LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 OK 
 
 Mrs. SARAH P. WALS WORTH. 
 
 Received October, 1894. 
 Accessions No.$J? : Class No._ 
 
 

ATTRACTIVE AND INTERESTING 
 
 JUTE NILS BOOKS, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS. 
 
 Blossoms of Childhood. 
 
 By the author of the " Broken Bud." IGmo. 75 cents. 
 Bunbury. 
 
 Glory, Glory, Glory, and other Narratives. 25 cents. 
 Cameron. 
 
 The Farmer's Daughter. Illustrated. 30 cents. 
 Commandment with Promise. 
 
 By the author of " The Week," &c. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 Duncan, Henry. 
 
 Tales of the Scottish Peasantry. 18mo. 50 cents. 
 
 The Cottage Fireside. 40 cents. 
 
 Duncan, Mary Lundie. 
 
 Rhymes for my Children. 25 cents. 
 Far Off in Asia and Australia. 
 
 Described by the author of the " Peep of Day," &c. Illustrated. 
 16mo. 
 
 Fry, Caroline. 
 
 The Listener. Illustrated. $1 00. 
 Frank Netherton. 
 
 Or, the Talisman. Illustrated. IGmo. 
 Infant's Progress. 
 
 By the author of " Little Henry and his Bearer." Illustrated. 75 cts 
 Jamie Gordon. 
 
 Or, the Orphan. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 Kennedy, Grace. 
 
 Jessy Allan. 18mo. 25 cents. 
 
 Decision, or Religion must be all or nothing. 25 cents. 
 
 Anna Ross. Illustrated. 30 cents. 
 
 Michael Kemp. 
 
 The Happy Farmer's Lad. Illustrated. 40 cents. 
 My School Boy Days. 
 
 Illustrated. 18mo. 30 cents. 
 My Youthful Companions. 
 
 A Sequel to the above. Illustrated. 30 cents. 
 
CARTERS 7 JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 My Grandfather Gregory. 
 
 Illustrated. 25 cents. 
 My Grandmama Gilbert. 
 
 By the same author. 25 cents. 
 
 New Cobwebs 
 
 To Catch Young Flies. Illustrated. Square. 50 cents. 
 Opie, Amelia. 
 
 Tales and Illustrations of Lying. 18mo. 40 cents. 
 Old Humphrey's 
 
 Addresses Observations Thoughts Walks in London Homely 
 Hints Country Strolls Sea Captain Grandparents Isle of 
 Wight Pithy Papers Pleasant Tales North American Indians. 
 12 volumes. Each 40 cents. 
 
 Osborne, Mrs. David. 
 
 The World of Waters. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 Pastor's Daughter. 
 
 By Mrs. L. P. Hopkins. Illustrated. 40 cents. 
 Peep of Day, 
 
 and " Line upon Line," and " Precept on Precept." 3 volumes. 
 Each 30 cents. 
 
 Pollok, Robert. 
 
 Tales of the Scottish Covenanters. 16mo. 75 cents 
 Helen of the Glen. 18mo. 25 cents. 
 The Persecuted Family. 18mo. 25 cents. 
 Ralph Gemmell. 18mo. 25 cents. 
 
 Stories on the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 By the author of " Edward and Miriam." 
 
 Sigourney, Mrs. L. H. 
 
 Water Drops. 16mo. 75 cents. 
 
 Letters to my Pupils. Portrait. 75 cents. 
 
 Olive Leaves. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 
 Boys' Book. 40 cents. 
 
 Girls' Book. 40 cents. 
 
 Child's Book. 35 cents. 
 
 Sinclair, Catherine. 
 
 Charlie Seymour. 18mo. 30 cts. 
 
 Taylor, Jane. 
 
 Hymns for Infant Minds. 40 cents. 
 Limed Twigs. Colored plates. 50 cents. 
 Contributions of Q. Q. Illustrated. $1. 
 Original Poems. Illustrated. 40 cents. 
 
 Tucker, S. 
 
 The Rainbow in the North. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 
 Week, The. 
 
 By the author of the " Commandment with Promise." 75 cents. 
 
 Wilson, Professor. 
 
 Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life. 75 cents. 
 
~^*s*i> 
 
 
THE ROYAL PREACHER. 
 
 ntt 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES HAMILTON, D.D., F.L.S., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LIFE IN EARNEST," "MOUNT OF OLIVES," "HAPPY HOME," 
 44 LIFE OF LADY COLQUHOUN," ETC. ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 No. 285 BROADWA V. 
 
 1853. 
 

 T. B. SMITH, STEREOTYPED 
 
 216 WilUam Street, New York. 
 
 R. CBAIGHEAD, PRINTER, 
 
 53 Vesey Street. 
 
LECTURE Page 
 
 I. THE PREACHER 1 
 
 II. THE SERMON . . . . - . . 12 
 
 III. A GREATER THAN SOLOMON . . . .42 
 
 IV. THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY . 60 
 V. THE MUSEUM ....... 80 
 
 VI. THE PLAY-HOUSE AND THE PALACE . . A12 
 
 VII. THE MONUMENT 123 
 
 VIII. THE CLOCK OF DESTINY, . . . . 135 
 
 IX. THE DUNGEON 168 
 
 X. THE SANCTUARY . . . . . . 176 
 
 XL THE EXCHANGE 190 
 
 XIL BORROWED LIGHTS FOR A DARE LANDING-PLACE 204 
 
 XIII. A GOOD NAME 222 
 
 XIV. THE POWER OF PATIENCE .... 230 
 XV. DEAD FLIES 235 
 
 XVI. BLUNT AXES ; OR, SCIENCE AND GOOD SENSE 251 
 
 XVII. BREAD ON THE WATERS 273 
 
 XVIII. BRIGHT MOMENTS ON THE WING . . 286 
 
 XIX. OLD AGE 299 
 
 XX. THE WICKET GATE . . . . . 319 
 
 XXL GREEN PASTURES 336 
 
IN the form of translations, expositions, and 
 literary parallels, there is now connected with 
 each book of the Bible a very extensive au- 
 thorship ; and we might fill a little volume 
 with a historical review of the illustrations of 
 Ecclesiastes, from the Commentary of Jerome 
 to the illuminated edition of Owen Jones. 
 
 Jerome tells us that his work originated in 
 an effort to bring over to the monastic life a 
 young Eoman lady, Blesilla. This object gives 
 an ascetie tone to every chapter, and many of 
 his interpretations are so fanciful that along- 
 side of them any modern Cocceius would be 
 deemed sober and literal. For instance, ap- 
 plying to the Saviour the language of the sec- 
 ond chapter, the "slaves," or men-servants 
 there mentioned, he thinks are Christians af- 
 flicted with the spirit of bondage ; the " great 
 
Viii PREFACE. 
 
 and small cattle, " are the simpletons and 
 drudges of the Church, its " sheep and ox- 
 en," who, without exerting their reason or 
 studying the Scriptures, do as they are bidden, 
 but are not entitled to rank as men, &c. His 
 own reason the learned father freely exercised 
 in his scriptural studies ; and he takes care to 
 apprise his readers that his version is the re- 
 sult of his independent research.* For this he 
 has been curiously rewarded. The Council of 
 Trent has declared his version "authentic," 
 and has virtually decreed that henceforth Je- 
 rome's private judgment must be the judgment 
 of Christendom. The most painful thing in 
 his writings is the tone of litigious infelicity by 
 which they are pervaded. It is a sort of for- 
 mic acid which flows from the finger-points 
 not of our good father alone, but of a whole 
 class of Divines ; and, like the red marks left 
 by the feet of ants on litmus-paper, it discolors 
 all his pages. But although we cannot sub- 
 
 * " Nullius autoritatem secutus sum ;" " nee contra con- 
 scientiam meam, fonte veritatis omisso, opinionum rivulos 
 consectarer." 
 
PEEFACE. IX 
 
 scribe to every rendering of the Latin Vulgate, 
 and must demur to its author's principles of 
 interpretation as well as his spirit, the zeal 
 and industry of Jerome, and the curious in- 
 formation which he has transmitted, must al- 
 ways secure for his name a prominent place in 
 the history of Biblical literature. 
 
 To the monk of Bethlehem, we have a curi- 
 ous contrast in Martin Luther. " Fathers and 
 doctors have grievously erred in supposing 
 that in this book Solomon taught contempt of 
 the world, as they call it, meaning thereby 
 contempt of things ordained and created. The 
 creatures are good enough, but it is man and 
 man's notions which Solomon pronounces van- 
 ity. But his expounders, forsooth ! make it 
 out that the creatures are the vanity, and that 
 they themselves and their dreams are the only 
 solidity ! And thus, from the Divine gold of 
 our author they have forged their own abomi- 
 nable idols." And then, in that spirit of ge- 
 nial life-enjoyment with which the "Table 
 Talk" and Merle D'Aubign^s History have 
 made us so familiar, he states it as the true 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 scope of Ecclesiastes : " Solomon wishes to 
 make us tranquil in the ordinary on-goings 
 and accidents of this existence, neither afraid 
 of future days nor covetous of remote posses- 
 sions ;* as St.Taul says, ' careful for nothing.' " 
 And then in a strain very different from that 
 which sought to decoy Blesilla into a convent, 
 and like the uncaged captive, which he really 
 was, the Saxon swanf goes on to celebrate the 
 joys of Christian liberty. 
 
 Since that period, versions and commenta- 
 ries have appeared sufficient to store a little 
 library. In one thing they all agree. They 
 all allow that Ecclesiastes contains many things 
 hard to be understood. " Mea sententia inter 
 omnia sacra scripta liber longe obscurissimus," 
 says Mercer, the learned Hebrew professor in 
 Paris University ; " le plus difficile de tous les 
 livres de 1'Ecriture," re-echoes his still more 
 learned countryman, Calmet. " Of all the He- 
 brew writings, none present greater obstacles 
 
 * " Sine cura et cupiditate futurorum." 
 f Luther's crest was a swan, as those will remember who 
 recall the narrative of Huss's Martyrdom. 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 to the expositor,' 7 is the preliminary remark 
 of one of the most intelligent English transla- 
 tors, G. Holden ; and even German clairvoy- 
 ance acknowledges " Finsterniss" and " Dun- 
 kelheit." " Zwar hat das Licht der neuern Ex- 
 egese die dunkle Wolke zertheilt, aber sie doch 
 noch nicht in vollige Klarheit aufgelost," was 
 the confession of Umbreit thirty years ago, and 
 it is still repeated by most of his critical suc- 
 cessors. 
 
 (JThere is another respect in which these com- 
 mentators are all agreed, and in consequence 
 of which their productions remarkably vary. 
 Unconsciously they transfer to their authors 
 their own subjectivity, and Solomon is made 
 to assume a sanguine or atrabilious aspect, or 
 he becomes a poet, a logician, a satirist, or a 
 penitent, according to the mood of his inter- 
 preter?]] As meteorologists employ a cyanom- 
 eter for ascertaining the depth of azure in the 
 atmosphere, so we once thought of preparing a 
 physiognomic scale, where the academic learn- 
 ing and sober sense of Bishop Patrick might 
 have served as a medium between the dry se- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 verity and point-splitting precision of Brough- 
 ton* at the one extreme, and the good-natured 
 excursiveness and hazy idealism of Greena 
 wayf at the other. But remembering how it 
 has fared with the inventors of dangerous in- 
 struments, from the days of Lord Morton down- 
 wards, we have thought it better to leave oui 
 criticometer incomplete for the present. 
 
 Not to enumerate the older works of Des- 
 vceux, (1760), L. Holden (1764), and Hodgson 
 (1790), and the well-arranged and scholar-like 
 publication of Gr. Holden (1822), two very good 
 English translations of Ecclesiastes have lately 
 appeared. Of these, the most elaborate is by 
 the Rev. T. Preston, of Cambridge, and is ac- 
 companied by the ingenious Commentary of 
 
 * See " The works of the great Albionean Divine renown'd 
 in many nations for rare skill in Salem's and Athens' tongues, 
 and familiar acquaintance with all Rabbinical learning, Mr. 
 Hugh Broughton." London, 1662. 
 
 f In Greenaway's curious medley the only unity is indig- 
 nation, not wholly unmerited, at Houbigant. The very in- 
 dex reads, " Houbigant, tolerable, 190; intolerable, 61; im- 
 pertinent, passim ; his spiteful and scandalous attempt to 
 wound the Sacred Text, 67 ; disgusting, 197 ; correcting 
 Virgil, 234." 
 
PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 Eabbi Mendlessohn (1845). The other by Dr. 
 Nbyes of Boston, U. S. (1846), with less show 
 of erudition, is clear and straightforward ; but, 
 like Mendlessohn, the American professor 
 gives to the book an air of theological tenuity, 
 and mere worldly wisdom, which carries nei- 
 ther our conviction nor our sympathy. 
 
 In the " Presbyterian Be view" (Edinburgh), 
 for October, 1846, there was inserted a brief 
 but interesting paper on this book, ascribed, 
 we believe correctly, to our friend, the Eev. 
 A. A, Bonar. Full of fine fancy and delicate 
 insight, its only fault is its shortness ; and al- 
 though we have taken another view of the 
 book's purport and ground-plan, we could 
 wish that its text were illustrated by a mind 
 so rich in Eastern lore and Christian experi- 
 ence. 
 
 Our own labors were nearly ended before 
 there came into our hands the " Biblical Ke- 
 pository" (New York) for April, 1850, con- 
 taining a Lecture by Professor Stowe, of Cin- 
 cinnati. The plan of Ecclesiastes, as given by 
 this ingenious expositor, is so nearly akin to 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 that which will be found in the subsequent 
 pages, that we feel bound to transcribe it : 
 ["The method of the writer is the most vivid 
 and effective that can be conceived. Instead 
 of describing the various processes of thought 
 and feeling through which Solomon passed in 
 the course of his eventful life, the whole heart 
 of the king is taken out and held up before our 
 eyes, with everything it contains, both good 
 and bad. The secret chambers of his soul are 
 thrown open, and we see every thought and 
 feeling as it arises in the mind, and in the ex- 
 act shape in which it first presents itself, with- 
 out any of those modifications by which men 
 soften down the harder features of their first 
 thoughts before they give them utterance to 
 their fellow-men." " Solomon .... seeking 
 happiness in the things of earth, .... is dis- 
 appointed and disgusted ; and instead of re? 
 penting of his errors, he becomes dissatisfied 
 with the arrangements of Providence, misan- 
 thropic, and skeptical. His conscience, how- 
 ever, is not entirely asleep, but occasionally 
 interposes to check his murmurings and re- 
 
PEEFACE. XV 
 
 prove him for his follies. In this state of mind 
 he is introduced, and in the character of Ko- 
 heleth, gives full and strong utterance to all 
 his feelings. Hence, inconsistent statements 
 and wrong sentiment are to be expected in 
 the progress of the discourse ; and it is not till 
 the close of the book that all his errors are 
 corrected, and he comes to ( the conclusion of 
 the whole matter, 7 a humbled, penitent, be- 
 lieving, religious man." 
 
 Of those older commentators who are horta- 
 tory rather than explanatory, Eeynolds is by 
 far the best. The "Homilies" of Thomas 
 Cartwright, and the " Expositions" of Granger 
 (1621), and Nisbet (1694), contain many pious 
 and useful reflections ; but they are not likely 
 to find many modern readers. In our own 
 v day, Dr. Wardla.w has published two volumes 
 of Lectures, which are distinguished by richly 
 scriptural illustration and faithful enforcement 
 of truth on the conscience, conveyed .in lan- 
 guage remarkable for its clearness and ele- 
 gance, and 'which promise long to retain a firm 
 hold of the public mind. 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 Two poetical paraphrases of Bcclesiastes 
 have been written by authors whose opposite 
 fortunes are striking illustrations of their 
 theme. One is entitled, " The Design of Part 
 of the Book of Ecclesiastes : or, the Unreason- 
 ableness of Men's Restless Contentions for the 
 Present Enjoyments, represented in an English 
 Poem."* It was the maiden effort of William 
 Wollaston, afterwards sufficiently known 
 through " The Religion of Nature Delineated." 
 He published it in all the gaiety of his spirits, 
 when, from being an ill-paid schoolmaster, he 
 found himself suddenly the heir of a rich kins- 
 man, and when with his newly-married wife, 
 also an heiress, he had settled in a handsome 
 
 * London, 1691. It is anonymous ; but the Preface is 
 signed " W. W." It is now very rare. The author after- 
 wards wished to suppress it. See Biogr. Brit. 4304. 
 
 Amongst other bibliographical curiosities connected with 
 this portion of Scripture may be mentioned, " King Solomon 
 his Solace. Containing (among many thinges of right wor- 
 thy request) King Solomon his Politic, his true Repentance, 
 and finally his Salvation. [By John Carpenter.] London, 
 1606." It is a dialogue between Zadoc and Solomon's chief 
 lords, filling a black-letter quarto. It is quaint and inge- 
 nious ; but owing to its tediousness, its rarity is neither to 
 be wondered at nor regretted. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 house, and surrounded himself with a splendid 
 library in Charter House-square. The cither 
 is " Choheleth ; or, the Koyal Preacher, a Po- 
 etical Paraphrase of the Book of Ecclesiastes ; 
 printed for J. "Wallis, at Yorick's Head, Lud- 
 gate-street, 1768." It was probably written 
 within a few yards of Wollaston's former man- 
 sion; for its author died a pensioner in the 
 Charter House, January, 1795, aged eighty- 
 eight years. " He was at the time of the earth- 
 quake a considerable merchant at Lisbon, and 
 narrowly escaped with his life, after seeing all 
 his property swallowed up. Some time after 
 his arrival in England he lost his eyesight, 
 when Her Majesty was pleased to give him her 
 warrant for the comfortable asylum he enjoyed 
 till his death. He was well versed in different 
 languages, and was the author of several de- 
 tached publications."* What an example of 
 
 * From a MS. note appended to our copy of " Choheleth." 
 We have not been able to find any notice of Brodick in print. 
 His paraphrase was reprinted at Whitchurch, Salop (1824), 
 "With Supplementary Notes, by Nathaniel Higgins;" but 
 the editor does Dot appear to have known even the name of 
 his author. 
 
XVU1 PREFACE. 
 
 the " time to get and the time to lose !" The 
 fagged schoolmaster transformed in a few 
 months into the full-blown gentleman, and ad- 
 mitted to courtly circles with his beautiful 
 heiress ; and the prosperous merchant seeing 
 his wealth in a moment engulfed by the earth 
 whence it came, and then losing the eyes that 
 beheld it, and thankful for a home in a public 
 hospital ! Brodick's Paraphrase indicates con- 
 siderable poetical talent, and, although too co- 
 pious, it is so good a transfusion of the original 
 that the Commentary of the learned Dr. Clarke 
 in a great measure consists of extracts from it. 
 On the score of neither versification nor fidel- 
 ity is Wollaston's poem entitled to equal 
 praise ; and by treating Solomon as a satirist 
 he has evidently misapprehended his charac- 
 ter ; but as the book is now seldom seen, we 
 may give a short sample of the opening chap- 
 ter : 
 
 " Here Mocher bustles in a thronged shop, 
 That swallows all his hours to feed his hope ; 
 And pants, by business elbow'd every way. 
 Within the narrow limits of the day. 
 
PKEFACE. XIX 
 
 There sails a Tyrian by some distant star, 
 Bolder than fits of men in deep despair : 
 While Iccar keeps within his native sphere, 
 Always at home, yet, too, a traveller : 
 For daily tramping o'er his spacious fields, 
 He views their state, and what each of them yields ; 
 O'erlooks his flocks, o'erlooks his men, that plough, 
 Or (his own emblem) corn and fodder mow ; 
 While sweat, the curse, that vanquish'd all our race, 
 In pearly drops does triumph on his face. 
 
 But Oh, that here the catalogue might close I 
 
 For still worse ends men to themselves propose ; 
 
 And still worse roads to reach their goals they choose. 
 
 Methinks I see the crafty Gilonite, 
 
 Broke from the cords of duty and of right, 
 
 Within his study (forge of treasons) sit, 
 
 And scratching prompt his head and stir his wit, 
 
 Seeking through policy and state essays 
 
 Himself, tho' by his master's fall, to raise. 
 
 While Absalom (what pity 't should be he I) 
 
 The fairest youth e'er blotted family, 
 
 A more compendious rebel strives to be ; 
 
 Through David's and his father's breast would bore 
 
 A purple passage to the sovereign power." 
 
 An effort of a much higher order than either 
 of the above is Prior's " Solomon.' 7 However, 
 being neither a paraphrase nor an independent 
 poem, but a monologue composed of materials 
 which Ecclesiastes supplies, wit, learning, and 
 melodious verse fail to sustain the interest of 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 the huge soliloquy through its three successive 
 books. And we are inclined to think that the 
 spirit of our author has been as happily caught 
 and his design as successfully carried out by 
 sundry productions which neither profess to 
 translate nor to imitate him. Among these 
 literary parallels we would name Johnson's 
 "Yanity of Human Wishes;" Hannah More's 
 "Search after Happiness;" and Tennyson's 
 " Two Voices ;" and above all, " Easselas."* 
 May we not add the sadly beautiful " Conso- 
 latio Philosophise," in which the last of the 
 Eomans has given us everything except the 
 grand conclusion ? 
 
 Having gone over two books of the New 
 Testament, the author selected Ecclesiastes as 
 the subject of a congregational lecture. He 
 chose it because it is a book of the Old Testa- 
 ment, and because it is peculiarly adapted to 
 
 * "The first sentence of Rasselas would serve equally 
 well as an introduction to Ecclesiastes : ' Ye who listen with 
 credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness 
 the phantoms of hope : who expect that age will perform 
 the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present 
 day will be supplied by the morrow, attend/ " <kc. PBOF 
 STOWB. 
 
PREFACE. XXI 
 
 the present wistful and restless times. He also 
 hoped that its illustration might promote, es- 
 pecially among the younger members of his 
 flock, the intelligent and expectant study of 
 the sacred Scriptures. With a similar hope he 
 now publishes a portion of these lectures.* 
 The space which it would occupy has com- 
 pelled him to forego any attempt at detailed 
 exposition, and he has felt constrained to omit 
 many important texts ; but he trusts that the 
 friendly reader may be able to glean a few of 
 the Eoyal Preacher's lessons from the follow- 
 ing fragments ; and he is sure that in gratitude 
 for brevity -every reader will forgive an occa- 
 sional abruptness. And, although he cannot 
 claim the attention of the theologian, yet he 
 trusts that the following hint may assist some 
 readers who, revering the Word of God, regret 
 that they peruse it with little zest or imperfect 
 understanding. 
 
 One pleasant use of a preface is that it en- 
 ables a writer to record his obligations. To 
 
 * The series extended to forty discourses, of which the 
 half are now published, most of them somewhat condensed. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 his learned co-presbyter, Professor Lorimer, 
 the author is indebted for the use of many 
 German commentaries, some of which were 
 unknown to him even by name. To his kind 
 friend, Sir William J. Hooker, he sent an in- 
 quiry on behalf of the artist who designed the 
 accompanying vignette, and received an answer 
 which will be read with much interest by stu- 
 dents of Bible botany : " I have thought much 
 and read what botanists have written on the 
 'lily' of Matt. vi. 28; as I have lately been 
 reading a learned dissertation on the mustard- 
 seed of Scripture. But I grieve to say, the 
 more I read on such subjects the more I doubt 
 the possibility of coming to satisfactory conclu- 
 sions on such points. They may amuse the 
 understanding, but cannot convince the judg- 
 ment. I remember at one time being satisfied 
 that the Amaryllis lutea was the lily of Scrip- 
 ture. I think .Sir J. Smith first maintained 
 that, in his pamphlets entitled, l Considerations 
 respecting Cambridge,' and l Defence of the 
 Church,' &c., and in ' Flora Graeca,' vol. iv. p. 
 10, where he says: * Haec (Am lutea) est apud 
 
PREFACE. XX111 
 
 Atticos planta coronaria, et etiam ad Turcorum 
 sepulchra, amoris ac pietatis causa, frequentius 
 plantatur, Flores ejus, splendore aureo et ver& 
 regali, campos varies Europae, sole fervidiori 
 illustrates, messe peracta, pulcherrim& ornant. 
 Hinc liliis agrestibus Evangelii, longe melins 
 quam lilia Candida hortorum, nunquam in Sy- 
 ria sponte crescentia, proculdubio respondent ; 
 quod nomine Graeco (' '^/y^to x^iVa *) 'Aygio 
 Aata-e, potius AaAo?, hodi^) confirmatur. 7 Kirby 
 replied to this in a little dissertation, published 
 in the " Christian Eemembrancer," 1819, or 
 thereabouts. He knocks this pretty hypothe- 
 sis on the head, by saying this plant could not 
 be used for/weZ, and that our Saviour ' begins 
 his exhortation with an emphatical word 
 (xaTce^uafeTe), which enjoins particular attention 
 to an object so as to know it well, implying 
 that an individual must be studied,' &c. Thus 
 he gives his verdict in favor of Lilium candi- 
 dum (not L. Martagori*), the XQWW of Diosco- 
 rides, the withered stems of which are very 
 
 * " L. Martagon is rather a northern plant middle of 
 Europe and Siberia." 
 
XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 likely to be l cast into the oven/ Smith had 
 maintained that this was not a native of Pales- 
 tine : but it is clearly ascertained to be so, and 
 of several parts of Syria, Persia, &c. Were a 
 similar comparison to be drawn in our country 
 at the present day, how would a commentator 
 1800 years hence, determine what was the 
 'Lily* alluded to, a term applied to a hun- 
 dred kinds, varying in beauty, and other qual- 
 ifications, from the magnificent ' Victoria Wa- 
 ter-Lily' to the humble ' Lily of the valley ?' 
 In the case in question, I rather agree with 
 Kirby, than with Smith, and the former has 
 brought more learning to bear on the subject." 
 
LECTURE I. 
 
 " I the Preacher was King over Israel in Jerusalem." 
 ECCLES. i. 12. 
 
 THERE is no season of the year so exquisite 
 as the first full burst of Summer : when east 
 winds lose their venom, and the firmament its 
 April fickleness ; when the trees have unreefed 
 their foliage, and under them the turf is ten- 
 der; when, before going to sleep, the black- 
 bird wakes the nightingale, and night itself is 
 only a softer day ; when the dog-star has not 
 withered a single flower, nor the mower's 
 scythe touched one ; but all is youth and fresh- 
 ness, novelty and hope as if our very earth 
 had become a bud, of which only another 
 Eden could be the blossom as if, with all her 
 green canvass spread, our island were an ar- 
 1 
 
LECTURE I. 
 
 gosie, floating over seas of balm to some bright 
 Sabbatic haven on the shores of Immortality. 
 With the Hebrew commonwealth, it was the 
 month of June. Over all the Holy Land there 
 rested a blissful serenity the cairn which fol- 
 lows when successful war is crowned with con- 
 quest a calm which was only stirred by the 
 proud joy of possession, and then hallowed 
 and intensified again by the sense of Jehovah's 
 favor. And amidst this calm the monarch was 
 enshrined, at once its source and its symbol. 
 In the morning he held his levee in his splen- 
 did Basilica a pillared hall a hundred cubits 
 long.* As he sate aloft on his lion-guarded 
 throne, he received petitions and heard ap- 
 peals, and astonished his subjects by astute de- 
 cisions and weighty apophthegms, till every 
 case was disposed of, and the toils of kingcraft 
 ended. Meanwhile, his chariot was waiting in 
 the square; and, with disdainful hoofs, the 
 light coursers pawed the pavement, impatient 
 
 * See 1 Kings vii. . Josephus' Antiquities, Bk. viii. chaps. 
 5-7; and Fergusson's "Palaces of Nineveh Restored," (1851,) 
 pp. 225-232. 
 
THE PREACHER. 
 
 for their master; whilst, drawn up on either 
 side, purple squadrons held the ground, and 
 their champing chargers tossed from their flow- 
 ing manes a dust of gold. And now, a stir in 
 the crowd the straining of necks and the jin- 
 gle of horse-gear announce the acme of ex- 
 pectation ; and, preceded by the tall panoply 
 of the commander-in -chief, and followed by a 
 dazzling retinue, there emerges from the pal- 
 ace, and there ascends the chariot, a noble 
 form, arrayed in white and in silver, and 
 crowned with a golden coronet; and the 
 welkin rings, "God save the King;" for this 
 is Solomon in all his glory. And, as through 
 the Bethlehem gate, and adown the level 
 causeway, the bickering chariot speeds, the 
 vines on either side of the valley give a good 
 smell, and it is a noble sight to look back to 
 yon marble fane and princely mansions which 
 rear their snowy cliffs over the capital's new 
 ramparts. It is a noble sight, this rural com- 
 fort and that civic opulence for they evince 
 the abundance of peace and the abundance of 
 righteousness. And when, through orchards 
 
LECTURE I. 
 
 and corn-fields, the progress ends, the shouting 
 concourse of the capital is exchanged for the -. 
 delights of an elysian hermitage. After vjsit- 
 ing his far-come favorites the " apes and the 
 peacocks," the bright birds and curious quad- 
 rupeds which share his retirement ; after wan- 
 dering along the terraces, where under the 
 ripening pomegranates roses of Sharon blos- 
 som, and watching the ponds where fishes bask 
 amid the water-lilies, we can imagine him re- 
 tiring from the sunshine into that grotto which 
 fed these reservoirs from its fountain sealed ; 
 or in the spacious parlor, whose fluttering lat- 
 tice cooled, and whose cedar wainscot em- 
 balmed the flowing summer, sitting down to 
 indite a poem, in which celestial love should 
 overmaster and replace the earthly passion 
 which supplied iti imagery. Dipping his pen 
 by turns in Heaven's rainbow, and in the pris- 
 matic depths of his own felicity, with joy's 
 own ink this Prince of Peace inscribed that 
 Song of Songs which is Solomon's. 
 
 It was June in Hebrew history the top- 
 tide of a nation's happiness. Sitting, like an 
 
THE PREACHER. 
 
 empress, between the Eastern and Western 
 oceans, the navies of three continents poured 
 their treasures at her feet ; and, awed by her 
 commanding name, the dromedaries of Midian 
 and Bphah brought spontaneous tributes of 
 spice, and silver, and precious stones. To 
 build her palaces, the shaggy brows of Leba- 
 non had been scalped of their cedars, and 
 Ophir had bled its richest gold. At the magi- 
 cal voice of the Sovereign, fountains native to 
 distant hills, rippled down the slopes of Zion ; 
 and miraculous cities, like Palmyra, started up 
 from the sandy waste. And whilst peace, and 
 commerce, and the law's protection, made gold 
 like brass, and silver shekels like stones of the 
 street, Palestine was a halcyon-nest suspended 
 betwixt the calm wave and the warm sky; 
 Jerusalem was a royal infant, whose silken 
 cradle soft winds rock high up on a castle 
 tower : all was serene magnificence and opu- 
 lent security. 
 
 Just as the aloe shoots, and in one stately 
 blossom pours forth the life which has been 
 calmly collecting for a century, so would it 
 
LECTUKE I. 
 
 appear as if nations were destined to pour forth 
 their accumulated qualities in some character- 
 istic man, and then they droop away. Mace- 
 donia blossomed, and Alexander was the 
 flower of Greece ; fiery and effeminate, volup- 
 tuous in his valor, and full of chivalrous re- 
 lentings amidst his wild revenge. Rome shot 
 up in a spike of glory, and revealed Augustus 
 so stern and so sumptuous, so vast in his 
 conceptions, so unquailing in his projects, so 
 fearless of the world, and so fond of the seven- 
 hilled city the Imperial nest-builder. Me- 
 diaoval, martial Europe blossomed, and God- 
 frey and Richard were the twin-flowers of 
 chivalry Godfrey the captor of Rome and 
 King of Jerusalem ; Richard of the lion-heart, 
 Richard of the hammer-hand. And modern 
 France developed in one Frenchman, the con- 
 centration of a people vain and ambitious, rest- 
 less and rapid, brilliant in sentiment, and brave 
 in battle ; and having flowered the fated once, 
 the Gallic aloe can yield no more Napoleons. 
 So with Palestine at the time we speak of. 
 Half-way between the call of Abraham and 
 
THE PREACHER. 
 
 the final capture of Jerusalem, it was the high 
 summer of Jewish story, and Hebrew mind 
 unfolded in this pre-eminent Hebrew. Full 
 of sublime devotion, equally full of practical 
 sagacity ; the extemporizer of the loftiest lit- 
 any in existence, withal the author of the pun- 
 gent Proverbs ; able to mount up on Eapture's 
 ethereal pinion to the region of the seraphim, 
 but keenly alive to all the details of business, 
 and shrewd in his human intercourse ; zealous 
 in collecting gold, yet lavish in expending it ; 
 sumptuous in his tastes, and splendid in cos- 
 tume; and, except in so far as intellectual 
 vastitude necessitated a certain catholicity 
 the patriot intense, the Israelite indeed : like a 
 Colossus on a mountain-top, his sunward side 
 was the glory toward which one Millennium 
 of his nation had all along been climbing, his 
 darker side, with its overlapping beams, is still 
 the mightiest object in that nation's memory. 
 
 You have seen a blight in summer. The 
 sky is overcast, and yet there are no clouds ; 
 nothing but a dry and stifling obscuration as 
 if the mouth of some pestilent volcano had 
 
LECTURE I. 
 
 opened, or as if sulphur mingled with, the sun- 
 beams. " The beasts groan ; the cattle are op- 
 pressed. 7 ' From the trees the embryo fruits 
 and the remaining blossoms fall in an unno- 
 ticed shower, and the foliage curls and crum- 
 ples. And whilst creation looks disconsolate, 
 in the hedgerows the heavy moths begin to 
 flutter, and ominous owlets cry from the ruin. 
 Such a blight came over the Hebrew summer. 
 By every calculation it ought to have been 
 high noon ; but the sun no longer smiled on 
 Israel's dial. There was a dark discomfort in 
 the air. The people murmured. The mon- 
 arch wheeled along with greater pomp than 
 ever ; but the popular prince had soured into 
 the despot, and the crown sat defiant on his 
 moody brow ; and stiff were the obeisances, 
 heartless the hosannas, which hailed him as he 
 passed. The ways of Zion mourned ; and 
 whilst grass was sprouting in the temple-courts, 
 mysterious groves and impious shrines were 
 rising everywhere : and whilst lust defiled the 
 palace, Chemosh and Ashtaroth, and other 
 Gentile abominations, defiled the Holy Land. 
 
THE PREACHER. 
 
 And in the disastrous eclipse, beasts of the for- 
 est crept abroad. From his lurking-place in 
 Egypt Hadad ventured out, and became a life- 
 long torment to the God-forsaken monarch. 
 And Eezon pounced on Damascus, and made 
 Syria his own. And from the pagan palaces 
 of Thebes and Memphis harsh cries were heard 
 ever and anon, Pharaoh and Jeroboam taking 
 counsel together, screeching forth their threat- 
 enings, and hooting insults, at which Solomon 
 could laugh no longer. For amidst all the 
 gloom and misery a message comes from God : 
 the kingdom is rent ; and whilst Solomon's 
 successor will only have a fog-end and a frag- 
 ment, by right Divine ten tribes are handed 
 over to a rebel and a runaway. 
 
 What led to Solomon's apostasy ? And 
 what, again, was the ulterior effect of that 
 apostasy on himself? As to the origin of his 
 apostasy the Word of God is explicit. He did 
 not obey his own maxim. He ceased to re- 
 joice with the wife of his youth ; and loving 
 many strangers, they drew his heart away 
 from God. Luxury and sinful attachments 
 
10 LECTURE I. 
 
 made him an idolater, and idolatry made him 
 yet more licentious : until, in the lazy enerva- 
 tion and languid day-dreaming of the Sybarite, 
 he lost the perspicacity of the sage, and the 
 prowess of the sovereign ; and when he woke 
 up from the tipsy swoon, and out of the swine- 
 trough picked his tarnished diadem, he woke 
 to find his faculties, once so clear and limpid, 
 all perturbed, his strenuous reason paralyzed, 
 and his healthful fancy poisoned. He woke 
 to find the world grown hollow, and himself 
 grown old. He woke to see the sun bedark- 
 ened in Israel's sky, and a special gloom en- 
 compassing himself. He woke to recognize all 
 round a sadder sight than winter a blasted 
 summer. Like a deluded Samson starting 
 from his slumber, he felt for that noted wis- 
 dom which signalized his Nazarite days ; but 
 its locks were shorn ; and, cross and self-dis- 
 gusted, wretched and guilty, he woke up to 
 the discovery which awaits the sated sensual- 
 ist ; he found that when the beast gets the bet- 
 ter of the man, the man is cast off by God. 
 And like one who falls asleep amidst the lights 
 
THE PKEACHER. 11 
 
 and music of an orchestra, and who awakes 
 amidst empty benches and tattered programmes 
 like a man who falls asleep in a flower-gar- 
 den, and who opens his eyes on a bald and lo- 
 cust-blackened wilderness, the life, the love- 
 liness, was vanished, and all the remaining 
 spirit of the mighty Solomon yawned forth 
 that verdict of the tired voluptuary : " Vani- 
 ty of vanities ! vanity of vanities ! all is van- 
 ity I" 
 
LECTURE II. 
 
 Inntnn. 
 
 * The words of the Preacher, the son of David, King of Jem* 
 salem. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of 
 vanities; all is vanity." ECCLES. i. 1, 2. 
 
 THERE are some books of the Bible wliicli 
 can only be read with thorough profit, when 
 once you have found the key. Luther some 
 where tells us, that he used to be greatly 
 damped by an expression in the outset of the 
 Epistle to the Romans. The apostle says, " I 
 am not ashamed of the Gospel ; for therein is 
 the righteousness of God revealed." By 
 "righteousness" Luther understood the justice 
 of God his attributes of moral rectitude ; and 
 so understanding it, he could scarcely see the 
 superiority of the Gospel over the Law, and 
 at all events, his troubled conscience could 
 
THE SERMON. 13 
 
 find no comfort in it. But when at last it was 
 revealed to him that the term here alludes not 
 to an attribute of God, but to the atonement 
 of Immanuel that it means not justice, but 
 God's justifying righteousness the righteous- 
 ness which God incarnate wrought out, and 
 which is imputed to the sinner believing the 
 whole epistle was lit up with a joyful illumi- 
 nation ; and the context, and many other pass- 
 ages which used to look so dark and hostile, at 
 once "leaped up and fondled" him with 
 friendly recognition : and to Luther ever after 
 the Gospel was glorious as the revelation and 
 the vehicle to the sinner of a righteousness 
 Divine. To take another instance : many read 
 the Book of Job as if every verse were equal- 
 ly the utterance of Jehovah ; and they quote 
 the sayings of Bildad and Zophar as the mind 
 of the Most High ; entirely forgetting the 
 avowed structure of the book forgetting that 
 through . five-and- thirty chapters the several 
 collocutors are permitted to reason and wran- 
 gle, and " darken counsel by words without 
 knowledge, " in order to make the contrast 
 
14 LECTURE II. 
 
 more striking, when at last Jehovah breaks 
 silence and vindicates his own procedure. But 
 when you advert to its real structure when 
 you group the different elements of its poetic 
 painting when, under the canopy of a dark 
 cloud, you see the patriarch cowering, and his 
 three friends assailing him with calumnious 
 explanations of his sore affliction ; but above 
 that cloud you see Jehovah listening to his 
 loyal servant, and to his pious, but narrow- 
 minded neighbors listening with a look of 
 fatherly fondness, and from heaven's cornuco- 
 pia* ready to shower on his servant's head the 
 most overwhelming of vindications the bless- 
 ings twice repeated, which Satan snatched 
 away : when you see this, and when you know 
 that Jehovah is to be the last speaker, instead 
 of nervously striving to torture into truths the 
 mistakes of Bildad and Zophar, and of Job 
 himself, you feel that their mistakes are as 
 natural and as needful to the plan of the book, 
 as are all the cross-purposes and contradictory 
 colloquies of a well-constructed drama. And 
 * J< b. xlii. 14, Keren-happuch ; i. e., Horn of Plenty. 
 
THE SERMON. 15 
 
 when so understood, you feel that all the 
 rather because of the misconceptions of the 
 human speakers, the book is eloquent with Di- 
 vine vindication, and teaches what Cowper 
 sings so touchingly : 
 
 " Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take 1 
 
 The clouds ye so much dread 
 Are big with mercy, and shall break 
 In blessings on your head. 
 
 " Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
 And scan his work in vain ; 
 God is his own interpreter, 
 And he will make it plain." 
 
