by Elijah the prophet; and that Gabriel, four hundred 
 years after, said that John the Baptist, whose birth he 
 announced, would come in the spirit and power of Elijah, 
 This double prediction was referred to by our Lord when, 
 descending from the Mount of Transfiguration, in con- 
 versation with the apostles. He indicated John the Baptist 
 as the Elijah who was to come. And, indeed, there was 
 a marvellous similarity between these two men, though each 
 of them is dwarfed into insignificance by the unique and 
 original personality of the Son of Man, who towers in 
 inaccessible glory above them. 
 
 I. Let us institute a Comparison between Elijah 
 THE Tishbite, and John THE Baptist. — They resembled 
 each other in dress. We are told that Elijah was a hairy 
 man — an expression which is quite as likely to refer to the 
 rough garb in which he was habited, as to the unshorn 
 locks that fell upon his shoulders. And John the Baptist 
 wore a coarse dress of camel's hair. 
 
 Each of them sojourned in Gilead. In the remarkable 
 
Ii>2 
 
 Wh^ spirit atitr f^otrier ol (BUaa, 
 
 sentence, which, for the first time, introduces Elijah to the 
 Bible and the world, we are told that he was one of the 
 sojourners in Gilead, that great tract of country, thinly 
 populated, and largely given over to shepherds and their 
 flocks, which lay upon the eastern side of the Jordan. And 
 we know that it was there amid the shaggy forests, and 
 closely-set mountains, with their rapid torrents, that John 
 the Baptist waited, fulfilled his ministry, preached to and 
 baptized the teeming crowds. 
 
 Each of them learnt to make the body subservient to 
 the spirit. Elijah was able to live on the sparse food 
 brought by ravens, or provided from the meal barrel 
 of the widow; was able to outstrip the horses of Ahab's 
 chariot in their mad rush across the valley of Jezreel ; and 
 after a brief respite, given to sleep and food, went in 
 the strength of it for forty days and nights, through the 
 heart of the desert until he came to Horeb, the Mount 
 of God. His body was but the vehicle of the fiery spirit 
 that dwelt within; he never studied its gratification and 
 pleasure, but always handled it as the weapon to be 
 wielded by his soul. And what was true in his case, was 
 so of John the Baptist, whose food was locusts and wild 
 honey. The two remind us of St. Bernard, who tells us that 
 he never ate for the gratification of taking food, but only 
 that he might the better serve God and man. 
 
 We remember also that each of these heroic spirits was 
 confronted by a hostile court. In the case of Elijah, Ahab 
 and Jezebel, together with the priests of Baal and Astarte, 
 withstood every step of his career ; and in the case of John 
 the Baptist, Herod, Herodias, and the whole drift of reli- 
 gious opinion, with its repeated deputations to ask who he 
 might be, dogged his steps, and ultimately brought him to a 
 martyr's end. 
 
 How distinctly, also, in each case there was the con- 
 sciousness of the presence of God. One of the greatest 
 
(Bltjalr antr tht iaptist, 183 
 
 words which man has ever uttered was that in which 
 EHjah affirmed, in the presence of king Ahab, that he was 
 conscious of standing at the same moment in the presence 
 of the Eternal : " And Ehjah the Tishbite, who was of the 
 sojourners of Gilead, said unto Ahab, 'As the Lord, the 
 God of Israel, liveth, before whom I stand ' " — a phrase 
 afterwards used by Gabriel himself when he told Zacharias 
 that he was one of the presence angels. " And the angel 
 answering, said unto him, ' I am Gabriel, that stand in 
 the presence of God.' " This consciousness of the Divine 
 presence in his life revealed itself in his great humility, 
 when he cast himself on the ground with his face between 
 his knees ; and in the unflinching courage which enabled 
 him to stand like a rock on Mount Carmel, when king, and 
 priest, and people, were gathered in their vast multitudes 
 around him, sufficient to daunt the spirit that had not 
 beheld a greater than any. This God-consciousness was 
 especially manifest in the Baptist, who referred so frequently 
 to the nearness of the kingdom of God. "The kingdom of 
 heaven," he said, "is at hand." And when Jesus came, 
 unrecognised by the crowds, his high spirit prostrated 
 itself, and his very visage was shadowed with the vail of 
 intense modesty and humiUty, as he cried : " In the midst 
 of you standeth One whom ye know not, the latchet of 
 whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose." 
 Coupled with this sense of God, there was, in each case, 
 a marvellous fearlessness of man. AVhen Obadiah met 
 Elijah, and was astonished to hear that the prophet was 
 about to show himself to Ahab, Elijah overbore his attempts 
 to dissuade him, saying : I will certainly show myself to 
 thy master : go, tell him Elijah is here. And when after- 
 wards the heavenly fire had descended, and the prophets of 
 Baal were standing bewildered by their altar, he did not 
 flinch from arresting the whole crowd of them, leading them 
 iown to the valley of the Kishon brook beneath and there 
 
1 84 Wht ^fttit attti ^ohicr oi (Blms. 
 
 slaying them, so that the waters ran crimson to the sea. 
 This fearlessness was also conspicuous in the Forerunner, 
 who dared to beard the king in his palace, asserting that 
 he must be judged by the same standard as the meanest of 
 his subjects, and that it was not lawful for him to have his 
 brother's wife. 
 
 To each there came moments of depression. In the 
 case of Elijah, the glory of his victory on the brow of 
 Carmel was succeeded by the weight of dark soul-anguish. 
 Did he not cast himself, within twenty-four hours, beneath 
 the juniper tree of the desert, and pray that he might die, 
 because he was no better than his fathers — a mood which 
 God, who pities his children and remembers that they 
 are dust, combated, not by expostulation, but by sending 
 him food and sleep, knowing that it was the result of 
 physical and nervous overstrain ? And did not John the 
 Baptist from his prison cell send the enquiry to Jesus, as to 
 whether, after all, his hopes had been too glad, his antici- 
 pations too great, and that perhaps after all He was not the 
 Messiah for whom the nation was waiting ? 
 
 Both Elijah and John the Baptist had the same faith in 
 the baptism of fire. We never can forget the scene on 
 Carmel when Elijah proposed the test that the God who 
 answered by fire should be recognised as God ; nor how he 
 erected the altar, and laid the wood, and placed the bullock 
 there, and drenched the altar with water ; and how, in answer 
 to his faith, at last the fire fell. John the Baptist passed 
 through no such ordeal as that ; but it was his steadfast 
 faith that Christ should come to baptize with the Holy 
 Ghost and fire. 
 
 Each of them turned the hearts of the people back. It 
 was as though the whole nation were rushing towards the 
 edge of the precipice which overhung the bottomless pit, 
 like a herd of frightened horses on the prairie, and these 
 men with their unaided hands turned them back. It would 
 
^ parallel. 185 
 
 be impossible for one man to turn back a whole army in 
 mad flight — he would necessarily be swept away in their 
 rush ; but this is precisely what the expression attributes to 
 the exertions of Elijah and John. The one turned Israel 
 back to cry, Jehovah, He is God ; the other turned the 
 whole land back to repentance and righteousness, so that 
 publicans and soldiers, Sadducees and Pharisees, began to 
 confess their sin, put away their evil courses, and return to 
 the God of their fathers. 
 
 Each prophet was succeeded by a gentler ministry. 
 Elijah was sent from Horeb to anoint Elisha, who, for the 
 most part, passed through the land like genial sunshine — a 
 perpetual benediction to men, women, and children ; while 
 John the Baptist opened the door for the Shepherd, Christ, 
 who went about doing good, and whose holy, tender 
 ministry fell on his times like rain on the mow^n grass. 
 
 From the solitudes beyond the Jordan, as he walked 
 with Elisha, talking as they went, the chariot and horses 
 of fire which the Father had sent for his illustrious ser- 
 vant from heaven bore him homeward, while his friends 
 and disciples stood with outstretched hands, crying: The 
 chariot and horses of Israel are leaving us, bearing away 
 our most treasured leader. In those same solitudes, or 
 within view of them, the spirit of John the Baptist swept up 
 in a similar chariot. As the headsman, with a flash of his 
 sword, put an end to his mortal career, though no mortal 
 eyes beheld them, and no chronicler has told the story, 
 there must have been horses and chariots of fire waiting 
 to convey the noble martyr-spirit to its God. The parallel 
 is an interesting one — it shows how God repeats Himself; 
 and, if time and space permitted, we might elaborate the 
 repetition of a similar conception, either in Savanarola of 
 Florence, or in Martin Luther, or in John Knox, who had 
 been baptized into the same Spirit, and inspired to perform 
 the same ministry. That Spirit is waiting still — waiting to 
 