 Perhaps no portion of Holy Writ more 
 needs a key than the subject of our lecture. 
 On the one hand, Ecclesiastes has always been 
 a favorite book with Infidels. It was a manual 
 with that coarse scoffer, Frederick the Great 
 of Prussia ; and both Volney and Voltaire ap- 
 peal to it in support of their skeptical philoso- 
 phy. Nor can it be denied that it contains 
 many sentiments at seeming variance with the 
 general purport of the Word of God. " Be 
 not righteous overmuch; why shouldst thou 
 destroy thyself?" " All things come alike to 
 
16 LECTURE II. 
 
 all : there is one event to the righteous and to 
 the wicked ; to him that sacrificeth, and to 
 him that sacrificeth not." "There is a time 
 for everything. What profit hath he that 
 worketh in that wherein he laboreth?" " As 
 the beast dieth, so dieth man. Do not both 
 go to one place?" "A man hath no better 
 thing than to eat and drink and be merry." 
 These texts, and many like them, are quoted 
 by the moralists of expediency ; by the fatalist, 
 the materialist, the Pyrrhonist, the epicure. 
 
 On the other hand, many able commentators 
 have labored hard to harmonize such passages 
 with the sayings of Scripture ; I may add, 
 they have labored hard to harmonize them 
 with other sayings of Solomon, and other 
 passages of this self-same book. But I cannot 
 help thinking they have labored in vain. For 
 the moment, and when reading or listening to 
 some eloquent exposition, you may persuade 
 yourself that such texts are, after all, only pe- 
 culiar and paradoxical ways of putting im- 
 portant truths ; but when Procrustes has with- 
 drawn his pressure, and the reluctant sentence 
 
THE SERMON. 17 
 
 has escaped from the screw and lever, it 
 bounds up elastic, and looks as strange and 
 ungainly as ever. Therefore, others have met 
 the difficulty by suggesting that, like Canticles, 
 Ecclesiastes is a dialogue ; and into the mouth 
 of an imaginary objector, they put every sen- 
 timent which they deem unsuitable to an in- 
 spired penman. For such interpellations, how- 
 ever, there is . no foundation in the context, 
 where nothing is more obvious than the con- 
 tinuous identity of the speaker ; and like an- 
 other exegetical stratagem which would invert 
 the meaning of such passages by turning them 
 into interrogatories, you feel that it is a clever 
 evasion rather than a conclusive solution.* 
 You would prefer a straightforward exposition 
 which would maintain the unity of the book 
 and the analogy of Scripture, whilst it took 
 the words as they stand. 
 
 * As specimen of the interrogatory subterfuge, the reader 
 may compare with the original or with the authorized version 
 the following : " Shall there then be no remembrance of past 
 or future events? Shall there be no memorial of them 
 among those who shall come after us?" i. 11. "For cannot 
 that which is crooked be made straight ? Cannot that which 
 
18 LECTURE II. 
 
 This is the sentence with which Bcclesiastes 
 closes : " Let us hear the conclusion of the 
 whole matter : Fear God, and keep his com- 
 mandments : for this is the whole duty of man. 
 For God shall bring every work into judg- 
 ment, with every secret thing, whether it be 
 good, or whether it be evil." This is the con- 
 clusion of the matter, and a wise and whole- 
 some conclusion, worthy of Him who said, 
 " Seek first the kingdom of God and his right- 
 eousness, and all these things shall be added 
 unto you." But what is the " matter" of which 
 this is the "conclusion?" To ascertain this 
 we must go back to the beginning. There you 
 read, " I the preacher was king in Jerusalem, 
 and I gave my heart to search out by wisdom 
 concerning all things that are done under heav- 
 en. Then I said in my heart, Go to now, I 
 will prove thee with mirth: therefore enjoy 
 
 is wanting be supplied ?" i. 15. " Shall I therefore hate life, 
 because anything wrought under the sun becomes a griev- 
 ance unto me ? Shall I hate my labor which I take under 
 the sun, because I must some time leave it to the man who 
 shall succeed me ?" ii. 17, 18. (Barham's Corrected Trans- 
 lation) Surely the sense is too feeble to justify such a 
 forced construction. 
 
THE SERMON. 19 
 
 pleasure/ ' &c. In other words, you find that 
 this " matter" was a long experiment, which 
 the narrator made in search of the Supreme 
 Felicity, and of which Ecclesiastes records the 
 successive stages. But how does it record 
 them ? By virtually repeating them. jn the 
 exercise of his poetic power the historian con- 
 veys himself and his reader back into those 
 days of vanity, and feels anew all that he felt 
 then : so that, in the course of his rapid mono- 
 logue, he stands before us, by turns the man 
 of science and the man of pleasure, the fatalist, 
 the materialist, the skeptic, the epicurean, and 
 the stoic, with a few earnest and enlightened 
 interludes ; till, in the conclusion of the whole 
 matter, he sloughs the last of all these " lying 
 vanities," and emerges to our^view, the noblest 
 style of man, the believer and the penitent./ 
 
 This we believe to be the true idea of the 
 book. We would describe it as a dramatic bi- 
 ography, in which Solomon not only records 
 but re-enacts the successive scenes of his search 
 after happiness ; a descriptive memoir, in 
 which he not only recites his past experience, 
 
20 LECTURE II. 
 
 but in his improvizing fervor becomes the va- 
 rious phases of his former self once more. He 
 is a restored backslider, and for the benefit of 
 his son and his subjects, and, under the guid- 
 ance of God's Spirit, for the benefit of the 
 Church, he writes this prodigal's progress. He 
 is a returned pilgrim from the land of Nod, 
 and as he opens the portfolio of sketches which 
 he took before his eyes were turned away 
 from viewing vanity, he accompanies them 
 with lively and realizing repetitions of what 
 he felt and thought during those wild and joy- 
 less days. Our great Edmund Burke once 
 said that his own life might be best divided 
 into "fyttes" or "manias:" that his life began 
 with a fit poetical, followed by a fit metaphys- 
 ical, and that again by a fit rhetorical ; that he 
 once had a mania for statesmanship, and that 
 this again had subsided into the mania of phil- 
 osophical seclusion. And so in his days of 
 apostasy, the soul intense of Solomon launched 
 out into a fit of study, succeeded by a fit of 
 luxury. He had fits of grossness and refine- 
 ment, a mania of conviviality, a mania of mis- 
 
THE SERMON. 21 
 
 anthropy. He had a fit of building, a fit of 
 science, a fit of book-making; and they all 
 passed off in collapses of disappointment and 
 paroxysms of downright misery. And here, 
 as he exhibits these successive tableaux, these 
 facsimiles of his former self, like a modern 
 lyrist on St. Cecilia's day, he runs the diapason 
 of departed passion, and, in the successive 
 strophes and antistrophes, he feels his former 
 frenzies over again, in order that, by the very 
 vividness of the representation, we may be all 
 the better " admonished."* 
 
 "The preacher was king over Israel, and, 
 because he was wise, he taught the people 
 knowledge. He sought to find out acceptable 
 words, and that which was written was up- 
 right, "f a true story, a real statement of the 
 case. "And by these, my son, be admon- 
 ished." 'Do you, my son, accept this father's 
 legacy; and do you, my people, receive at 
 your monarch's hand this "Basilicon Doron," 
 this autobiography of your penitent prince. 
 /These chapters are " words of truth ; revivals 
 
 * Chap. xii. 12. \ Chap. i. 12 ; xii. 9, 10. 
 
22 LECTURE II. 
 
 of my former self reproductions of my rea- 
 sonings and regrets my fantastic hopes and 
 blank failures, during that sad voyage round 
 the coasts of vanity. ~~7' By these be admon- 
 ished." Without repeating the guilty experi- 
 ment, learn the painful result listen to the 
 moans of a melancholy worldling ; for I shall 
 sing again some of those doleful ditties for 
 which I exchanged the songs of Zion. | Look 
 at these portraits they are not fancy sketches 
 they are my former self, or rather, my for- 
 mer selves : that lay figure in the royal robes, 
 surmounted first by the lantern-jaws of the 
 book- worm, now exchanged for the jolly vis- 
 age of the gay gourmand, and presently refin- 
 ing into the glossy locks and languid smile of 
 the Hebrew exquisite : now chuckling with 
 the merriment of the laughing philosopher, 
 curling anon into the bitter sneer of the Cynic, 
 and each in succession exploding in smoke ; 
 not a masque, not a mummery, not a series of 
 make-believers, but each a genuine evolution 
 of the various Solomon look at these pictures, 
 ye worldlings, and as in water face answers to 
 
THE SERMON. 23 
 
 face, so in one or other of these recognize your 
 present likeness and foresee your destiny. 5 ] \ 
 
 " All Scripture is given by inspiration of 
 God,' 7 and it is not the less " profitable" be- 
 cause some of it is the inspired record of hu- 
 man infirmity. The seventy-third Psalm is a 
 lesser Bcclesiastes. There Asaph tells us the 
 workings of his mind when he saw the pros- 
 perity of the wicked. " Behold, these are the 
 ungodly, who prosper in the world. Verily, I 
 have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed 
 my hands in innocency." And he was so full 
 of resentment and envy that his " feet .were al- 
 most gone." He had " well nigh slipped" into 
 utter apostasy : when a timely visit to the 
 sanctuary intercepted his fall. There two for- 
 gotten verities flashed upon his mind : the 
 coming retribution, and the all-sufficiency of 
 the believer's portion. " Nevertheless, I am 
 continually with thee : thou hast holden me 
 by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with 
 thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. 
 Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there 
 is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. 
 
24 LECTURE II. 
 
 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is 
 the strength of my heart, and my portion for- 
 ever. For lo, they that are far from thee shall 
 perish : thou hast destroyed all them that go 
 a- whoring from thee. But it is good for me to 
 draw near to God: I have put my trust in 
 the Lord God, that I may declare all thy 
 works." And just as Asaph's heart for a time 
 was " grieved," " So foolish was I, and igno- 
 rant : I was as a beast before thee," so Sol- 
 omon's feet actually slipped, and in this book 
 he gives us his various reasonings whilst still 
 a backslider. And just as Asaph's "conclu- 
 sion of the whole matter 77 was the blessedness 
 of piety' and the certainty of righteous retribu- 
 tion, " It is good for me to draw near to God : 
 they that are far from thee shall perish," so 
 Solomon's conclusion is identical ; " Fear God, 
 and keep his commandments : for this is the 
 whole of man. For God shall bring every 
 work into judgment, with every secret thing, 
 whether it be good, or whether it be evil." It 
 need, therefore, in no wise surprise us if we 
 find in these chapters many strange question- 
 
THE SERMON. 25 
 
 ings and startling opinions, before we arrive 
 at the final conclusion. Intermingled with 
 much that is noble and holy, these " doubtful 
 disputations" are not the dialogue of a believer 
 and an infidel, but the soliloquy of a " divide^. 
 .heaj;t" the debate of a truant will with an 
 upbraiding conscience. As we listen to the 
 inward colloquy we could sometimes fancy that 
 we hear a worldling and a skeptic contending 
 with an Abdiel. But, after all, it is only the 
 fitful meditation of one who once knew better, 
 and who, by bitter discipline, is learning anew 
 the lesson of his youth. We know not to what 
 better to compare it than a labyrinthine jour- 
 ney underground. Impatient of the daylight 
 quitting those pastures green and paths of 
 righteousness in which he had walked with his 
 saintly sire tired of religion and its simple 
 pleasures, he dives into a subterranean avenue 
 which is to end in a Goshen of central light 
 a poet's paradise with emerald turf and flaming 
 flowers. And the first portion of his fantastic 
 path is lighted by radiance from the entrance 
 the re-collected knowledge of his wiser days. 
 
26 LECTURE II. 
 
 But that dim twilight fades, and the explorer 
 quickly finds that even Solomon is not phos- 
 phorescent, and, stumbling on, he souses into 
 a fetid quag. Struggling through the slough 
 of sensuality, he reaches a brilliant cave, where 
 stalactites of crystal glorify the beams trans- 
 mitted through the fissured roof, and where 
 the very stones are musical ; and, for a season, 
 the royal pilgrim expatiates in a temple sacred 
 to architecture and each fine art. But, wearied 
 with its splendor, shivering at its frosty ele- 
 gance, he presses on again ; and, except when 
 now and then a shaft overhead lets down some 
 light into the dreary tunnel, all benighted, 
 as on the rugged roof he strikes his brow, or 
 on the flinty splinters wounds his feet, we 
 can overhear the muffled voice which execrates 
 the vexation and the vanity. And when, at 
 last, with sullied robes and grisled locks he 
 emerges to the spot from which he started, he 
 grudges so long a journey, and a route so 
 painful, back to his better self; and, resuming 
 his old position, though scarcely regaining his 
 original cheerfulness, he advises us to be con 
 
THE SERMON. 27 
 
 tent with his experiment and to begin with 
 his " conclusion." If, therefore, we remember 
 the real structure of the book, and as a lamp 
 to its dim passages take the light from its 
 final landing-place, much of its obscurity will 
 flee away ; and we may listen without disquiet 
 to the darkest queries and most desperate 
 declarations of Solomon benighted, when in 
 Solomon recovered we expect the answer and 
 the antidote. 
 
 There is little difference in men's bodily 
 stature. A fathom, or thereabouts a little 
 more or a little less is the ordinary elevation 
 of the human family. Should a man add a 
 cubit to this stature, he is followed along the 
 streets as a prodigy ; should he fall very far 
 short of it, people pay money for a sight of him, 
 as a great curiosity. But, were there any ex- 
 act measurement of mental statures, we should 
 be struck by an amazing diversity. We should 
 find pigmy intellects too frequent to be curios- 
 ities. We should find fragile understandings 
 to which the grasshopper is a burden, and 
 
28 LECTURE II. 
 
 dwarfish capacities unable to grapple with the 
 easiest problems : whilst, on the other hand, 
 we should encounter a few colossal minds, of 
 which the altitude must be taken not in feet, 
 but in furlongs tall, culminating minds, which 
 command the entire tract of existing knowl- 
 edge minds whose horizon is their coeval 
 hemisphere ; or, loftier still, prophetic minds, 
 on which is already shining the unrisen sun 
 of some future century. 
 
 Such a mind was Solomon's. His informa- 
 tion was vast. He was the Encyclopaedia of 
 that early age. He was an adept in the natu- 
 ral sciences : " He spake of trees, from the 
 cedar to the hyssop ; he spake also of beasts, 
 and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of 
 fishes," as the sacred historian simply words 
 it ; or, in modern terminology, he was a bot- 
 anist, and acquainted with all departments of 
 zoology, from the annelida up to the higher 
 vertebrata. His wisdom excelled the wisdom 
 of all the children of the East country, and all 
 the children of Egypt. And then his origi- 
 nality was equal to his information. He was 
 
THE SERMON. 29 
 
 a poet : his " Songs" were upwards of a thou- 
 sand. And a moralist : his proverbs were 
 three thousand. He was a sagacious politi- 
 cian ; and as the chief magistrate of his own 
 empire, he was famous for the equity and 
 acuteness of his decisions. He had a splendid 
 taste in architecture and landscape-gardening ; 
 and his enormous wealth enabled him to con- 
 jure into palpable realities the visions of his 
 gorgeous imagination ; whilst, to crown the 
 whole unlike Moses and many others, men 
 of stately intellect, but stammering speech 
 the wisdom of Solomon found utterance in 
 language like itself; and whilst the eloquence 
 still lived of which the Bible has preserved 
 some examples, crowned students and royal 
 disciples came from the utmost parts of the 
 earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon. 
 
 Now, this man, so mightily endowed; if 
 you add to his intellectual elevation the pe- 
 destal of his rare good fortune, mounting the 
 genius of the sage on the throne of the sove- 
 reign this peerless man, this prime specimen 
 of humanity it would appear that Providence 
 
30 LECTUKE II. 
 
 raised up, for this, among other purposes. 
 From the day when Adarn fell it had been the 
 great inquiry among men, Where and how to 
 find the true felicity ? And though the Most 
 High assured them that they could only find 
 it where they had formerly enjoyed it in uni- 
 son with Himself, and in his conscious friend- 
 ship : of this they were quite incredulous. It 
 was still the problem, Apart from infinite ex- 
 cellence, how shall we be happy ? Though 
 blessedness was not far from any one of them, 
 in delirious search of it, men burrowed in gold 
 mines, and rummaged in the rubbish-heaps, 
 drilled deep into the rock, and dived deep into 
 the sea. And though none succeeded, few de- 
 spaired. There was always an apology for 
 failure. They had sought in the right direc- 
 tion, but with inadequate appliances. They 
 were not rich enough ; they were not strong 
 enough ; they were not clever enough. Had 
 they been only a little wealthier; had they 
 been better educated ; had they possessed 
 mfre leisure, talent, power they were just 
 about to touch the talisman : they would have 
 
THE SERMON. 31 
 
 brought to light the philosopher's stone. And 
 as it is part of man's ungodliness to believe his 
 fellow-sinner more than his Creator, the Most 
 High provided an unimpeachable testimony. 
 He raised up Solomon. He made him healthy 
 and handsome wise and brilliant. He poured 
 wealth into his lap, till it ran over ; he made 
 him absolute monarch of the finest kingdom 
 which the world at that time offered ; and, in- 
 stead of savages and pagans, gave him for his 
 subjects a civilized and a religious people. 
 And that he might not be distracted by wars 
 and rumors of wars, he put into his hand a 
 peaceful sceptre, and saved him from the hard- 
 ships of the field and the perils of the fight. 
 And thus endowed and thus favored, Solomon 
 commenced the search after happiness. Every- 
 thing except godly, he devoted himself to the 
 art of enjoyment. And in carrying on his 
 own experiment he unwittingly, but effectu- 
 ally, became God's demonstration. Into the 
 crucible he cast rank and beauty, wealth and 
 learning ; and, as a flux, he added youth and 
 genius ; and then, with all the ardor of his 
 
32 LECTURE II. 
 
 vehement nature, he urged the furnace to its 
 whitest glow. But when the grand projection 
 took place, from all the costly ingredients the 
 entire residuum was, Yanity of vanities ! And 
 ere he left the laboratory, he made ink of the 
 ashes ; and in the confessions of a converted 
 worldling, he was constrained to write one of 
 the saddest books in all the Bible. 
 
 His first recourse was knowledge. Com- 
 muning with his own heart, he said, "Lo, I 
 am come to great estate, and have gotten more 
 wisdom than all they that have been before 
 me in Jerusalem : yea, my heart had great ex- 
 perience of wisdom and knowledge. And I 
 gave my heart to know (more) wisdom, and to 
 know madness and folly (that is, mirth and 
 satire) : I perceived that this also is vexation 
 of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: 
 and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth 
 sorrow." And, as he adds elsewhere, "Of 
 making many books there is no end; and 
 much study is a weariness to the flesh." 
 
 No, no. Carpe horam. Life is short, and 
 learning slow. Quit that dingy study, and out 
 
THE SERMON. 83 
 
 into the laughing world. Make a bonfire of 
 these books, and fill your reed-quiver with 
 bird-bolts. Exchange the man of letters for 
 the man of pleasure. And so he did. "I 
 gave myself to wine, I made me great works, 
 I builded me houses, I planted me vineyards." 
 But here, too, he was destined to disappoint- 
 ment. For the coarse pleasures of the carouse 
 and the wine-cup his cultivated mind had little 
 affinity ; and when next morning revealed the 
 faded chaplets, the goblets capsized, and the 
 red wine-pools on the floor of the banquet- 
 hall ; when the merry-making of yesternight 
 only lived in the misery of the morning, he 
 exc] aimed, u Such laughter is mad ; and such 
 mirth, what doeth it?" And so of the more 
 elegant pastimes the palace, the fish-pond, 
 the flower-garden, the menagerie, the enjoy- 
 ment ended when the plan was executed ; and 
 as soon as the collection was completed, the 
 pleasure of the collector ceased. "Then I 
 looked 017. all the works that my hands had 
 wrought, and on the labor that I had labored 
 to do : and, behold, all was vanity and vexa- 
 
34: LECTURE II. 
 
 tion of spirit, and there was no profit under 
 the sun." 
 
 But there still remained one solace. There 
 must be something very sweet in absolute 
 power. Though the battle has been going on 
 for six thousand years, and the odds are over- 
 whelming a million resisting one yet still 
 the love of power is so tremendous, to say to 
 one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Do 
 this, and he doeth it the right to say this is 
 so delicious, that sooner or later, the million 
 lose the battle, and find the one their master. 
 Now, this ascendency over others Solomon 
 possessed to a rare degree. "The Preacher 
 was king in Jerusalem."" He was absolute 
 monarch there. And to natter his instinct of 
 government still more, surrounding states and 
 sovereigns all did homage at Jerusalem. But 
 no sooner did he find his power thus supreme 
 and unchallenged, than he began to be visited 
 with misgivings as to his successor misgiv- 
 ings for which the sequel showed that there 
 was too good reason. " Yea, I hated all the 
 labor which I had taken under the sun, be- 
 
THE SEKMON. 35 
 
 cause I should leave it unto the man that shall 
 be after me. And who knoweth whether he 
 shall be a wise man or a fool ? Yet shall he 
 have rule over all my labor wherein I have 
 labored, and wherein I have showed myself 
 wise under the sun. This is also vanity." 
 
 And I need not say how the experience of 
 most worldlings has been Solomon's sorrow 
 repeated, with the variations incident to al- 
 tered circumstances, and the diminished in- 
 tensity to be expected in feebler men vanity 
 and vexation of spirit all over again. And as 
 we are sometimes more impressed by modern 
 instances than by Bible examples, we could 
 call into court nearly as many witnesses as 
 there have been hunters of happiness mighty 
 Nimrods in the chase of Pleasure, and Fame, 
 and Power. We might ask the statesman, 
 and, as we wished him a happy new year, 
 Lord Dundas would answer, " It had need to 
 be happier than the last, for I never knew one 
 happy day in it." We might ask the success- 
 ful lawyer, and the wariest, luckiest, most self- 
 complacent of them all would answer, as Lord 
 
36 LECTURE II. 
 
 Eldon was privately recording when the whole 
 Bar envied the Chancellor, "A few weeks 
 will send me to dear Encombe, as a short 
 resting-place between vexation and the grave/' 
 We might ask the golden millionaire, " You 
 must be a happy man, Mr. Kothschild." " Hap- 
 py! me happy! "What! happy, when just 
 as you are going to dine you have a letter 
 placed in your hand, saying, c If you do not 
 send me 500, I will blow your brains out?'" 
 Happy ! when you have to sleep with pistols 
 at your pillow? We might ask the clever 
 artist, and our gifted countryman would an- 
 swer of whose latter days a brother writes, " In 
 the studio, all the pictures seemed to stand up 
 like enemies to receive me. This joy in labor, 
 this desire for fame, what have they done for 
 him ? The walls of this gaunt sounding place, 
 the frames, even some of the canvasses, are 
 furred with damp. In the little library, where 
 he painted last, was the word ' Nepenthe?' 
 written interrogatingly with white chalk on 
 the wall."* We might ask the world-famed 
 
 * Memoir of David Scott, R.S.A, 
 
THE SERMON. ,37 
 
 warrior, and get for another answer the " Mis- 
 erere' 7 of the Emperor-monk,* or the sigh of a 
 broken heart from St. Helena. We might ask 
 the brilliant courtier, and Lord Chesterfield 
 would tell us, " I have enjoyed all the pleas- 
 ures of the world, and I do not regret their 
 loss. I have been behind the scenes. I have 
 seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes 
 which move the gaudy machines ; and I have 
 seen and smelt the tallow candles which illu- 
 minate the whole decorations, to the astonish- 
 ment of an ignorant audience.' ' We might 
 ask the dazzling wit, and, faint with a glut of 
 glory, yet disgusted with the creatures who 
 adored him, Yoltaire would condense the es- 
 sence of his existence into one word, " Ennui. 11 
 And we might ask the world's poet, and we 
 would be answered with an imprecation by 
 that splendid genius, f who 
 
 " Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump 
 Of fame ; drank early, deeply drank ; drank draughts 
 That common millions might have quenched then died 
 Of thirst, because there was no more to drink." 
 
 * Charles V. f Byron. 
 
38 LECTUKE II. 
 
 But without going so far as these historic 
 instances, I make my appeal to all the candor 
 and self-knowledge here present, and I ask, 
 Who is there that, apart from God's favor, 
 has ever tasted solid joy and satisfaction of 
 spirit? You have perhaps tried learning. 
 You have wearied your flesh acquiring some 
 branch of knowledge, or mastering the arcana 
 of some science ; and you promised yourself 
 that, when once you were an adept, it would 
 introduce you to a circle of transcendental 
 friends, or would drown you in a flood of gol- 
 den fame. You won the friends, and, apart 
 from this special accomplishment, you found 
 them so full of petty feuds and jealousies, so 
 cold-hearted or so coarse-minded, that you in- 
 wardly abjured them, and vowed that you 
 must follow learning for its own rewards ; or 
 you won the fame you secured the prize 
 you caught the coveted distinction, and like 
 the senior wrangler,* you found that you had 
 "grasped a shadow. " Or you tried some 
 course of gaiety. You said, " Gro to now I 
 
 * Henry Martyn. 
 
THE SERMON. 39 
 
 will prove thee with mirth; therefore enjoy 
 pleasure/ 7 You dressed you took pains with 
 your appearance ; you studied the art of pleas- 
 ing. But even self-love could not disguise 
 that some rival was more dazzling, more grace- 
 ful and self-possessed, and had made a more 
 brilliant impression : and you came home mor- 
 tified at your own sheepishness and rustic 
 blundering ; or, if content to mingle passively 
 in others' merriment, tattling with the talkers, 
 and drifting along the tide of drollery, was 
 there no pensive reflection as, late at night, 
 you sought your dwelling ? did you not say 
 of laughter, "It is mad ? and of mirth, What 
 doeth it ?" Or, perhaps, at some pleasant time 
 of the year, you made up a famous ploy. And 
 the excursion went off, but the promised en- 
 joyment never came up. Mountain breezes 
 did not blow away your vexing memories, nor 
 did the soft sea- wind heal your wounded spirit. 
 In the rapid train you darted swiftly, but at 
 the journey's end you were mortified to find 
 that your evil temper had travelled by the 
 same conveyance. And though it was a clas- 
 
40 LECTURE II. 
 
 sic or a sacred stream into which you looked, 
 not even Arethusa nor Siloah could polish, 
 from off your countenance the furrows of cark- 
 ing anxiety, or the frown of crossness which 
 wrinkled there. The truth is, all will be van- 
 ity to the heart which is vile, and all will be 
 vexation to the spirit which the peace of God 
 is not possessing. When you remember how 
 vast is the soul of man, and also what a mighty 
 virus of depravity pervades it, you might as 
 well ask, How many showers will it need to 
 make the salt ocean fresh ? as ask, How many 
 mercies will it need to niake a murmuring 
 spirit thankful and happy? You might as 
 soon ask, How many buckets of water must 
 you pour down the crater of Etna before you 
 convert the volcano into a cool and crystal 
 jet-d'eau? as ask, How many bounties must 
 Providence pour into a worldling's spirit be- 
 fore it that spirit will cease to evaporate them 
 into vanity, or send them fuming back in com- 
 plaint and vexation ? 
 
 " Attempt how vain 
 With things of earthly sort, with aught but God, 
 
THE SERMON. 41 
 
 With aught but moral excellence, truth, and love 
 
 To satisfy and fill the immortal soul 1 
 
 To satisfy the ocean with a drop ; 
 
 To marry immortality to death ; 
 
 And with the unsubstantial shade of time, 
 
 To fill the embrace of all eternity 1"* 
 
 * Pollok's " Course of Time " book iv. 
 
LECTURE III. 
 
 '' 
 
 $ Mtnln tliflti InlomntL 
 
 " The Queen of the South .... came from the uttermost 
 parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon ; and, 
 behold, a greater than Solomon is here." MATT. xii. 42. 
 
 IT was autumn with the Hebrew common- 
 wealth. Like withered leaves from the sap- 
 less tree, the Jews easily parted from the pa- 
 rent Palestine, and were blown about, adven- 
 turers in every land ; and like that fungous 
 vegetation which rushes up when nobler plants 
 have faded, formalism and infidelity were rank- 
 ly springing everywhere ; and it was only a 
 berry on the topmost bough some mellow 
 Simeon or Zacharias that reminded you of 
 the rich old piety. The sceptre had not quite 
 departed from Judah, but he who held it was 
 a puppet in the Gentiles' hand ; and with ship- 
 
"1 
 
 A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 43 
 
 less harbors, and silent oracles, with Eoman 
 sentinels on every public building, and Eoman 
 tax-gatherers in every town, patriotism felt too 
 surely, that from the land of Joshua and Sam- 
 uel, of Elijah and Isaiah, of David and Solo- 
 mon, the glory was at last departing. The 
 sky was lead, the air a winding-sheet; and 
 every token told that a long winter was setting 
 in. It was even then, amid the short days and 
 sombre sunsets of the waning dynasty, when 
 music filled the firmament, and in the city of 
 David a mighty Prince was born. He grew 
 in stature, and in due time was manifested to 
 Israel. And what was the appearance of this 
 greater than Solomon ? What were his royal 
 robes? The attire of a common Nazarene. 
 What were his palaces? A carpenter's cot- 
 tage, which He sometimes exchanged for a 
 fisherman's hut. Who were his Ministers and 
 his Court attendants? Twelve peasants. And 
 what was his state chariot ? None could He 
 afford ; but in one special procession He rode 
 on a borrowed ass. Ah ! said we so ? His 
 royal robe was heaven's splendor, whenever 
 
44 LECTURE III. 
 
 He chose to let it through ; and Solomon, in 
 all his glory, was never arrayed like Jesus on 
 Tabor. His palace was the heaven of heav- 
 ens ; and when a voluntary exile from it, lit- 
 tle did it matter whether his occasional lodg- 
 ing were a rustic hovel, or Herod's halls. If 
 fishermen were his friends, angels were his ser- 
 vants ; and if the borrowed colt was his tri- 
 umphal charger, the sea was proud when, from 
 crest to crest of its foaming billows, it felt his 
 majestic footsteps moving ; and when the time 
 had arrived for returning to his Father and 
 his God, the clouds lent the chariot, and obse- 
 quious airs upbore Him in their reverent hands. 
 Solomon's pulpit was a throne, and he had an 
 audience of kings and queens. The Saviour 's 
 synagogue was a mountain-side his pulpit 
 was a grassy knoll or a fishing-boat his au- 
 dience were the boors of Galilee ; and yet, in 
 point of intrinsic greatness, Solomon did not 
 more excel the children playing in the market- 
 place, than He who preached the Sermon on 
 the Mount excelled King Solomon. 
 
 Looking at Solomon as a Teacher, the first 
 
A GKEATER THAN SOLOMON. 45 
 
 thing that strikes us is, that he was a great 
 querist. Next to the man who can answer a 
 question thoroughly, is the man who can ask 
 it clearly. Our world is full of obscure misery 
 dark wants and dim desiderata : like a man 
 in a low fever, its whole head is sick, and its 
 whole heart faint ; but it can neither fix ex- 
 actly on the focus of disease, nor give an intel- 
 ligent account of its sensations. But in this 
 respect Solomon was the mouth-piece of hu- 
 manity. Speaking for himself, he has so de- 
 scribed the symptoms, that a whole ward an 
 entire world of fellow-sufferers may take him 
 for their spokesman. " These are exactly my 
 feelings. I have experienced all that he de- 
 scribes. I am just such another fitful anomaly 
 -just such a constant self-contradiction. One 
 day I wish time to fly faster ; another I am 
 appalled to find that so little remains. One 
 day I believe that I shall die like the brutes ; 
 and, frantic in thinking that a spirit so capa- 
 cious is to perish so soon, I chafe around my 
 cage, and beat those bars of flesh which inclose 
 a captive so god-like ; I try to burst that cell 
 
46 LECTURE III. 
 
 which is ere long to be a sepulchre : anon 1 
 am content, and I say, 'Eat, drink, and be 
 merry, for to-morrow you die : 7 and no sooner 
 is the carnival over than I start up, conscious 
 of my crime descrying the forgotten judg- 
 ment-seat, and aghast at my own impiety in 
 embruting an heir of immortality. One day I 
 deny myself, and save up a fortune for my son 
 and successor ; another, it strikes me he may 
 prove a prodigal, and I fling the hoard away. 
 Now it seizes me that I must needs be famous ; 
 and then I grow disgusted with the praise of 
 fools. What will cure a broken heart ? What 
 will fill an abysmal gulf? What will make a 
 crooked nature upright ? What will restore 
 his Creator unto man, and man unto himself?" 
 And Jesus answers : " Believe in God and 
 believe in me, and that faith will heal heart- 
 trouble. Hunger after righteousness, and your 
 craving spirit will be filled. The words that I 
 speak unto you are spirit and life : imbibe 
 them, ponder them, delight in them, and they 
 will satisfy the vastest desires of the most eager 
 soul. What will make the crooked upright ? 
 
A GKEATER THAN SOLOMON. 47 
 
 Be born again. What will restore the Creator 
 to revolted man? God so loved the world, 
 that he gave his only-begotten Son, that who- 
 soever believeth in him should have eternal 
 life." And thus, one by one, the great Evan- 
 gelist answers the queries of the great Eccle- 
 siastes. And if the sage has done a service, 
 who, in articulate words, describes the symp- 
 toms of the great disease, how incomparably 
 greater is the service done by the Saviour, 
 who prescribes the remedy ! After all, Solomon 
 is only an eloquent patient ; Jesus is the Di- 
 vine Physician. 
 
 Again : Solomon's teaching is mainly nega- 
 tive. Five centuries later, it was the business 
 of the wisest Greek to teach his brethren 
 knowledge of their ignorance. And so dex- 
 terously did he manage his oblique mirrors 
 so many of his countrymen did he surprise with 
 side-views and back- views of themselves ; so 
 much fancied knowledge did he confute, and 
 so many Athenians did he put out of conceit 
 with themselves, that at last the Athenians lost 
 conceit of him, and killed the mortifying mis- 
 
48 LECTURE III. 
 
 sionary. - And, like Socrates, Solomon is an 
 apostle of sincerity. His pen is the point of 
 a diamond ; and as it touches many of this 
 world's boasted jewels, it shows that they are 
 only colored crystal. His sceptre is a rod of 
 iron, and as it enabled him to command all 
 pleasures, so it enables him to prove their nul- 
 lity ; and before his indignant stroke they 
 crash like potsherds, and dissipate in dust. But 
 more sincere than Socrates. His tests, his 
 probes, his solar lamp, the Greek employed 
 for his neighbors' benefit ; such an awful ear- 
 nestness had God's Spirit enkindled in the 
 Hebrew sage, that his grand struggle was 
 against self-deception : and the illusions on 
 which he spends his hottest fury are the phan- 
 toms which have befooled himself. Socrates 
 gossips ; Solomon communes with his own 
 heart. Socrates gets his comrade to confess ; 
 Solomon makes his own confession. And so 
 terrible is his intensity, that if it be well for 
 our modern idoloclasts and showers-up of 
 shams that there is no Socrates now-a-days to 
 show them to themselves, it will be well for 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 49 
 
 us all if we take a pattern from Solomon's 
 noble fidelity, and if we strive after his stern 
 self-knowledge. And yet the result was mainly 
 negative. He had dived deep enough into his 
 nature to find that there was no genuine good- 
 ness there ; and from the height of his stately 
 intellect he swept a wide horizon, and reported 
 that within his field of view there was percep- 
 tible no genuine happiness. If he was taller 
 than other men, he was sorry to announce that, 
 far as he could see, no fountain of joy now 
 sprang in this desert: no tree of life grew 
 here-away. If he was stronger than other 
 men, he had bad news for them : he had tried 
 the gate of Eden, and shoved it and shaken 
 it : but he feared no mortal shoulders could 
 move it on its hinges, nor any human contri- 
 vance force it from its fastenings. 
 
 But if Solomon in his teaching was mainly 
 negative, Jesus was as mainly positive. Sol- 
 omon shook his head, and told what happiness 
 is not : Jesus opened his lips, and enunciated 
 what it is. Solomon said, " Knowledge is 
 vanity. Power is vanity. Mirth is vanity. 
 4 
 
50 LECTURE III. 
 
 Man and all man's pursuits are perfect vanity." 
 Jesus said, " Humility is blessedness. Meek- 
 ness is blessedness. Purity of heart is bless- 
 edness. God is blessed for evermore, and most 
 blessed is the creature that is likest God. Ho- 
 liness is happiness." " We labor and find no 
 rest," said Solomon. Jesus answered, " Come 
 unto me, all ye that labor, and I will give you 
 rest." " All is vanity," sighed the Preacher. 
 " In the world ye shall have tribulation, but 
 in me ye shall have peace," replied the Saviour. 
 " What is truth ?" asks Ecclesiastes. " I am 
 the truth," returns the Divine Evangelist. 
 Solomon was tall enough to scan the most of 
 earth and see an expanse of sorrow ; the Son 
 of Man knew all that is in heaven, and could 
 tell of a Comforter who fills with peace un- 
 speakable the soul immersed in outward mis- 
 ery. Solomon could tell that the gate of bliss 
 is closed against human effort. Jesus has the 
 key of David, and opens what Adam shut; 
 and into the Father's propitious presence He 
 undertakes to usher all who come through 
 Him. Solomon composed Earth's epitaph, and 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 51 
 
 on the tomb of the species wrote, All is 
 Accustomed to date men's history from their 
 death, Jesus substituted, All is Heaven or 
 Hell* 
 
 Nay, so positive was the Saviour's teaching, 
 that, in order to understand him rightly, we 
 must remember that he was not only the 
 Prophet, but the doctrine ; not only the Oracle 
 uttering God's truth, but his very self that 
 Truth. Other prophets could tell what God's 
 mind is : Jesus was that mind. " The law" 
 a portion of God's will " was given by Moses ; 
 but grace and truth" the gracious reality, the 
 truthful plenitude of the Divine perfections, 
 " came by Jesus Christ." He was the express 
 image of the Father. He was the Word In- 
 carnate. And to many a query of man's wist- 
 ful spirit, He was the embodied answer. Is 
 there any immortality to this soul ? Is there 
 any second life to this body ? " In my Father's 
 house are many mansions. I go to prepare 
 a place for you, and I will come again and re- 
 
 * Matt. v. 3-12 ; xi. 28-30. John xvi. 33 ; xiv. 6, 16, 17. 
 Rev. ill 7. John x. 9 ; vi. 37. Luke xvi. 19-31. 
 
52 LECTURE III. 
 
 ceive you to myself." " I am the Besurrection 
 and the Life: he that believeth in me shall 
 never die : I will raise him up at the last day." 
 Is there any mediation betwixt man and his 
 Maker ? is there any forgiveness of sin ? "I 
 am the way. Whatsoever ye shall ask the 
 Father in my name, He will give it you. Go 
 in peace : thy sins are forgiven thee." Is there 
 any model of excellence exempt from all in- 
 firmity ? any pattern in which the Most High 
 has perfect complacency ? " He was holy and 
 harmless, separate from sinners." " This is my 
 beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased : 
 hear ye Him." Solomon was wise ; but Jesus 
 was Wisdom. Solomon had more understand- 
 ing than all the ancients ; but Jesus was that 
 eternal Wisdom of which Solomon's genius 
 was a borrowed spark of which the deep flood 
 of Solomon's information was only an emitted 
 rill. 
 