 AA 
 
1 86 Wht spirit antr ^ohj£r ai (BUaa. 
 
 clothe Himself with our life; waiting to do in us, and 
 through us, similar work for the time in which we live. 
 What these men did far back in the centuries, it is pro- 
 bable that others will have to do before this dispensation 
 passes utterly away. A man, or men, shall again rise up, 
 who will tower over their fellows, who will speak and act 
 in the spirit and power of Elijah — men like Edward Irving, 
 but without the mistakes that characterized his heroic life. 
 Perhaps some young life may be inspired by this page to 
 yield itself to God, so that it may be sent forth to turn back 
 the hearts and lives of vast multitudes from their evil way, 
 turning the heart of the fathers to their children, and the 
 heart of the children to their fathers, to make ready a people 
 prepared for the Lord. 
 
 II. Notice the Inferiority of these Great Men to 
 THE Lord. — Neither Elisha, the disciple of Elijah, nor the 
 eloquent Apollos, the disciple of John the Baptist, would 
 have dared to say of their respective masters what Phihp 
 and Andrew, Peter and Thomas, habitually said of Christ. 
 Greatly as they revered and loved their masters, they knew 
 that they were men like themselves ; that their nature was 
 made in the same mould, though, perhaps, of finer clay ; 
 that there were limitations beyond which they could not 
 go, and qualities of mind and soul in which they were not 
 perfected. They dared not say of them, " My Lord and my 
 God." They never thought of prostrating themselves at 
 their feet in worship ; they never appealed to them after 
 their decease as able to hear and answer prayer from the 
 heaven into which they had passed. 
 
 Neither Elijah nor John had what Jesus asserted — the 
 consciousness of an unique union with God; neither of 
 them dared to affirm, as Jesus did, that he was the Son of 
 God, in the sense that made other use of that term blas- 
 phemy ; neither of them thought of anticipating a moment 
 
®Ije ^txbmt inferior to Ijxa ynrtr. 187 
 
 when he should be seen sitting at the right hand of power, 
 and coming in the clouds ; neither of them dared to couple 
 himself with Deity in the sublime and significant pronoun 
 we — " We will come and make our abode with Him." 
 Neither of them would have dreamed of accepting the 
 homage which Jesus took quite naturally, when men wor- 
 shipped Him, and women washed and kissed his feet : and 
 I ask how it could be that Jesus Christ, so essentially meek 
 and lowly, so humble and unwilling to obtrude Himself, 
 should have spoken and acted so differently, unless his 
 nature had been separated by an impassable gulf from that 
 of other men, however saintly and gifted? The very fact 
 that these men, acknowledged amongst the greatest of our 
 race, drew a line, and said : Beyond that we cannot pass ; 
 we are conscious of defilement and need ; we require for- 
 giveness and grace, equally with those to whom we minister. 
 And this compels on our part the acknowledgment that 
 Jesus Christ was all He claimed to be, and that He is 
 worthy to receive glory, and honour, and riches, and power, 
 and blessing ; for He is Man of men, the second Man, the 
 Lord from Heaven. 
 
 Neither of these dared to offer himself as the Comforter 
 and Saviour of men. Elijah could only rebuke sin, which 
 he did most strenuously ; but he had no panacea for the 
 sin and sorrow of his countrymen. He could bid them 
 turn to God; and he did. But he could say nothing of 
 any inherent virtue, or power, which could proceed from 
 him to save and help. It was never suggested for a moment 
 that he could act as mediator between God and men, though 
 he might be an intercessor. And as for John the Baptist, 
 though he deeply stirred the religious convictions of his 
 countrymen, he could only point to One who came after 
 him, and say : " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh 
 away the sin of the world." But within six months after 
 the commencement of his ministry, Jesus says : " Son, thy 
 
i88 W\jz Spirit anil f oitrcr oi C^Iiaa. 
 
 sins are forgiven thee " ; "The Son of Man hath authority on 
 earth to forgive sins " ; " Daughter, thy sins, which are 
 many, are forgiven thee : go in peace " ; and presently : 
 " This is the cup of the New Covenant in my blood, shed 
 for many, for the remission of sins " ; and again : " The 
 Son of Man came to give his life a ransom for many." 
 Tell me of any, either in the story of Elijah or of John the 
 Baptist, to compare with these words, spoken by the lowest 
 and humblest being that ever trod time's sands ? Does 
 that not indicate that He stood in a relationship to God 
 and man which has never been realized by another ? 
 