 To which we only add the contrast in their 
 tone. Each had a certain grandeur. Solo- 
 mon's speech was regal. It had both the im- 
 perial amplitude and the autocratic emphasis, 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 53 
 
 stately, decisive, peremptory. But the Sa- 
 viour's was Divine. There was no pomp of 
 diction, but there was a God-like depth of 
 meaning ; and such was its spontaneous ma- 
 jesty, that the hearer felt, How easily He could 
 speak a miracle ! And miracles He often 
 spake ; but so naturally did they emerge from 
 his discourse, and so noiselessly did they again 
 subside into its current, that we as frequently 
 read of men astonished at his doctrine, as of 
 men amazed at his doings. But though both 
 spake with authority the one with authority 
 as a king of men, the other with authority as 
 the Son of God there is a wonderful differ- 
 ence in point of the pervasive feeling. Like a 
 Prometheus chained to the rock of his own re- 
 morse, the Preacher pours forth his mighty 
 woes in solitude, and, truly human, is mainly 
 piteous of itself. Consequently his enthroned 
 misery his self-absorbed and stately sorrow, 
 moves you to wonder, rather than to weep ; 
 and, as when you look at a gladiator dying in 
 marble, in your compassion there is not much 
 of tenderness. But though greater in his sor- 
 
51 LECTURE III. 
 
 rows, the Saviour was also greater in his sym- 
 pathies ; and though silent about his personal 
 anguish, there is that in his mild aspect which 
 tells each who meets it, If his grief be great, 
 his love is greater. And whilst Solomon is 
 so king-like that he does not ask you to be his 
 friend, the Saviour is so God-like that he so- 
 licits your affection, and so brotherly that he 
 wins it. Indeed, here is the mystery of godli- 
 ness God manifest in flesh, that flesh may see 
 how God is love ; and that through the love- 
 liness of Jesus we may be attracted and en- 
 tranced into the love of God. O melancholy 
 monarch ! how funereal is thy tread, as thou 
 pacest up and down thy echoing galleries, and 
 disappearest in the valley of Death-shadow, 
 ever sounding Vanity of vanities ! Teach- 
 er blessed ! how beautiful are thy feet on the 
 mountains, publishing peace! How benign 
 thy outstretched hand, which, to the sinner 
 weeping over it, proves God's golden sceptre 
 of forgiveness, and which then clasps that 
 sinner's hand and guides him to glory! O 
 Thou greater than Solomon ! "let me see thy 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 55 
 
 countenance, let me hear thy voice ; for sweet 
 is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely." 
 A greater than Solomon. The cedar palace 
 has long since yielded to the torch of the 
 spoiler ; but the home which Jesus has pre- 
 pared for his disciples is a house not made 
 with hands, eternal in the heavens. Thorns 
 and thistles choke the garden of Engedi, and 
 the moon is no longer mirrored in the fish- 
 ponds of Heshbon; but no brier grows in 
 the paradise above, and nothing will ever 
 choke or narrow that fountain whence life 
 leaps in fulness, or stagnate that still expanse 
 where the Good Shepherd leads his flock at 
 glory 's noon. And Solomon the wonder of 
 the world his grave is with us at this day ; 
 his flesh has seen corruption ; and he, too, 
 must hear the voice of the Son of Man, and 
 come forth to the great account: but Jesus 
 saw no corruption. Him hath God raised up, 
 and made a Prince and a Saviour ; and hath 
 given him authority to execute judgment, be- 
 cause He is the Son of Man. And, reverting 
 to the allusion of our outset : Solomon .efflor- 
 
56 LECTURE III. 
 
 esced from his country's golden age ; a greater 
 than Solomon appeared when miry clay was 
 mixing with its age of iron. Solomon was, 
 so to speak, an effusion of his age, as well as 
 its brightest ornament : the Son of Mary was 
 an advent and an alien a star come down to 
 sojourn in a cavern a root of Deity from our 
 earth's dry ground. But though it was the 
 Hebrew winter when he came, he did not fail 
 nor wax discouraged. He taught, he lived, 
 he fulfilled all righteousness he loved, he 
 died. It was winter wheat : but the corn fell 
 into the ground ungrudgingly ; for as he sowed 
 his seeds of truth, the Saviour knew that he 
 was sowing the summer of our world. And, 
 as, one by one, these seeds spring up, they 
 fetch with them a glow more genial ; for every 
 saved soul is not only something for God's 
 garner; but an influence for mankind. Al- 
 ready of that handful of corn which this great- 
 er Solomon scattered on the mountain-tops of 
 Galilee, the first-fruits are springing; and by- 
 and-by the fruit shall shake like Lebanon, and 
 the Church's citizens shall be abundant as 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 57 
 
 grass of the earth. On the wings of prophecy 
 it is hastening towards ns ; and every prayer 
 and every mission speeds it on our world's 
 latter summer-burst, our earth's perennial 
 June when the name of Jesus shall endure 
 forever, and be continued as long as the sun : 
 when men shall be blessed in Him, and all na- 
 tions shall call him blessed. 
 
 So great is this Prince of prophets, that the 
 least in his kingdom is greater than Solomon. 
 The saint is greater than the sage, and dis- 
 cipleship to Jesus is the pinnacle of human dig- 
 nity. In Him are hid all the treasures of wis- 
 dom, and all the germs of undeveloped good- 
 ness. He is the true theology, the perfect ethics, 
 the supreme philosophy ; and no words can lim- 
 it the mental ascendency and moral beauty to 
 which that young man may aspire, who, in all 
 the susceptibility of an adoring affection, conse- 
 crates himself to the service and society of the 
 Son of God. My brothers! is it a presump- 
 tuous hope that, even whilst I speak, some of 
 you feel stirring within you the desire to join 
 yourselves to blessedness by joining yourselves 
 
58 LECTURE III. 
 
 to Jesus ? Is it too much, to hope that some 
 of you, who are Christian young men already, 
 are wishing and praying that God would make 
 your characters less commonplace, and render 
 your influences in your day more abundant and 
 benign? Is it too much to hope that, even 
 from this rapid survey, some shall retire with 
 a happy consciousness, Blessed be God! I 
 belong to a kingdom which cannot be moved, 
 and am embarked in a cause which cannot be 
 defeated ? Is it too much to hope that some 
 one who has found, in regard to godless enjoy- 
 ment, "All is vanity," may now be led to ex- 
 claim, with the gifted youth to whom our poet- 
 laureate has inscribed " In Memoriam," " Lord, 
 I have viewed this world over, in which thou 
 hast set me ; I have tried how this and that 
 thing will fit my spirit, and the design of my 
 creation, and can find nothing on which to 
 rest, for nothing here doth itself rest ; but such 
 things as please me for a while in some degree, 
 vanish and flee as shadows from before me. 
 Lo 1 I come to thee the Eternal Being the 
 Spring of Life the Centre of Eest the Stay 
 
A GREATER THAN SOLOMON. 59 
 
 of the Creation the Fulness of all things. I 
 join myself to Thee ; with Thee I will lead my 
 life and spend my days, with whom I am to 
 dwell forever, expecting, when my little time 
 is over, to be taken up into thine own eter- 
 nity."* 
 
 * From a deeply interesting account of Arthur H. Hallara, 
 in the " North British Review," for February, 1851. 
 
LECTUEE IV. 
 
 nf 
 
 READ ECCLES. i. 2-11. 
 
 " Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities 
 all is vanity." 
 
 ECCLESIASTES is Solomon the Prodigal, re- 
 exhibited by Solomon the Preacher. The 
 wisest of worldlings here opens a window in 
 his bosom and shows us all those fluctuating 
 emotions and conflicting passions which whirl 
 and eddy in every heart whose currents run 
 opposite ways. 
 
 In this separate enclosure, so unlike the sur- 
 rounding Scripture ; such a contrast to the joy- 
 ous parterre which blossoms beside it,* the 
 traveller has planted the wormwood and the 
 rue, all the bitter herbs and the lurid which he 
 
 * The Song of Solomon. 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 61 
 
 gathered in his grand tour of vanity ; and he 
 has left them, at once, a memorial and a medi- 
 cine a record of his own painful experiences, 
 and a corrective to curious speculation and 
 sensual indulgence. 
 
 The right way to understand Ecclesiastes is 
 to read it alongside of the other Scriptures. 
 Obscure in itself we must take the daylight at 
 the end as a lamp, to guide us as we go ; and, 
 for its duskier recesses, we may borrow the 
 bright lantern of prophets and evangelists. 
 We shall thus not only find its perusal safe 
 and profitable, but, as its dark sayings flash 
 into significance, and its negations are filled 
 up by counterpart verities, in its very stern- 
 ness we shall recognize another feature of Kev- 
 elation ; s symmetry. ^Solomon will tell us the 
 vanity of doubt; the rest of the Bible will tell 
 us the blessedness of a firm belief. Solomon 
 will tell us the misery of the selfist, who seeks 
 to be his own all in all ; the evangelists will 
 tell us the blessedness of a true benevolence. 
 Solomon will tell us the vanity of the creature ; 
 the rest of the Bible reveals the sufficiency of 
 
62 LECTURE IV. 
 
 the great Creator. Solomon will tell us how 
 he amassed unprecedented riches, but found 
 no comfort in them : his shepherd sire will 
 answer by anticipation, " My cup runneth 
 over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow 
 me all the days of my life ; and I shall dwell 
 in the house of the Lord forever." Solomon 
 will tell us how, in a palace and a crown, and 
 in imperial fame, he found nothing but cha- 
 grin : Jesus will answer, " In the world ye 
 shall have tribulation ; but in me ye shall 
 have peace." Solomon the sage will tell us, 
 " Vanity of vanities ; all is vanity." Solomon 
 the saint will answer, " Saviour, thy love is 
 better than wine. Draw me, and I will run 
 after thee. Tarry with me until the day break 
 and the shadows flee away." 
 
 This passage is the preamble to the book. 
 And it is an appropriate preface. Like senti- 
 nels of cypress, cold and glaucous, at a winter- 
 garden's gate, like sphinxes of solemn stone 
 flanking the entrance of the Silent Land, this 
 prologue is a fit introduction to the mournful 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 63 
 
 story we are about to read, and ushers us at 
 once into its realms of dreariness. 
 
 As much as if he said, "It is all aweary go- 
 round. This system of things is a perpetual 
 self-repetition, quite sickening. One genera- 
 tion goes, another comes. The sun rises, and 
 the sun goes down. That was what the sun did 
 yesterday, and what I expect it will do to- 
 morrow. The wind blows north, and the wind 
 blows south ; and this is all it has been doing 
 for these thousand years. The rivers run into 
 the sea, and it would be some relief to find that 
 sea up-filling ; to perceive the clear waters 
 wetting the dry shingle, and brimming up to 
 the green fields, and floating the boats and 
 fishes up into the forest : but even that incon- 
 venient novelty is denied us ; for though the 
 Nile and many a river have been tumbling a 
 world of water into it, this tide will not over- 
 step its margin ; the flood still bulges, but still 
 refuses to cross its bounds. Words*. them- 
 selves are weariness, and it would tire you to 
 enumerate those everlasting mutations and 
 
 ^, so rendered by Knobel and others. 
 
64 LECTUKE IV. 
 
 busy uniformities which, make up this endless 
 screw of existence. There are no novelties, no 
 wonders, no discoveries. This universe does 
 not yield an eye-full, an ear-full, to its occu- 
 pant. The present only repeats the past, the 
 future will repeat them both. The inventions 
 of to-day are the forgotten arts of yesterday, 
 and our children will forget our wisdom, only 
 to have the pleasure of fishing up, as new 
 prodigies, our obsolete truisms. There is no 
 new thing under the sun, yet no repose. Per- 
 petual functions and transient objects, per- 
 manent combinations, yet shifting atoms, same- 
 ness, yet incessant change, make up the mo- 
 notonous medley. Woe's me for this weary 
 world I" 
 
 In such feelings I think it possible that a 
 few of my hearers may sympathize. To you it 
 is very painful this fugacity of time this 
 flight of years and ages this coming and going 
 of the generations. And to you it is very op- 
 pressive this monotony of life this constant 
 recurrence of the same small pleasures and 
 this total absence of any magnificent enjoy- 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 65 
 
 ment. You both want something of which 
 you may say, "See, this is new, 7 ' and some- 
 thing of which you may feel, " Now this is 
 good this is noble : here is something which 
 will never pass away : a joy that will be my 
 comrade through eternity for neither it nor 
 I shall ever die." From such vexing thoughts 
 might you not escape by taking refuge in one 
 permanence and one variety to which the royal 
 Preacher does not here advert ? I mean the 
 soul's immortality, and the renewed soul's per- 
 petual juvenescence ; that attribute of mind 
 which makes it the survivor of all changes, 
 and that faculty of regenerate humanity which 
 renders old things new, and suffuses with per- 
 petual freshness things the most familiar. 
 
 It is true that, compared with many visible 
 objects, man is ephemeral. Compared with the 
 sun that shines over him the air which fans 
 him the ocean on which he floats, his " dura- 
 tion is a swift decay." And there is much 
 pensiveness in the thought of his own frailty. 
 To look out, as we were last week looking, on 
 the plenitude of summer, to view the exu- 
 5 
 
66 LECTUEE IV. 
 
 berance of verdure in the woods, and the soft 
 warmth upon the waters to inhale the fra- 
 grance of roses, mingling with earth's ripeness, 
 and think how soon our eyes must shut forever 
 on that landscape how soon aromatic breezes 
 and blushing flowers shall stir no animation in 
 our tombs, to think that there will be as much 
 of ecstasy in the season, but in that ecstasy we 
 shall be no sharers ; or, as the poet has ex- 
 pressed it in his " Farewell to the Brook," 
 
 Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, 
 
 Thy tribute wave deliver ; 
 No more by thee, my steps shall be, 
 
 Forever, and forever. 
 
 But here will sigh thine alder-tree, 
 
 And here thine aspen shiver ; 
 And here by thee, will hum the bee, 
 
 Forever, and forever. 
 
 A thousand suns will stream on thee, 
 A thousand moons will quiver ; 
 
 But not by thee, my steps shall be, 
 Forever, and forever.* 
 
 In such contemplations there is a deep pathos, 
 
 and to surrender the spirit to their habitual 
 
 * Tennyson. 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 67 
 
 mastery would be to live a life of constant 
 melancholy. 
 
 But, whatever may be the sensations of 
 worldlings, these ought not to be the feelings 
 of Christians. Jesus Christ hath brought im- 
 mortality to light through the Gospel. He has 
 taught us that amidst all sublunary perpetuities, 
 the most perpetual is the soul of man. He 
 has assured us that the man who believes in 
 Himself shall never die, and that of all things 
 which ever tenanted this planet, the most en- 
 during are Himself and those whom faith and 
 affection make one with Himself: the great 
 Alpha and Omega, and all the redeemed ex- 
 istence included in his own. 
 
 But more than that, have you thought, my 
 friends, on the immortalizing faculty of your 
 own immortal minds ? The soul of man is not 
 only earth's true amaranth, but earth's only 
 antiseptic. It is only in that soul that this 
 visible creation will by-and-by exist at all. It 
 is only in your deathless memory that its fair 
 scenes and curious objects will, ere long, sur- 
 vive ; but there they can never die. Already 
 
68 LECTURE IT. 
 
 the face of things has entirely changed since 
 the days of Solomon. No limner has preserved 
 the aspect of Palestine as his poetic father 
 viewed it. But there are memories in which 
 it lives. The well of Bethlehem its streets, 
 its houses, and its stables, as they stood a thou- 
 sand years before the Saviour of the world was 
 born in one of them; the copse where the 
 young shepherd cut his crook, and the bazaar 
 where he bought his harp ; the slopes tufted 
 with hyssop and elastic with thyme, where his 
 broad-tailed flocks cropped the herbage, and 
 the trees where they rested at noon ; the mus- 
 ter of the Philistines on one side of the torrent, 
 and Israel's tents on the other all these have 
 vanished from under the sun, but all these are 
 still vivid in the spectator's strengthened 
 memory. And there, too, are still depicted por- 
 traits which the artists of earth can only im- 
 agine ; Jesse's manly port as, with yeoman 
 pride, he stalked out and in among his thriving 
 herds and soldier sons, Samuel's reverend 
 visage as he poured the anointing oil, Go- 
 liath's mighty bulk as he fell over on the 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 69 
 
 quaking turf, Jonathan's tearful smile as he 
 bade farewell for that fatal Gilboa. And even 
 so, if you be the children of God, this earth is 
 your unfading heritage. Its best things will 
 subsist as long as you care to preserve them. 
 And, even after that earth and all its works, 
 all its present features and all its present pro- 
 ductions have disappeared, there will be as 
 many records of creation as there are holy 
 recollections in heaven. When the aspen and 
 the alder, when the bee in the fox-glove, and 
 the roses round the bower, are extinct species, 
 or are only enshrined in the amber of celestial 
 reminiscence ; you will still remember what 
 like earth's sanctuaries looked, and how its 
 summers shone. Or should even sun and 
 moon grow pale, their image will endure so 
 long as you remember the happy hour when 
 you gave yourself to God : so long as you re- 
 member the mossy bank where first, in the 
 Saviour's invitations, you read your title to a 
 mansion in the skies : so long as you remem- 
 ber the bright winter-night returning from the 
 country communion, when the peace of God 
 
70 LECTURE IV. 
 
 was a full tide in your bosom, and in the 
 melting admiration of redeeming love, you 
 looked up into the heavens and said, " What 
 is man, that thou art mindful of him ?" Ah ! 
 yes ; the immortality of material forms is the 
 immortality of the soul of man. 
 
 And of these material forms it is the highest 
 function, so to speak, it is their greatest priv- 
 ilege, to tell on man's immortality ; to get so 
 blended with man's being as to survive the 
 wreck of matter, and share that existence 
 which alone is undissolving. And though this 
 suggests some painful thoughts, though it is 
 sad to think how objects of cupidity and ava- 
 rice, and how the incentives to unholy passion 
 may survive only in that self-accusing con- 
 science which they helped to make a child of 
 hell, boasting no monument beyond such mis- 
 creant memory : still there is a fitness, and 
 one feels happy in the thought that God's good 
 works shall be eternally embalmed in those 
 immortal natures which they have helped to 
 make good and beautiful, and shall never die 
 so long as those spirits' live to whose growth in 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 71 
 
 grace they once gave aliment. Generations 
 will cease to come and go. The earth in its 
 present arrangements, will not " abide forever." 
 It will soon be burned up, along with all its 
 works. Its present races will be annihilated, 
 or only recognized as dim fossils in the cal- 
 cined strata ; and the very books which have 
 been engraven and painted to represent their 
 forms, shall perish in the mighty conflagration. 
 But even then there will be tablets of Nature 
 numerous as the spirits of the just made per- 
 fect ; and what museums have failed to keep 
 will be still secure in the fire-proof cabinets of 
 saintly recollection. No eagle will then poise 
 in the vacant firmament, but its restful gyra- 
 tions, its sunward aspiring, will still be present 
 to that mind which used to associate with it 
 the self-renovating efforts of prayer : " They 
 that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
 strength: they shall mount up on wings as 
 eagles." And from another planet the pilgrim 
 coming would vainly search for Syria's far- 
 famed lily : but its image still wlil linger 
 both in the memory and the character of that 
 
72 LECTURE IV. 
 
 modest disciple to whom Jesus said not in vain, 
 " Consider the lilies, and be clothed like them. 7 
 There will then be no Jacob's well ; but its 
 deep shaft and shady canopy will still be pic- 
 tured in her memory, who, one summer after- 
 noon, found resting there a stranger, and ob- 
 tained from him water of everlasting life. And 
 there will be no Patmos then, but its creeks 
 and caverns will all be mapped in his affec- 
 tionate fancy, who found it the open gate of 
 the New Jerusalem ; and who will recall the 
 lizards on its cliffs and the little fishes in its 
 pools, with Apocalyptic light and Sabbath joy 
 around them. 
 
 There is another sense in which these mate- 
 rial agencies are working a moral progress, 
 and so promoting the scheme of God. Look- 
 ing up at the weather-cock, says the sage of 
 vanity, " Woe's me for this weary wind ! 
 There, it was south this morning, and now it 
 is north ! How many ways it blows, and nev- 
 er long the same ! What's the use of all this 
 whirling ? And if it were only to make the 
 vane spin round, the air as well might stag- 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 73 
 
 nate : there were no need of such wasted pow- 
 er. But whilst the valetudinarian is looking 
 at the vane, the wind is careering over a con- 
 tinent, and doing the Creator's work in a hun- 
 dred lands. It has called at yon city, fetid 
 with miasrna and groaning with pestilence ; 
 and, with its besom of brisk pinions, it has 
 swept the plague away. It has looked into 
 yon haven, and found a forest of laden ships 
 sleeping over their freights, and it has chased 
 them all to sea. And finding the harvest ar- 
 rested in a broad and fertile realm the earth 
 chapped, and the crops withering, it is now 
 hurrying with that black armament of clouds 
 to drench it in lifesome irrigation. To narrow 
 observation or to selfishness that wind is an 
 annoyance : to faith it is God's angel, * for- 
 warding 'the mighty plan. 'Tis a boisterous 
 night, and Pictish savages curse the noisy blast 
 which shakes their peat-hovels round their 
 ears ; but that noisy blast has landed the Gos- 
 pel on St. Andrew's shore. It blows a fearful 
 tempest, and it sets some rheumatic joints on 
 
 * Ps. civ. 3, 4. 
 
74 LECTURE VI. 
 
 aching ; but the morrow shows dashed in pieces 
 the awful Armada which was fetching the 
 Spanish Inquisition to our British Isle. The 
 wind blows east, and detains James's ships at 
 Harwich ; but it guides King William to Tor- 
 bay. Yes, "the wind blows south and the 
 wind blows north ; it whirleth about continual- 
 ly, and returneth again according to its cir- 
 cuits." But in the course of these circuits the 
 wind has blown to our little speck of sea-girt 
 Happiness, the Gospel, and Protestantism, and 
 civil and religious liberty. And so, not of our 
 islet only, but of our globe entire, and its con- 
 tinuous population. So far as the individual 
 is concerned, so far as it affects the weather- 
 index in the wind, there may be little seeming 
 progress ; nay, so far as it concerns any plan 
 which society proposes to itself, the ' favoring 
 gale may shift and shift again, and the story 
 of a nation be little better than the register of 
 a stationary yane pirouetting on its windy piv- 
 ot ; but so far as affects the scheme of God, 
 there is an aura in the universe which always 
 drives one way. Predestination is a vane 
 
THE VESTIBULE OP VANITY. 75 
 
 which never vibrates, and Providence a wind 
 which never whirls about. The breath of 
 God's Spirit and the strength of God's purpose 
 are steadily wafting our world and all the 
 worlds in one mighty convoy towards God's 
 appointed haven in the distant future. So 
 cheer up, Solomon, and all ye sighing sages ; 
 cheer up, you that complain of the sameness 
 and insipidity of mundane affairs. Cheer up, 
 you that pine for some grand disclosure, and 
 long for something that will fill your eye and 
 satisfy your ear. When in the harbor of God's 
 finished mystery, the sails of history are furled, 
 and the eternal anchor is dropped when the 
 last generation falls in and the last holy intel- 
 ligence comes home, you who have so often 
 asked, Is there anything whereof it may be 
 said, See, this is new ? you will see " all things 
 made new;' 7 you, whose eye has never been 
 satisfied with seeing, will be satisfied when 
 you see Him a.s He is ; and you, whose ear was 
 never satisfied with hearing, will long for noth- 
 ing fuller when responsive to the overture 
 which morning-stars sang so long ago, the 
 
76 LECTURE IV. 
 
 grand finale shall burst from Infinitude ex- 
 claiming, " Blessing, and honor, and glory, and 
 power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the 
 throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever." 
 
 If, as we have said, the immortality of ma- 
 terial forms is only that which they achieve 
 through the immortality of the human soul ; 
 and if the true glorification of matter is its 
 sanctifying influence on regenerate mind, we 
 may learn two lessons from our argument : 
 
 F^rst, that there is no harm in a vivid sus- 
 ceptibility of those material appearances and 
 influences with which God has replenished the 
 universe. Some religionists would make con- 
 tempt of the creation a test of piety ; but they 
 greatly err. It was of the material universe 
 that six times over God said that it was 
 " good." And it was in that material universe 
 that the Son of God Incarnate evidently sought 
 refreshment for his eyes when weary with 
 viewing vanity. Yes, Jesus himself has taken 
 to heaven some of its relics of Eden : 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 77 
 
 '* Ob, Saviour, gone to God's right hand, 
 
 Yet the same Saviour still ; 
 Graved on Thy heart is this lovely strand 
 And every fragrant hill."* 
 
 Secondly. But that susceptibility is good 
 for nothing if it be not sanctified. There is 
 an idolatry of nature. There are some whose 
 God is the visible creation, and not the God 
 and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. And 
 there is a voluptuousness in the enjoyment of 
 nature. There are some to whom the land- 
 scape and its ingredients are neither the recre- 
 ation fitting them for more active duties, nor 
 the ladder of easy steps leading them up to 
 adoring and loving thoughts of God; but, 
 like the epicure over his viands, they sit down 
 to the banquet as if they cared for no higher 
 paradise. At this moment, when so many are 
 panting for a purer air, and preparing to mi- 
 grate to other scenes in search of it, it may be 
 a word in season. Go, you that have worked 
 hard for it go and enjoy your holiday. But 
 whithersoever you go, let all your religion go 
 
 * M'Cheyne's " Sea of Galilee." 
 
78 LECTURE IV. 
 
 with you. If you go among foreigners, in- 
 stead of gruffness and hauteur, take with you 
 Christian complaisance, and do justice at once 
 to the good feeling of England and the courte- 
 sy of real religion. And whether among com- 
 patriots or foreigners, take with you the Sab- 
 bath-day. Keep its hours as sacred in the 
 hired lodging or the inn, as you keep them in 
 your own well-ordered home. Pray for the 
 places where you sojourn, and as seeds for the 
 eternal harvest, it were well if you could drop 
 some good words or arresting tracts as you 
 pass along. And then, when bursts of beauty 
 or surprises of grandeur come in upon your 
 soul, let the thought also come in of your 
 "Father," who "made them all." And thus 
 associated with the profitable books you read, 
 or the Christian intercourse you enjoyed, or 
 the efforts at usefulness you there put forth, 
 places which to the vacant mind recall no 
 memories, and to the profligate are only iden- 
 tified with dissipation and riot, will to you 
 be fraught with pleasant recollections; and, 
 
THE VESTIBULE OF VANITY. 79 
 
 thus beautified and sanctified, the resorts and 
 recreations of earth will be worthy of a mental 
 pilgrimage even from the bowers of Paradise 
 Restored. 
 
LECTUKE V. 
 
 READ ECCLES. i. 12-18. 
 
 * In much wisdom is much grief ; and he that increaseth 
 knowledge increaseth sorrow." 
 
 SOLOMON'S first recourse was philosophy. 
 He was a king, and he could pursue his re- 
 searches on a splendid scale. We know that 
 he collected natural curiosities from distant 
 countries, and it is likely that he attracted to 
 his court the learned of many lands. Nor is 
 it improbable that he attained an insight to 
 natural phenomena, possessed by none of his 
 contemporaries. To the present day Eastern 
 magicians invoke his name as if he were a 
 controller of the elements; a circumstance 
 from which some have very gratuitously infer- 
 red that he must have been a magician him- 
 
THE MUSEUM. 81 
 
 self. But the fact is interesting. It looks as 
 if tradition still preserved a recollection of cer- 
 tain prodigies which science enabled him to 
 perform, and it would suggest that he was an 
 experimenter as well as an observer. 
 
 But it was not only apes and peacocks, 
 cedars and hyssop, which he studied, and the 
 elements on which he experimented; he 
 studied man. He looked at man's position in 
 this world. He examined his story in time 
 past. " He sought and searched out by wis- 
 dom concerning all things that are done under 
 heaven ;" " he saw all the works that are done 
 under the sun." And he did not confine him- 
 self to grave generalities ; he did not read sole- 
 ly the stately history of kings. " He gave his 
 heart to know madness and folly, 77 as well as 
 "wisdom;" nor was he so pedantic as not to 
 gather instruction from the frivolous and fan- 
 tastic as well as from the august in human na- 
 ture. His appetite for knowledge was omniv- 
 orous, and whilst hungering for the harvest he 
 was thankful for crumbs. 
 
 The result was, satiety without satisfaction ; 
 
82 LECTURE V. 
 
 or rather, it was the sober certainty of " sor- 
 row." "All the works done under the sun 
 are vanity and vexation of spirit.' 7 Look at 
 this Mesech of mortality! What a hot and 
 noisy hive it is, and how each insect hums out 
 and in on his consequential errands, till some 
 night Death, the grim owner, comes and stifles 
 all, and takes the honey. " I have seen all the 
 works done under the sun ;" I know their ob- 
 ject, I know their result. It is comfort, soul- 
 content for which the millions moil and bustle. 
 For this the clodpole delves in the stiff clay, 
 and the pearl-fisher dives in the deep lagoon. 
 From his fragrant woods the herbalist of Gil- 
 ead would fain distil it, and from his royal 
 dainties the Asherite strives, to confect it. 
 With its rich cargoes the ships of Tarshish and 
 the dromedaries of Midian have many a time 
 been laden ; but when the time came to open 
 the bales, nothing was found save ocean-brine 
 or desert sand. All was transmuted into van- 
 ity and vexation of spirit. " This sore travail 
 hath God given to the sons of men." The 
 very pursuit of knowledge is penal. The 
 
THE MUSEUM. 83 
 
 search after happiness is itself a sore punish- 
 ment. Here, like a gin-horse, has the world 
 been for ages tramping round and round, hop- 
 ing to fetch up the golden bucket from the 
 deep shaft of thought and effort ; but alas ! 
 sin has cut the rope, and there is now no gold- 
 en bucket at the end. Still, however, the blind 
 gin-horse limps and wheezes on, and jades 
 himself to death with this sore travail. I see 
 the misery ; I see not how to mend it. " That 
 which is crooked cannot be made straight." 
 There is a twist in man's destiny, a bias in 
 man's will, a crook in man's constitution which 
 science cannot rectify. " And that which is 
 wanting cannot be numbered." 
 
 I have a list of those ingredients which con- 
 stitute well-being, and which I am told that 
 man once possessed, e. g., peace of conscience, 
 elasticity of temper, health, contentment, ex- 
 emption from death, faith in the future ; and 
 I have made a survey of humanity and come 
 back with an inventory of mere desiderata. 
 These joys have vanished. The spoiler has 
 been here. The regalia are rifled, and the 
 
84 LECTURE V. 
 
 onyx of Havilah lias been torn from the crown 
 which Adam wore in Paradise. And as the 
 upshot of all I say, " Much wisdom is much 
 grief, and he that increaseth knowledge in- 
 creaseth sorrow." Happier that beggar child 
 who can fancy his reed a sceptre, than that 
 gray-haired monarch who knows that a sceptre 
 is only gilded copper. Happier the fisher boy 
 who, with his kettle, hopes to bail the sinking 
 boat, than his wiser father who, through the 
 widening leak, already sees their watery grave. 
 Happier the peasant who fancies the magazine 
 inexhaustible, than the governor who knows 
 that it will be all consumed months before the 
 harvest. In a world like this much science is 
 much sorrow ; for it is the knowledge of our 
 penury, the statistics of starvation, the as- 
 surance that our case is desperate. Therefore, 
 I break up my encyclopaedic elysium, and on 
 my temple of art inscribe, " Vanity and vexa- 
 tion of spirit: 77 
 
 " Where ignorance is bliss ; 
 Tis folly to be wise."* 
 
 * As Lord Byron has expressed it, with his usual mixture 
 
THE MUSEUM. 85 
 
 Unless it include the knowledge of the Liv- 
 ing God, there is sorrow in much science ; that 
 is, the more a man knows, unless he also knows 
 the Saviour, the sadder may we expect him to 
 become. Of this we have an instance in a late 
 philosopher, who, like Solomon, united to ar- 
 dor of physical research a thoughtful and 
 musing spirit, and who in his "Last Days of 
 a Philosopher,' 7 has bequeathed to the world a 
 manual of mournful "Consolations." It was 
 not from any drawback in his outward lot, nor 
 from any disappointment of his hopes, that 
 Sir Humphrey Davy took leave of life so 
 gloomily. Of the sons of science few have 
 been so favored. In his grand discovery of 
 the metallic bases, and in his more popular in- 
 vention of the safety-lamp ; in the command 
 of a laboratory which opened a royal road to 
 
 of force and flippancy : " The lapse of ages changes all 
 things : time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the 
 stars of the sky, and everything * about, around, and under- 
 neath' man, except man himself, who has always been, and 
 will always be an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of 
 lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead 
 but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet 
 been made have multiplied little but existence." 
 
LECTURE V. 
 
 chemistry, and in the splendid crowds who 
 thronged to his lectures; from the moment 
 that he found a generous patron till he became 
 a Baronet of the United Kingdom, and Presi- 
 dent of the Eoyal Society, his whole career was 
 a series of rare felicities. Nor was he the an- 
 choret of science, a lonely and smoke-dried 
 alchemist. He was a man of fashion, and, like 
 Solomon, mingled " madness and folly" with 
 graver pursuits. Yet with all his versatile 
 powers, orator, philosopher, poet ; and with 
 all his distinctions glittering around him, his 
 heart still felt hollow, and in his later journals 
 the expressive entry was, "Very miserable." 
 What was it that he wanted ? He himself has 
 told us : "I envy no quality of mind or intel- 
 lect in others, not genius, power, wit, or 
 fancy ; but if I could choose what would be 
 most delightful, and I believe most useful to 
 me, I should prefer a firm religious belief to 
 every other blessing ; for it makes life a disci- 
 pline of goodness, creates new hopes when all 
 earthly hopes vanish, and throws over the de- 
 cay, the destruction of existence, the most gor- 
 
THE MUSEUM. 87 
 
 geous of all lights, calling up the most delight- 
 ful visions, where the sensualist and skeptic 
 view only gloom, decay, and annihilation. 7 ' 
 
 Whilst the philosopher has here truly said 
 that nothing can fill the central gulf in man's 
 spirit, except a sound religious belief, he speaks 
 of its attainment despondingly ; and probably 
 he felt, what many have expressed, that it is 
 not easy for a man of science to " receive the 
 kingdom of God as a little child/' It is pos- 
 sible that some one now present may be in the 
 same predicament. You wish to believe, and 
 are sorry to doubt; but you find that it is not 
 easy to be at once the votary of science and 
 the hearty disciple of Jesus Christ. When ex- 
 amining the evidence, or when reading the 
 Bible itself, you are convinced that it is the 
 Book of God. You recognize on its pages the 
 same autograph with which you have long 
 been familiar in the volume of creation, the 
 same inimitable style of majesty, wisdom, good- 
 ness, and power ; and you own that to refuse 
 its authenticating credentials would be to set at 
 defiance all the laws of evidence. You believe 
 
88 LECTUKE V. 
 
 the Bible as long as you are in its own society ; 
 yon love it as long as you commune with it. 
 Looking into its face you perceive the halo, 
 and tarrying in its precincts you are conscious 
 of the Divinity indwelling. But passing away 
 from it, and no longer warmed by its immedi- 
 ate inspiration ; mingling with the cold mate- 
 rialisms which it is your province to explore ; 
 handling the dry preparations, or the gritty 
 fossils, or the fuming retort, the joy and the 
 fragrance, and the vital influence of that Bible 
 fade, and your devotion expires. Or, when 
 you bore into the strata, and find yourself 
 drilling down through cycles of unimagined 
 time; or, when you look up into the starry 
 vault, and find yourself transported into a 
 measureless abyss, and its unnumbered worlds, 
 then all sorts of doubts and queries seem to 
 rise like dragons from the deep, or they come 
 trooping home like spectres from the dark im- 
 mensity. You begin to feel yourself an atom 
 in creation, and this world a mere mote in the 
 universe, and you cannot help thinking reve- 
 lation too great a boon for such an atom, and 
 
THE MUSEUM. 89 
 
 the Advent too great a wonder for such a 
 world. You catch yourself saying, not in 
 adoration, but in doubt, " What is man, that 
 Thou art mindful of him ? Or, what the son 
 of man, that Thou shouldest visit him ?" 
 
 Now I will not stop to suggest the cure for 
 all these cavils. I might say that the best cure 
 for nervous spectres or nightmare horrors, is to 
 get a light, or look at something familiar and 
 real ; and the best cure for skeptic doubts is to 
 look at the Bible itself. And I might farther 
 say, that the mind is soundest and best con- 
 structed which receives all truth on its own 
 evidence, and which does not suffer every wan- 
 dering chimera to disturb a truth thus ascer- 
 tained. But as it is a difficulty embarrassing 
 to some thoughtful minds, we may just glance 
 a little at the religious doubts occasioned by 
 the extent of the universe. 
 
 Twenty years ago some English voyagers 
 were standing on a flat beach within the Arc- 
 tic Seas. From the excitement of their looks, 
 the avidity with which they gazed into the 
 ground, and the enthusiasm with which they 
 
90 LECTUKE V. 
 
 looked around them, it was evident that they 
 deemed it a spot of signal interest. But any- 
 thing outwardly less interesting you could 
 hardly imagine. On the one side, the coast 
 retreated in low and wintry ridges, and on the 
 other a pale ocean bore its icy freight beneath 
 a watery sky, whilst under the travellers' feet 
 lay neither bars of gold nor a gravel of gems, 
 but blocks of unsightly limestone. Yet it was 
 the centre of one of nature's greatest mysteries. 
 It was the reward of years of adventure and 
 hardship ; it was the answer to the long aspi- 
 rations and efforts of science ; it was the Mag- 
 netic Pole. The travellers grudged that a place 
 so important should appear so tame. They 
 would have liked that it had been marked by 
 some natural monument, a lofty peak or a sin- 
 gular rock. They were almost disappointed 
 at not finding an iron needle as high as Cleo- 
 patra's own, or a loadstone as big as Mont 
 Blanc.* 
 
 * " We could have wished that a place so important had 
 possessed more of mark or note. I could even have pardoned 
 any one among us who had been so romantic or absurd as to 
 expect that the magnetic pole was an object as conspicuous 
 
THE MUSEUM. 91 
 
 One day, a few summers since, sailing up the 
 Rhine on a dull and windy afternoon, with lit- 
 tle to look at but the sedgy banks and the 
 storks exploring for reptiles among them the 
 vessel halted over against an old German town. 
 We were looking languidly at its distant spires, 
 and carelessly asked some one what town it 
 was ? " Worms." Worms ! The battle-field 
 of the Eeformation; the little Armageddon 
 where light and darkness, truth and error, lib- 
 erty and despotism, the Son of God and the 
 Prince of Darkness fought together not so long 
 ago ! Suddenly it seemed to swarm with Im- 
 perial troops and bluff old burghers ; and had 
 we been near enough we should have glanced 
 up to the tiles on the house-tops, and in the 
 streets looked out for Luther ; but though it 
 was the very spot where Protestantism gained 
 its decisive victory, the spot where modern 
 Europe threw off the cerements of the middle 
 age, and emerged to life, to enterprise, and 
 freedom, there was no outward sign to tell it, 
 
 and mysterious as the fabled mountain of Sindbad," <fec. 
 JRoss's " Second Voyage." 
 
92 LECTURE V. 
 
 a dreary German town on a swampy plain 
 that was all. 
 
 Thus is it usually with memorable places. 
 There is nothing external to arrest the eye ; no 
 gigantic landmark nor natural sign to serve 
 for a Sistej viator : and the more refined and 
 reflective do not grudge this. They feel that 
 morally there is nothing so sublime as simpli- 
 city, and that it is God's way to work great 
 wonders, not only by means of the things 
 which are despised, but in despicable localities. 
 Man is a materialist, and he tries to give a ma- 
 terial magnitude to memorable places ; but 
 God chooses any common spot for the cradle 
 of a mighty incident, or the home of a mighty 
 spirit. Elbowing through Bread-street, amid 
 trucks and drays and Cheapside tumult, who 
 would fancy that here was the bower where 
 the bard of Paradise was born ; or looking up 
 to that small window in the Canongate, who 
 would guess that from these narrow precincts 
 the spirit which new-created Scotland passed 
 away? Or, sailing along the deep, what is 
 there to tell you that this rock was the cage of 
 
THE MUSEUM. 93 
 
 the captured eagle, the basaltic prison where 
 he chafed and pined and died ; and yon, the 
 willow-tree, under which, he quietly slept, the 
 Magor-Missabib of modern history ? Or, float- 
 ing on the soft JEgean, and looking up to the 
 marble cliffs, where the aconite grows and the 
 halcyon slumbers in the sun, what trace is 
 there to tell that heaven's windows once opened 
 here ; that here the last thrill of inspiration 
 was felt, and here the last glimpse of a glori- 
 fied Eedeemer vouchsafed? To the passing 
 glance or the uninstructed eye, they are mean 
 and inconspicuous places so mean, that ascer- 
 taining the wonders connected with them, the 
 vulgar world declares them unworthy of such 
 distinction till otherwise distinguished, and ex- 
 claims, " Let us build a monument, a mausole- 
 um, or a church." But to spirits truly great, 
 every place is great which mind or moral glory 
 has aggrandized. Patmos could not be im- 
 proved though it were expanded into a conti- 
 nent ; nor the house where a poet was born or 
 a Eeformer died, though it were enshrined be- 
 neath a national monument. 
 
94: LECTURE V. 
 
 There is another remark which we may make 
 regarding memorable places. They are usually 
 more interesting to strangers than to the regu- 
 lar residents. Had the Esquimaux seen Cap- 
 tain Eoss and his party, they would have mar- 
 velled what brought a band of Englishmen 
 from their comfortable homes to that bleak and 
 barren shore. And, far from sympathizing in 
 their errand, they could hardly have been 
 taught to understand it. Food, not informa- 
 tion, being their chief motive to exertion, they 
 would gladly have sold the magnetic pole for 
 a few pounds of blubber or a few pints of oil. 
 It was interesting enough to British science to 
 bring many at the peril of their lives ; but to 
 the poor benighted natives it never had occurred 
 that there was anything more important in 
 that particular spot than in any other bend of 
 their frozen beach. And so of historic scenes. 
 You know more about Luther's bold appear- 
 ance at the Imperial Diet than do most of the 
 people who now reside at Worms. The spot 
 where a great battle was fought, or where a 
 great hero breathed his last, is often interesting 
 
THE MUSEUM. 95 
 
 to its inhabitants only as a source of gain ; 
 and unless they be men of congenial taste and 
 strong emotion, people will hurry daily past 
 the places consecrated by departed greatness, 
 without finding their step detained or their 
 spirit stirred. It is reserved for the far-come 
 traveller to stand still and wonder where the 
 incurious native trudges on, or only wonders 
 what it is that the stranger is gazing at. 
 
 Our earth is a little world. In bulk it is 
 little as compared with some of its neighbors. 
 Even the same planetary system contains one 
 world a hundred times, and another three hun- 
 dred times as large ; whilst, if suns be peopled 
 worlds, there are suns hundreds of thousands 
 of times as large. And there are races of in- 
 telligence and capacity far beyond our own 
 races both fallen and unfallen, to which our 
 highest genius may seem a curious simplicity, 
 and our vastest information an interesting ig- 
 norance, even as we may smile at the wit and 
 knowledge of the Esquimaux. But this is the 
 little world, and ours the lowly race, which 
 God selected as the scene and the subject of 
 
96 LECTURE V. 
 
 the most amazing interposition. Like its own 
 Bethlehem Ephratah, little among thousands 
 of worlds ; like its own Patmos, a point in the 
 ocean of existence, our earth already stands 
 alone in the universe, and will stand forth in 
 the annals of eternity, illustrious for its fact 
 without a parallel. It is the world on which 
 the mystery of redemption was transacted ; it 
 is the world into which Christ came. And 
 though lower than the angels, ours is the race 
 which Jehovah has crowned with one peerless 
 glory, one unequalled honor. It is the race 
 which God has visited. Ours is the flesh 
 which Incarnate Deity wore, and ours is the 
 race for whose sinners the Son of God poured 
 forth a ransom in his blood. This is the event 
 which over our small planet sheds a solemn 
 interest, and draws toward it the wondering 
 gaze of other worlds. And just as in travers- 
 ing the deep, when there rises on the view 
 some spot of awful interest or affecting mem- 
 ory, you slack the sail, and passengers strain 
 the eye, and look on in silent reverence ; so, 
 in their journeys through immensity the flight 
 
THE MUSEUM. 97 
 
 of highest intelligences falters into wonder and 
 delay as they near this little globe. There is 
 something in it which makes them feel like 
 Moses at Horeb, " Let me draw near and see 
 this great sight," a marvel and a mystery 
 here which angels desire to look into. It is a 
 little world, but it is the world where God was 
 manifest in flesh. And thoiigh there may be 
 spots round which the interest gathers in most 
 touching intensity ; though it may be possible 
 to visit the very land whose acres were trod 
 by " those blessed feet which our offences 
 nailed to the accursed tree ;" though you might 
 like to look on David's town where the advent 
 took place, and on the hills of Galilee where 
 his sermons were preached, and on the limpid 
 Gennesareth which once kissed his buoyant 
 sandals, and on that Jerusalem which He loved 
 and pitied, and where He died, and that Olivet, 
 from whose gentle slope the Prince of Peace 
 ascended, I own that with me it is not so much 
 Jerusalem or Palestine as Earth, Earth herself. 
 Since it received the visit of .the Son of God, 
 in the eye of the universe the entire globe is a 
 7 
 
98 V LECTURE V. 
 
 Holy Land ; and such let it ever be to me. 
 So wicked and sin-tainted that it must pass 
 through the fire ere all be ended, it is withal 
 so consecrated and so dear to heaven that it 
 must not be destroyed ; but a new earth with 
 righteousness dwelling in it shall perpetuate to 
 distant ages its own amazing story. And 
 though an illustrious author wrote, " I have 
 long lost all attachment to this world as a lo- 
 cality,""* I do not wish to share the feeling. 
 I like it for its very littleness. I like to stand 
 on its lonely remoteness, and look aloft to 
 vaster and brighter orbs ; and when I consider 
 the heavens, the moon and the stars, then say 
 I, " What is man that thou shouldest visit 
 him ?" And, as in the voyage of the spheres, 
 I sail away in this, the little barque of man, it 
 comes over me with melting surprise and 
 adoring astonishment that mine is the very 
 world into which the Saviour came ; and as I 
 farther recall who that Saviour was, that for 
 Him to become the highest seraph would have 
 been an infinite descent, or to inhabit the 
 * Foster. 
 
THE MUSEUM. 99 
 
 hugest globe a strange captivity, instead of 
 seeking to inflate this tiny ball into the 
 mightiest sphere, or stilt up this feeble race to 
 angelic stature, I see many a reason why, if an 
 Incarnation were at all to be, a little world 
 should be the theatre, and a little race the 
 object. 
 
 It would indeed give melancholy force to 
 the saying, " Much wisdom is much grief," if 
 much wisdom were fatal to the Christian faith, 
 and if he who increased his general knowledge 
 must forfeit his religious hopes. But whilst 
 science is fatal to superstition, whilst fatal to 
 lying wonders and monkish legends, it is forti- 
 fication to a scriptural faith. The Bible is 
 the bravest of books. Coming from God, 
 and conscious of nothing but God's truth, it 
 awaits the progress of knowledge with calm 
 security. It watches the antiquary ransacking 
 among classic ruins, and rejoices in every 
 medal he discovers, and every inscription he 
 deciphers ; for from that rusty coin or corroded 
 marble it expects nothing but confirmations 
 
100 LECTURE V. 
 
 of its own veracity. In the unlocking of an 
 Egyptian hieroglyphic, or the unearthing of 
 some ancient implement, it hails the resur- 
 rection of so many witnesses ; and with spark- 
 ling elation it follows the botanist as he scales 
 Mount Lebanon, or the zoologist as he makes 
 acquaintance with the beasts of the Syrian 
 desert, or the traveller as he stumbles on a 
 long-lost Petra, or Nineveh, or Babylon; for 
 in regions like these every stroke of the ham- 
 mer and every crack of the rifle awaken 
 friendly echoes, and every production and 
 every relic bring home a friendly evidence. 
 And from the march of time it fears no evil, 
 but calmly abides the fulfilment of those 
 prophecies and the forthcoming of those events 
 with whose predicted story Inspiration has al- 
 ready inscribed its page. It is not light but 
 darkness which the Bible deprecates ; and if 
 men of piety were also men of science, and if 
 men of science would "search the Scriptures/* 
 there would be more faith in the earth, and 
 also more philosophy. 
 
 Few minds are sufficiently catholic. The 
 
THE MUSEUM. 101 
 
 psychologist is apt to despise the material 
 sciences, and few mathematicians are good his- 
 torians. But although there may be indiffer 
 ence, or rivalry amongst their votaries, there 
 is no antagonism between the truths them 
 selves. There exists a mind as well as a ma- 
 terial universe, and there are laws of thought 
 as well as laws of motion ; and although it 
 cannot be proved by algebra, yet it is pretty 
 certain that Julius Caesar invaded Britain, and 
 that George Washington achieved the inde- 
 pendence of America. All truths are friendly 
 and mutually consistent, and he is the wisest 
 man who, if he cannot be an adept in all 
 knowledge, dreads none and despises none; 
 the Baconian intelligence to which the Word 
 and the works of the Most High are alike a 
 revelation, and to which both alike are faith- 
 ful witnesses, though both are not alike articu- 
 late. 
 
 Be sages then, not sciolists. In the world 
 of knowledge be cosmopolite, and be not the 
 pedants of one department. Be historians as 
 well as mathematicians. Keceive every truth 
 
102 LECTURE V. 
 
 on its appropriate evidence, and there is noth- 
 ing to prevent your faith in the Gospel from 
 being equally strong with your faith in the 
 course of nature. And although the Cyclops 
 of science may have an eye for only one half 
 of truth's horizon ; although the bigot of 
 demonstration may jeer at testimony ; although 
 the sectary of physics may repudiate history ; 
 if your knowledge be really " general ;" if it 
 be sufficiently comprehensive, and catholic, and 
 correct withal, the more you grow in knowl- 
 edge the more will you be confirmed in that 
 most excellent of all knowledge, a positive 
 and historical Christianity.* 
 
 But you say, the natural sciences are all 
 
 * Of how much skepticism has Bacon given the rationale 
 in his noted sentence, " A little philosophy inclineth man's 
 mind to Atheism ; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's 
 minds about to religion." ESSAYS 16. And of how many 
 Freethinkers might the foolish boasting be silenced in the 
 words which Newton retorted on the infidel Halley, " I have 
 studied these things, and you have not." There are various 
 sources of unbelief ; but next to the " evil heart," the most 
 fruitful is ignorance. It is easy for a sciolist to be a skeptic ; 
 but it is not easy for a well-informed historian to reject the 
 records of faith. 
 
THE MUSEUM. 103 
 
 certain ; theology is all conflict and confusion. 
 Let us understand one another. If you say 
 that the phenomena of nature are all patient 
 and explicit, I reply, And so are the sayings 
 of Scripture. If candor and ingenuousness can 
 interpret the one, they may equally expound 
 the other. But if you say that, unlike the 
 "Word of God, his works have never been 
 misunderstood, you surely forget that the " His- 
 tory of the Inductive Sciences" is just a history 
 of erroneous interpretations replaced by inter- 
 pretations less erroneous, and destined to be 
 succeeded by interpretations still more ex- 
 haustive and true. If you smile at the Hutch- 
 isonian or Cocceian systems of exegesis ; if 
 you quote the hostile theories which still linger 
 in the field of polemics, I ask, Is this peculiar 
 to theology? Have you forgotten how the 
 abhorrers of a vacuum abhorred Torricelli and 
 Pascal? Have you forgotten how the old 
 physiologists were vexed at Harvey for dis- 
 covering the circulation of the blood? Do 
 yon not remember how the Stahlian chemists, 
 like a burnt-out family, long lingered round 
 
104: LECTURE V. 
 
 the ashes of phlogiston, and denounced tli4 
 wilful fire-raising of Lavoisier and oxygen ? 
 In early youth have you never seen a disciple 
 of Werner, and pitied the affectionate tenacity 
 with which he clung to the last plank of the 
 Neptunian theory ? Or would every world- 
 maker forgive Lord Eosse's telescope if it 
 swept from the firmament all trace of the neb- 
 ular hypothesis ? Or, because there is still an 
 emission as well as an undulatory theory of 
 light, must we deny that optics is a science, 
 and must we hold that the laws of refraction 
 and reflection are mere matters of opinion? 
 Nature is no liar, although her " minister and 
 interpreter" has often mistaken her meaning; 
 and, notwithstanding the errors which have 
 received a temporary sanction from the learned, 
 there is, after all, nothing but truth in the 
 material universe ; and, so far as man has sa- 
 gacity or sincerity to collect that truth, he has 
 got a true science, a true astronomy, a true 
 chemistry, a true physiology, as the case may 
 be. And even so, whatsoever vagaries partic- 
 ular persons may indulge, or whatsoever false 
 
THE MUSEUM. 105 
 
 systems may receive a transient support, there 
 is, after all, nothing but truth in the Bible, 
 and so far as we have sincerity or sagacity to 
 collect that Bible-truth, we have got a true 
 religion. Nay, the most important facts and 
 statements in that Word speak for themselves 
 and require no theory. And just as the mari- 
 ner might safely avail himself of Jupiter's sat- 
 ellites, though Copernicus had never existed ; 
 just as the gunner must allow for the earth's 
 attraction, whatever becomes of the Newtonian 
 philosophy ; just as the apothecary would con- 
 tinue to mix his salts and acids in definite 
 proportions, even although some mishap befel 
 the atomic theory ; just as we ourselves do not 
 close our eyes and dispense with light, until 
 the partisans of rays shall have made it up 
 with the advocates of ether, so the Scriptures 
 abound in statements and facts on which we 
 may safely proceed, whatever becomes of hu- 
 man theories. " God so loved the world, that 
 He gave his only-begotten Son, that whoso- 
 ever belie veth in Him should not perish, but 
 have everlasting life." " This is a faithful say- 
 
106 LECTURE V. 
 
 ing, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ 
 Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' 7 
 " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
 shalt be saved." " If any man be in Christ Je- 
 sus, he is a new creature:" so far as it is 
 founded on such sayings as these, religion is 
 not only the simplest, but, being immediately 
 from God, it is the most secure of all the sci- 
 ences. 
 
 However, we must add one remark. In the 
 region of revealed truth, increasing knowledge 
 will not always be increasing conviction, unless 
 that knowledge be progressively reduced to 
 practice. If knowledge be merely speculative, 
 in extending it a man may only " increase sor- 
 row ;" for it is " with the heart that man be- 
 lieveth unto righteousness/' and it is to the 
 "doers" of his Father's will that the Saviour 
 promises an assuring knowledge of his own 
 "doctrine."* The mind needs tonics. For 
 the body, next to wholesome food, the best 
 toning is vigorous exercise ; and if long cra- 
 dled in a luxurious repose, the penalty is paid 
 
 * Rom. x. 10 ; John vii. 17. 
 
THE MUSEUM. 107 
 
 at last in so many imaginary ills as constitute 
 a real one. And just as the child of sloth is 
 haunted by visionary fears ; as he dreads that 
 his pulse will stop or the firmament fall in : so 
 the man who arrests his moral activities and 
 lets his fancy wander at its will ; the man who 
 is doing no service to God and no good in 
 the world, will soon become an intellectual 
 hypochondriac. Musing, day-dreaming, mar- 
 velling, he will soon believe the phantoms of 
 his own creating, and will not be able to be- 
 lieve the facts of God's revealing. And as 
 the meet recompense of his indolence and use- 
 lessness, if he be not given up to believe a lie, 
 his relaxed and pithless grasp will not be able 
 to hold fast a single truth : like an interesting 
 scholar, whose life we lately read, and who 
 during years of speculative inactivity, dwin- 
 dled down from a devout and laborious clergy- 
 man to a slipshod and etiolated free-thinker,* 
 and like those voluptuous theologians of Ger- 
 many who mope away their lives in selfish 
 
 * See the remarks at the close of Archdeacon Hare's 
 1 Life of Sterling." 
 
108 LECTUKE V. 
 
 meditation, and who, never letting their breth- 
 ren taste the fruits of their practical benefi- 
 cence, are never themselves permitted to taste 
 the blessing of a sure belief. The true remedy 
 for this spiritual moodiness is a holy and 
 abundant activity. So deemed the Apostle 
 Paul. In the midst of a glowing argument, 
 and when refuting certain cavils against the 
 Resurrection which had arisen in the Church 
 of Corinth, he ejaculates all at once, "Be not 
 deceived; evil communications corrupt good 
 manners. Awake to righteousness and sin 
 not, for some have not the knowledge of 
 God."* Like a sagacious physician who finds 
 his patient haunted by fantastic fears, and who 
 orders him out into the open air, and compels 
 him to dig, or row, or wrestle ; and after a few 
 days of this rough regimen the crystal arm 
 grows flesh and blood ; and he who was afraid 
 that the sky might fall and smother him, be- 
 gins to have faith in the firmament, so the 
 apostle sounds a reveilkz in the ear of these 
 drowsy reasoners. ' Awake to righteousness ! 
 
 * 1 Cor. xv. 33-35. 
 
THE MUSEUM. 109 
 
 These doubts and difficulties are the fruits of 
 sloth. They are the hypochondriac fancies 
 which lazy loungers nurse in one another. 
 Evil communications corrupt good manners. 
 Rouse you ! Awake to righteousness. Bestir 
 you in the business of practical Christianity, 
 and these shadows will flee away V And so 
 to any haunted or unhappy mind here present 
 we give the same advice. Do you admit the 
 Bible to be the Word of God, and yet are you 
 haunted with speculative doubts and evil sur- 
 misings as to any of its particular doctrines ? 
 Then, awake to righteousness ! Your doubts 
 are ridiculous, your fears are unfounded, and 
 each idle hypothesis might be easily refuted. 
 But the real remedy is, not reasoning, but 
 righteousness ; not the arguments of others, 
 but your own practical piety. Awake, then, 
 to righteousness. Embody in your conduct 
 your present limited stock of conviction. Try 
 to pray more, or praise more ; try to cure the 
 bad temper or the unholy passion ; try to do 
 some good to your neighbors : and that very 
 effort will be the cure of some cavils. It will 
 
110 LECTURE V. 
 
 teach you, for one thing, that the heart is des- 
 perately wicked, and that if God does not 
 change it, nothing else can. And that discove- 
 ry will prompt you to prayer, and that prayer 
 will procure an answer, and that answer will 
 deepen your trust in God ; and thus item by 
 item your faith will grow exceedingly. Thus, 
 by the corrective of wholesome discipline and 
 by being confronted with realities, your fool- 
 ish doubts will dissipate; and the doctrine 
 which was incredible to a lazy and dyspeptic 
 intellect, will soon be absorbed and assimilated 
 by a sound understanding, and become the joy 
 and rejoicing of a sanctified soul. 
 
 Alas ! for the knowledge which knows no 
 Saviour. Alas ! for the science which includes 
 no Gospel. The most erudite of lawyers was 
 Selden. Some days before his death he sent 
 for Archbishop Ussher, and said, " I have sur- 
 veyed most of the learning that is among the 
 sons of men, and my study is filled with books 
 and manuscripts on various subjects, yet at 
 this moment I can recollect nothing in them 
 all on which I can rest my soul, save one from 
 
THE MUSEUM. Ill 
 
 the sacred Scriptures, which, lies much on my 
 spirit. It is this : i The grace of God that 
 bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, 
 teaching us, that denying ungodliness and 
 worldly lusts, we should live soberly, right- 
 eously, and godly, in this present world ; look- 
 ing for that blessed hope, and the glorious ap- 
 pearing of the great God, and our Saviour 
 Jesus Christ ; who gave Himself for us, that 
 He might redeem us from all iniquity, and pu- 
 rify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of 
 good works !'" Nor is it only at the close of 
 the pilgrimage that the hope full of immortal- 
 ity is a pearl of great price. Without it, life 
 is so transient that every invention is a melan- 
 choly plaything, and the vastest acquirements 
 are a laborious futility. But the student who 
 toils for immortality need never want a motive 
 in his work ; and, however sad some of his 
 discoveries may be, the sage who knows the 
 Saviour will always have in his knowledge an 
 overplus of joy. 
 
LECTURE VI. 
 
 |JB ^Utjljiiw anil tjii 
 
 READ ECCLES. n. 1-11. 
 
 " Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth." . . " I said of 
 laughter, It is mad." ..." I gave myself to wine, yet ac- 
 quainting myself with wisdom." ... "I made me great 
 works." . . . "Then I looked on all the works that my 
 hands had wrought : and, behold, all was vanity and vex- 
 ation of spirit." 
 
 THIS passage describes a mental fever. The 
 writer tells how, by quitting the wholesome 
 climes of piety, his spirit caught a deadly chill, 
 and how, in the morbid excitement which fol- 
 lowed, he tossed to and fro, and tried every 
 change, burning in the breeze, and shivering 
 in the sun, distracted till he gained his wish, 
 and disgusted to find that what he wished was 
 not the thing he wanted. First mad after wis- 
 dom, then came a surfeit of learning a glut 
 
THE PLAYHOUSE AND THE PALACE. 113 
 
 of information, and he denounced much wis- 
 dom as much grief. He would try frivolity. 
 He would take things easily, and, as far as 
 might be, cheerily. " Go to now, I will prove 
 thee with mirth ; therefore, enjoy pleasure." 
 He would sip the surface of things, and snatch 
 the joys which divert the mind, but which do 
 not fatigue the brain : he would be a wit, a 
 man of humor, a merry monarch. And he 
 was. But his own mirth soon made him mel- 
 ancholy. Like phosphorus on a dead man's 
 face, he felt that it was a trick, a lie ; and, like 
 the laugh of a hyena among the tombs, he 
 found that the worldling's frolic can never re- 
 animate the joys which guilt has slain and 
 buried. " I said of laughter, It is mad ; and 
 of mirth, What doeth it?" So, after a moody 
 interval, he bethought him how to blend the 
 two. Philosophy by itself had failed, and 
 folly by itself had also failed. But how would 
 it do to combine them ? the sprightly with 
 the grave, the material luxury and the mental 
 vivacity, the wisdom and the wine? Yes; 
 into his ivy-wreath he would twine the laurel, 
 8 
 
114 LECTURE VI. 
 
 and the flat potions of philosophy he would 
 enliven with social effervescence. " I sought 
 in mine heart to give myself unto wine, (yet 
 acquainting mine heart with wisdom,) and to 
 lay hold on folly, till I might see what was 
 that good for the sons of men, which they 
 should do under the heaven all the days of 
 their life." But this also proved a failure. 
 "Wine, wisdom, wit," became a mutually de- 
 structive mixture, and the experimenter ab- 
 jured them, in order to try the pleasures of 
 taste. Sculpture and painting were scarcely 
 known to the Hebrews ; but in gardening, 
 music, and architecture, they were good pro- 
 ficients, and to these the sovereign now di- 
 rected his sumptuous ingenuity. Like a pet- 
 rified dream, the palace stood forth in all the 
 freshness of virgin marble, and in all the pride 
 of its airy pinnacles. In the wilderness waters 
 brake forth, and spreading their molten cool- 
 ness over the dust of yesterday,' artificial 
 lakes surrounded artificial isles ; whilst from 
 the fragrant thickets of the terraced gardens, 
 the dulcet sounds of foreign minstrelsy de- 
 
THE PLAYHOUSE AND THE PALACE. 115 
 
 scended where the royal barge lay floating, or 
 through the lattice wafted into the banquet- 
 hall their hints of superhuman glory, till the 
 vessels of gold and silver sparkled like a gal- 
 axy, and the repast was enchanted into a Di- 
 vine refection; and in proud apotheosis the 
 monarch smiled upon his guests from a god- 
 like throne. " I builded me houses, I planted 
 me vineyards, I made me pools of water to 
 water the groves of trees. I gat me men sing- 
 ers and women singers, and musical instru- 
 ments of every sort. And whatsoever mine 
 eyes desired I kept not from them ; I withheld 
 not my heart from any joy. Then I looked 
 on all the works that I had wrought, and on 
 the labor that I had labored to do ; and, be- 
 hold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and 
 there was no profit under the sun." 
 
 Solomon tried mirth and abjured it. And, 
 perhaps, the most melancholy life is that of 
 the professed merrymaker. You remember 
 the answer of the wobegone stranger, when 
 the physician advised him to go and hear the 
 great comedian of the day " You should go 
 
116 LECTURE VI. 
 
 and hear Matthews." " Alas ! Sir, I am Mat- 
 thews I" Akin to which is the account of one 
 who for many years manufactured mirth for 
 the great metropolis, the writer of diverting 
 stories, and the soul of every festive party 
 which was able to secure his presence.* But 
 even when keeping all the company in a blaze 
 of hilarity, his own heart was broken ; and at 
 one of these boisterous scenes, glimpsing his 
 own pale visage in the glass, he exclaimed, 
 ll Ah ! I see how it is. I look just as I am 
 done up in mind, in body, and purse," and 
 went home to sicken and die. And who can 
 read this passage without recalling one who was 
 sixty years ago the most dazzling speaker in 
 our British "Parliament, whose bow had as 
 many strings as life had pleasures, the wit, 
 the orator, the dramatist, the statesman, the 
 boon companion and the confidant of princes ?f 
 But when "wine" had quenched the u wis- 
 dom ; " when riot had bloated the countenance, 
 and debt had dispersed the friends of the man 
 of pleasure ; when in splendid rows his books 
 
 * Theodore Hook. f Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 
 
THE PLAYHOUSE AND THE PALACE. 117 
 
 stood on the shelves of the brokers, and the 
 very portrait of his wife had disappeared, on 
 a wretched pallet, trembling for fear of a 
 prison, the gloomy, forsaken worldling closed 
 his eyes on a scene which he was loth to quit, 
 but which showed no wish to detain him 
 leaving " no profit under the sun, " and with- 
 out any prospect beyond it. 
 
 Nor can we promise a satisfaction more solid 
 to the godless virtuoso. Every other year the 
 public is startled with some grand explosion. 
 A great tower of Babel comes toppling down. 
 There is a tinkle in the belfry, a premonitory 
 jangling of the crazy chimes, a crackling of 
 the timbers, a thunderous down-pouring of 
 bricks and beams and tiles and plaster, and 
 through the dust and smoke the groans of the 
 crushed inmates are heard, stifled and soon 
 stilled : arid then come the excavators, the 
 collectors who carry off the curiosities to deco- 
 rate other toy-shops, and the builders who buy 
 the bricks, in order to construct new Babels 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Not long ago a wealthy compatriot erected 
 
118 LECTURE VI. 
 
 such a palace for his pride, and reared it with 
 such impatience that the workmen plied their 
 labors night and day. When finished, " a wall 
 nearly twenty miles in circumference, sur- 
 rounded it. Within this circle scarcely any 
 visitors were allowed to pass. In sullen gran- 
 deur the owner dwelt alone, shunning converse 
 with the world around. Majesty itself was de- 
 sirous of visiting this wonderful domain, but 
 was refused admittance. ... Its interior was 
 fitted with all the splendor which art and 
 wealth could create. Gold and silver cups and 
 vases were so numerous that they dazzled the 
 eye ; and looking round at the cabinets and 
 candelabra and ornaments which decorated the 
 apartment, was like standing in the treasury 
 of an Eastern prince."* But a hundred thou- 
 sand pounds a-year failed to support this mag- 
 nificence, and the gates which "refused admit- 
 tance to a monarch were thrust open by a 
 Sheriff's officer :" and whilst its architect pined 
 in unpitied solitude, the gorgeous structure 
 was pulled down by its new owner. More fre- 
 
 * " The Mirage of Life," a publication of the Tract Society. 
 
THE PLAYHOUSE AND THE PALACE. 119 
 
 quently, however, it is the structure which 
 stands, and it is the architect who becomes the 
 ruin. Many of you have visited Versailles. 
 As you stood upon its terraces, or surveyed its 
 pictures furlong after furlong, or wandered 
 among its enchanted fountains, did it strike 
 you, How fresh and splendid is Versailles.; 
 how insignificant is now its author ! Or did 
 you think of that gloomy day when in one of 
 its chambers lay dying the monarch who has 
 identified Versailles with his royal revelries, 
 and near the silken couch a throng of courtiers 
 lingered, not in tears, not anxious to detain 
 his spirit, not sedulous to soothe the last mo- 
 ments of mortal anguish; but wearying till 
 their old master would make an end of it and 
 die, that they might rush away and congratu- 
 late his son and successor.* And did you 
 think that thus it is with every one who layeth 
 up treasure for himself, and who is not rich 
 towards God ? Did you think of him who 
 said to his soul, when he had built his larger 
 
 * See the death-scene of Louis XV. at the opening of Car- 
 lyle's " French Revolution." 
 
120 LECTURE VI. 
 
 barns, " Soul, thou "hast goods laid up for many 
 years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
 merry ;" and to whom God said, "Thou fool, 
 this night shall thy soul be required of thee : 
 then, whose shall these things be?" 
 
 What is it then ? Shall we denounce learn- 
 ing, genius, wit ? Shall we proscribe architec- 
 ture and all the arts ? For this some have 
 contended, and under pretence of piety they 
 have sought to become barbarians. But, O 
 man, who hath required this at thy hands ? It 
 is the work of God's Spirit to sanctify taste and 
 consecrate talent ; and that alone is excessive 
 which is not given to God. In " walking 
 about Zion," we must ever admire the noble 
 " bulwarks" reared by Lardner and Butler, and 
 the other defenders of the common faith, as 
 well as the "towers" of "orthodoxy 'erected by 
 the learned labors of Owen, and Haldane, and 
 Magee, and other mighty engineers ; nor less 
 the " palaces" which at once adorn the city and 
 commemorate the genius of Watts, and Howe, 
 and Chalmers, and Vinet. Nor is there any 
 reason why wit should always be "mad." Re- 
 
THE PLAYHOUSE AND THE PALACE. 121 
 
 ligion may be sprightly, and dulness may be 
 undevout. A Home or a Cowper may be per- 
 mitted to answer a fool according to his folly ; 
 and when, with the tender precision of a Tell, 
 the polished shafts of Wilberforce split in twain 
 an opponent's argument, but never " hurt his 
 head,"* you could not wish fanaticism to de- 
 stroy a weapon which religion guides so wisely. 
 Though pride may be the busiest architect, let 
 us not forget that piety and philanthropy have 
 been great builders also. And though sensu- 
 ality may abuse the arts, let us not forget how 
 often to its youthful inmates music has helped 
 to endear the earthly home, and how much 
 devotion is indebted to " the service of song in 
 the house of the Lord." Let us not forget thai; 
 almighty Artist who, every spring, paints new 
 landscapes on the earth, and every evening 
 new ones in the sky, whose sculptures are the 
 melting clouds and everlasting hills, and 
 whose harp of countless strings includes each 
 
 * Ps. cxli. 5. See the sketch of Wilberforce, in Sir James 
 Stephen's "Historical Essays," and in Lord Brougham's 
 " Statesmen," first series. 
 
122 LECTURE VI. 
 
 note from a hare-bell's tinkle to the " organic 
 swell" of ocean's thunder. 
 
 What is it then? The "instrument of 
 righteousness" when not " yielded to God," be- 
 comes an idol ; and every idol is at once a curse 
 and a crime. 
 
LECTURE VII. 
 
 READ ECCLES. n. 12-23. 
 
 * There is no perpetual remembrance of the wise more than 
 of the fool." " Who knoweth whether his successor shall 
 be a wise man or a fool ?" 
 
 THE noblest renown is posthumous fame; 
 and the most refined ambition is the desire of 
 such fame. A vulgar mind may thirst for im- 
 mediate popularity ; and very moderate talent, 
 dexterously managed, may win for the moment 
 the hosannas of the million. But it is a Horace 
 or a Milton, a Socrates or a Sidney, who can 
 listen without bitterness to plaudits heaped on 
 feebler rivals, and calmly anticipate the day 
 when posterity will do justice to the powers or 
 the achievements of which he is already con- 
 scious. And of this more exalted ambition it 
 
124 LECTURE VII. 
 
 would appear that Solomon had felt the stir- 
 rings. When he looked on the temple and 
 the cedar palace, and still more when he 
 thought of his literary exploits, his songs and 
 his proverbs, and his lectures in science, the 
 Non omnis moriar was a thought as natural as 
 it was pleasing, and from the sense of flagging 
 powers and the sight of a failing body, he 
 gladly took refuge in the promise of posthu- 
 mous immortality. But even that cold com- 
 fort was entirely frozen in the thought which 
 followed. From the lofty pinnacle to which, 
 as a philosophic historian, he had ascended, 
 Solomon could look down and see not only the 
 fallibility of his coevals, but the forgetfulness 
 of the generations following. He knew that 
 there had often been great men in the world ; 
 but he could not hide it from himself, how little 
 these great men had grown already, and how 
 infinitesimal the greatest would become, if the 
 world should only last a few centuries longer. 
 And so far, Solomon was right. Few things 
 would be more pathetic than if we had some 
 micrometer for measuring great men's memo- 
 
THE MONUMENT. 125 
 
 ries, some means for ascertaining the decimal 
 of a second which those great names subtend 
 in our historic firmament, who filled their 
 living age with lustre. Even Solomon 's own, 
 intellectually the brightest of a bygone dis- 
 pensation, and with all the advantage of the 
 Bible telescope to bring it near, how little it 
 enters into the actual thought of this modern 
 world ! What a tiny spark it twinkles through 
 the foggy atmosphere of this material time ! 
 Had a life in the hearts of future men been all 
 his immortality, how little worth the purchase ! 
 and how much wiser than their philosophic 
 monarch were those "fools" in Jerusalem who 
 took no thought to add this cubit to their age ! 
 So, brethren, it is natural to wish to be re- 
 membered when gone ; and as a substitute for 
 the highest motive, or a succor to other mo- 
 tives, it is well to think of the generation fol- 
 lowing. But, as it usually flatters worldly 
 men, this posthumous fame is a fallacy.* u A 
 
 * " Are not all things born to be forgotten ? In truth, it 
 was a sore vexation to me when I saw, as the wise man saw 
 of old, that whatever I could hope to perform must neces- 
 sarily be of very temporary duration ; and if so, why do it I 
 
126 LECTURE VII. 
 
 living dog is better than a dead lion." Amidst 
 the importunate solicitations of daily business, 
 many of us must accuse ourselves of unfaith- 
 fulness to the dead ; and when tranquil mo- 
 ments call up their familiar images, we marvel 
 how we can deal so treacherously with the 
 great and good departed. Vanished from our 
 view, expunged from our correspondence, 
 dropped from our very prayers, no longer ex- 
 pected as visitors in our homes, it is marvel- 
 lous how faint and intermitting their memory 
 has grown ; and we upbraid our ungrateful 
 fancy that it preserves so little space for old 
 benefactors, and the once-cherished friends of 
 our bosom. But the same fate awaits our- 
 selves ; we, too, are going hence, and when we 
 are gone, 
 
 " A few will weep a little while, 
 Then bless our memory with a smile." 
 
 Let me see ! What have I done already ? I have learnt 
 Welsh, and have translated the songs of Ab Gwilym ; I have 
 also rendered the old book of Danish ballads into English 
 metre. Good ! Have I done enough to secure myself a 
 reputation of a thousand years ? Well, but what's a thousand 
 years after all, or twice a thousand years ? Woe is me ! I 
 may just as well sit still." LAVENGRO. 
 
THE MONUMENT. 127 
 
 One or two may cling to it with tender fond- 
 ness, while existence lasts ; but even with 
 friends affectionate and true, tenderness will 
 soon soften into resignation, and resignation 
 will subside into contentment, and contentment 
 will dull away into sheer forgetfulness ; and it 
 will only be on some rare occasion, some 
 wakeful night, when memory is holding a vigil 
 of all-souls, or when a torn letter, or an inscrip- 
 tion in a book, or a name carved on the beechen 
 tree conjures up the past, "and a spirit stands 
 before you," that the fountain of early love 
 will flow anew, and you will pay the tribute 
 of the long-suspended tear. But even that will 
 end. A race will arise that know not Joseph, 
 and to whom Joseph's friends will not be able 
 to transfer their attachment ; and when a 
 fourth or a fifth generation comes upon the 
 stage, so dim will be the name, and so diluted 
 will be the interest in it, that the youth would 
 be more concerned for the loss of a favorite 
 hound than for the extinction of his grandsire's 
 memory. 
 
 But if this be the phantom for which the 
 
128 LECTURE VII. 
 
 worldling toils and sighs, there is a posthu- 
 mous fame which is no illusion. If there be no 
 eternal remembrance of the world's wise men 
 any more than of its fools, it is otherwise with 
 the wise ones of the heavenly kingdom. God 
 has so arranged it that "the righteous shall be 
 held in everlasting remembrance." "They 
 that," in his sight, "are wise, shall shine as 
 the firmament, and they that turn many to 
 righteousness, as the stars forever and ever." 
 Great men may covet admiration, but good 
 men crave affection. Admiration is the state- 
 room, formal and rarely used ; but to be ad- 
 mitted into the affections is to be domiciled in 
 the heart's own home, to live where lives the 
 soul itself. And into this inmost shrine of 
 good men's souls God admits all the holy; 
 nay, with reverence speaking it, He admits 
 them into his own. The love of Jehovah is a 
 sanctuary where every holy being has a home. 
 But not content with giving to the just made 
 perfect, the immortality of his own unchang- 
 ing love, a gracious God secures them the at- 
 tachment of congenial minds ; and at this in- 
 
THE MONUMENT. 129 
 
 stant there is not in all the universe a holy be- 
 ing but God has found for it a resting-place in 
 the love of other holy beings, and that not 
 temporarily, but for all eternity. The only 
 posthumous fame that is truly permanent is the 
 memory of God ; and the only deathless names 
 are theirs for whose living persons He has 
 found a place in his own love, and in the love 
 of holy beings like-minded with Himself. 
 Many a casket has been broken, and the gems 
 of fine fancy have been scattered on the world, 
 and the name of the self-immolating genius is 
 now forgotten ; but that box of ointment 
 which the weeping penitent crushed over the 
 feet of Jesus, will pour its fragrance through 
 all time ; for wherever there is a Gospel the 
 Lord Jesus has secured that there shall be 
 spread the story. And so war, wisdom, wit, 
 these three have all made deep indentations 
 on the mind of man; and some deeds have 
 been so brave, and some inventions so beauti- 
 ful, and some sayings so brilliant, that people 
 vowed they never would be forgotten. But, 
 alas ! it was the fragile imagination of sinful 
 
130 LECTURE VII. 
 
 man, and it lias long ago disintegrated. It 
 was the soft and viscid memory of selfish man, 
 and new interests and new objects have since 
 flowed in and filled up the oozy record. But 
 although we dare not say that any thought of 
 earth is so sublime as to merit a record in 
 heaven, on the highest authority we know that 
 no act of faith is so insignificant but it secures 
 a registration there. And although, fearful of 
 posthumous flattery, the dying Howards of our 
 species may direct, " Place a sun -dial on my 
 grave, and let me be forgotten," they cannot 
 expunge their labors of love from the book of 
 remembrance, and they will never be forgotten 
 by God. 
 
 But even beyond posthumous fame, most 
 men would like to be perpetuated in well- 
 doing and affectionate children. And here 
 again, a gloomy foreboding darkened the mind 
 of Solomon. He had greatly extended his 
 hereditary kingdom ; he had amassed an un- 
 precedented fortune ; he had built such palaces 
 as only Eastern extravagance had dared to 
 
THE MONUMENT. 131 
 
 dream ; he had covered his name with glory 
 as a statesman and a lawgiver and a sage ; and 
 all this glory these palaces, yon piles of 
 treasure, that splendid empire, the whole 
 was such a prize that if he felt sadness in leav- 
 ing it, he also felt anxiety about transmitting 
 it. He had a son ; but, from expressions here 
 escaping, it would almost seem as if Eehoboam 
 already betrayed the senselessness and arro- 
 gance which were afterwards to make him the 
 detestation of his subjects, and the butt of his 
 neighbors. The heathen marriages and the 
 on-goings of the father, at once unkingly and 
 ungodly, were destined to yield their bitter 
 fruits in the son ; and it is possible that the 
 backslider already felt punished in foreseeing 
 all the mischief coming on the kingdom 
 through the pride and the blunders of this 
 wayward youth. " Yea, I hated all my labor 
 which I had taken under the sun ; because I 
 should leave it unto the man that shall be after 
 me. And who knoweth whether he shall be a 
 wise man or a fool ? Yet shall he have rule 
 over all my labor wherein I have labored, and 
 
132 LECTURE VII. 
 
 wherein I have showed myself wise -under the 
 sun. This also is vanity." 
 
 Let those be very thankful who feel that 
 they are better off than Solomon. You have 
 not a sceptre, a title, a vast, income to be- 
 queath ; but you have well-doing children. 
 By their industry and mutual affection, above 
 all, by promising appearances of her personal 
 piety, you are encouraged to hope that those 
 who come after you will be an honor to your 
 name. What a mercy ! Solomon would have 
 given his sceptre in exchange for your son. 
 But why should not this mercy be yet more 
 frequent ? It is true that " grace does not run 
 in the blood, though sin does." But it is also 
 true that God makes his grace more gracious 
 by often causing it to run in the channel of 
 the natural affections. "The promise is unto 
 you, and to your children." And where there 
 is a pious affection, the best gifts will be those 
 we shall covet most earnestly for its objects. 
 Where parental affection is also devout, it will 
 prompt the praj^er which David offered at once 
 for himself and for Solomon : " Give the king 
 
THE MONUMENT. 133 
 
 Thy judgments, God, and Thy righteous- 
 ness unto the king's son." And in that pious 
 affection the Lord sympathizes, and such pa- 
 rerital intercessions He delights to hear. 
 