 Besides, neither of them introduced a new type of living. 
 Their own method of life seemed to indicate that there was 
 sin in the body, or sin in matter ; and that the only way 
 of holiness was by an austerity that lived apart in the 
 deserts, dreading and avoiding the presence of men. That 
 was a type of holiness which every great religious teacher 
 has followed ; for you remember that Buddha used to say 
 that all the present is an illusion and a dream, while the 
 realities await us beyond. On the other hand, Jesus taught 
 that the Redeemer was also the Creator ; that there was 
 nothing common or unclean in man's original constitution ; 
 that sin consisted not in certain actions, functions, or 
 duties — but in man's heart, and will, and choice ; and that 
 if a man were only right there, all his nature and circum- 
 stances would become illumined and transfigured by the 
 indwelling Spirit. Let it never be forgotten that Christ 
 taught that God is not going to cancel the nature which He 
 Himself has bestowed in all its human and innocent out- 
 goings, but only to eliminate the self-principle which has 
 cursed it — as you would wish to take small-pox from the 
 body of the little child, or the taint out of the rotting flesh 
 of the leper. 
 
 O Christ, Thou standest pre-eminent in thy unparalleled 
 glory ! Let Elijah and John the Baptist withdraw, but oh, 
 
f ^e gaptiam ai tlje I0I5 (gljost. 189 
 
 do Thou tarry ! To whom shall we go ? Thou hast the 
 words of eternal life. All the prophets and kings of men 
 without Thee will not suffice ; but to have Thee is to have 
 all that is strong, and wise, and good, gathered up into the 
 perfect beauty of a man, with the Divine glory of the 
 Infinite God. 
 
 III. How MAY WE HAVE THAT SAME SPIRIT? — John 
 
 the Baptist came in the spirit and power of Elijah : that 
 spirit and power are for us too. Just as the dawn touches 
 the highest peaks of the Alps, and afterwards, as the morn- 
 ing hours creep on, the tide of light passes down into the 
 valley, so the Spirit that smote that glorious pinnacle 
 Elijah, and that nearer pinnacle the Baptist, is waiting to 
 descend upon and empower us. 
 
 We are all believers in Jesus, but did we receive the Holy 
 Ghost when we believed? (Acts xix. 2). When the great 
 apostle of the Gentiles met the little handful of John's 
 disciples, gathered in the great idolatrous city of Ephesus, 
 the first word he addressed to them was the eager enquiry, 
 " Did ye receive the Holy Ghost when ye believed ? " And 
 they replied, "Nay, we did not so much as hear whether 
 the Holy Ghost was given." In other words : We heard 
 from our master, John, that Jesus, of whom he spake, would 
 baptize with the Holy Ghost and with fire; but we have 
 never heard of the fulfilment of his prediction — we only 
 know of Him, concerning whom our great leader so often 
 spake, as the great Teacher, Miracle-worker, and Sacrifice 
 for the sins of the people — but what more there is to tell 
 and know we wait to hear from thee. 
 
 Then Paul explained that John's baptism had stood only 
 for confession and repentance : " John baptized with the 
 baptism of repentance, saying unto the people that they 
 should believe on Him, which should come after him, that 
 is, on Jesus." Those who descended the shelving banks of 
 
iQo %ht spirit antr Jlotoer of (Bliaa. 
 
 Jordan to be plunged beneath its arrowy waters, declared 
 their discontent with the past, their desire to be free of it, 
 and their belief in the Messianic character of Jesus of 
 Nazareth, who was to introduce a new and better age. 
 
 But the apostle hastened to explain that this Jesus, whom 
 the Jews had delivered up and slain by wicked hands, was 
 the Prince of Life ; that God had raised Him from the dead ; 
 and that being by the right hand of God exalted, and having 
 received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, He 
 had poured Him forth in mighty power on the waiting 
 Church, anointing it for its ministry to mankind. It was as 
 though he had said : Our Lord, on his Ascension, baptized 
 those that had believed with the Spirit of which Joel spake. 
 The water of John's baptism symbolised a negation, but 
 this baptism is positive ; it is as cleansing, purifying flame ; 
 it was good to know Jesus after the flesh, it is a thousand 
 times better to know Him after the Spirit : and this gift is 
 to us and to our children, and to all that are far off, even as 
 many as the Lord our God shall call. 
 