 And although, when we think what sort of 
 life Solomon for a long period led ; when we 
 reflect that Kehoboam's boyhood and youth 
 were spent in the lap of luxury, and amidst 
 scenes of the most extravagant revelry ; when 
 we consider that a polygamist like Solomon 
 can never have a home, and a child like Eeho- 
 boam can have no such playmates as are found 
 in an undivided family ; when we recall the 
 idolatry and impiety to which his early years 
 had been inured, and remember how bad was 
 the example which his own father had set him 
 we can scarcely wonder that the son of Sol- 
 omon proved a heart-break to his father and a 
 stigma on his line : still we are not the less 
 persuaded, that where there is faithfulness to 
 God as well as affection to one's children; 
 where there are earnest prayer and a corre- 
 sponding pattern ; and, especially, where both 
 parents are of one mind, and agreed as touch- 
 
134 LECTURE VII. 
 
 ing this thing, God will do it for them, and 
 the promise still hold true, "to you and to 
 your seed after you." The " entail of the cov- 
 enant" is largely borne out by religious biog- 
 raphy, and our Churches are mainly composed 
 of the pious children of Christian parents. 
 Happy they who, instead of a tablet in the 
 churchyard wall, are thus commemorated by 
 polished stones in the living temple I* 
 
 * Isaiah liv. 11-18. 
 
LECTUKE VIII 
 
 nf iBHtint(. 
 
 READ ECCLES. ra. 1-15. 
 
 To everything there is a season." .... u In the heart of 
 everything God hath set its era."* 
 
 ACCORDING to the mood of the spectator the 
 same phenomena will exert a depressing or a 
 reviving influence ; and according to the bias 
 of the reasoner the same facts will be adduced 
 for purposes the most opposite. If we were 
 sure that in this passage Solomon was giving 
 the matured opinion of his latest and penitent 
 life, the text would be a lesson of resignation 
 derived from the absolute sovereignty and all- 
 controlling providence of God ; but if, as we 
 have all along held, Solomon writes these 
 * Vs. 11, oils eternity, duration, <fec. LXX. atuv. 
 
136 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 verses somewhat in sympathy with his former 
 self; if he be recalling for wise purposes the 
 reasonings and surmisings of the days of his 
 vanity, we would be prepared to find inter- 
 mingled with the sublime theology of this sec- 
 tion a tincture of fatalism. Accordingly, in 
 the ninth and tenth verses we read, "What 
 profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he 
 laboreth? I have seen the travail which God 
 hath given to the sons of men, to be exercised 
 in it." ' This universe is moving in a groove 
 of adamant. Man's activity is a make-believe, 
 an imposition on himself; for the wheel spins 
 round equally fast whether the blue-bottle 
 push it forward or backward. What profit is 
 there in human industry? It is the unpro- 
 ductive travail to which the offended Creator 
 has doomed his sinful creature ; the plough- 
 ing of the sand, the weaving of the air, the 
 manufacture of elaborate nonentities.' And 
 yet, so true are the facts which this section 
 notes, and so solemn the inferences from them 
 which forced themselves on the mind of the 
 royal reasoner, that few texts contain the germs 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 137 
 
 of a grander theology. Passing over the im- 
 potence and helplessness of the creature, he 
 saw how glorious was that Omnipotence which 
 held in hand the guiding reins of ponderous 
 orbs and mighty incidents, and at the predes- 
 tined moment would bring the chariot of his 
 sovereignty to its triumphal goal in the far-off 
 eternity. He saw how vast is that Wisdom 
 which from the beginning had planned the 
 great year of existence, and planned it so com- 
 plete that nothing needed to be supplemented 
 nor superseded, but through its cycle incon- 
 ceivable the universe moved; on from the mo- 
 ment of its starting, ever waxing, ever waning, 
 and through its summer and winter of un- 
 counted ages circling round to its successive 
 springs. " He hath made everything beautiful 
 in his time, and in the heart of everything He 
 hath set an eternity : so that no man can find 
 out from beginning to end any work that God 
 maketh any process that God conducteth. I 
 know that whatsoever God doeth, it shall be 
 forever. Nothing can be put to it, nor any- 
 thing taken from it That which hath been is 
 
138 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 now, and that which is to be hath already 
 been : and God brings back the past." 
 
 " To everything there is a season, and a time 
 to every purpose under the heaven." As if 
 he had said, Mortality is a huge time-piece 
 wound up by the almighty Maker ; and after 
 He has set it a-going nothing can stop it till 
 the angel swears that time shall be no longer. 
 But here it ever vibrates and ever advances, 
 ticking one child of Adam into existence, and 
 ticking another out. Now it gives the whirr 
 of warning, and the world may look out for 
 some great event ; and presently it fulfils its 
 warning, and rings in a noisy revolution. But 
 there ! as its index travels on so resolute and 
 tranquil, what tears and raptures attend its 
 progress ! It was only another wag of the 
 sleepless pendulum ; but it was fraught with 
 destiny, and a fortune was made, a heart was 
 broken, an empire fell. We cannot read the 
 writing on the mystic cogs as they are coming 
 slowly up ; but each of them is coming on 
 God's errand, and carries in its graven brass a 
 Divine decree. Now, however, now that the 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 139 
 
 moment is past, we know ; and in the fulfil- 
 ment we can read the fiat. This instant was 
 to say to Solomon, " Be born !" this other was 
 to say to Solomon in all his glory, "Die!" 
 That instant was to " plant" Israel in Pales- 
 tine ; that other was to a pluck him up." 
 And thus inevitable, inexorable, the great 
 clock of human destiny moves on, till a mighty 
 hand shall grasp its heart and hush forever its 
 pulse of iron. 
 
 See how fixed, how fated is each vicissi- 
 tude ! how independent of human control ! 
 There is "a time to be born, " and however 
 much a man may dislike the era on which his 
 existence is cast, he cannot help himself: that 
 time is his, and he must make the most of it. 
 Milton need not cofnplain that his lot is fallen 
 on evil days ; for these are his days, and he 
 can have no other. Roger Bacon and Galileo 
 need not grudge their precious being, that 
 they have been prematurely launched into the 
 age of inquisitors and knowledge-quenching 
 monks, for this age was made to make them. 
 And so with the time to die. Voltaire need 
 
140 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 not offer half his fortune to buy six weeks' re- 
 prieve ; for if the appointed moment has ar- 
 rived it cannot pass into eternity without 
 taking the skeptic with it. And even good 
 Hezekiah his tears and prayers would not 
 have turned the shadow backward had that 
 moment of threatened death been the moment 
 of God's intention. Yes, there is a time to 
 die ; and though we speak of an untimely end, 
 no one ever died a moment sooner than God 
 designed, nor lived a moment longer. And so 
 there is a time to plant. The impulse comes 
 on the man of fortune, and he lays out his 
 spacious lawn, and studs it with massive trees ; 
 and he plants his garden, and in the sod im- 
 beds the rarest and richest flowers, or he piles 
 up little mounts of blossomed shrubbery, till 
 the place is dazzled with bright tints and dizzy 
 with perfume. And that impulse fades away, 
 and in the fickleness of sated opulence the 
 whole is rooted up, and converted into wilder- 
 ness again. Or by his own or a successor's 
 fall, the region is doomed to destruction ; and 
 when strangling nettles have choked the gera- 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 141 
 
 niums and the lilies, and, crowded into atrophy, 
 the lean plantations grow tall and branchless, 
 the axe of an enterprising purchaser clears the 
 dank thickets away, and his ploughshare turns 
 up the weedy parterre. There is a time when 
 to interfere with disease is to destroy ; when 
 to touch the patient is to take his life : and 
 there is a time when the simplest medicine 
 will effect a marvellous cure. There is a time 
 when the invader is too happy to dismantle the 
 fortress which so long kept him at bay ; but 
 by-and-by, when he needs it as a bulwark to 
 his own frontiers, with might and main he 
 seeks to build it up again. Nor can any one 
 fix a date and say, I shall spend that day mer- 
 rily, or I must spend it mournfully. The day 
 fixed for the wedding may prove the day for 
 the funeral ; and the ship which was to bring- 
 back the absent brother, may only bring his 
 coffin. On the other hand, the day we had 
 destined for mourning, God may turn to 
 dancing, and may gird it with irresistible glad- 
 ness. Nor are earth's monuments perpetual. 
 The statue reared one day will be thrown into 
 
142 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 the river another, and the trophy commenced 
 by one conqueror shall owe its completion to 
 his rival and supplanter. " There is a time 
 to embrace, and a time to refrain from em- 
 bracing/' " There is a time when the fond- 
 ness of friendship bestows its caresses, and re- 
 ceives them in return with reciprocal sincerity 
 and delight ; and a time when the ardor cools; 
 when professions fail ; when the friend of our 
 bosom's love proves false and hollow-hearted, 
 and the sight of him produces only the sigh 
 and tear of bitter recollection. We refrain 
 from embracing, because our embrace is not 
 returned."* " There is a time to get, and a 
 time to lose." There is a time when every en- 
 terprise succeeds ; when, as if he were a 
 Midas, whatsoever the prosperous merchant 
 touches, is instantly gold ; then comes a time 
 when all is adverse, when flotillas sink, when 
 ports are closed, and each fine opening only 
 proves another and a tantalizing failure. And 
 so there is ^ a time to keep, and a time to cast 
 away," There is a time when in the cutting 
 
 * Wardlaw in loco. 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 143 
 
 blast the traveller is fain to wrap his cloak 
 more closely round him ; a time when in the 
 torrid beam he is thankful to be rid of it. 
 There is a time when we cannot keep too care- 
 fully the scrip or satchel which contains the 
 provision for our journey; a time when to 
 outstrip the pursuing assassin, or to bribe the 
 red-armed robber, we fling it down without a 
 scruple. It was a time to keep when the sea 
 was smooth, and Bome's ready market was wait- 
 ing for the corn of Egypt ; but it was a time 
 to cast the wheat into the sea, when the angry 
 ocean clamored for the lives of thrice a hun- 
 dred passengers.* There is " a time to rend, 
 and a time to sew:" a time when calamity 
 threatens or grief has come, and we feel con- 
 strained to rend our apparel and betoken our 
 inward woe ; a time when the peril has with- 
 drawn, or the fast is succeeded by a festival, 
 when it is equally congruous to remove the 
 symbols of sorrow. There is a time to keep 
 silence a time when we see that our neigh- 
 bor's grief is great, and we will not sing songs 
 
 * Acts xxvii. 38. 
 
144 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 to a heavy heart ; a time when, in the abate- 
 ment of anguish, a word of sympathy may 
 prove a word in season ; a time when to re- 
 monstrate with the transgressor, would be to 
 reprove a madman, or, like the pouring of 
 vinegar on nitre, would be to excite a fiery ex- 
 plosion against ourselves ; but a time will 
 come when, in the dawn of repentance or the 
 sobering down of passion, he will feel that 
 faithful are the wounds of a friend. " There 
 is a time to love and a time to hate.' 7 There 
 is a period when, from identity of pursuit, or 
 from the spell of some peculiar attraction, a 
 friend is our all in all, and our idolatrous 
 spirits live and move and have their being in 
 him ; but with riper years or changing char- 
 acter, the spell dissolves, and we marvel at 
 ourselves that we could ever find zest in in- 
 sipidity or fascination in vulgarity. And just 
 as individuals cannot control their hatred and 
 their love ; as the soul must go forth to what 
 is amiable, and revolt from what is odious, 
 so nations cannot regulate their pacifications 
 and their conflicts. But just at the moment 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 145 
 
 when they are pledging a perpetual alliance, 
 ail apple of discord is thrown in, and to avenge 
 an insulted flag, or settle a disputed boun- 
 dary, or maintain the tottering balance of 
 power, wager of battle is forthwith joined; 
 and where early summer saw the mingled 
 tribes tilting in the tournay, or masquerading 
 on the fields of cloth of gold, autumn sets on 
 unreaped harvests, and blackened forests, and 
 silent villages. And conversely : when the 
 clouds of battle frown on one another, and 
 there is no prospect but long and sanguinary 
 campaigns, a magazine explodes, an heir-ap- 
 parent dies, or two daring spirits of the op- 
 posing hosts transfer the issue to the point of 
 their single swords ; and with the awful incu- 
 bus so suddenly thrown off, the knit brows of 
 either nation relax into an expansive smile, 
 and the year destined for mutual extermina- 
 tion is spent in blended jubilee. 
 
 Such is the fact. Such are the unquestion- 
 able alternations in human affairs; and thus 
 accurately do occasions and events fit one 
 another. So much of mechanism does there 
 10 
 
146 LECTURE VIIL 
 
 appear to be in the on-goings of mortality 
 and thus helpless seems man as the maker of 
 his own destiny. Bat lifting our eyes from 
 the mundane side of it, what 'shall we say con- 
 cerning Him who is t]je Contriver and Con- 
 troller of it all ? 
 
 And should it not be enough to say that 
 God has so arranged it ? To Him are owing 
 all this variety and vicissitude, and yet all this 
 order and uniformity. And is it not enough 
 that He so wills it ? Shall the thing formed 
 say to Him who made it, Why hast thou made 
 me thus ? 
 
 But not only has God made everything, but 
 there is a beauty in this arrangement where all 
 is fortuitous to us, but all is fixed by Him. 
 "He hath made everything beautiful in its 
 time ; " and that season must be beautiful which 
 to infinite Love and Wisdom seems the best. 
 
 Amongst modern processes one of the most 
 beautiful is the art of taking sun-pictures. In- 
 stead of the artist copying the object, he lets 
 the object copy itself; and if the light were 
 profuse enough and properly adjusted, the pic- 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 147 
 
 ture would be as true as noon, and as minute 
 as the original. Now, would not it be a cu 
 rious thing if, from a station high enough, one 
 could take a vast sun-picture of this city, 
 this island, this hemisphere ? showing pre- 
 cisely how at the self-same instant all its inhab- 
 itants are occupied ? where every one of them 
 is this moment posted, and what each one of 
 them is doing ? And would it not be very 
 curious if along with this there were preserved 
 a similar picture of the self-same people and 
 their employments, at a given instant ten or 
 twenty years ago ? But most curious of all 
 would it not be, if some one could show a 
 photographic panorama of how it will appear 
 ten or twenty years hereafter? projecting 
 every person in his proper place ? exhibiting 
 the groups which have meanwhile gathered 
 round him or melted from .his side ? the 
 changes which have passed over himself, or 
 which he has been the means of inducing over 
 others ? But, my friends, there is one reposi- 
 tory where such pictures are preserved, far 
 more exact and vivid than the finest sun- 
 
148 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 painting ever drawn ; there is not a day in 
 our world's past history but its minutest image 
 lives in the memory of God, and more than 
 that, there is not a day in all the coming his- 
 tory of our world but its portrait precise and 
 clear is already present to the Divine fore- 
 knowledge. "Known unto God are all his 
 works from the beginning of the creation;" 
 and so to speak, each day that dawns, though 
 its dawning include an earthquake, a battle, 
 or a deluge, each day that dawns, however 
 many it surprises, is no surprise to Him who 
 sees the end from the beginning, and who, in 
 each evolving incident, but sees the fulfilment 
 of his " determined counsel," the translation 
 into fact of one other omniscient picture of the 
 future. 
 
 And which is best ? "A mighty maze and 
 all without a plan ?" a world whose progress 
 takes even Providence by surprise, and whose 
 future stands before even the Infinite Mind in 
 no clearer outline than those dim guesses and 
 dusky foreshadowings to which even shrewd 
 mortals attain? or a world of which the sue- 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 149 
 
 cessive epochs shall only be the outworking of 
 a purpose so wise and good from the first that 
 it cannot be changed for the better ? the real- 
 ization in persons and actions and results of 
 that series of prescient maps or plans whose 
 aggregate will constitute the optimism of the 
 universe ? as we read in verse 11, " God hath 
 set its destined duration in the heart of every. 
 thing. " To every incident or event He has 
 not only given its immediate effect, but also its 
 remoter errand afar in the future. Each such 
 incident or event may be regarded as a mech- 
 anism wound up to travel so far or accomplish 
 so much, so that, till its course is finished, till 
 the beginning comes round to the end, no man 
 can say positively what was God's first pur- 
 pose in it. 
 
 When the young German grew earnest, you 
 would have said there was some hope that he 
 might next be enlightened ; but when the ear- 
 nest youth became a monk, you would have 
 said, Farewell, light ! farewell, all hope of the 
 Gospel ! And yet Luther's entombment in the 
 Erfurth convent was to be the resurrection of 
 
150 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 apostolical religion. In the heart of that little 
 incident God had set the Reformation. When 
 a king arose in Egypt who knew not Joseph, 
 and who hated and tormented the Hebrews, 
 you would have said, There's an end of the old 
 promise. This order to exterminate the He- 
 brew children will soon annihilate Abraham's 
 family. And any Jew who had been gathered 
 to his fathers at the time they were slaying all 
 the male-children, would have been apt to die 
 despairing of his nation's prospects. And yet 
 that murderous edict was to be the deliverance 
 of Israel. In the heart of that despot's decree 
 God had set the exodus. And to the sublime 
 theology of Solomon, the only addition we 
 would make is that Evangelic supplement : 
 " All things work together for good to them 
 that love God ; to them which are the called 
 according to his purpose.' ' Their path is thick- 
 ly strewn with incidents. Of these, some are 
 for the present not joyous but grievous : never- 
 theless in their heart God hath set the peaceful 
 fruits of righteousness. They are seeds with a 
 thorny husk, and they hurt the pilgrim's naked 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY.. 151 
 
 feet ; but when next he passes that way, or 
 when Christiana with her children follows 
 him, they have germinated into bright flowers 
 or cool, overshadowing trees. And they will 
 not perish. The incidents along the believer's 
 path are seeds of influence, scattered by the 
 hand of God. And sanctification of some sort 
 is the germ which He has set in the heart of 
 every one of them. Nor can they die till they 
 have thus developed. They cannot perish and 
 pass away till the Christian has set in his heart 
 the lesson which God has set in theirs. 
 
 The works of God are distinguished by op- 
 portuneness of development and precision of pur- 
 pose. There is a season for each of them, and 
 each comes in its season. All of them have a 
 function to fulfil, and they fulfil it. To which, 
 verse 14, he adds that they are all of their kind 
 consummate, so perfect that no improvement 
 can be made, and, left to themselves, they will 
 be perpetual. " I know that whatsoever God 
 doeth, it shall be forever ; nothing can be put 
 to it, nor anything taken from it. " How true 
 is this regarding God's greatest work, redemp- 
 
152 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 tion ! What more could he have done to make 
 it a great salvation than what He had already 
 done? or what feature of the glorious plan 
 could we afford to want ? And now that He 
 has Himself pronounced it a " finished" work, 
 what is there that man can put to it ? what is 
 there he dare take from it ? And in doing it 
 He has done it " forever." The merits of Im- 
 manuel are as mighty this evening as they 
 were on the day of Pentecost. Jesus is as able 
 to save us if we come unto God by Him now, 
 as He was to save Zaccheus and Legion, and 
 Mary Magdalene. It is into the same bright 
 heaven that these merits and that mercy will 
 take us as that into which the white-robed 
 company have already gone, and by a process 
 as swift as that which translated the dying 
 thief, these merits could transport any sinner 
 amongst us, from the verge of perdition to 
 Paradise. 
 
 Of these theological' conclusions the 15th 
 verse is the last. " That which hath been, is 
 now, and that which is to be hath already been, 
 and God requireth, God resuscitates and re- 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 153 
 
 peats the past." There is an uniformity in the 
 Divine procedure. True to itself, amidst all 
 the diversity of incidents which chequer an in- 
 dividual's history, there are certain great prin- 
 ciples from which Infinite Wisdom never devi- 
 ates. In the natural world there is always a 
 summer and a winter, a seed-time and a har- 
 vest, a day succeeded by the night. And in 
 the moral world sin will always be sorrow; 
 principle will, in the long run, always pfbve 
 the highest expediency ; the sinner will always 
 sooner or later be filled with the fruit of his 
 own devices ; and sooner or later there will al- 
 ways be a reward to the righteous. And 
 amidst all the diversities of national character, 
 and all the vicissitudes of civil history, there 
 is an essential identity, variety enough to 
 spread romantic fascination over the page of 
 Thucydides or Eobertsdn, but such ^entity 
 that the fifteenth Psalm, or a single section of 
 this book, is the abridgment of all history. 
 Nor will there be any material change till the 
 story is ended. Hundreds of millions may yet 
 be born, but they will all repeat the past. A 
 
154: LECTURE VIII. 
 
 few may be more clever, and a few may be 
 more virtuous than any that have heretofore 
 been ; and alas ! a few may be more aban- 
 doned, more desperately wicked. But whether 
 for good or evil, they will all be human, hu- 
 man in their goodness, human in their guilt. 
 There will not be a Gabriel among them all, 
 nor will there be a Lucifer ; and in . dealing 
 with that humanity the principles of the Divine 
 procedure will be as uniform as the material 
 itself. With the reprobate it will be calls and 
 refusals, warnings and resistings, startling prov- 
 idences and sullen stupor, momentary alarms, 
 followed by deeper slumber; and then, "he 
 who being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, 
 shall suddenly be cut off, and that without 
 remedy ;" and, on the other side, the converse 
 process. " Whom He did foreknow He also 
 did predestinate. Moreover, whom He did 
 predestinate, them He also called, and whom 
 He called, them He also justified, and whom 
 He justified, them He also glorified."* And 
 thus, through all the operations of nature, prov- 
 
 * Rom. viii. 29, 30. 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 155 
 
 idence, and grace, "that which hath been, is 
 now, and that which is to be hath already been, 
 and God repeateth that which is past." 
 
 One final reflection from the whole passage. 
 Some of you, my hearers, may read the de- 
 scription of mortality here recorded ; and you 
 may give a vehement assent to its truth. 
 " Yes, it is all a masquerade of the same ever- 
 lasting events wearing new vizors ; it is all 
 mutation without novelty and change without 
 real variety. The world itself is a gourd whose 
 root the worm is already gnawing, a palace 
 whose quicksand basis the flood is already 
 sapping. 
 
 " What is this passing scene ? 
 
 A peevish April day ! 
 A little sun, a little rain, 
 And then night sweeps along the plain, 
 
 And all things fade away."* 
 
 So be it. But if so, how should it endear that 
 state where all is perfection, and all is perma- 
 nence 1 To everything " under heaven" there 
 * Kirke White. 
 
156 LECTUKE VIII. 
 
 is a fixed but a fleeting season ; but to those 
 who are in heaven the moments are not thus 
 precarious, nor the seasons thus short. And 
 still better, there are many of the things for 
 which there is a "time" on earth for which 
 there is no time there. To those who are born 
 into that better country there is no time to 
 "die." Those that are "planted" in God's 
 house on high, shall never be " plucked up," 
 but shall flourish there forever. There, there 
 is nothing to hurt nor to destroy, but perpet- 
 ual "health," and lasting as eternity. There, 
 the walls of strong salvation shall never be 
 broken down. There, there is no time to 
 weep ; for sorrow and sighing are forever fled 
 away: no "time to mourn ;" for, when they 
 left this vale of tears the days of their mourn- 
 ing ended. There, it is all a time of " peace," 
 and all a time to love. There, monuments are 
 never defaced nor overthrown ; for those who 
 are pillars in the temple above, with the new 
 name written on them, shall go out no more. 
 There, in the sanctity of the all-superseding 
 relationship, there will be no severance ; but 
 
THE CLOCK OF DESTINY. 157 
 
 those friends of earth, who have been joined 
 again in the bonds of angelhood, will never 
 need to give the parting embraro ; for they 
 shall be ever with one another, and ever with. 
 the Lord. 
 
LECTUKE IX. 
 
 HEAD ECCLES. m. 16-22; iv. 1-3. 
 " Behold 1 the tears of the oppressed 1" 
 
 WHEN composing himself for a contented 
 life, a shriek of anguish reached the monarch's 
 ear and startled 'his repose. It was a cry from 
 the victims of tyranny and oppression, and as 
 he listened it grew more articulate, and it filled 
 him at once with sympathy for others, and soli- 
 citude for himself. "I saw the place of judg- 
 ment, that wickedness was there ; and the place 
 of righteousness, that iniquity was there. I con- 
 sidered all the oppressions that are done under 
 the sun : and behold the tears of such as were 
 oppressed, and they had no comforter ; and on 
 the side of their oppressors there was power ; 
 
THE DUNGEON. 159 
 
 but they had no comforter." How is it possi- 
 ble for a prince to " eat and drink, and enjoy 
 the fruit of his labor," whilst the wail of 
 evicted peasants and houseless orphans is 
 louder than all the music of his orchestra? 
 For a moment he felt relief in recalling the fu- 
 ture judgment. " I said in mine heart, God 
 will judge the righteous and the wicked." 
 But what care they for the judgment? What 
 fear of God is before their eyes ? So brutish 
 are they that they neither look forward nor 
 look up; but are content with their daily 
 raven. Yes, beasts, I half believe you. Your 
 grossness almost converts me to your own 
 materialism. I wish that God would manifest 
 you to yourselves, and show you how brutish 
 you are living, and how brute-like you will 
 die. Yes, tyrants and oppressors, you have 
 power at present; but you will fall like the 
 beasts that perish. You and they will all go 
 to one place, will all resolve into promiscuous 
 clay ; for " all are of the dust, and all turn to 
 dust again." And as for your very soul, so 
 unfeeling, so undevout as you have been, what 
 
160 LECTURE IX. 
 
 is there to mark your spirit more aspiring, 
 more empyrean, than the downward and dis- 
 solving spirit of the beast ? No ; there are 
 sharks in the ocean, and wolves in the forest, 
 and eagles in the air ; and there are tyrants on 
 thrones, and there are tormentors in many a 
 cottage. It is painful to know the misery they 
 are daily inflicting, and, perhaps, I myself may 
 yet become their prey. But they must not 
 spoil this transient life-luxury ; they shall not 
 fill me with vain compassion or fantastic fears. 
 After all, there is nothing better than to " re- 
 joice in one's own works," and be, as long as 
 he can, oblivious of surrounding misery, reg- 
 ulating his own movements and rejoicing in 
 his own resources. " For that is his present 
 portion ; and who can reveal the future ?" 
 Said I so ? Ah ! vain resolution and unavail- 
 ing vow ! That cry of tortured innocence is 
 in my ear again. I hear the groans of the 
 victim, and I see the tears of the oppressed. 
 And my heart grows sick, and I wish that I 
 were dead, or rather that I had never been 
 born into a world where all proceeds so sadly. 
 
THE DUNGEON. 161 
 
 Very ghastly is the picture which our world 
 presents when we look at it as the scene of in- 
 justice and cruelty; and very painful is the 
 view it gives us of our arbitrary and oppres- 
 sive human nature. Could we only see what 
 God is daily seeing, and hear what God is 
 daily hearing, we would be apt to join with 
 Solomon in praising the dead who are already 
 dead, and who are past our pain or danger. 
 For, even now, in this noon of the nineteenth 
 century, which, in the ear Eternal, is the 
 loudest of earth's voices ? which is the loud- 
 est in the ear of History ? Is it the psalm of 
 thanksgiving ? Is it the harvest hymn of ripe 
 fruition and cheerful prospects ? Is it the new 
 song of redeemed and regenerate adoration ? 
 What is the speech which day utters unto day, 
 the watchword which one terrestrial night 
 passes on to another ? Alas ! it is lamentation 
 and mourning. It is the music of breaking 
 hearts ; it is the noise of the oppressor's mill- 
 stone, whose grinding never waxes low. It is 
 the sighing of the prisoner whom the despot 
 has doomed ; the groaning of the victim whom 
 11 
 
162 LECTURE IX. 
 
 lucre has enslaved, or whom superstition 
 means to immolate. That heavy plunge far 
 out on the moon-lit Bosphorus is the close of 
 one household tragedy ; in that sudden shriek 
 and weltering fall on the Venetian pavement 
 ends another. These cries of horror announce 
 the funeral of some Ashanti prince, and the 
 wholesale slaughter which soaks his tomb; 
 whilst from Austrian dungeons and Ural 
 mines, the groans of patriots confess the power 
 of tyrants. And even if the modern surface 
 were silent, History cannot be deaf to the 
 voices underneath. For, wheresoever she 
 sets her foot, there is a stifled sob, that cry 
 which nothing can deaden or keep down, 
 the quenchless cry of blood, blood like 
 Abel's, blood like Stephen's, blood like the 
 Saviour's own ; and as if the turf were all one 
 altar, and every pore a several tongue, she 
 hears the slain of centuries invoking heaven's 
 pity, Bethlehem's innocents, Eoman martyrs, 
 Bartholomew's victims ; and the ground begins 
 to quake as the muffled chorus waxes louder : 
 " How long, Lord, holy and true, dost thou 
 
THE DUNGEON. 163 
 
 not avenge our blood on them that dwell on 
 the earth?"* 
 
 There are few deeds of kindness which are 
 not sufficiently notorious, few acts of munifi- 
 cence or mercy which the world's right hand 
 has not hinted to its left. But when History 
 begins her sterner survey, when from Pope- 
 doms and dynasties, and Kepublics even, she 
 lifts the gilt and purple canopy, what sights 
 of paltry vengeance or ingenious cruelty of- 
 fend the reluctant gaze ! What secrets of the 
 prison-house do Bastiles and Inquisitions, San 
 Angelos, and London Towers disclose, as the 
 daylight of inquiry breaks in, and the earthen 
 floor gives up its slain, and the stone wall 
 gives out its skeletons ! There are depths of 
 the ocean to which the plummet of the mar- 
 iner, and the dredge of the naturalist, and the 
 exploring foot of the diver, have never trav- 
 elled down ; but even there, as she takes her 
 telescope, History sees the bones thick strewn 
 of the hapless men whom the buccaneer, and 
 the pirate, and the flying slaver, have flung 
 
 * Rev. vi. 9-12. 
 
164 LECTURE IX. 
 
 quick into the deep : and there are dim recesses 
 of old story from which no gleams of human- 
 ity or tenderness beam forth ; but even thence, 
 by the light of Egyptian brick-kilns, and 
 Druid bale-fires, and Assyrian conflagrations, 
 we are reminded that the anguish of his fellow 
 has always been the amusement of the warrior 
 and the solace of the priest. So that, morally 
 regarded, and taking in the continuous survey 
 of all places and all time, green may be the 
 color of the globe, but red is the livery of 
 man. Babel may have split the dialects of 
 earth into a thousand tongues; but, amidst 
 them all, the old vernacular of anguish still 
 survives. And in the music of the spheres its 
 Maker may have given to our world its proper 
 note ; but it is a minor tune which is ever sung 
 by its inhabitants, by neighbor nations, and by 
 the several classes of society, evermore to one 
 another, crying, Woe, woe, woe. 
 
 Such oppressions Solomon beheld, and more 
 especially judicial oppressions, cruelty in the 
 cloak of law (iii. 16) and from the contem- 
 plation his mind sought refuge in the Supreme 
 
THE DUNGEON. 165 
 
 Tribunal. "I said in mine heart, God shall 
 judge the righteous and the wicked." And 
 though, in the agitated state of his spirit, the 
 recollection did not long abide, the fact is true 
 and the consolation lasting. 
 
 The Lord has a bottle, and into that bottle 
 He puts his people's tears, and the tears of all 
 who are oppressed. When Joseph wept at 
 Dothan, and the Jews at Babylon, it was not 
 the sand of the desert nor the stream of Eu- 
 phrates which intercepted the tear ; but God's 
 bottle. When the poor man works hard, and, 
 coming for his wages, gets only rough words 
 or coarse ridicule; when, from the hapless 
 negro, his wife and children are torn by some 
 vindictive master, and sold into a distant State ; 
 when, in her new mourning, the bewildered 
 mother goes to claim the scanty provision for 
 her babes, and finds that a cunning quirk has 
 left her not only a widow, but a pauper, 
 man may mock the misery, but God regards 
 the crime. And whether it be the scalding 
 tear of the Southern slave, or that which 
 freezes in the Siberian exile's eye, God's bottle 
 
166 LECTURE IX. 
 
 has received them all ; and when the measure 
 is full, the tears of the oppressed burst in vials 
 of vengeance on the oppressor's head. 
 
 So true is this that, whenever it foretells 
 retribution, poetry becomes prophetic : 
 
 " Ye horrid towers, the abode of broken hearts ; 
 Ye dungeons, and ye cages of despair, 
 That monarchs have supplied from age to age 
 With music such as suits their ears, 
 The sighs and groans of miserable men ! 
 There's not an English heart that would not leap 
 To hear that ye were fallen." 
 
 So sang the bard of Olney in the hey-day of 
 the Bourbons ; and a few years later the heart 
 of England did leap, for the Bastile was fallen. 
 And two centuries have passed since, like a 
 Hebrew seer, our Milton prayed : 
 
 " Avenge, Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold." 
 
 And there is not a succeeding age which has 
 not seen an instalment of the vengeance ; and 
 our own is witnessing that fulfilment which 
 "the triple tyrant' ' most abhors, the resur- 
 rection of their ashes in Roman Protestants 
 and Italian friends of freedom. 
 
THE DUNGEON. 167 
 
 This is a great principle, and not to be lost 
 sight of the weakness of oppression, the ter- 
 rible strength of the oppressed. I do not al- 
 lude to the elasticity of the human heart, 
 though that is very great, and is apt, sooner 
 or later, to heave off despotisms and every sort 
 of incubus. I do not so much allude to that 
 for elastic though it is, it sometimes has been 
 crushed. But I allude to that all-inspecting and 
 all-adjusting Power which controls the affairs 
 of men. And though Solomon felt so perturbed 
 by the prosperous cruelty he witnessed ; though 
 he " beheld the tears of such as were oppressed, 
 and they had no comforter ; for on the side of 
 their oppressors there was power ;" had he 
 bent his eye a little longer in the direction 
 where it eventually rested, he would have 
 found a Comforter for the oppressed, and would 
 have seen the impotence of the oppressor. 
 For "God shall judge the righteous and the 
 wicked' ' (iii. 17), or as the close of the book 
 more amply declares it, " God shall bring 
 every work into judgment, with every secret 
 thing, whether it be good, or whether it be 
 
168 LECTURE IX 
 
 evil." And with two worlds in which to out- 
 work the retribution, and with a whole eter- 
 nity to overtake the arrears of time, Oh ! how 
 tyrants should fear for God's judgments; and 
 that match which themselves have kindled, 
 and which is slowly creeping round to explode 
 their own subjacent mine, in what floods of re- 
 pentance, if wise, would they drench it ! Had 
 they been wise enough to remember that " on 
 the side of the oppressed" there is always in- 
 finite "Power," Pharaoh would have dreaded 
 the Hebrew infants more than the Hebrew 
 soldiery, and Herod would have been more 
 frightened for the babes of Bethlehem than for 
 the legions of Rome. To David the most 
 dreadful of foes would have been the murder- 
 ed Uriah, and to Ahab the hosts of Syria, 
 compared with the corpse of Naboth, need 
 have given no uneasiness. More than all the 
 might of Britain had Napoleon cause to dread 
 the blood of D'Enghien, and, beyond all for- 
 eign enemies, should modern nations tremble 
 for their slaves : FOR ON THE SIDE OF THE 
 
THE DUNGEON. 169 
 
 OPPRESSED is OMNIPOTENCE, AND THE MOST 
 
 DEATHLESS OF FOES IS A VICTIM! 
 
 My friends, the Gospel is the law of liberty. 
 Such an antagonist is it to all that is unfair 
 and arbitrary and oppressive, that it is only 
 where there is a reign of darkness that there 
 can be a reign of despotism. Even as it is, 
 every Christian is a freeman. His loyalty to 
 God is liberty. It is freedom from tyrannical 
 lusts and task-master passions. It is the bond 
 of iniquity broken. It is emancipation from 
 the thraldom of" Satan. And if there were 
 two countries, one of which the Son of God 
 had made free,* and the other of which had 
 freed itself; in one of which Christians were 
 ruled by an absolute but God-fearing Dictator, 
 and in the other of which the slaves of Satan 
 ruled themselves, we know very well where 
 we should find the greater freedom. But still, 
 the tendency of the Gospel is to do away the 
 pride and imperiousness and unfairness which 
 are here called "oppression;" and if there 
 were any land where these two truths were 
 
 * John viii. 32, 36. 
 
170 LECTURE IX. 
 
 practically realized, " God is Light," and " God 
 is love," that land would be a land of lib- 
 erty. 
 
 Still, liberty, or exemption from man's op- 
 pression, is a priceless blessing. And it may 
 be worth while to ask, What can Christians do 
 for its culture and diffusion ? 
 
 And, first of all, yourselves be free. Seek 
 freedom from fierce passions and dark preju- 
 dices. If you are led captive by the devil at 
 his will, you are sure to become an oppressor. 
 In the greed of gain you will be apt to defraud 
 the hireling of his wages ; and that is oppres- 
 sion. In the fury of affronted pride, you will 
 be apt to wreak disproportionate wrath on the 
 offender ; and that also is oppression. In the 
 narrowness of sectarianism you will be ready 
 to punish men for their convictions ; and such 
 persecution is oppression. He who governs 
 his family by fear is an oppressor. He who 
 tries to accomplish by force what can be ef- 
 fected by reason, is an oppressor. And if he 
 would only look, such a man might see the 
 tears of those whom he oppresses. He might 
 
THE DUNGEON. 171 
 
 see the tears of the broked-hearted supplicant 
 who with case unheard and with a rude rebuff, 
 has been driven from his door. He might see 
 the tears of the conscientious laborer who has 
 been deprived of bread and bereft the main- 
 tenance for his family by refusing Sunday 
 work. He might see the tears of his de- 
 pendant who, for attendence on some inter- 
 dicted place of worship or for adherence to a 
 sect proscribed, has received his warning. And 
 though a tear be a little mirror, did he but be- 
 hold it for one calm moment, it might reveal 
 the oppressor to himself, and save a multitude 
 of sorrows. 
 
 Beware of confounding liberty with license. 
 One of the greatest blessings in a state, or in a 
 Christian Church, is good government; but 
 from mistaken notions of independence, it is 
 the delight of some to " speak evil of dig- 
 nities." They carp and cavil at every law, and 
 they set at defiance every regulation of the 
 powers that be, and one would almost fancy 
 that in their esteem rulers were ordained as a 
 target for public rancor, or a safety-valve for 
 
172 LECTURE IX. 
 
 national spleen. On the other hand, an en- 
 lightened Christian and patriot will always re- 
 member that a constitutional Government, 
 a Government where himself and the rulers 
 have given mutual guarantees, is too great a 
 mercy to be lightly imperilled : and he will 
 also remember that where obedience is order, 
 anarchy is pretty sure to end in oppression. 
 It was a noble sentiment, not only for a sol- 
 dier but for a subject, "I like to be at my post, 
 doing my duty ; indifferent whether one set 
 or another govern, provided they govern 
 well."* And like the hero who originally ut- 
 tered it, the man who is thus magnanimous in 
 obeying is likely to be mighty in command. 
 
 And, finally, cultivate a humane and gen- 
 tle spirit. Every master, every parent, every 
 public functionary, must, from time to time, 
 pronounce decisions or give commands which 
 cross some one's wishes or derange some one's 
 plans. But it will go far to propitiate com- 
 pliance when it is seen that it is not in reck- 
 lessness, but for good reason ; or, perhaps, from 
 * " Life of General Sir John Moore," voL ii. p. 14. 
 
THE DUNGEON. 173 
 
 a regretted necessity that the unwelcome order 
 is given ; for where there is tenderness, there 
 never can be tyranny. On the other hand, 
 wherever there 'is thoughtlessness there will 
 be tyranny ; and wherever there is a hard or 
 cruel nature, it only needs that power be 
 added in order to make a Nero. 
 
 Here it is that the mollifying religion of 
 Jesus comes in as the great promoter of free- 
 dom and the great opponent of oppression. 
 By infusing a benevolent spirit into the bosom 
 of the Christian, it makes him the natural 
 guardian of weakness and the natural friend 
 of innocence. And whether it be the savage 
 sportsman who gloats over the tears and 
 dying shudders of the harmless forest-ranger, 
 or who, shooting the parent-bird on her way 
 to the eyrie, leaves the callow nestlings to pine 
 away with slow hunger ; or the kidnapper 
 who carries off the struggling boy from his 
 mother's arms, or stows away in separate ships 
 bound for far-sundered shores, the young chief- 
 tain and his bride ; or the Moslem conqueror 
 
174 LECTURE IX. 
 
 who hews his way from land to land through 
 fields of quivering slain; or the 
 
 " Cowl'd demons of the inquisitorial cell, 
 The worse than common fiends from heaven that fell, 
 The baser, ranker sprung, Autochthones of hell ;" * 
 
 Whichever be the form of oppression which 
 nightmares our sympathies, or the form of 
 cruelty which lacerates our feelings, we foresee 
 an end of it in the final triumph of the cross 
 We foresee an end of it when the Saviour as- 
 serts his rightful supremacy, and subdues all 
 things under Him. "For the earnest expec- 
 tation of the creature waiteth for the manifes- 
 tation of the sons of God:" and till then, in 
 every groan of the creature we must recognize 
 a pledge and a prayer that the Son of God 
 will be manifest once more, and that the disci- 
 ples of Jesus will yet be numerous enough to 
 secure a reign of peace and justice in this sin- 
 cursed world. And as we listen to these inar- 
 ticulate groans of the burdened creation, we, 
 who are nature's interpreters and the world's 
 
 * Coleridge. 
 
THE DUNGEON. 175 
 
 intercessors, must translate them into the pe- 
 tition, " Thy kingdom come : Thy will be 
 done on earth as it is in heaven. Even so, 
 come, Lord Jesus." 
 
LECTURE X. 
 
 ^ lunrtitartj. 
 
 READ ECOLES. v. 1-7. 
 " Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God.'* 
 
 VANITY of vanities : human occupation, hu- 
 man existence is all fantastic and foolish. 
 Verily, each man walketh in a vain show; 
 surely they are disquieted in vain. Like the 
 fly-plague in Egypt, every scene of mortal life 
 is infested by frivolity and falsehood ; and it is 
 hard to tell which is the sorest vexation, the 
 buzz and bewilderment of vanities still living, 
 or the noisomeness of those that are dead. 
 The cottage and the palace, the student's 
 chamber and the prince's banquet-room all 
 teem with them, and there is no secure retreat 
 from those vanities which on the wing are a 
 weariness, and, in the cup of enjoyment, are 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 177 
 
 the poison of pleasure. ' Nay, we have not 
 tried that temple, we have not yet gone to 
 the house of God. There, perhaps, we shall 
 find a tranquil asylum. There, if anywhere, we 
 should find a heaven on earth, a refuge from 
 the insincerity and unsatisfactoriness which 
 elsewhere abound. 7 Ah, no ; the temple itself 
 is full of vacant worship. It resounds with rash 
 vows and babbling voices. It is the house of 
 God, but man has made it a nest of triflers, a 
 fair of vanity, a den of thieves. Some come 
 to it as reckless and irreverent as if they were 
 stepping into a neighbor's house. Some come 
 to it and feel as if they laid the Most High 
 under obligation because they bring a sheaf of 
 corn or a pair of pigeons ; whilst they never 
 listen to the lessons of God's Word, nor strive 
 after that obedience which is better than sac- 
 rifice. Some come and rattle over empty 
 forms of devotion, as if they would be heard 
 because of their much speaking. And some 
 come, and in a fit of fervor utter vows which 
 they forget to pay; and when reminded of 
 their promise by the "angel" of the church, 
 
178 LECTURE X. 
 
 the priest or his messenger, they protest that 
 there must be some mistake ; they repudiate 
 the vow, and say "it was an error." 
 
 A thoughtless resorting to the sanctuary; 
 inattention and indevotion there ; and precipi- 
 tancy in religious vows and promises, are still 
 as common as in the days of Solomon. And 
 for these evils the only remedy is that which 
 he prescribes, a heartfelt and abiding rever- 
 ence. " Fear thou God ;" " God is in heaven, 
 and thou upon earth;" "Keep thy foot when 
 thou goest to the house of God." 
 
 I. There is a preparation for the sanctuary. 
 Not only should there be prayer beforehand 
 for God's blessing there, but a studious effort 
 to concentrate on its services all our faculties. 
 In the spirit of that significant Oriental usage 
 which drops its sandals at the palace door, the 
 devout worshipper will put off his travel-tar- 
 nished shoes, will try to divest himself of 
 secular anxieties and worldly projects, when 
 the place where he stands is converted into holy 
 ground by the words, "Let us worship God." 
 
 Be " ready to hear." We freely grant that 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 179 
 
 dull hearing is often produced by dull speak- 
 ing. We allow that there is a great contrast 
 when the sameness of sermons is set over 
 against the variety and vivacity of Scripture. 
 And so often is the text injured by its treat- 
 ment, that we have often wished that some 
 power could give it back in its original pun- 
 gency, and divested of its drowsy associations. 
 That passage of the Word was a burning lamp, 
 till the obscuring interpretation conveyed it 
 under a bushel. It was a lire, till a non-con- 
 ducting intellect encased it, and made it like 
 a furnace in felt. It was the finest of the 
 wheat, till a husky understanding buried it in 
 chaff. It was " a dropping from the honey- 
 comb," till tedious insipidity diffused it and 
 drowned it in its deluge of commonplace. 
 And we allow that much of the impatience 
 and inattention of hearers may be owing to 
 the prolixity of preachers. But still, admit- 
 ting that on the one side there is often the 
 fault of commonplace as well as "the sin of 
 excessive length,"* and conceding to every 
 
 * Bishop Shirley. 
 
180 LECTURE X. 
 
 hearer the same right to exert his tasteful and 
 intellectual faculties when listening to a ser- 
 mon as when perusing a printed book ; you 
 will not deny that on the other side there are 
 often a langour and lukewarmness of which the 
 cure must be sought not so much in the greater 
 power of the preacher as in the growing piety 
 of the hearer. There are two sorts of instruc- 
 tion to which if we do not hearken we are 
 utterly without excuse. One is the direct in- 
 struction of God's Word ; the other is truth 
 and earnestness embodied in a Christian 
 teacher. But how often are the lively oracles 
 read in public worship, and a relief experi- 
 enced when the lesson is ended! and how 
 often does some fervent evangelist pour forth 
 appeals full of that rarest originality, the 
 pathos of a yearning spirit, and find no re- 
 sponse save stolid apathy, or a patronizing 
 compliment to his energy ! 
 
 Half the power of preaching lies in the mu- 
 tual preparation. The minister must not serve 
 God with that which costs him nothing : but 
 it is not the minister alone who should " give 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 181 
 
 attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doc- 
 trine." There is a reciprocal duty on the part 
 of the hearer. He should come with a pur- 
 pose, and he should come with a prayer. He 
 should come hopeful of benefit, and bestirring 
 all his faculties, that he may miss nothing 
 which is " profitable for doctrine, for reproof, 
 for instruction in righteousness." He should 
 come with a benevolent prepossession towards 
 his pastor, and with a friendly solicitude for 
 his fellow-hearers. And thus, as iron sharpens 
 iron, so his intelligent countenance would ani- 
 mate the speaker; and, like a Hur or an 
 Aaron, his silent petitions would contribute to 
 the success of the sermon. 
 
 Nor can aught be more fatal than a habit of 
 indolent hearing. Like one who glances into 
 a mirror, and sees disorder in his attire, or dust 
 on his face, and says, " I must attend to this," 
 but forthwith forgets it, and hurries out on his 
 journey ; or who, in the time of plague, sees 
 the livid marks on his countenance, and says, 
 " I must take advice for this," and thinks no 
 more about it till he drops death-stricken on 
 
182 LECTURE X. 
 
 the pavement : so there are languid or luxu- 
 rious listeners to the Word of God. At the mo- 
 ment, they say, Very" true, or, Very good, and 
 they resolve to take some action ; but just as 
 the mirror is not medicine, as even a watery 
 mirror cannot wash from the countenance the 
 specks which it reveals, if merely looked into, 
 so a self-survey in the clearest sermon will 
 neither erase the blemishes from your charac- 
 ter, nor expel the sin-plague from your soul. 
 "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every 
 man be swift to hear. And, laying apart all 
 filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, re- 
 ceive with meekness the engrafted word, which 
 is able to save your souls. But be ye doers 
 of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving 
 your own selves. For if any be a hearer of 
 the word and not a doer, he is like unto a man 
 beholding his natural face in a glass : for he 
 beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and 
 straightway forgetteth what manner of man he 
 was. But whoso looketh into the perfect law 
 of liberty, and continueth therein,'^ like a 
 man who seeing his bedusted visage in the 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 183 
 
 mirror of that polished flood, loses not a mo- 
 ment but makes a laver of his looking-glass, 
 il he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer 
 of the work, this man shall be blessed in his 
 deed :"* he shall be saved by his promptitude ; 
 or, if saved already, he shall become a more 
 beautiful character by his strenuous self-appli- 
 cation. 
 
 2. In devotional exercises be intent and de- 
 liberate, vers. 2, 3. Like a dream which is a 
 medley from the waking day, which into its 
 own warp of delirium weaves a shred from all 
 the day's engagements : so, could a fool's 
 prayer be exactly reproduced, it would be a 
 tissue of trifles intermingled with vain repeti- 
 tions. In all the multitude of words it might 
 be found that there was not a single sincere 
 confession, not one heart-felt and heaven-ar- 
 resting supplication. 
 
 For such vain repetitions the remedy still is 
 
 reverence. "Be not rash," but remember at 
 
 whose throne you are kneeling; and be not 
 
 verbose, but let your words be few and em- 
 
 * James i. 19-25. 
 
184 LECTURE X. 
 
 phatic, as of one who is favored with an audi- 
 ence from Heaven's King, It is right to have 
 stated seasons of worship ; but it were also well 
 if with our acts of devotion we could combine 
 some special errand ; and it might go far to 
 give precision and urgency to our morning or 
 evening prayer, if for a few moments before- 
 hand we considered whether there were any 
 sin to confess, any duty or difficulty demand- 
 ing special grace, any friend or any object for 
 which we ought to intercede. And when the 
 emergencies of life some perplexity or sor- 
 row, some deliverance or mercy, at an un- 
 wonted season sends us to the Lord, without 
 any lengthened preamble we should give to 
 this originating occasion the fulness of our feel- 
 ings and the foremost place in our petitions. 
 
 3. In like manner, be not rash with vows 
 and religious promises, verses 4-7. In the old 
 Levitical economy there was large provision 
 made for spontaneous vows and votive offer- 
 ings ; and in our own Christian time there are 
 occasions for vows virtual or implied. It is a 
 vow or a solemn promise which a pastor 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 185 
 
 makes when he assumes an office in the Chris- 
 tian Church ; and it is a virtual vow which ev- 
 ery disciple makes when he becomes a mem- 
 ber of that Church : equivalent to the oath of 
 fidelity which a citizen takes when he be- 
 comes a soldier, or a servant of the Crown. 
 And occasionally, for the carrying out of some 
 great enterprise, it may be expedient that like- 
 minded men should join together, and cove- 
 nant to stand by one another till the reform or 
 the philanthropic object is effected. But if 
 Christians make voluntary vows at all, it 
 should be with clear warrant from the Word, 
 for purposes obviously attainable, and for lim- 
 ited periods of time. The man who vows 
 to offer a certain prayer at a given hour for 
 all his remaining life, may find it perfectly con- 
 venient for the next six months, but not for 
 the next six years. The man who vows to 
 pious uses half the income of the year may be 
 safe ; whereas the Jephthah who rashly devotes 
 contingencies over which he has no control 
 may pierce himself through with many sor- 
 rows. And whilst every believer feels it his 
 
186 LECTURE X. 
 
 reasonable service to present himself to God a 
 living sacrifice, those who wish to walk in the 
 liberty of sonship will seek to make their ded- 
 ication, as a child is devoted to its parents, not 
 so much in the stringent precision of a legal 
 document, as in the daily forthgoings of a 
 filial mind. 
 
 The glory of Gospel worship consists in its 
 freedom, its simplicity, and its spirituality. 
 We have boldness to enter into the holiest, by 
 the blood of Jesus ; and we are encouraged 
 to draw near with a true heart in full assu- 
 rance of faith. We are not come to a burning 
 mount, nor to the sound of a trumpet and a 
 voice of terror; but we are come " to Jesus, 
 the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the 
 blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things 
 than that of Abel." The Father seeks true 
 worshippers, such as will worship Him in spirit 
 and in truth ; and now that sacrifice and offer- 
 ing have ceased, and now that burdensome 
 observances have vanished away, praise and 
 prayer and almsgiving are the ordinary obla- 
 tions of the Christian Church. But surely the 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 187 
 
 freedom of our worship should not abate from 
 its fervor ; and because it is simple, there is 
 the more scope for sincerity, and the more 
 need that it should be the worship of the heart 
 and soul. But do we sufficiently realize our 
 privileged but solemn position as worshippers 
 of Him, to whom Seraphim continually do cry, 
 "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the 
 whole earth is full of his glory?" Do we suf- 
 ficiently realize our blessedness as fellow- 
 worshippers with those who sing on high, 
 " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain ?" In 
 the house of prayer, do we make worship our 
 study, and devotion our business? Do we 
 "labor mightily in prayer," and do we " wake 
 up our glory to sing and give praise?" Or 
 are not many of us content to be lookers-on 
 at the prayers, and listeners to the psalmody ? 
 and instead of "a golden vial full of odors," 
 is not many a devotional act a vain oblation, a 
 vapid form ; a tedium to ourselves and an of- 
 fence to the Most High ? 
 
 Beloved, let us bestir ourselves in worship. 
 Let us "make a joyful noise unto the Lord;" 
 
188 LECTURE X. 
 
 let us "serve him with gladness. 7 ' Let us 
 sing his praises " with grave and sweet mel- 
 ody," and "with grace in our hearts." And 
 let us concentrate our thoughts, and join zeal- 
 ously in the confessions, the thanksgivings, and 
 the supplications of the public prayers. And 
 thus, like the restful activity of the temple 
 above, we shall find moments pass swiftly 
 which may now be a weariness ; and refreshed 
 by the sacred exertion which enlisted our fac- 
 ulties, and which enlivened our feelings, we 
 shall retire sweetly conscious that it was " good 
 to be there." 
 
 Finally, my friends, amidst the assurance and 
 gladness of Gospel worship, let us take care 
 that we lose nothing of our veneration and 
 godly fear. " God is greatly to be feared in 
 the assembly of the saints, and to be had in 
 reverence of all them that are about Him." 
 "Thou hast a mighty arm; strong is Thy 
 hand, and high is Thy right hand. Justice and 
 judgment are the habitation of Thy throne ; 
 mercy and truth shall go before Thy face." 
 It is a poor religion in which reverence is not 
 
THE SANCTUARY. 189 
 
 a conspicuous element ; and, like Moses in the 
 mount, if a man has really communed with 
 God, there will be something awful in the 
 shining of his face. And just as in a far in- 
 ferior matter, our relations to one another, 
 just as you never respect the man who does 
 not respect the noble spirits and exalted intel- 
 lects among his fellows; whilst you always 
 feel that wherever there is admiration of the 
 great and good there is the germ of principle, 
 the possibility of eminent excellence: so be 
 it the homely peasant or the village patriarch ; 
 be it the philosopher* always pausing before 
 he uttered the Name Supreme, or Israel's 
 destined lawgiver, putting his shoes from off 
 his feet on Horeb's holy ground ; you always 
 feel that to realize heaven's majesty is itself 
 majestic, and that there is nothing in itself 
 more venerable than habitual veneration. 
 
 * Boyle 
 
LECTUKE XI 
 
 READ ECCLES. v. 9-20 ; vi. 1-9. 
 " He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver. 
 
 THIS passage describes the vanity of riches. 
 With the enjoyments of frugal industry it con- 
 trasts the woes of wealth. Looking up from 
 that condition on which Solomon looked down, 
 it may help to reconcile us to our lot, if we 
 remember how the most opulent of princes 
 envied it. 
 
 1. In all grades of society human subsist- 
 ence is very much the same. " The profit of 
 the earth is for all ; the king himself is served 
 by the field." "What hath the wise more 
 than the fool?" Even princes are not fed with 
 ambrosia, nor do poets subsist on asphodel. 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 191 
 
 Bread and water, the produce of the flocks and 
 the herds, and a few homely vegetables, form 
 the staple of his food who can lay the globe 
 under tribute ; and these essentials of health- 
 ful existence are within the attainment of or- 
 dinary industry. " The profit of the earth is 
 for all." 
 
 2. When a man begins to amass money, he 
 begins to feed an appetite which nothing can 
 appease, and which its proper food will only 
 render fiercer. " He that loveth silver shall 
 not be satisfied with silver." To greed there 
 may be " increase," but no increase can ever 
 be "abundance." For, could you change all 
 the pebbles on the beach into minted money, 
 or conjure into bank-notes all the leaves of 
 the forest ; nay, could you transmute the solid 
 earth into a single lump of gold, and drop it 
 into the gaping mouth of avarice, it would 
 only be a crumb of transient comfort, a cordial 
 drop enabling it to cry a little louder, Give, 
 give. Therefore happy they who have never 
 got enough to awaken the accumulating passion, 
 and who, feeling that food and raiment are the 
 
192 LECTURE XI. 
 
 utmost to which they can aspire, are therewith 
 content. 
 
 3. It is another consideration which should 
 reconcile us to the want of wealth : that, as 
 abundance grows, so grow the consumers, and 
 of riches less perishable, the proprietor enjoj^s 
 no more than the mere spectator. " "When 
 goods increase, they are increased that eat 
 them ; and what good is there to the owners 
 thereof, saving the beholding of them wit! 
 their eyes?" It is so far well that rank in 
 volves a retinue, and that no man can be so 
 selfishly sumptuous but that his luxury gives 
 employment and subsistence to others. On 
 the other hand, it is also well that riches can- 
 not retain in exclusive monopoly the pleasures 
 they procure. A rich man buys a picture or 
 a statue, and he is proud to think that his 
 mansion is adorned with such a famous master- 
 piece. But a poor man comes and looks at.it, 
 and, because he has the aesthetic insight, in a 
 few minutes he is conscious of more astonish- 
 ment and pleasure than the dull proprietor has 
 experienced in half a century. Or, a rich man 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 193 
 
 lays out a park or a garden, and, except the 
 diversion of planning and remodelling, he has 
 derived from it little enjoyment; but some 
 bright morning a holiday student or a town- 
 pent tourist comes, and when he leaves he 
 carries with him a freight of life-long recol- 
 lections. The porter at the gates should have 
 orders to intercept such appropriating sight- 
 seers ; for, though they leave the canvass on the 
 walls, and the marble in the gallery, though 
 they leave the flowers in the vases, and the 
 trees in the forest, they have carried off the 
 glory and the gladness; their bibulous eyes 
 have drunk a delectation, and all their senses 
 have absorbed a joy for which the owner 
 vainly pays his heavy yearly ransom. 
 
 4. Amongst the pleasures of obscurity, or 
 rather of occupation, the next noticed is sound 
 slumber. " The sleep of a laboring man is 
 sweet, whether he eat little or much ; but the 
 abundance of the rich will not suffer him to 
 sleep." Sometimes the wealthy would be the 
 better for a taste of poverty ; it would reveal to 
 them their privileges. But if the poor could 
 
194 LECTURE XI. 
 
 get a taste of opulence, it would reveal to them 
 strange luxuries in lowliness. Fevered with 
 late hours and false excitement, or scared by 
 visions the righteous recompense of gluttonous 
 excess, or with breath suppressed and palpita- 
 ting heart listing the fancied footsteps of the 
 robber, grandeur often pays a nightly penance 
 for the triumph of the day. As a king ex- 
 presses it, who could sympathize with Solo- 
 mon: 
 
 " How many thousands of my poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep ! Sleep, gentle sleep ! 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! 
 Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
 Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
 And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, 
 Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, 
 Under the canopies of costly state, 
 And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ? 
 Then, happy, lowly clown ! 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."* 
 
 5. Wealth is often the ruin of its possessor. 
 It is " kept for the owner to his hurt." Like 
 that King of Cyprus who made himself so rich 
 
 * Henry IV., Second Part. 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 195 
 
 that he became a tempting spoil, and who, 
 rather than lose; his treasures, embarked them 
 in perforated ships ; but, wanting courage to 
 draw the plugs, ventured back to land and lost 
 both his money and his life :* so a fortune is 
 a great perplexity to its owner, and is no 
 defence in times of danger. And very often, 
 by enabling him to procure all that heart can 
 wish, it pierces him through with many sor- 
 rows. Ministering to the lust of the eye, the 
 lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, mis- 
 directed opulence has ruined many both in 
 soul and body. 
 
 6. Nor is it a small vexation to have accumu- 
 lated a fortune, and when expecting to trans- 
 mit it to some favorite child, to find it suddenly 
 swept away. (Vers. 14-16.) There is now 
 the son, but where is the sumptuous mansion ? 
 Here is the heir, but where is the vaunted 
 heritage ? 
 
 7. Last of all, are the infirmity and fretful- 
 ness which are the frequent companions of 
 
 * Procul dubio hie non possedit divitias, Bed a divitiis 
 possessus eat ; titulo rex insulae, animo pecunias miserabile 
 mancipium. Valerius Maximus, lib. ix. cap. 4. 
 
196 LECTURE 
 
 wealth. " All his days also he eats in dark- 
 ness, and suffers anxiety and peevishness along 
 with sickness.' ' You pass a stately mansion, 
 and as the powdered menials are closing the 
 shutters of the brilliant room, and you see the 
 sumptuous table spread and the fire-light flash- 
 ing on vessels of gold and vessels of silver, 
 perhaps no pang of envy pricks your bosom, 
 but a glow of gratulation for a moment fills it ; 
 Happy people who tread carpets so soft, and 
 who swim through halls so splendid! But, 
 some future day, when the candles are lighted 
 and the curtains drawn in that self-same apart- 
 ment, it is your lot to be within ; and as the 
 invalid owner is wheeled to his place at the 
 table, and as dainties are handed round of 
 which he dares not taste, and as the guests in- 
 terchange cold courtesy, and all is so stiff and 
 so common-place, and so heartlessly grand, 
 your fancy cannot help flying off to some 
 humbler spot with which you are more familiar, 
 and "where quiet with contentment makes 
 her home." Nay, how curious the contrast, 
 could the thoughts be read which sometimes 
 
THE EXCHANGE. *197 
 
 cross one another ! That ragged urchin who 
 opened the common-gate, and let the silvery 
 chariot through, oh, "what a phantom of 
 delight" the lady looked as in clouds of cushions 
 and on a firmament of ultramarine she floated 
 away ! What a .golden house she must have 
 come from, and what a happy thing to be 
 borne about from place to place in such a 
 carriage, as easy as a bird and as brilliant as a 
 queen I But, little boy, that lady looked at 
 you. As she passed she noticed your ruddy 
 cheeks, and she envied you. That glittering 
 chariot was carrying what you do not know a 
 broken heart ; and death-stricken and world- 
 weary, as she looked at you, she thought, How 
 pleasant to have lived amongst the blossomed 
 May-trees on this common's edge, and never 
 known the falsehoods of fashion and the evil 
 ways of the world ! 
 
 "We have glanced at the sorrows of the rich ; 
 some will expect that we should now descant 
 on the sinfulness of riches. And a certain 
 class of religionists, misunderstanding the Sa- 
 viour's precept, "Lay not up for yourselves 
 
198 LECTURE XI. 
 
 treasures on earth," have spoken of money as 
 if it were a malignant principle, and have can- 
 onized poverty as a Christian grace. Fully car- 
 ried out, this theory would prohibit the flagon 
 of oil and the barrel of meal, and would re- 
 duce us all to the widow's cruse and handful ; 
 for it makes little difference whether the hoard 
 be in kind, or packed up in the portable form 
 of money. It would justify the life of the an- 
 chorite who has no funded property except the 
 roots in the ground and the nuts on the trees ; 
 and it would suit very well such a state of so- 
 ciety as Israel spent in the desert, when no 
 skill could secure a week's manna beforehand, 
 and when the same pair of shoes lasted forty 
 years. But as it was not for a world of an- 
 chorites or ascetics, as it was not for a society 
 on which the clouds should rain miraculous 
 supplies that the Saviour was legislating, his 
 words must have another meaning. And 
 what is that? Live by faith. Look forward: 
 look upward. Let nothing temporal be your 
 treasure. Whether your abode be a hut or a 
 castle, think only of the Father's house as 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 199 
 
 your enduring mansion. Whether your friends 
 be high or low, coarse or refined, think only of 
 just men made perfect as your permanent as- 
 sociates. And whether your possessions be 
 great or small, think only of the joys at God's 
 right hand as your eternal treasure. Lead a 
 life disentangled and expedite setting your 
 affections on things above, and never so cling- 
 ing to the things temporal as to lose the things 
 eternal. 
 
 Translated into its equivalent, money just 
 means food and clothing, and a salubrious 
 dwelling. It means instructive books, and ra- 
 tional recreation. It means freedom from anx- 
 iety, and leisure for personal improvement. 
 It means the education of one's children, and 
 the power of doing good to others. And to 
 inveigh against it, as if it were intrinsically sin- 
 ful, is as fanatical as it would be to inveigh 
 against the bread and the raiment, the books 
 and the Bibles, which the money procures. It 
 would be to stultify all those precepts which 
 tell us to provide things honest in the sight of 
 all men ; to do good and to communicate ; to 
 
200 LECTUKE XI. 
 
 help forward destitute saints after a godly sort; 
 to make friends of the unrighteous mammon. 
 
 And as there is nothing in the Bible to pro- 
 hibit the acquirement of wealth, there is much 
 to guide us in its right bestowment. Using 
 but not abusing God's bounties, the Christian 
 avoids both the wasteful and the penurious ex- 
 tremes, and is neither a miser nor a spendthrift. 
 With that most elastic and enlightened disci- 
 ple, who knew so well how to be abased and 
 how to abound, the believer can say, "I have 
 learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to 
 be content. Everywhere and in all things, I 
 am instructed, both to be full and to be hungry, 
 both to abound and suffer need. I can do all 
 things through Christ who strengtheneth me." 
 
 It was a sultry day, and an avaricious old 
 man who had hoarded a large amount, was 
 toiling away and wasting his little remaining 
 strength, when a heavenly apparition stood be- 
 fore him. " I am Solomon," it said, with a 
 friendly voice ; " what are you doing ?" " If 
 you are Solomon," answered the old man, 
 " how can you ask ? When I was young you 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 201 
 
 sent me to the ant, and told me to consider her 
 ways ; and from her I learned to be industrious 
 and gather stores." "You have only half- 
 learned your lesson," replied the spirit ; " go 
 once more to the ant, and learn to rest the win- 
 ter of your years and enjoy your collected 
 treaures."* And this lesson of moderate but 
 cheerful spending, nothing teaches so effec- 
 tually as the gospel. Eeminding the believer 
 that the life is more than meat, and the body 
 more than raiment, it also suggests to him that 
 meat and raiment are more than money ; and 
 by saving him from the idolatry of wealth, it 
 emboldens him to use it : so that far from feel- 
 ing impoverished when it is converted into 
 some worthy equivalent, he can use with thank- 
 fulness the gifts which his Heavenly Father 
 sends him. Within the bounds of temperance 
 and forethought, he subscribes to the sentiment 
 of our text, "It is good and comely to eat and 
 to drink, and to enjoy the good of one's labor; 
 for the power to eat thereof and to take his 
 portion is itself the gift of God/' 
 
 * Lessing's Fables. 
 
202 LECTURE XI. 
 
 But Christianity teaches a lesson higher still. 
 " Remembering the words of our Lord Jesus, 
 how he said, It is more blessed to give than to 
 receive," the true disciple will value wealth 
 chiefly as he can spend it on objects dear to his 
 dear Lord. To him money is a talent and a 
 trust ; and he will feel it a fine thing to have a 
 fortune, because it enables him to do some- 
 thing notable for some noble end. And 
 whether, like Granville Sharpe, he spends it 
 in pleading the cause of the oppressed and the 
 friendless : or, like Howard, devotes it to re- 
 claim the most depraved and degraded; or, 
 like Simeon, purchases advowsons in order to 
 appoint faithful pastors ; or, like Thomas Wil- 
 son, multiplies places of worship in a crowded 
 metropolis ; there is no fortune which brings 
 to its possessor such a return of solid satisfac- 
 tion as that which is converted into Christian 
 philanthropy. Our houses tumble down ; our 
 monuments decay; our equipages grow frail 
 and shabby. But it is a fine thing to have a 
 fortune, and so be able to give a grand impulse 
 to some important cause. It is a happy thing 
 
THE EXCHANGE. 203 
 
 to have wealth enough to set fairly afloat an 
 emancipation movement or a prison reform. 
 It is a noble thing to be rich enough to pro- 
 vide Gospel ordinances for ten thousand peo- 
 ple in a vast and world- wielding capital. It is 
 a blessed thing to be "a man to whom God 
 has not only given riches and wealth," but so 
 large a heart, so beneficent, so brotherly, that 
 his fruition of his fortune is as wide as the 
 thousands who share it, and the reversion as 
 secure as the heaven in which it is treasured. 
 
LECTURE XII. 
 
 t igjits fur a inrk 
 
 " That which hath been is named already, and it is known 
 what man is : neither may he contend with him that is 
 mightier than he. Seeing there be many things that in- 
 crease vanity what is man the better ? For who knoweth 
 what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain 
 life which he spendeth as a shadow ? for who can tell a 
 man what shall be after him under the sun?" ECCLES. 
 VL 10-12. 
 
 You have ascended a staircase which, inside 
 the solid rock, wound up from the sands of 
 the sea-shore to green fields and beautiful 
 gardens. Somewhat of this sort is the struc- 
 ture of Ecclesiastes. And now we have reached 
 the half-way landing-place, the dimmest and 
 coldest station in the entire ascent ; and very 
 mournful is the strain in which our moralist 
 reviews his progress. " Fate is fixed, and man 
 is feeble; joy is but a phantom, and life a 
 
BORROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 205 
 
 vapor, and darkness veils the future." Truly, 
 we have need to borrow lamps and suspend 
 them in this dark place. "We must send for 
 some brighter minstrel; for our hearts will 
 break if we only listen to the bard of vanity. 
 
 I. Fate is fixed. " That which hath been 
 or which is to be, hath been named already ; 
 neither may man contend with him that is 
 mightier than he." All the past was the re- 
 sult of a previous destiny, and so shall be all 
 the future. Everything is fate. Such is the 
 sentiment of the third chapter, and such ap- 
 pears to be the import of this passage. "Since 
 fate bears sway, and everything must be as it 
 is, why dost thou strive against it ?"* 
 
 Brethren, is there never such a feeling in 
 your minds? Do you never feel as if you 
 were the subjects of a stern ordination? Do 
 you never say, " I must obey my destiny ? It 
 is of no use contending with fate. Mine is an 
 unlucky star, and I can change neither my 
 nature nor my nativity ; so I must abide my 
 time and take my doom." Do you never feel 
 
 * Marcus Antoninus xii. 13, 
 
206 LECTURE XII. 
 
 as if you were driven along a path over which 
 you have no control, and as if the power pro- 
 pelling you were a blind and inexorable neces- 
 sity? 
 
 Partly imbibed from the old classics, and 
 partly from a sound theology sullenly spoken ; 
 and partly indigenous to the human heart, 
 which, even when it does not believe in God 
 and in Jesus, cannot believe in chance, the 
 feeling now expressed is far from rare; and 
 just as it seems to have visited Solomon in the 
 thoughtful interludes of his vanity, so the 
 more pensive and musing spirits are likely to 
 feel it most. As it contains a certain admix- 
 ture of truth, on a principle which we have 
 frequently adopted in these lectures, we shall 
 go to a greater than Solomon in order to get 
 that partial truth corrected and completed. 
 
 In the outset, it must be conceded that the 
 Saviour assumed a pre-ordination in all events. 
 He was constantly using such language as this : 
 "The hour is come; 77 "The hairs of your 
 head are all numbered;" "Your names are 
 written in heaven 5" " Many be called, but few 
 
BOKROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 207 
 
 chosen;" "No man can come to me, except 
 the Father draw him ;" " For the elect's sake, 
 whom he hath chosen, God hath shortened the 
 days;" "To my sheep I give eternal life." 
 But then, what sort of pre-ordination was it 
 which the Saviour recognized ? Was it me- 
 chanical, or moral ? Was it blind destiny, or 
 a wise decree ? Was it the evolution of a dark 
 necessity, or " the determinate counsel and 
 foreknowledge of God?" Was it the fiat of 
 an abstract law, or the will of a living Person ? 
 In one word, was it FATE, or was it PKOV- 
 IDENCE ? 
 
 Most comforting is it to study this doctrine 
 with the great Prophet for our tutor, and so 
 to see the propitious aspect which it bears 
 when rightly understood. As interpreted by 
 " the only -begotten Son from the bosom of the 
 Father," that pre-arrangement of events which 
 the theologian calls predestination, and which 
 the philosopher calls necessity, and which old 
 heathenism called fate, is nothing more than 
 the will of the Father, the good pleasure of 
 that blessed and only Potentate whose omnis- 
 
208 LECTURE XII. 
 
 cience foresaw all possibilities, and from out 
 of all these possibilities whose benevolent 
 wisdom selected the best and gave it being. 
 And he alone can understand election, or exult 
 in Providence, who in right of the Surety can 
 look up to God as his Father, and so take the 
 same views of the Father's purposes as the Sa- 
 viour took, equally revering the majestic fixity 
 of the firm decree, equally rejoicing in its 
 wise foresight and paternal kindness. " Fear 
 not, little flock ; it is your Father's GOOD PLEAS- 
 URE to give you the kingdom." "I thank 
 Thee, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, be- 
 cause thou hast hid these things from the wise 
 and prudent, and hast revealed them unto 
 babes. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good 
 in thy sight" " The hour is come, that the Son 
 of man should be glorified. Father, glorify 
 thy name." And just as you might imagine 
 some poor wandered child waking up amidst 
 the din and tumult of a factory, and cowering 
 half-delinquent, half-stupified, into his dusky 
 corner, afraid lest this thunderous enginery 
 rush in on him and rend him to pieces, and 
 
BOKBOWED LIGHTS, ETC. 209 
 
 still more paralyzed when he perceives in its 
 movements the indications of an awful order, 
 the whole spinning and whirling, clashing 
 and clanking, in obedience to a mysterious and 
 invisible power. But whilst he is watching 
 from his hiding-place, another child comes in, 
 of an age about his own ; and this other walks 
 fearlessly forward, for his father leads him by 
 the hand, and shows him the beautiful fabrics 
 which are flowing forth from all the noisy 
 mechanism ; or if there be some point in their 
 progress where there is risk to his child from 
 the flashing wheels, he speaks a word and that 
 portion stands still ; for his father is owner of 
 it all. So to the poor waif of mortality, the 
 outcast child of apostate Adam, to the god- 
 lesss pirit waking up in this world of rapid rev- 
 olution and tumultuous resonance, there is an 
 awful aspect of fatality on the one side and a 
 crushing sense of impotence on the other. So 
 selfish is man and so cruel is the world ; so 
 strange are life's reverses, and so irresistible 
 is the progress of events, that he momentarily 
 expects to be annihilated by the strong and re- 
 
210 LECTURE XII. 
 
 morseless mechanism ; when, in the midst of 
 all the turmoil he perceives one of like pas- 
 sions with himself walking calmly up and 
 down, and fearing no evil, for his Father is 
 with him, and that Father is contriver and con- 
 troller of the whole. So, my friends, it de- 
 pends on our point of view whether the fixed 
 succession of events shall appear as a sublime 
 arrangement or a dire necessity. It depends 
 on whether we recognize ourselves as found- 
 lings in the universe, or the children of God 
 by faith in Jesus Christ, it depends on this, 
 whether in the mighty maze we discern the 
 decrees of fate, or the presiding wisdom of our 
 heavenly Father. It depends on whether we 
 are still skulking in the obscure corner, aliens, 
 intruders, outlaws ; or walking at liberty, with 
 filial spirit and filial security, whether we 
 shall be more panic-stricken by the power of 
 the mechanism, or more enchanted with its 
 beautiful products. It depends on whether we 
 are spectators or sons, whether our emotion 
 towards the Divine foreknowledge and sove- 
 
BOKROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 211 
 
 reignty be, " fate, I fear thee," or, " Fa- 
 ther, I thank thee." 
 
 II. Man is feeble. " It is known what man 
 is; neither may he contend with him that is 
 mightier than he." And. Christless humanity 
 is a very feeble thing. His bodily frame is 
 feeble. A punctured nerve or a particle of 
 sand will sometimes occasion it exquisite an- 
 guish; a grape-seed or an insect's sting has 
 been known to consign it to dissolution. And 
 man's intellect is feeble; or, rather, it is a 
 strange mixture of strength and weakness : 
 
 " Go, wondrous creature ! mount where science guides ; 
 Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides ; 
 Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, 
 Correct old Time, and regulate the sun ; 
 Go, soar with Plato to the empyreal sphere, 
 To the first good, first perfect, and first fair ; 
 Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule 
 Then drop into thyself, and be a fool 1 "* 
 
 Nevertheless, redeemed and regenerate hu- 
 manity is only a little lower than the angels. 
 Its materialism was worn by the Son of God 
 Incarnate, and as He wore it, it was found a 
 
 * Pope's " Essay on Man," Ep. ii. 
 
212 LECTURE XII. 
 
 shrine in which perfect goodness could exist, 
 and one from which not a few of its endearing 
 rays conld emanate ; and, celestialized, that 
 corporeity will find a place in the new heavens 
 and new earth where righteousness dwelleth. 
 And, sublime and sanctified, man's intellect is 
 fit for the noblest themes in the loftiest society. 
 Not to speak of Moses' meek sagacity, and 
 David's lyric raptures, and Solomon's startling 
 intuitions ; there are sons of Adam who, here, 
 on earth, possessed no knowledge beyond sim- 
 ple apprehension or idiot ignorance, and who 
 are now the immediate pupils of the Bright 
 and Morning Star, and fellow-students with 
 the seraphim. And though it be madness in 
 man to contend with his Maker, it is man's 
 prerogative that his very weakness is a pur- 
 chase on Omnipotence. Insane when contend- 
 ing with One that is mightier, he is irresistible 
 when in faith and coincidence of holy affection 
 he fights the battles of the Most High, and 
 when by prayer and uplooking affiance, he 
 imports into his own imbecility the might of 
 Jehovah. It is known what man is, and what 
 
BORROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 213 
 
 mere man can do. A Samson can rend the 
 ravening lion, and return to find his bleached 
 ribs a hive of honey. A Goliath can hold at 
 bay the embattled host, and with his beam-like 
 lance beat back a charging company. David's 
 three champions can hew their way through 
 the host of the Philistines, and from the well 
 of Bethlehem bear triumphant to the camp 
 their costly flask of water. And thus, the 
 potsherds of the earth can strive with the pot- 
 sherds of the earth, and a strong one destroy 
 the weaker. But it is hardly known yet what 
 man can do when his Maker contends for him 
 and fights through him ; although the tempta- 
 tions which Joseph and Daniel have van- 
 quished, and found their demolished strength 
 replaced by sweetness; the terror of God 
 which a solitary Elijah or John Baptist has 
 stricken into an idolatrous or hypocritical 
 generation ; the water of life which Paul and 
 Silas and Timothy have carried into the midst 
 of a dying world through pain and peril, 
 through bitter mockings and daily deaths, 
 although these moral triumphs and religious 
 
214 LECTUKE XII. 
 
 trophies are earnests and examples of what 
 may be done by man when, through Christ 
 strengthening, man is rendered superhuman. 
 
 III. Every joy is futile. It is only fresh 
 food for the life- wasting vanity ; more fat kine 
 for the lean ones to devour and convert into 
 tenuity ; more must poured into the working 
 vat in order to acidify and augment the brew- 
 age of vexation. " Seeing there be many 
 things that increase vanity, what is man the 
 better ?" What the better is man of that rep- 
 utation which only makes him more envied ? 
 What the better is he of that wealth which 
 only makes him more obnoxious to plots and 
 dangers ? What the better of that philosophy 
 which, like a taper on the face of a midnight 
 cliff, only shows how beetling is the brow 
 above him, and how profound the gulf below, 
 whilst he himself is crawling a wingless reptile 
 on the ever-narrowing ledge ? What the bet- 
 ter is acquirement, when, after all, man's intel- 
 lect, man's conscience, man's affections must 
 remain a vast and unappeasable vacuity ? 
 