 When they heard this they were baptized into the name 
 of the Lord Jesus. They exalted Him to the throne of their 
 hearts as the glorified and ever-blessed Son of God. They 
 directed their longing eyes towards Him in his risen glory, 
 that He should do for them as He had already done for so 
 many. And in answer to their expectant faith, the blessing 
 of Abraham came upon them — they received the promise of 
 the Spirit by faith ; the Holy Ghost came upon them, and 
 they were equipped for witness-bearing in Ephesus by the 
 very power which had rested once on Elijah, and also on 
 their first teacher and guide; and, as the result, a revival 
 broke out in that city of such magnitude that the magic 
 books were burned, and the trade of the silversmiths 
 grievously injured. 
 
 This power of the Holy Spirit is for us all. Of course 
 •we could not believe in Jesus in the remission of sin, or the 
 
W'ht MnbiatliinQ ^pint. 191 
 
 quickening of our spiritual life, apart from the work of the 
 Holy Spirit ; but there is something more than this, there 
 is a power, an anointing, a gracious endowment of fitness 
 for service — which are the privilege of every believer. The 
 Holy Spirit is prepared, not only to be within us for the 
 renewal and sanctification of character, but to anoint us 
 as He did the Lord at his baptism. He waits to empower 
 us to witness for Jesus, to endure the persecution and trial 
 which are inevitable to the exercise of a God-given ministry, 
 and to bring other men to God. It would be well to 
 tarry to receive it. It is better to wait for hours for an 
 express train than to start to walk the distance; the 
 hours spent in waiting will be more than compensated 
 for by the rapidity with which the traveller will be borne 
 to his destination. Stay from your work for a little, and 
 wait upon the ascended, glorified Redeemer, in whom the 
 Spirit of God dwells. Ask Him to impart to you that 
 which He received on your behalf. Never rest until you 
 are sure that the Spirit dwells in you fully, and exercises 
 through you the plenitude of his gracious power. We 
 cannot seek Him at the hand of Christ in vain. Dare to 
 beheve this : dare to believe that if your heart is pure, and 
 your motives holy, and your whole desire fervent — and if 
 you have dared to breathe in a deep, long breath of the 
 Holy Spirit — that according to your faith so it has been 
 done to you ; and that you may go forth enjoying the same 
 power which rested on the Baptist, though you may not be 
 conscious of any Divine afflatus, though there may have 
 been no stroke of conscious power, no crown of flame, no 
 rushing as of the mighty wind. 
 
 God is still able to vouchsafe to us as large a portion 
 of his Spirit as to the disciples on the day of Pentecost. 
 We are not straitened in Him, but in ourselves. The 
 power of his grace is not passed away with the primitive 
 times, as fond and faithless men imagine ; but his Kingdom 
 
192 ^ht ^irit antr jpotocr of (EUas. 
 
 is now at hand, and Christ, standing on the threshold of 
 the century, waits to lead his Church to greater triumphs 
 than she has ever known. Oh that He would hasten to 
 come forth from his royal chambers ! Oh that He would 
 take his throne as Prince of the kings of the earth ! Oh 
 that He would put on the robe of his majesty, and assume 
 the sceptre of his unlimited and almighty reign. Creation 
 travails; the Spirit and the Bride invoke; the mind of 
 man has tried all possible combinations of sovereignty, and 
 in vain. 
 
 "O Lord Jesus Christ, who at thy first coming didst 
 send thy messenger to prepare the way before Thee: 
 grant that the ministers and stewards of thy mysteries may 
 likewise so prepare and make ready thy way, by turning 
 the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; 
 that, at thy second coming to judge the world, we may be 
 found an acceptable people in thy sight, who livest and 
 reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, ever one God, 
 world without end. Amen." 
 
 LONDON : MORGAN AND SCOTT, 12, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, B.C. 
 
DATE DUE 
 
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BS2456.M61 
 John the Baptist. 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 
 
 1 1012 00081 2919