 Here it is that the other Eoyal Preacher 
 
BOKROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 215 
 
 comes forward, and, instead of echoing, an- 
 swers the demand of Solomon. Jesus says, 
 " I am the bread of life : he that cometh to me 
 shall never hunger, and he that believeth on 
 me shall never thirst." Jesus is God manifest, 
 and, therefore, Jesus known is satisfaction to 
 the famished intellect. He is God reconciled, 
 and, therefore, Jesus trusted is comfort to the 
 aching conscience. He is God communicated, 
 and, therefore, Jesus loved is a continual feast 
 to the hungry affections. Incarnate, atoning, 
 interceding, Immanuel is the bread of life, 
 the only sustenance and satisfaction of the im- 
 mortal soul. And, my hearers, if any of 
 you are hungry, make trial of this food. If 
 your conscience hungers, feed on some faith- 
 ful saying till you find it as sweet as it is solid, 
 as refreshing as 'tis true. "God loved the 
 world and gave his Son." " Christ Jesus came 
 into the world to save sinners/ 7 "His blood 
 cleanseth from all sin." "Him that cometh 
 unto me, I will in no wise cast out." " Behold 
 the Lamb of God!" Dwell on such sayings 
 till they have sunk into your spirit's core and 
 
216 LECTURE XII. 
 
 spread through your consenting nature in real- 
 izations glad and blissful. Does your under- 
 standing hunger? Do you pine for some 
 knowledge absolute, conclusive, positive ? 
 Then no man knoweth the Father save the 
 Son, and he to whom the Son shall reveal 
 him. Look to Jesus. Study the Word made 
 flesh. In Him dwells all the fulness of the 
 Godhead bodily. In Him, the express image 
 of the Father, behold at once your Teacher 
 and your task ; for Jesus is the true Theology. 
 Sit at the Saviour's feet, and listen to his 
 words ; for God is all which Jesus says. Look 
 into his countenance, for God is all which 
 Jesus is. And do your affections hunger? 
 From the festivals of earth, from its feasts of 
 friendship even, do you sometimes retire mor- 
 tified and almost misanthropic? or, like the 
 reveller glancing up at the thread-suspended 
 sword, or gazing at the fulgorous finger as it 
 flames along the wall, have you misgivings in 
 the unhallowed mercies which you enjoy aloof 
 from God, or in the place of God, or beneath 
 the wrath of God ? Then, through the Medi- 
 
BORROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 217 
 
 ator be reconciled to God. In Christ accept 
 Him as your Friend and Father. Enter into 
 his peace, and learn to delight in his perfec- 
 tions; and thus, whilst sinful pleasures lose 
 their relish, lawful joys will acquire a flavor 
 of sacredness, and the zest is a sweet security. 
 Or should the cistern break and the creature 
 fail, the infinite joy is Jehovah, and the soul 
 cannot wither whose roots are replenished from 
 that fountain unfailing. 
 
 IV. Life is fleeting. It is a " vain life," and 
 all its days a "shadow." A shadow is the 
 nearest thing to a nullity. It is seldom no- 
 ticed. Even " a vapor" in the firmament, a 
 cloud may catch the eye, and in watching its 
 changing hues or figure you may find the 
 amusement of a moment; arid if that cloud 
 condense into a shower, a few fields may thank 
 it for its timely refreshment. But a shadow, 
 the shadow of a vapor ! who notes it ? who 
 records it? As it sails along the mountain 
 side, with morning bright behind it, and sum- 
 mer noon before it, the daisy does not care to 
 wink, nor does the hare-bell droop, nor does 
 
218 LECTURE XII. 
 
 the bee suspend its labors; and at eve, the 
 shepherd-boy cross-questioned cannot tell if 
 any cloud there were. And the case is rare 
 where some panting traveller sighs, "Return, 
 O shadow! Kind vapor, I wish you would 
 not vanish 1" 
 
 But Jesus Christ hath brought immortality 
 to light. This fleeting life He has rendered 
 important as " a shadow from the rock eter- 
 nity." lt I am the Resurrection and the Life : 
 whosoever liveth and belie veth in me shall 
 never die." In his own teaching, and in the 
 teaching of his apostles, the present existence 
 acquires a fearful consequence as the germ, or 
 rather as the outset of one which is never-end* 
 ing. To their view, this existence is both 
 everything and nothing. As the commence' 
 ment of eternity, and as giving its complexion 
 to all the changeless future, it is everything ; 
 as the competitor of that eternity or the coun- 
 terpoise to its joys and sorrows it is nothing. 
 " What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain 
 the whole world, and lose his own soul?" 
 " Fear not them who kill the body, but are not 
 
BORROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 219 
 
 able to kill the soul : but rather fear Him who 
 is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." 
 " Our light affliction, which is but for a mo- 
 ment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and 
 eternal weight of glory ; while we look not at 
 the things which are seen, but at the things 
 which are not seen: for the things which are 
 seen are temporal ; but the things which are 
 not seen are eternal." " How vain, then, are 
 men, who, seeing life so short, endeavor to live 
 long and not to live well!"* How vain are 
 men who, pronouncing the present life a 
 shadow, neglect to secure the everlasting sub- 
 stance ! 
 
 V. The future is a dark enigma. "Who 
 can tell a man what shall be after him under 
 the sun?" 
 
 Says Dr. Stewart of Moulin, " I remember 
 an old, pious, very recluse minister, whom I 
 used to meet once a-year. He scarcely ever 
 looked at a newspaper. When others were 
 talking about the French Eevolution, he 
 showed no concern or curiosity about it. He 
 
 * Jeremy Taylor's "Works," vol. iii. p. 418. 
 
220 LECTUKE XII. 
 
 said tie knew from the Bible Jiow it would all 
 end, better than the most sagacious politician, 
 that the Lord reigns, that the earth will be 
 filled with his glory, that the Gospel will be 
 preached to all nations, and that all subor- 
 dinate events are working out these great 
 ends. This was enough for him, and he gave 
 himself no concern about the news or events 
 of the day, only saying, It shall be well with 
 the righteous."* And although no man can 
 tell the conqueror how it shall be with the 
 dynasty he has founded ; nor the poet how it 
 shall be with the epic he has published ; nor 
 the capitalist how it shall be with the fortune 
 he has accumulated ; it is easy to tell the phil- 
 anthropist and the Christian how it shall be, 
 not only with himself, but with the cause he is 
 so eagerly promoting. And without quench- 
 ing curiosity, it may quiet all anxiety to know 
 that when he himself is gone to be forever 
 with the Lord, Christ's kingdom will be 
 spreading in the world. " Then said I, my 
 Lord, what shall be the end of these things ? 
 * Memoirs of Dr. Stewart, p. 336. 
 
BORROWED LIGHTS, ETC. 221 
 
 And he said, Go thy way, Daniel; for the 
 words are closed up and sealed. Go thou thy 
 way till the end be, for thou shalt rest, and 
 stand in thy lot at the end of the daya." 
 
LECTURE XIII. 
 
 "A good name is better than precious ointment." 
 EOOLES. vu. 1. 
 
 AT this point we come out into a purer at- 
 mosphere ; we emerge upon a higher platform ; 
 and, if we have not day-spring, we have the 
 harbingers of dawn. 
 
 Hitherto the book has chiefly contained the 
 diagnosis of the great disease. Eepeating the 
 successive symptoms as they developed in him- 
 self, the Royal patient has passed before us in 
 every variety of mood, from the sleepy col- 
 lapse of one who has eaten the fabled lotus, up 
 to the frantic consciousness of a Hercules tear- 
 ing his limbs as he tries to rend off his robe of 
 fiery poison. He now comes to the cure. 
 He enumerates the prescriptions which he 
 
A GOOD NAME. 223 
 
 tried, and mentions their results. Most of 
 them afforded some relief. They made him 
 "better. 7 ' But they were only palliatives. 
 There was something which always impaired 
 their efficacy ; and it is only at the very end 
 that he announces the great panacea, and 
 gives us what is better than a thousand pallia- 
 tives, an unfailing specific. 
 
 The recipes contained in this and the subse- 
 quent chapters availed to mitigate Solomon's 
 vexation, but they failed to cure it. They mit- 
 igated it, because each of them was one ingre- 
 dient of the great specific ; they failed to cure 
 it, because they were only isolated ingredients. 
 Each maxim of virtue is conducive to happy 
 living ; but the love o God is the vitality of 
 all virtue ; and, in order to secure its full prac- 
 tical value, we must supply to each separate 
 maxim the great animating motive. A rule of 
 conduct which is " dead, so long as it abideth 
 alone, " may be very helpful when quickened, 
 and when occupying its appropriate place in a 
 system of evangelical ethics. 
 
 Solomon's first beatitude is an honorable rep- 
 
224 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 utation. He knew what it had been to possess 
 it ; and he knew what it was to lose it. And 
 here he says, Happy is the possessor of an un- 
 tarnished character ! so happy that he cannot 
 die too soon ! "A good name is better than 
 precious ointment ; and (to its owner) the day 
 of death is better than the day of birth/' 
 
 A name truly good is the aroma from vir- 
 tuous character. It is a spontaneous emana- 
 tion from genuine excellence. It is a reputa- 
 tion for whatsoever things are honest and 
 lovely, and of good report. It is such a name 
 as is not only remembered on earth but written 
 in heaven. The names of Abel and Enoch 
 and Noah are good names, and so are all which 
 have been transmitted in that " little book of 
 martyrs," the eleventh of Hebrews: those 
 " elders" who not only obtained the Church's 
 good report, through faith, but who had this 
 testimony, a that they pleased God." But in 
 order to a good name something else is needed 
 besides a good nature. Flowers have bloomed 
 In the desert which were only viewed by God 
 and the angels ; and there have been solitary 
 
A GOOD NAME. 225 
 
 saints whose holiness was only recognized by 
 Him who created it, and by just men made 
 perfect. And so wicked is this world that 
 much excellence may have vanished from its 
 surface unknown and unsuspected. The In- 
 quisition has, no doubt, extinguished maliy 
 an Antipas, and in the Sodoms of our earth 
 many a Lot has vexed his soul and died with 
 no Pentateuch to preserve his memory. To 
 secure a reputation there must not only be the 
 genuine excellence but the genial atmosphere. 
 There must be some good men to observe and 
 appreciate the goodness while it lived, and 
 others to foster its memory when gone. But 
 should both combine, the worth and the appre- 
 ciation of worth, the resulting good name is 
 better than precious ointment. Earer and 
 more costly, it is also one of the most salutary 
 influences that can penetrate society. For, 
 just as a box of spikenard is not only valuable 
 to its possessor, but pre-eminently precious in 
 its diffusion ; so, when a name is really good, 
 it is of unspeakable service to all who are 
 capable of feeling its exquisite inspiration* 
 15 
 
226 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 And should the Spirit of God so replenish a 
 man with his gifts and graces, as to render his 
 name thus wholesome, better than the day of 
 his birth will be the day of his death ; for at 
 death the box is broken and the sweet savor 
 spreads abroad. There is an end of the envy 
 and sectarianism and jealousy, the detraction 
 and the calumny, which often environ good- 
 ness when living ; and now that the stopper 
 of prejudice is removed, the world fills with 
 the odor of the ointment, and thousands grow 
 stronger and more lifesome for the good name 
 of one. Better in this respect, better than 
 their birth-day was the dying day of Henry 
 Martyn and Robert M'Cheyne ; for the secret 
 of their hidden life was then revealed, and, 
 mingled as it is with the name of Jesus, the 
 Church will never lose the perfume. And in 
 this respect better than their birthday was the 
 dying-day of Dr. Arnold and Sir Fowell Bux- 
 ton ; for men could then forget the offence of 
 controversy and the irritation of party politics, 
 and could surrender to the undiluted charm 
 of healthy piety and heroic Christianity. And 
 
A GOOD NAME. 227 
 
 better, thus regarded, was the dying-day of 
 Stephen and James and Paul ; for every dis- 
 ciple could then forget the infirmities by which 
 some had been annoyed and the faithfulness by 
 which others had been offended, and could 
 treasure up that best of a good man's relics, 
 the memory of a devoted life, the sweet 
 odour of an unquestioned sanctity. 
 
 Do not despise a good name. There is no 
 better heritage that a father can bequeath to 
 his children, and there are few influences on 
 society more wholesome than the fame of its 
 worthies. The names of Luther and Knox, of 
 Hampden and Washington, of Schwartz and 
 Eliot, are still doing good in the world. Nor 
 is there in a family any richer heir-loom than 
 the memory of a noble ancestor. Without a 
 good name you can possess little ascendency 
 over others ; and when it has not pioneered 
 your way and won a prepossession for yourself, 
 your patriotic or benevolent intentions are 
 almost sure to be defeated. 
 
 And yet it will never do to seek a good 
 name as a primary object. Like trying to be 
 
228 LECTUKE XIII. 
 
 graceful, the effort to be popular will make you 
 contemptible. Take care of your spirit and 
 conduct, and your reputation will take care of 
 itself. It is by " blamelessness and good be- 
 havior," that not only bishops, but individual 
 believers, are to gain " a good report of them 
 who are without." The utmost that you are 
 .called to do as the custodier of your own repu- 
 tation is to remove injurious aspersions. Let 
 not your good be 'evil spoken of, and follow the 
 highest examples in mild and explicit self- vindi- 
 cation. Still, no reputation can be permanent 
 which does not spring from principle : and he 
 who would maintain a good character should 
 be mainly solicitous to maintain a conscience 
 void of offence towards God and towards men. 
 Where others are concerned the case is 
 different. To our high-principled and deserv- 
 ing brethren, we owe a frank commendation 
 and a fraternal testimony. "To rejoice in 
 their good name; to cover their infirmities; 
 freely to acknowledge their gifts and graces ; 
 readily to receive a good report, and unwil- 
 lingly to admit an evil report concerning 
 
A GOOD NAME. 229 
 
 them; to discourage tale-bearers and slan- 
 derers,"* are duties which we owe to our 
 neighbors ; and good names are not so nume- 
 rous but that the utmost care should be taken 
 of them. When Dr. M'Crie published the Life 
 of our Reformer, it was very noble in Dugald 
 Stewart to seek out the young author in his 
 humble dwelling and cheer him with his ear- 
 nest eulogy. And when one of the Reforma- 
 tion heroes was maligned, it was fine to see their 
 advocate rummaging amongst the archives of 
 the Public Library, till the discrepant date en- 
 abled him to exclaim, " Thank God ! our 
 friend was by that time safe in Abraham's 
 bosom!" It was a happy thing for Paul to 
 have so good a name among the Gentile 
 Churches, that his mere request was enough 
 to bring large contributions to the poor saints 
 of Jerusalem ; but, if so, what a happy thought 
 to Barnabas to know that when Paul himself 
 was an object of suspicion to the Church at 
 Jerusalem,! his own good name had been the 
 new convert's passport and guarantee. 
 
 * Westminster Larger Catechism f Acts ix. 26, 27. 
 
LECTUEE XIV. 
 
 nf Ifiulinn. 
 
 " The patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit." 
 ECCLES. vii. 8. 
 
 THE lion was caught in the toils of the 
 hunter. The more he tugged, the more his 
 feet got entangled ; when a little mouse heard 
 his roaring, and said that if his majesty would 
 not hurt him, he thought he could release him. 
 At first the king of the beasts took no notice 
 of such a contemptible ally ; but at last, like 
 other proud spirits in trouble, he allowed his 
 tiny friend to do as he pleased. So one by 
 one, the mouse nibbled through the cords, till 
 he had set free first one foot and then another, 
 and then all the four, and with a growl of 
 hearty gratitude, the king of the forest ac- 
 knowledged that the patient in spirit is some- 
 
THE POWEB OF PATIENCE. 231 
 
 times stronger than the proud in spirit. And 
 it is beautiful to see how, when some sturdy 
 nature is involved in perplexity, and by its 
 violence and vociferation is only wasting its 
 strength without forwarding its escape ; there 
 will come in some timely sympathizer, mild 
 and gentle, and will suggest the simple extri- 
 cation, or by soothing vehemence down into 
 his own tranquillity, will set him on the way to 
 effect his self-deliverance. Even so, all through 
 the range of philanthropy, patience is power. 
 It is not the water-spout, but the nightly dew 
 which freshens vegetation. They are not the 
 flashes of the lightning which mature our 
 harvests, but the daily sunbeams, and that 
 quiet electricity which thrills in atoms and 
 which flushes in every ripening ear. Niagara 
 in all its thunder fetches no fertility ; but the 
 'Nile, coming without observation, with noise- 
 less fatness overflows, and from under the re- 
 tiring flood Egypt looks up again, a garner of 
 golden corn. The world is the better for its 
 moral cataracts, and its spiritual thunder- 
 bolts ; but the influences which do the world's 
 
232 LECTURE XIV. 
 
 great work, which, freshen and fertilize it, 
 and which are maturing its harvests for the 
 garner of glory, are not the proud and potent 
 spirits, but the patient and the persevering ; 
 they are not the noisy and startling phenome- 
 na, but the steady and silent operations. They 
 are the Sunday-schools which line upon line 
 repeat the Gospel lesson, and keep alive in our 
 youthful millions some fear of God. They are 
 the good and loving mothers who begin with 
 cradle hymns, and who try to make the sweet 
 story of Jesus as dear and as memorable as 
 their own kind voices. They are the weekly 
 Sabbaths which softly overflow the land, and 
 which, when they ebb again, leave everywhere 
 the freshness and the fertilizing elements con- 
 veyed in their heaven- descended tide. Pa- 
 tience is power. In a thirsty land, one farmer 
 digs a pit, and as no water fills it he opens 
 another, and as that also continues, like the 
 well in Dothan, dry, he commences a third in 
 a spot more promising, and a fourth, and many 
 more, till he has tried all his territory without 
 success, and then, chafed and chagrined, he 
 
THE POWER OF PATIENCE. 233 
 
 abandons all effort in despair. His neighbor 
 chooses a spot, and begins. No water flows, 
 but he is not discouraged. The spade and the 
 mattock he exchanges for the drill and the 
 auger ; and after hammering through the 
 flinty rock for days and weeks, at last the long- 
 sought fountain gushes, and at his threshold he 
 secures a perennial spring, which neither feels 
 the summer drought nor dreads the winter's 
 cold. And so, on behalf of some right object, 
 one man is anxious to enlist the good feeling 
 of humanity: and he brings his project before 
 one influential mind after another, and he is 
 mortified to find how drily it is received by 
 this celebrated philanthropist, and how many 
 difficulties are started by another, till he is 
 ready to declare that benevolence is all a sham 
 and every patriot a hypocrite. But, strong in 
 faith and patience, another takes the Artesian 
 auger. He knows that deep under our hard 
 humanity there are tender feelings and kind 
 sympathies. Or if it be the Church on which 
 he seeks to operate, he knows that under all 
 its callousness and formalism there circulates a 
 
234 LECTUKE XIV. 
 
 conscience, there flows a fresh current of 
 principle and love fed from the crystal river, 
 and he is resolved to reach it. He takes the 
 Artesian auger. " One thing I do." Preserv- 
 ing his temper amid all rebuffs, and persever- 
 ing amidst all impediments, he keeps urging 
 this one object, and at last the vein is struck 
 the fountain flows. Charles sees the Bible 
 Society organized, and Carey is sent to India. 
 Eaikes sets his Sabbath -schools agoing, and 
 Naismith the City Mission. Sadler sees infant 
 emancipation become a popular movement, 
 and Agnew finds the Church at last aroused to 
 the claims of the Sabbath-day. 
 
LECTUKE XV. 
 
 3 tuit f\\n. 
 
 u Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send 
 forth a stinking savor : so doth a little folly him that is 
 in reputation for wisdom and honor." ECOLES. x. 1. 
 
 THE people of Palestine dealt largely in aro- 
 matic oils, and it was a chief business of their 
 apothecaries to prepare them. A little thing 
 was enough to spoil them. Although the vase 
 were alabaster, and although the most exquisite 
 perfumes were dissolved in the limpid olive, a 
 dead fly could change the whole into a pesti- 
 lent odor. 
 
 And so, says the Eoyal Moralist, a character 
 may be carefully confected. You may attend 
 to all the rules of wisdom and self-government 
 which I have now laid down ; but if you re- 
 tain a single infirmity it will ruin the whole. 
 
236 LECTURE XV. 
 
 Like the decomposing influence of that dead 
 fly, it will injure all the rest and destroy the 
 reputation which you otherwise merit. 
 
 The principle is especially applicable to a 
 Christian profession ; and the best use we can 
 make of it is to exemplify it in some of those 
 flaws and failings which destroy the attraction 
 and impressiveness of men truly devout and 
 God-fearing. Our instances must be taken 
 almost at random; for, like their Egyptian 
 prototypes, these flies are too many to be 
 counted. 
 
 Rudeness. Some good men are blunt in 
 their feelings, and rough in their manners; 
 and they apologize for their coarseness by call- 
 ing it honesty, downrightness, plainness of 
 speech. They quote in self-defence the sharp 
 words, and shaggy mien of Elijah and John 
 the Baptist, and, as affectation, they sneer at the 
 soft address and mild manners of gentler men. 
 Now, it is very true that there is a certain 
 strength of character, an impetuousness of feel- 
 ing, and a sturdy vehemence of principle, to 
 which it is more difficult to prescribe the rules 
 
DEAD FLIES. 237 
 
 of Christian courtesy, than to more meek and 
 pliant natures. It is very possible that Lati- 
 mer in his bluntness, and Knox in his erect 
 and iron severity, and Luther in the magnifi- 
 cent explosions of his far-resounding indigna- 
 tion, may have been nobler natures, and fuller 
 of the grace of God than the supple courtiers 
 whose sensibilities they so rudely shattered. 
 But it does not follow that men who have not 
 got their warfare to wage are entitled to use 
 their weapons. Nor does it even follow that 
 their warfare would have been less successful 
 had they wielded no such weapons. The 
 question, however, is not between two rival 
 graces, between integrity on the one side, 
 and affability on the other ; but the question 
 is, Are these two graces compatible ? Can 
 they co-exist ? Is it possible for a man to be 
 explicit, and open, and honest, and, withal, 
 courteous and considerate of the feelings of 
 others? Is it possible to add to fervor and 
 fidelity, suavity, and urbanity, and brotherly- 
 kindness ? The question has already been 
 answered, for the actual union of these things 
 9 
 
238 -LECTURE XV. 
 
 has already been exhibited.- Without refer- 
 ring to Nathan's interview with David, where 
 truth and tenderness triumph together, or 
 Paul's remonstrances to his brethren, in which 
 a melting heart is the vehicle of each needful 
 reproof, we need only revert to the great ex- 
 ample itself. In the epistles to the Asiatic 
 Churches, each begins with commendation, 
 wherever there was anything that could be 
 commended. With the magnanimity which 
 remembers past services in the midst of pres- 
 ent injury, and which would rather notice 
 good than complain of evil, each message, so 
 far as there was material for it, is ushered in 
 by a word of eulogy, and weight is added to 
 the subsequent admonition by this preface of 
 kindness.* And it was the same while the 
 Lord Jesus was on earth. His tender tone 
 was the keen edge of his reproofs, and his un- 
 questionable love infused solemnity into every 
 warning. There never was one more faithful 
 than the Son of God, but there never was 
 one more considerate. And just as rudeness 
 
 * Fuller on the Apocalypse, p. 16. 
 
DEAD FLIES. 239 
 
 is not essential to honesty, so neither is rough, 
 ness essential to strength of character. The 
 Christian should have a strong character ; he 
 should be a man of remarkable decision ; he 
 should start back from temptation as from a 
 bursting bomb. And he should be a man 
 of inflexible purpose. When once he knows 
 his Lord's will, he should go through with it, 
 aye, through fire and water with it. But this 
 he may do without renouncing the meekness 
 and gentleness which were in Christ. He may 
 have zeal without pugnacity, determination 
 without obstinacy. He should distinguish 
 between the ferocity of the animal and the 
 courage of the Christian. And whether he 
 makes the distinction or not, the world will 
 make it. The world looks for the serene be- 
 nevolence of conscious strength in a follower 
 of the Lamb of God ; and, however rude its 
 own conduct, it expects that the Christian 
 himself will be courteous. 
 
 Irritability. One of the most obvious and 
 impressive features in the Saviour's character 
 was his meekness. In a patience which in- 
 
240 LECTURE XV. 
 
 genious or sudden provocation could not up- 
 set ; in a magnanimity which insult could not 
 ruffle; in a gentleness from which no folly 
 could extract an unadvised word, men saw 
 what they could scarcely understand, but that 
 which made them marvel. Though disciples 
 were strangely dull, he never lost temper with 
 them ; though Judas was very dishonest, He 
 did nott bring any railing accusation against 
 him; though Philip had been so long time 
 with Him, and had not understood Him, He 
 did not dismiss him from his company. When 
 Peter denied Him, it was not a frown that 
 withered him, but a glance of affection that 
 melted him. And so with his enemies ; it was 
 not by lightning from heaven, but by love 
 from his pierced heart, that He subdued them. 
 But many Christians lack this beauty of their 
 Master's holiness ; they are afflicted with evil 
 tempers, they cannot rule their spirits, or 
 rather they do not try. Some indulge occa- 
 sionally in fits of anger ; and others are haunted 
 by habitual, daily, life-long fretfulness. The 
 one sort is generally calm and pellucid as an 
 
DEAD FLIES. 241 
 
 Alpine lake, but on some special provocation, 
 is tossed up into a magnificent tempest; the 
 other is like the Bosphorus, in a continual 
 stir, and even when not a breath is moving, 
 by the contrariety of its internal currents vex- 
 ing itself into a ceaseless whirl and eddy. The 
 one is Hecla for long intervals silent as a 
 granite peak, and suffering the snow-flakes to 
 fall on its cold crater, till you forget that it is 
 a burning mountain ; and then on some sud- 
 den and unlooked-for disturbance, hurling the 
 hollow truce into the clouds, and pouring forth 
 in one noisy night the stifled mischief of many 
 a year. The other is Stromboli, a perpetual 
 volcano, seldom indulging in any disastrous 
 eruption ; but muttering and quaking, steam- 
 ing and hissing night and day, in a way which 
 makes strangers nervous ; and ever and anon 
 spinning through the air a red-hot rock, or a 
 spirt of molten metal, to remind the heedless 
 natives of their angry neighbor. But either 
 form, the paroxysmal fury, and the perennial 
 fretfulness, is inconsistent with the wisdom 
 from above, which is peaceable, gentle, easy 
 16 
 
242 LECTURE XV. 
 
 to be entreated. Worldly men can perceive 
 the inconsistency, but instead of ascribing it to 
 its proper causes, they are more likely to at- 
 tribute it -to the insincerity of Christians, or 
 the insufficiency of the Gospel ; and even the 
 more willing sort of worldlings, those who 
 have some predisposition in favor of the truth, 
 are very apt to be shocked and driven off by 
 the unhallowed ebullitions of religious men. 
 Suppose such an individual, with his attention 
 newly awakened to the great salvation with 
 his mind impressed by some Scriptural de- 
 lineation of regenerate character ; his ear, it 
 may be, still charmed with a glowing descrip- 
 tion of the Gospel's magic power, making 
 wolfish men so lamblike, and teaching the 
 weaned child to play on the cockatrice den ; 
 suppose such a man in the way of business, or 
 kindness, or spiritual inquiry, to approach a 
 stranger of Christian renown, and accosting 
 him in full persuasion of his Christian charac- 
 ter, prepared for a cordial welcome, a patient 
 hearing at the least, but alas ! coming in at 
 some unprapitious moment, he is greeted with 
 
BEAD FLIES. 243 
 
 a shout of impatience, or annihilated by a flash 
 from his lowering countenance, why, it is 
 like putting your hand into the nest of the 
 turtle-dove, and drawing it out with a long, 
 slimy serpent, dangling in warty folds, and 
 holding on by its fiery fangs. There is hor- 
 ror in the disappointment, as well as anguish 
 in the bite ; and the frightful association can- 
 not easily be forgotten. 
 
 Akin to these infirmities of temper, are 
 some other inconsistencies as inconvenient to 
 their Christian brethren as they are likely to 
 stumble a scoffing world. Some professors 
 are so whimsical and impracticable, that it 
 needs continual stratagem to enlist them in 
 any labor of usefulness, and after they are 
 once fairly engaged in it, nothing but per- 
 petual watchfulness and the most tender man- 
 agement can keep them in it. In all your 
 dealings with them, like a man walking over 
 a galvanic pavement, you tread uneasily, won- 
 dering when the next shock is to come off, 
 and every moment expecting some paradox to 
 spring under your feet. In the Christian so- 
 
244 LECTUKE XV. 
 
 cieties of which they are members, they con- 
 stitute non-conformable materials of which it 
 is difficult to dispose. They are irregular 
 solids for which it is not easy to find a place 
 in rearing the temple. They are the polyhe- 
 drons of the church, each punctilio of their 
 own forming a several face, and making it 
 a hard problem to fix them where they will 
 not mar the structure. Apostolical magna- 
 nimity they deem subserviency or sinful con- 
 nivance ; and simultaneous movements or 
 Christian co-operation they deem lawful only 
 when all conform to them. Like those indi- 
 viduals whose bodies are non-conductors, and 
 who can stop an electric circuit after it has 
 travelled through a mile of other men, secta- 
 rian professors are so positively charged with 
 their own peculiarities, that the influence which 
 has been transmitted through consenting my- 
 riads, stops short as soon as it reaches them. 
 
 Selfishness. The world expects self-denial 
 in the Christian ; and with reason, for of all 
 men he can best afford it, and by his profes- 
 sion he is committed to it. You are on a 
 
DEAD FLIES. 245 
 
 journey, and because you have been distribut- 
 ing tracts or reading the Bible, or have made 
 some pious observations, your fellow-travellers 
 set you down for a Christian. By-and-by one 
 of your companions makes a civil remark, but 
 not being in a mood for talking, you turn him 
 off with a short answer. A delicate passen- 
 ger would like your side of the carriage, but 
 you wish to see the country or prefer the 
 cooler side ; so you make no movement, but 
 allow your neighbor to change places with 
 the invalid. And at last an accident occurs 
 which will detain you an hour beyond the 
 usual time ; so you lose all patience, and fret, 
 and scold, and talk of hiring post-chaises, 
 while some good-humored or philosophic way- 
 farer sits quiet in the corner, or gets out, and 
 looks leisurely on till the misfortune is mended, 
 and then resumes his journey, having lost 
 nothing but his time, whilst you have lost both 
 your time and your temper. In such a case 
 it would be better that you had left the tracts 
 and the Bible at home, for your inconsistency 
 is likely to do more evil, than your direct 
 
246 LECTUEE XV. 
 
 efforts are likely to do good. As a worldly 
 man you would have been entitled to indulge 
 your own indolence, your own convenience, or 
 your own impatience as much as you pleased ; 
 but if you really are a disciple of Christ, you 
 owed it to Him to " deny yourself." 
 The subject is uninviting, and time would 
 fail did we speak of the parsimony, the indo- 
 lence, the egotism, the want of intelligence, the 
 want of taste, by which many excellent char- 
 acters are marred, and by which the glory of 
 the Gospel is often compromised. We would 
 not be accusers of the brethren. We only sug- 
 gest a subject for self-examination, and we in- 
 dicate an object to which the Church's energy 
 might be advantageously directed. We fear 
 that we have failed to cultivate sufficiently the 
 things honest, lovely, and of good report, and 
 that we have sometimes allowed ourselves to 
 be excelled by worldly men in those beauties 
 of character which, though subordinate, are 
 not insignificant. Attention to the wants of 
 others, care for their welfare, and consideration 
 for their feelings, are Christian graces for which 
 
DEAD FLIES. 247 
 
 all Christians ought to be conspicuous, Chris- 
 tianity allows us to forget our own wants, but 
 it does not permit us to forget the necessities 
 of our brethren. It requires us to be careless 
 of our own ease, but it forbids us to overlook 
 the comfort and convenience of other people. 
 Of this the Lord Jesus was Himself the pat- 
 tern. He was sometimes a-hungered, but in 
 that case he wrought no miracle. But when 
 the multitude had long fasted, he created 
 bread to supply them, rather than send them 
 away fainting. And though his great errand 
 was to save his people from their sins, none 
 ever saved so many from their sorrows. And in 
 this disciples should resemble Him. Although 
 they know that the soul is better worth than 
 the body, and the interests of eternity more 
 precious than those of time, they also know 
 that it is after these things that the Gentiles 
 seek ; and, therefore, if they would win the 
 Gentiles, they must attend to their personal 
 wants, and temporal comforts. Nay, more, as 
 a system of universal amelioration, Christi- 
 anity demands our efforts for the outward weal 
 
248 LECTUKE XV. 
 
 of our worldly neighbors, and our delicate at- 
 tention to the minutest comfort of our Chris- 
 tian brethren. It was on this principle that, 
 seeking the salvation of his peasant-parishion- 
 ers, Oberlin felt that he was not going out of 
 his way as an evangelist, when he opened a 
 school for children, wild as their own rock- 
 goats; when he taught the older people many 
 humble but useful arts hitherto unknown in 
 the Ban-de-la-Eoche ; when he set them to the 
 planting of trees, and clearing of roads ; when 
 he established an agricultural society, and pub- 
 lished a calendar, divested of the astrological 
 falsehoods with which their almanacs were 
 wont to abound. Oberlin's Christianity would 
 have prompted these humane and beneficent 
 actions even though no ulterior good had ac- 
 crued from them ; but first in the love of these 
 villagers, and then in their conversion to God, 
 he had his abundant reward. And it was on 
 the same principle that the apostolic Williams, 
 brim-full of sense and kindness, came down 
 like a cornucopia on his South Sea Islanders, 
 and startling them with the prodigies of civili- 
 
DEAD FLIES. 249 
 
 zation, and enriching them with its inventions, 
 at once conveyed an idea of the bountiful 
 spirit of the Gospel, and conciliated their af- 
 fection to its messenger. And it was on the 
 same principle that the benignant Wilberforce, 
 himself the best "practical view of Christi- 
 anity," was so studious of the feelings, and 
 so accommodating to the wishes of his worldly 
 friends, so abounded in those considerate at- 
 tentions to the humblest acquaintance, which 
 only a delicate mind could imagine, and a dex- 
 trous skill could execute, and would subject 
 himself to all sorts of inconvenience in order 
 to " carry a ray of gladness from the social 
 circle into the sick man's cottage," or to tem- 
 per with his own diffusive gladness the bitter 
 cup of some humble disciple. JSTo disciple 
 can resemble his Lord, who does not maintain 
 this benignant bearing to all around him. 
 Grace was infused into the lips of Jesus. None 
 in the guise of humanity was ever conscious of 
 such power within ; none ever gave outlet to 
 inherent power in milder coruscations. His 
 gentleness made him great ; and so engaging 
 
250 LECTURE XV. 
 
 was his aspect, so compassionate his mien, that 
 frail mortality could lay its head securely on 
 his bosom, though a Shekinah slept within. 
 Believers should in this resemble Jesus. They 
 should be mild and accessible, and, like the 
 Sun of Eighteousness, should carry such heal- 
 ing in their wings, as to make their very 
 presence the harbinger of joy. It was said of 
 Charles of Bala, that it was a good sermon to 
 look at him. And so much of the Master's 
 mind should reside in each disciple as to make 
 that true of him which the old elegy says of 
 one of England's finest worthies : 
 
 " A sweet attractive kind of grace, 
 A full assurance given by looks, 
 Continual comfort in a face 
 The lineament of Gospel-books ; 
 
 For sure that count'nance cannot lie, 
 Whose thoughts are written in the eye." 
 
LECTUEE XYI. 
 
 SJPB: nr, Innta unit toft Iraae. 
 
 READ ECOLES. ix. 13-18 : x. 1-15. 
 
 ' If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, then 
 must he put to more strength ; but wisdom is profitable 
 to direct." 
 
 LORD BACON said, "Knowledge is power," 
 and daring the last hundred years no aphor- 
 ism has been so often quoted, nor has any been 
 so largely illustrated. In this little island, and 
 during the present week, machinery will be in 
 motion doing the work of five hundred mil- 
 lions of men ; that is to say, the machines of 
 England and Scotland will this week weave as 
 much cloth and prepare as much food, and 
 supply the world's inhabitants with as many 
 commodities, as could be made by hand if all 
 the upgrown natives of the globe were labor- 
 
252 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 ing night and day. Could you convert into 
 artificers and laborers every man and woman 
 in either hemisphere, and from the Caffres at 
 the Cape to the Peers in our Parliament, did 
 all agree to toil their utmost, and had they no 
 implements besides those which primitive man 
 possesses, with all the expenditure of their 
 vital powers, with all the sweat, and waste of 
 fibre, and straining of eyesight, at the week's 
 end it would be found that they had not done 
 half the work, nor done that half so well as a 
 few engines peacefully revolving under the im- 
 pulse of some hogsheads of water, or so many 
 tons of coal. 
 
 In the barbaric civilization of the old Mexi- 
 cans, it was thought a wonderful exploit to 
 transmit intelligence at the rate of 200 miles in 
 four-and-twenty hours. As they had neither 
 horses nor dromedaries, in order to accomplish 
 this feat posts were established at intervals of 
 three or four miles; and snatching the de- 
 spatch from one reeking messenger, the courier 
 burst away with it and flew over hill and val- 
 ley till he reached the next -station, and thrust 
 
BLUNT AXES. 253 
 
 it into the hand of another express, who, in his 
 turn, bolted off and conveyed it farther inland, 
 till at last it reached the Emperor. How 
 amazed one of these old Aztecs might be 
 could he revive from the slumber of three 
 centuries, and see the whole accomplished 
 without fatigue to a single human being! 
 How amazed did he know that without short- 
 ening the breath or moistening the brow of a 
 single messenger, communications could come 
 and go betwixt a king and his commander-in- 
 chief, a hundred leagues asunder, fifty times in 
 a single day ! 
 
 We see that "knowledge is power," and we 
 constantly repeat the saying as if Bacon had 
 been the first who remarked the strength of 
 skill. But six-and-twenty centuries before the 
 days of Lord Verulam, King Solomon had 
 said, "A wise man is strong." "Wisdom is 
 better than strength." "Wisdom is better 
 than weapons of war." Perhaps it is owing 
 to the imperfect sympathies which exist be- 
 tween theologians and philosophers, that such 
 scriptural sayings and many others fraught 
 
254 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 with, great principles have received so little 
 justice. And hence it has come to pass that 
 many a maxim has got a fresh circulation, and 
 has made a little fortune of renown for its 
 author, which is, after all, a medal fresh minted 
 from Bible money : the gold of Moses or Sol- 
 omon used up again with the image and su- 
 perscription of Bacon, or Pascal, or Benjamin 
 Franklin. 
 
 The particular example which Solomon here 
 gives, will bring to your remembrance many 
 parallels, from the time when Archimedes 
 with his engines on the wall, sank the ships 
 of Marcellus in the port of Syracuse, down to 
 the gallant and successful defence of Antwerp 
 conducted by the old mathematician, Carnot.* 
 " There was a little city, and few men within 
 it, and there came a great king against it, and 
 besieged it, and built great bulwarks against 
 it. Now there was found in it a poor wise 
 man, and he by his wisdom delivered the 
 city." And surely science is never more sub- 
 lime than when thus she wins and wears the 
 
 * Livii lib. 24, cap. 34. Alison's " Europe," chap. 78. 
 
BLUNT AXES. 255 
 
 civic crown. Or even should there be no in- 
 vader at the gates, when a beneficent inge- 
 nuity is exerted to enhance the pleasures of 
 peace ; when discovery chemical or dynamical 
 floods our streets with midnight radiance, and 
 bids clear water spring up in the poorest attic ; 
 when it mitigates disease or multiplies the 
 loaves of bread ; when by making them nearer 
 neighbors it forces nations to be better friends, 
 and by diminishing life's interruptions length- 
 ens our span of probation and our power of 
 usefulness; surely the "poor man" whose 
 " wisdom" thus enriches the species deserves 
 to sit among the princes of the people; and 
 whilst religion should render praise to that 
 Wonderful Counsellor who teacheth man such 
 knowledge, patriotism and philanthropy must 
 enrol the discoverers among the benefactors of 
 mankind. 
 
 " Wisdom is better than strength," and the 
 more that wisdom spreads the more human 
 strength is saved, and the more is comfort en- 
 hanced. The bird who is about to build her 
 nest next month will toil as long and work as 
 
256 LECTURE XVT. 
 
 hard as the sparrows and swallows who fre- 
 quented the temple in the time of Solomon, 
 and the building will be no improvement on 
 the nests of three thousand years ago. But if 
 Solomon's own palace were to be builded 
 anew, modern skill could rear it much faster 
 than Hiram's masonry; and there are few 
 houses in London which do not contain lux- 
 uries and accommodations which were lacking 
 in "the house of the forest of Lebanon." It 
 is the kindness of the Creator to the inferior 
 animal that he gives it instinct, and puts it 
 from the outset on a plan sufficiently good for 
 its purpose. But the prerogative of man is 
 progress. His instincts are faint arid few; 
 whilst to reason and faith the vistas are bound- 
 less. And betwixt that " wisdom" which God 
 has directly revealed, and those expedients 
 which are constantly occurring to painstaking 
 intelligence, it is so arranged that the older 
 humanity waxes the lighter grow its toils and 
 the more copious become the alleviations of 
 its lot. Already a pound of coals and a pint 
 of water will do the day's work of a sturdy 
 
BLUNT AXES. 257 
 
 man; and with a week's wages a mechanic 
 may now procure a library more comprehen- 
 sive and more edifying than that which 
 adorned the Tusculan villa, nay such a store 
 of books as the wealth of Solomon could not 
 command. 
 
 These statements meet a certain misgiving 
 of some truly Christian minds. They love the 
 Bible, because it is God's book. To some de- 
 gree they love the landscape and the seasons, 
 because they are God's handiwork. They can 
 take pleasure in watching the proceedings of 
 the lower animals, because in the dyke-build- 
 ing of that beaver, or the nest-building of that 
 bird, they can mark evolutions of the all-per- 
 vading Mind. But when they come to the 
 operations of the artisan or the architect, they 
 are conscious of an abrupt transition, and with 
 the poet they exclaim, 
 
 " God made the country, but man made the town." 
 
 Here, however, there is a fallacy. So far as sin- 
 ful purposes may be designed or subserved in 
 their construction, the town and its contents 
 17 
 
258 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 are the work of man ; but the materials and the 
 skill which moulds them, are the good and per- 
 fect gifts of God. It is true that He has not 
 taught man to make palaces and railways in- 
 stinctively, as He has taught ants to build hil- 
 locks and construct covered galleries ; but He 
 has furnished the human mind with those fac- 
 ulties and tendencies, which, under favoring 
 circumstances, develop in railways and palaces 
 as surely as beaver-mind develops in moles 
 and embankments, or as bee-mind develops 
 in combs and hexagons. And although it may 
 be very true that the artificer is often unde- 
 vout, perhaps a libertine or an atheist ; and 
 although the curious contrivance or exquisite 
 elaboration may be designed for any end but 
 a holy one ; when you separate the moral 
 from the mechanical, the sin which is man's 
 from the skill which is Jehovah's, in every 
 fair product, and more especially, in every con- 
 tribution to human comfort, you ought to recog- 
 nize the wisdom and goodness of God as their 
 ultimate origin no less than if you read on 
 every object, " Holiness to the Lord," and in 
 
BLUNT AXES. 259 
 
 each artificer discerned another Aholiab or 
 Bezaleel. The arts are the gifts of God ; their 
 abuse is from man and from the Devil. And just 
 as an enlightened disciple looks forth on the 
 landscape, and in its beautiful features as well 
 as its curious ingredients, beholds mementoes 
 of his Master ; so surveying a beautiful city, 
 its museums and its monuments, its statues and 
 fountains ; or sauntering through a gallery of 
 arts and useful inventions, in all the symmetry 
 of proportions and splendor of coloring, in 
 every ingenious device and every powerful en- 
 gine, he may discern the manifestations of that 
 Mind which is wonderful in counsel and excel- 
 lent in working; and so far as skill and adap- 
 tation and elegance are involved, piety will hail 
 the Great Architect Himself as the Maker of 
 the town.* 
 
 So Christian is art, so truly a good gift of 
 the Father of lights, that, wherever the Gospel 
 proceeds, this companion should go with it. 
 
 * Those who are interested in such topics will find them 
 fully discussed in " The Useful Arts : their Birth and Devel- 
 opment," edited by the Rev. S. Martin. 
 
260 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 When the missionary, Van der Kemp, was 
 setting out for Africa, passing one of the brick- 
 fields of London, he thought it would be such 
 a boon to the Hottentots if he could improve 
 their dwellings that he offered himself as a 
 servant to the brick-maker, and spent some 
 weeks in learning the business. And he was 
 right. It is not easy to live godly and right- 
 eously amidst filth and darkness ; and although 
 the Gospel will not refuse to enter a Hottentot 
 hut or an Irish cabin, when once it is admitted 
 its tendency is to improve that cabin or hut 
 into a cottage with tiles on the floor and glass 
 in the windows. And, to the honor of Chris- 
 tian missionaries, it should be remembered 
 that wherever they have gone they have car- 
 ried those useful arts which render godliness 
 profitable to all things. " In the schools of 
 Sierra Leone, the girls are taught to spin and 
 the boys to weave." In the South Sea Islands 
 the missionaries have taught the people smiths' 
 work and wrights' work; they have taught 
 them to build ships an.d boil sugar ; to print 
 books and plant gardens. And even that race, 
 
BLUNT AXES. 261 
 
 once so besotted that its claim to the common 
 humanity was disputed, the Hottentots are 
 now excellent farmers and artificers, and in the 
 words of one of themselves, " They can make 
 everything except a watch and a coach/'* 
 
 In concluding this part of the subject I 
 would only remark that the more things which 
 a Christian is able to do the better. "If the 
 axe be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, 
 then must he put to more strength." A little 
 skill expended in sharpening the edge, will 
 save a great deal of strength in wielding the 
 hatchet. But, just as the unskilful laborer 
 who cannot handle the whetstone, must bela- 
 bor the tree with a blunt instrument, and after 
 inflaming his palms and racking his sinews, 
 achieves less result than his neighbor whose 
 knowledge and whose knack avail instead of 
 brute force ; so the servant who does not know 
 the right way to do his work, after all his 
 fatigue and fluster, will give less satisfaction 
 
 * Harris's Great Commission, pp. 196, 197. The indus- 
 trial is admirably combined with the evangelistic in the 
 French Canadian Mission, and in the Home Mission of the 
 Presbyterian Church in Ireland. 
 
262 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 than one who has learned the best and easiest 
 methods ; the young emigrant who has no ver- 
 satility must forego many comforts which 
 more accomplished comrades enjoy; and the 
 householder who knows nothing of the me- 
 chanic arts, or who knows not what to do 
 when sickness and emergencies occur, must 
 compensate by the depths of his purse, or 
 the strength of his arm for the defects of 
 his skill. A blunt axe implies heavy blows 
 and an aching arm ; coarse work with a blis- 
 tered hand. But " wisdom is profitable to 
 direct." Intelligence is as good as strength, 
 and a little skill will save both time and mate- 
 rials, money and temper. 
 
 Important, however, as is mechanic skill, 
 there is a wisdom still more profitable, a wis- 
 dom which can turn to its own account the 
 mechanic skill of others. The clever engineer 
 who saved the little city was a poor man, and 
 so little understanding had his fellow-citizens, 
 that it was with difficulty he obtained a hear- 
 ing for his project, and so little gratitude had 
 they that when the danger was past, "no one 
 
BLUNT AXES. 263 
 
 remembered the poor man." And it is sad 
 when people have neither the skill to help 
 themselves, nor the sense to accept the ser- 
 vices of others. It is sad when men have 
 neither the sagacity to devise the measures 
 which the emergency demands, nor can so far 
 rule their spirits as to keep " quiet" and listen 
 to what "wise men" say. And next to his 
 wisdom who can offer good counsel, is the wis- 
 dom of him who can take it. 
 
 " A wise man's heart is at his right hand, 
 never off its guard."* He is calm and col- 
 lected, and is not easily taken by surprise. 
 Whereas, a fool's wits are at his left hand. 
 His presence of mind is posthumous. He sees 
 what he should have done when the mischief 
 can no longer be undone. He hits on the 
 very repartee he ought to have uttered when 
 his assailant is already out of hearing. He 
 suggests what would have saved the ship, 
 when they are already raising the wreck. But, 
 not only is it in ready resources that the fool 
 is deficient ; there is a transparent shallowness 
 * G. Holden. 
 
264 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 in his vacant gaze, or self-conceited simper, 
 and instead of that "sustained sense and grav- 
 ity,"* which marks the man of mind, his gar- 
 rulous egotism and confidential childishness 
 are constantly letting out the secret of his silli- 
 ness. Reserve is none of his failings. He is 
 as frank as he is foolish ; and when " he walk- 
 eth by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and 
 he saith to every one that he is a- fool." 
 
 One rare manifestation of good sense is mag- 
 nanimity. "If the spirit of the ruler rise up 
 against thee, leave not thy place ; for yielding 
 pacifieth great offences." If, acting as the 
 king's adviser, you incur his displeasure; if, in 
 obedience to conscience, or in concern for your 
 country, you are constrained to urge unpalata- 
 ble counsel; and if your faithfulness proves 
 offensive, instead of retiring into some other 
 land, be patriotic, and keep your post. Instead 
 of obeying your offended dignity and return- 
 ing spleen for spleen, await the propitious 
 season. For a soft answer turneth away 
 wrath, and self-control will conquer your sover- 
 
 * Chalmers. 
 
BLUNT AXES, 265 
 
 eign. Nor is it only from the ministers of 
 despots that such sacrifice may be demanded. 
 It extends to every official person. If you are 
 a representative of the people, and if you are 
 sometimes vexed and worried with unreasona- 
 ble demands or ungracious remonstrances : if 
 you occupy some municipal station, and are 
 brought into conflict with foul tongues and 
 coarse natures : if you are a member of any 
 court, civil or ecclesiastical, where you are fre- 
 quently outvoted, and measures are often car- 
 ried, which you utterly abhor, the impulse is 
 to abdicate. Why should you serve heads so 
 thick, and hearts so thankless ? Why should 
 you mingle with such a rabble rout, and sub- 
 mit day by day to have your good name kicked 
 along the kennel? And rather than be al- 
 ways making motions which are lost, and pro- 
 tests which are laughed at, would it not be 
 better to retire into private life, and spend 
 your influence on those who may both take 
 your advice and spare your feelings? True, 
 if it were the love of praise or the love of 
 power which put you in that post, now that 
 
266 LECTUEE XVI. 
 
 popularity is waning and influence lost, by all 
 means relinquish it. But if it were a higher 
 motive, let the motive which took you keep 
 you there. If it was the love of your coun- 
 try, or the zeal of the Gospel which drew you 
 into office, let neither reproaches nor rough 
 usage drive you out. Though the spirit of the 
 populace rise up against you, though the 
 majority for the time overrule you, leave not 
 your place. Calmness in the midst of con- 
 tumely, equanimity under defeat will pacify 
 great offences : and if you do not live to carry 
 your point, when a subsequent age sees your 
 principles triumph, you will be commemorated 
 among the protomartyrs, who, when the cause 
 was forlorn, labored, and never fainted. 
 
 Then, after a parenthetical reference to cer- 
 tain infatuations of princes, having already de- 
 scribed the patience of wisdom, he next speci- 
 fies its promptitude. "If the serpent bite be- 
 fore enchantment, what advantage has the 
 charmer?" In the East, there have always 
 been persons who, by means of music and 
 legedermain, exert great influence over some 
 
BLUNT AXES. 267 
 
 species of serpents ; so that whilst under their 
 spell, the deadly cobra may be handled, as if 
 he were utterly harmless. But if the charmer 
 tread on the snake unawares, or be bitten when 
 off his guard, he will be poisoned like another 
 man. And to certain minds, God has given 
 ascendency over other minds, like the influence 
 of the serpent-charmer. Sagacious and elo- 
 quent, they are able to soothe the fury of fierce 
 tempers, and mould rancorous natures to their 
 will. Like David's transforming harp, as the 
 strain advances, it looks as if a new possession 
 had entered the exorcised frame, and a seraph 
 smiled out at those windows, where a demon 
 was frowning before. But alas for the harper, 
 if Saul should snatch the javelin before David 
 has time to touch the strings. Alas for the 
 wise charmers ! and, alas for the good cause, if 
 the tyrant's passion towers up, or the decree 
 of the despot goes forth before a friendly coun- 
 sellor has time to interpose. 
 
 " The words of a wise man's mouth are gra- 
 cious." It is a pleasure to hear him, and so en- 
 riching is his discourse, that to listen is to be 
 
268 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 wiser and better. " But the lips of a fool will 
 swallow up himself." He is the sepulchre of 
 his own reputation; for as long as he was silent, 
 you were willing to give him credit for the 
 usual share of intelligence, but no sooner does 
 he blurt out some astounding blunder no 
 sooner does he begin to prattle forth his ego- 
 tism and vanity, than your respect is ex- 
 changed for contempt or compassion. Nay, it 
 is not only himself that his lips swallow up : 
 for all unlike the " gracious" discourse of the 
 wise man, the gossip of the fool is heartless 
 or malignant, and often ends in " mischievous 
 madness." From recklessness or from finding 
 that a tale of slander will secure an audience 
 even for a fool, he is constantly retailing calum- 
 ny, and damaging other people's reputation. 
 The rest of his talk is mere word-rubbish. 
 " A man cannot tell what he shall be ;" and, 
 "what shall be after him, who can tell?" 
 such, trite and irksome truisms he is retailing 
 all the day to the sore irking of some victim 
 ear. He is consistent. He is no wiser in deed, 
 than in word : but even the road to the mar- 
 
BLUNT AXES. 269 
 
 ket so patent and so frequented, he continues 
 to miss ; and in the evening he and his ass re- 
 turn to the farm with their unsold produce, be- 
 cause he had forgotten the way to the city, and 
 would not follow his wiser companion. 
 
 Speaking as unto wise men, I would say 
 that it is very important that Christians should 
 be men of high accomplishment. Crowded as 
 is the world, it has still abundant room for 
 first-rate men ; and, whosoever would ensure 
 a welcome for society, has only to unite to 
 good principle eminent skill in his own calling. 
 But the day for stone hatchets and blunt axes 
 is past, and from the humblest craft to the most 
 intellectual profession, in order to succeed, it is 
 requisite to be clever and active and well-in- 
 formed. Doubtless, sickness and other calam- 
 ities may interpose ; but assuredly, no one has a 
 right to quarrel with the world if it refuses to pay 
 for misshapen garments and unreadable poems. 
 And therefore I would say to my young hearers, 
 make diligence in business, a part of your re- 
 ligion. Add to virtue knowledge. Whatever 
 
270 LECTUKE XVI. 
 
 you intend to do, pray and study, and labor 
 till no one can do that thing better than your- 
 self, and then when you enter on active life, 
 you will find that you are really wanted. 
 And, much as you have heard of glutted mar- 
 kets and a redundant population, you will find 
 that there is yet no surplus of tradesmen, or ser- 
 vants, or scholars, who with exalted piety com- 
 bine professional excellence. Large as is the ac- 
 cumulation of people who through misconduct 
 have broken down, or who through indolent 
 mediocrity never can get on, you will find no 
 glut of talented goodness, or of intelligence in 
 union with principle. You will find that there 
 is room enough for all who are really able to 
 serve their generation. 
 
 It is especially important that those who are 
 trying to benefit others should possess the wis- 
 dom which is profitable to direct. Much good 
 has been defeated by the want of skill or prac- 
 tical wisdom in Christian professors. Many 
 children have grown up with gloomy notions 
 of religion from the mismanagement of pa- 
 
BLUNT AXES. 271 
 
 rents, who so enforced its authority as to ob- 
 scure its attractions. Many amiable persons 
 have been repelled from the Gospel by the 
 long lectures of friends who were faithful 
 enough to reprove them, but not wise enough 
 to win them. Many a prejudice has been 
 created by the imprudence of one, which the 
 exertions of many have not suffered to coun- 
 tervail. And many a noble enterprise, when 
 almost safe in port, has at last been shipwrecked 
 by well-meaning wilfulness, or through that in- 
 firmity of vision which mistakes a house-lamp 
 for a lighthouse, a denominational crotchet 
 for a Christian principle. 
 
 Nor is the cultivation of sound sense unim- 
 portant with a view to personal piety. 
 
 "That thou mayest injure no man, dove-like be, 
 And serpent-like that none may injure thee."* 
 
 In a world like this, and not least in a capi- 
 tal like this, there is frequent need for such 
 Christian sagacity; and wherever he lives a 
 conscientious man must often encounter prob- 
 lems in conduct which tax not only all his 
 
 * Matt. x. 16, paraphrased by Oowper. 
 
272 LECTUKE XVI. 
 
 principle but all his prudence. For such exi- 
 gencies there is provided a great and precious 
 promise : "If any of you lack wisdom, let him 
 ask of God, that giveth to all liberally, and up- 
 braideth not ; and it shall be given him/' But, 
 like all the gifts of God, this talent grows by 
 trading; and he who prayerfully exerts his 
 understanding in order to maintain the right- 
 forward path of duty, will soon be fit to guide 
 and counsel others. 
 
LECTUKE XVII. 
 
 fSmi DD t|j5 Wiitns. 
 
 "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it 
 after many days." ECCLES. xi. 1. 
 
 WERE you going at the right season to 
 Mysore or China, you would see thousands of 
 people planting the corn of these countries. 
 They sow it in the mud or on the dry soil, and 
 then immediately they turn on a flood of wa- 
 ter, so that the whole field becomes a shal- 
 low pond. You would think the seed was 
 drowned. But wait a few weeks, and then 
 go and view one of these artificial lakes, and 
 from all its surface you will see green points 
 rising, and day by day that grass shoots taller, 
 till at last the water is no more seen, and till 
 at last the standing pool has ripened into a 
 field of rich and rustling grain. So that in its 
 IS 
 
274 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 literal sense the farmers of these lands are 
 every year fulfilling the maxim of the text. 
 For snould the spring come on them, and find 
 their supply of rice- corn scanty, instead of de- 
 vouring it all, they will rather stint themselves. 
 They will rather go hungry for weeks together, 
 and li ve on a pinched supply : for the bread 
 which they cast on the waters this spring 
 creates the crop on which they are to subsist 
 next autumn and winter; and they are content 
 to cast it on the waters now, for they are sure 
 to find it after many days. 
 
 Or suppose that you are in the South Sea 
 Isles, where the bread fruit grows,* and that 
 by chance or on purpose, you scatter some of 
 its precious bunches on the sea. At the mo- 
 ment you may feel that they are lost: but 
 should the winds and waters waft them to one 
 of those reef islands with which such seas are 
 thickly studded, the wandering seeds may get 
 washed ashore, and beneath those brilliant 
 suns may quickly grow to a bread-fruit forest. 
 And should some disasters long years after 
 * The cultivated sort, however, has no seeds. 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 275 
 
 wreck you on that reef, when these trees are 
 grown and their clusters ripe, you may owe 
 your sustenance to the bread which you cast 
 on the waters long ago. 
 
 Such is God's husbandry. Do the right 
 deed. Do it in faith, and in prayer commend 
 it to the care of God. And though the 
 waves of circumstance may soon waft it be- 
 yond your ken, they only carry it to the place 
 prepared by Him. And whether on an earthly 
 or a heavenly shore, the result will be found, 
 and the reaper will rejoice that he once was a 
 sower. 
 
 Dr. D wight of America tells how, when the 
 country near Albany was newly settled, an 
 Indian came to the inn at Litchfield, and asked 
 for a night's shelter, at the same time confess- 
 ing that from failure in hunting he had noth- 
 ing to pay. The hostess drove him away with 
 reproachful epithets, and as the Indian was 
 retiring sorrowfully, there being no other 
 inn for many a weary mile, a man who was 
 sitting by directed the hostess to supply his 
 wants and promised to pay her. As soon as 
 
276 LECTUKE XVII. 
 
 his supper was ended, the Indian thanked his 
 benefactor, and said he would some day repay 
 him. Years after the settler was taken a 
 prisoner by a hostile tribe, and carried off to 
 Canada. However, his life was spared, though 
 he himself was detained in slavery. Till one 
 day an Indian came to him, and giving him a 
 musket, bade the captive follow him. The 
 Indian never told where they were going, nor 
 what was his object; but day after day the 
 captive followed his mysterious guide, till one 
 afternoon they came suddenly on a beautiful 
 expanse of cultivated fields, with many houses 
 rising amongst them. "Do you know that 
 place ?" asked the Indian. " Ah, yes it is 
 Litchfi eld ; " and whilst the astonished exile 
 had not recovered his surprise and amaze- 
 ment, the Indian exclaimed, " And I am the 
 starving Indian on whom at this very place 
 you took pity. And now that I have paid for 
 my supper, I pray you go home." 
 
 And it is to such humanities that the text 
 has primary reference; for the context runs, 
 " Give a portion to seven and also to eight ; 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 277 
 
 for thou knowest not what evil 'shall be upon 
 the earth." That is, miss no opportunity of 
 performing kind actions. Though you should 
 have bestowed your bounty on seven, on a 
 number which you might deem sufficient, 
 should an eighth present himself, do something 
 for him also ; for you know not what evil shall 
 be upon the earth. You know not in this 
 world of mutation how soon you may be the 
 pensioner instead of the almoner. You know 
 not how soon you may be glad of a crust from 
 those who are at present thankful for your 
 crumbs. Beneficence is the best insurance. 
 
 When Jonathan was young he was the heir- 
 apparent of the throne; and in those days 
 his favorite friend was a young Bethlehemite 
 whom they had brought to the palace to amuse 
 the monarch with his minstrelsy. The young 
 Bethlehemite was brave and high-hearted, and 
 Jonathan loved him for his genius and his 
 lofty piety, till he and the Prince Royal were 
 fast and firm as any brothers. At length one 
 morning Jonathan embraced a merry boy 
 some five years old, and donning corslet and 
 
278 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 casque lie followed his own sire to the battle. 
 Next morning their corses lay stiff on the 
 blasted heights of Gilboa, and the young min- 
 strel was monarch of Israel. Years passed on, 
 and the new sovereign found himself in Saul's 
 old palace ; and whichsoever way he looked 
 there rose upon his spirit touching memories. 
 Here was the very throne before which he had 
 often kneeled, harp in hand, and watched the 
 grim tyrant's features; and there was the 
 wainscot in which his furious javelin had hung 
 and quivered. And now he trode again the 
 terraces where he and Jonathan had paced to- 
 gether, and sworn eternal friendship as they 
 dreamed out a radiant future. He visited 
 again the field in which they had set up their 
 target and contended in friendly rivalry. He 
 visited again the bower in which they took 
 sweet counsel, and where they sang "The 
 Lord is my Shepherd," and " Make a joyful 
 noise," while yet these psalms were new. And 
 everything brought back that pure and noble 
 friend so tenderly, that the whole soul of the 
 sovereign yearned for some living relic on 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 279 
 
 whom to lavish, his regretful fondness. "And 
 is there none ?" No, none ; except this feeble 
 limping youth, the little boy that was, and who 
 dates his lameness from his father's funeral. 
 Yes, but fetch him! Fetch Mephibosheth. 
 He is all of Jonathan which now survives on 
 earth ; and for his dear father's sake, he shall 
 have again all his patrimony, and, if he must 
 not be the King, he shall never eat bread at 
 meaner board than mine. And as he looked 
 on the countenance so mnemonic of one yet 
 dearer; and as he rejoiced to see the poor 
 youth reinstated in that home of which he 
 was the natural heir ; and as he eyed Mephi- 
 bosheth filling in the banquet-hall the place 
 which Jonathan had filled, whilst as yet him- 
 self was but a menial, David could sing with 
 much significance, "I have been young and 
 now am old ; yet have I not seen the righteous 
 forsaken, nor his seed begging bread. He is 
 even merciful and lendeth, and his seed is 
 blessed.' ' And David's own son, when he saw 
 that sight, when be saw Jonathan's old kind- 
 ness requited in this princely provision for his 
 
280 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 child, Solomon might say, as here he says, 
 " Cast thy bread on the waters, and thou shalt 
 find it after many days." 
 
 Although so often exemplified in cases of 
 common humanity and kind-heartedness, the 
 maxim of our text is especially applicable to 
 the effects of Christian philanthropy. These 
 are pre-eminently amaranthine. There are seeds 
 which, after being borne on the current for a 
 few days or weeks lose their vitality ; they rot 
 and sink and disappear. So is it with much 
 of human effort. So is it with many a worldly 
 scheme, many a plausible suggestion, many a 
 patriotic enterprise. It finds little favor in its 
 day; it cannot get deposited in a sufficient 
 number of appropriate minds ; and so, ere 
 long, it becomes old and obsolete ; the thought 
 perishes, the seed rots and disappears. But 
 not so with pious efforts. It is more than the 
 lucky thought of fallible and short-sighted 
 man ; it is more than the well-meaning pur- 
 pose of a feeble and sinful worm. It is a 
 thought suggested by God's own Spirit; it 
 is a purpose sustained and animated by One 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 281 
 
 whose wisdom is infinite and who is alive for 
 evermore. And though the mind in which 
 that wish or effort first originated may long 
 since have passed from these scenes of mortal- 
 ity, though forgetful of its cunning, the hand 
 which first launched on the tide of human 
 thought that project or that principle, may long 
 since be crumbling in the clay, a heavenly life 
 is at its core, and as it journeys on its buoyant 
 path a covenant God will keep alive its little 
 ark till it reach the predestined creek, and after 
 many days be drawn forth from the waters, 
 the Moses of the mind. 
 
 So was it with the first Eeformers. Search- 
 ing in their Bibles they found truths of God 
 which had vanished from the memories of men, 
 great truths and glorious, no longer current 
 in the vernacular of Christendom. But after 
 their own understandings and hearts had been 
 filled and expanded by them, they gave them 
 utterance. That it is through the justified 
 Surety that a sinner is just with God ; that be- 
 twixt that sinner and that Surety nothing 
 mediates nor intervenes, neither Mary in 
 
282 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 heaven nor mother Church on earth, neither 
 the sainted mediator of the Calendar nor the 
 sacerdotal mediator of the Confessional, but 
 that to his great High Priest, the God-man, In> 
 manuel, the sinner may come boldly and may 
 come direct ; that in order to receive the atone- 
 ment and rejoice in Christ Jesus no prelimina- 
 ries of penance, or pilgrimages, are requisite, 
 but that for this great salvation, sin is sufficient 
 fitness, and the Word and will of God sufficient 
 warrant ; these and other golden truths, fresh 
 gleaned from the BiFle, they published, some 
 preaching them from pulpits, some proclaiming 
 with their pens. And the hosts of darkness 
 took alarm. Wickliffe went to the dungeon ; 
 Huss and Jerome to the funeral pile. But 
 though the witnesses perished the Word of God 
 could not be bound : the truth of God was 
 neither bound, burned, nor buried : but over 
 the troubled deep of a dark and stormy century 
 this bread of life, these seeds of saving knowl- 
 edge floated on, till God the Spirit landed 
 them and planted them in minds prepared, and 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 283 
 
 from these rescued waifs there sprung the glo- 
 rious Eeformation. 
 
 It were only to tell the same tale a little 
 varied to rehearse how once upon a time every 
 enterprise of Christian charity was once a 
 project in some solitary and prayerful mind ; 
 and how when cast forth on the waters of 
 thought and opinion, it first halted and hov- 
 ered and looked as if it would never get to sea : 
 and how, after touching at one point after 
 another, and finding momentary favor only to 
 be rebuffed again, some great gulf-current 
 swept it clean away, and its author hoped to 
 see it no more. And away it went ; and it was 
 bandied on the billows and it was battered on 
 the rocks, and it was froze in the iceberg, and 
 it was roasted in the tropic, till at last the Eye 
 that watched it and the Hand that steered it 
 from above, conducted it to its sunny haven, 
 and safely landed on an honest soil, it burst 
 and bourgeoned and waxed a mighty tree. 
 
 So understood, the principle admits of bound- 
 less application ; and should be very cheering 
 to all who are engaged in labors of Christian 
 
284 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 love. For instance, if you are engaged in 
 teaching your own children, or the children of 
 other people, and your great anxiety is to see 
 some good thing towards the Lord some 
 dawn of pious feeling, some development of 
 personal earnestness ; but notwithstanding all 
 the endearment which you throw into your 
 words, and all the prayer with which you fol- 
 low up your instructions, you dare hardly say 
 that you perceive any hopeful sign. Never 
 mind. It is God's own truth, and if all your 
 heart be in it, it is living truth, and will blos- 
 som up some day. It may be in that soul's 
 salvation out and out. It may be in restrain- 
 ing it much from sin, or in urging it to duties 
 which it would otherwise have never thought 
 of doing, and it may be after many days. 
 It may be after your own day altogether. It 
 may be on the shores of another continent. It 
 may be on the shores of another world. But 
 still, God's Word shall not go forth a living 
 power, and come back a vacant nullity. That 
 word shall never go forth without returning, 
 and when it returns it shall never be void. 
 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. 285 
 
 " In the morning, then, sow thy seed, and in 
 the evening withhold not thy hand : for thou 
 knowest not which shall prosper, this or that, 
 or whether both shall be alike good." 
 
LECTUEE XVIII. 
 
 Itinm tjit) SKmhs, 
 
 READ ECCLES. n. 24-26; m. 12, 13, 22; v. 18-20; 
 vm. 15 ; ix. 7-10. 
 
 w I know that there is no good in them, but for a man tc 
 rejoice, and to do good in his life. And also that every 
 man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his 
 labor: it is the gift of God." 
 
 EVERY moment brings its mercy; why 
 should not mercies bring content ? To the 
 man who finds favor in his sight, God gives 
 " wisdom and knowledge." He is conscious of 
 his comforts, and he has sense to use them. 
 But to the sinner God gives "travail." He 
 has the toil of acquirement without the power 
 of enjoyment. " There is nothing better for 
 a man than that he should eat and drink, and 
 that he should make his soul enjoy good in his 
 labor." 
 
KNOW THY MERCIES. 287 
 
 Throughout the whole of the book language 
 like this is constantly recurring. And, with- 
 out pausing to enter a caveat against Epicurian 
 perversions of the sentiment, we may at once 
 proceed to its legitimate applications. Of all 
 philosophies the most eclectic is evangelical 
 Christianity ; and many a sentiment which, iso- 
 lated, would be an error, is not only innocent 
 but useful, when acting as a tributary to this 
 master principle. 
 
 Even in the days of his vanity, Solomon 
 " saw" that there would be more happiness if 
 there were less hankering. He saw it in man- 
 kind; he suspected it in himself. Like the 
 November bee, with its forehead smeared in 
 the honey of the hive, and which, smelling 
 that deceitful lure, fancies that it is the nectar 
 of far-off flowers, and which still scenting 
 somewhere ahead a land of honey, flies farther 
 and farther a-field, till the evening mist en- 
 shrouds it and congeals upon its wings, and 
 drags it benumbed to the frozen furrow; so 
 Solomon had often seen his neighbors flying 
 
288 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 far into the winter in search of that honey 
 which they had left at home ; and he said, It 
 would have been better that they had " eaten 
 and drunken," from the produce of their pre- 
 vious toil ; it would have been better if, in- 
 stead of always laboring after more, they could 
 have halted, and enjoyed the good " of their 
 former labor." 
 
 And surely this principle is of extensive ap- 
 plication. Without disparaging the pleasures 
 of hope, or seeking to quell the zeal of pro- 
 gress, are the cases not numberless where, for 
 all purposes of enjoyment, labor is lost, be- 
 cause coupled with the constant lust of farther 
 acquirement ? or because of a strange oblivion 
 of his own felicity on the part of the favored 
 possessor ? 
 
 Behold us here in Britain, near the middle 
 month of the nineteenth century, surrounded 
 with the broadest zone of peace and material 
 comfort to be found in all the map of history. 
 Looking at our temporal lot, we of this gene- 
 ration and this country, stand on the very pin- 
 nacle of outward advantage ; in all our lives 
 
KNOW THY MERCIES. 289 
 
 never once affrighted by the rumor of inva- 
 sion ; exempt from all the horrors of impress- 
 ment and conscription ; ignorant of martyrdoms 
 religious and political ; free, self-governed, 
 independent. Who knows it ? Who remem- 
 bers it ? Who in these matters adverts to his 
 own happiness ? As she presses to her bosom 
 her little boy, or parts on his open brow the 
 darkening hair amidst all her maternal pride, 
 where is the mother who praises God for her 
 young Briton's privilege ? How many hearts 
 remember to swell with the joyful recollection, 
 Thank God, he may leave me if he pleases; 
 but he can never be dragged from me against 
 his will ! He may become a More among 
 lawyers, a Latimer among preachers, a Sidney 
 among statesmen, and need dread neither stake 
 nor scaffold. He may become the victim of 
 false accusation and malignant persecution; 
 but he will not languish, without trial, slow 
 years in a dungeon, nor by the rack befrenzied 
 into a false witness against himself. He may 
 turn out unwise, he may turn out unhappy ; 
 but, thank God, the son of British sire can 
 19 
 
290 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 never feel the tyrant's torture in his limbs, nor 
 the brand of slavery on his brow ! 
 
 Behold that home of yours ! What an Eden 
 a thankful heart might make it ! What a con- 
 centration of joys it will appear, as soon as the 
 Spirit, the Comforter, has revealed its bright- 
 ness ; or as soon as its little groups and its 
 daily scenes can only be viewed in the pic- 
 tures of gold and ebony which furnish the 
 mourner's memory ! And yet, how often does 
 your own peevishness embitter all its joy; and 
 how often, with foolish hankering, do you 
 quit its hoarded pleasures, and fly away to 
 clubs and crowded rooms, to theatres, or lonely 
 travel, in search of the honey you have left at 
 home 1 
 
 Behold your position as a candidate for im- 
 mortality ! What could you desire which the 
 God of grace has not done for you already ? 
 A salvation more complete, a Bible more plain, 
 a revelation more abundant ? And yet, instead 
 of sitting down contentedly and thankfully to 
 this "feast of fat things," and abandoning 
 yourself to all the blessedness which is so 
 
KNOW THY MERCIES. 291 
 
 freely given you, do you not usually find a 
 barrier of dilatoriness or distrust rising up be- 
 twixt you and the costly provision? With 
 that Gospel spreading blandly before you, 
 there is nothing better for you than to eat and 
 drink of its mercies, and enjoy the good which 
 it brings you. Oh, study to realize your 
 amazing position, as one whom Jehovah all- 
 sufficient is daily inviting into his friendship, 
 and whom the wearer of a sinless humanity is 
 willing to call his brother. Fear not to think 
 it, that to you, poor tenant of the dust, a white 
 robe and a golden harp are offered. Fear not 
 to think it, all sin-laden and sin-pervaded as 
 you are, that to the fellowship of angels and 
 his own society, the Holy One invites you. 
 Fear not to think it, that as a believer in Jesus, 
 and so a member of his great ransomed body, 
 your very self is soon to be an inhabitant of 
 that world where there is neither sin nor sor- 
 row, and a burgess of that city whose streets 
 are gold, and whose gates are pearl. Fear 
 not to think such things; but fear to forget 
 them. Fear not to believe such things ; but 
 
292 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 fear to credit them in a cold and vacant man- 
 ner. Fear to get into that habit which engulfs 
 any amount of God's mercies as the ocean en- 
 gulfs the argosie, without feeling richer or 
 fuller, or giving any revenue back. 
 
 One great source of our prevailing joyless- 
 ness is our inadvertency. Living in Borne, a 
 famous antiquarian and artist* tells us that he 
 gave himself half an hour every day to medi- 
 tate on his Italian happiness. There was wis- 
 dom in the rule. Thousands have lived in 
 Borne, with the same pure sky smiling over 
 them and the same articulate antiquity on 
 every side accosting them, and never been 
 aware of their felicity; just as there are thou- 
 sands who growl and grumble through long 
 years of English life, and never bless God for 
 the greater mercy of being born in Britain. 
 Pew of us need to be better off we all need 
 to know how well off we are. We need to 
 meditate on our human happiness. We might 
 have been lost angels, of whose race no Be- 
 deemer took hold. We might have been cut 
 
 * Winkelman. 
 
X. 
 
 KNOW THY MERCIES. 293 
 
 off in our sins long ago, and now be in the 
 place where God forgetteth to be gracious. 
 We might have been born in dark or despotic 
 lands, where faith is a miracle, and where piety 
 is a martyrdom. We might have labored 
 under those prejudices of education which 
 make belief in the faithful saying, as hard as 
 it is for a camel to pass through the eye of a 
 needle. Then absolutely : there is for our med- 
 itation, daily, hourly, life-long, God's chief 
 mercy, that largess of unprecedented love 
 which is not the envied distinction of some 
 far-off world, but is God's gift unspeakable 
 to you, to me. Oh, let us for once dwell 
 on our peerless prerogative, till we become a 
 wonder to ourselves, till but for our faith in 
 God we would not be able to believe our own 
 distinguished blessedness. "This is the record 
 that God hath given to us eternal life, and this 
 life is in his Son." "He that hath the Son 
 hath life." " He that spared not his own Son, 
 but delivered him up for us all, how shall he 
 not with him freely give us all things?" 
 " Who ifi he that condemneth ? It is Christ 
 
294 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 that died, yea, rather, that is risen again, who 
 is even at the right hand of God, who also 
 maketh intercession for us." " Bless the Lord, 
 O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his 
 holy name : who forgive th all thine iniquities, 
 who healeth all thy diseases, who re- 
 deemeth thy life from destruction, who 
 crowneth thee with loving-kindness and ten- 
 der mercies." 
 
 Another source of depression is distrustful- 
 ness. Am I wrong, my friends? Are not 
 some of you in this predicament ? You have 
 no particular evil to record against the past, 
 and yet you have great fears for the future. 
 If you be a Christian, on the whole your life 
 has been a happy one, and yet with all that 
 past happiness, you are afraid that you cannot 
 be so happy hereafter. You are afraid that 
 grief is coming all the more afraid that grief 
 is coming because so much joy is past. But 
 this is wrong. This is perverse reasoning. If 
 a child of God, your greatest happiness is com- 
 ing yet. You are going up into a future 
 where mightier than the mightiest ti ial a grief- 
 
KNOW THY MERCIES. 295 
 
 transforming, cloud-dispelling Friend awaits 
 you. If God be your chiefest good, and con- 
 formity to God be your great desire, the future 
 contains no real evil for you. In that future 
 there may await you some painful incidents. 
 The loss of this and that other loved one may 
 await you there, the loss of your substance, 
 the loss of your health may await you, and 
 they may not ; sufficient unto the day is the 
 evil thereof. But whatever else is in store for 
 you, if you go piously and prayerfully forward 
 into that future, you will find that many sweet 
 mercies are there awaiting you, many bless- 
 ings at this moment unsurmised and unsus- 
 pected, blessings, some of them, which the 
 mourner only knows ; and you will find that 
 in that future God awaits you, as present, as 
 powerful, and as kind as He has been in the 
 most favored past. So, summon up cour- 
 age and go cheerfully forward. "Hope in 
 the Lord ; for with the Lord there is mercy." 
 And whatever else you limit, set no limits to 
 the loving-kindness of the Lord, nor to the 
 largeness of those petitions by which the needy 
 
296 LECTUEE XVIII. 
 
 suppliant honors the liberal Giver. Many in- 
 dulge a complaining spirit who scarcely reflect 
 how wicked it is, and how provoking to the 
 Most High. They take up the Bible, and they 
 read the murmurings of Israel on the march to 
 Canaan, and they pity poor Moses, and they 
 do not wonder that, wearied with their petu- 
 lance and peevishness, the Lord smote these 
 rebels, so that all their carcasses fell in the wil- 
 derness. And when they have read the nar- 
 rative, they close the book ; and the first mem- 
 ber of the family that comes in their way, they 
 have ready a long lecture of rough reprimand- 
 ing and perverse fault-finding; or the first visi- 
 tor that arrives, they inflict on him the story 
 of their grievances ; they tell how good and 
 meritorious they have been, but how severely 
 the Lord has frowned upon their wishes, and 
 how cruelly the Lord has baffled all their 
 plans. Yes, brethren, we marvel at old Israel, 
 because we are ignorant of ourselves. If, just 
 as Canaan was the prize of meekness, and a 
 single murmur was enough to forfeit it, if the 
 Lord suspended any blessing on the same con- 
 
KNOW THY MERCIES. 297 
 
 dition, if those only were to find next year 
 prosperous who never grumbled this one, and 
 those only were to get to heaven who never 
 murmured by the way, which of us, who of 
 all the two millions of London, would be the 
 modern Joshua and Caleb ? And yet, as it is, 
 who would not try ? Who is there that would 
 not court the panegyric which God pronounced 
 on the sons of Nun and Jephunneh ? Who is 
 there that would not wish the perpetual feast 
 of a contented spirit, and the perpetual orna- 
 ment of a praising one ? Let us, brethren, 
 combat our natural fault-finding, and our no 
 less natural foreboding. Let us rejoice in the 
 present, and let us trust for the future. Let 
 us pray and strive till our frame of mind is 
 more in unison with the Lord's kindness ; and 
 in the fulfilment of any wish and the disap- 
 pointment of any fear, in the kindness of 
 any friend, and in the answer to any prayer, 
 in every gracious providence, and in every 
 spiritual mercy bestowed on ourselves or others 
 dear, in all these let us recognize the merci- 
 ful kindness of the Lord, and let us acknowl 
 
298 LECTUKE XVIII. 
 
 edge what we recognize. " It is a good thing 
 to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing 
 praises unto thy name, Most High : to show 
 forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and 
 thy faithfulness every night ; for thou, Lord, 
 hast made me glad through thy work: I will 
 triumph in the works of thy hands." 
 
LECTTJKE XIX. 
 
 READ ECCLES. xii. 1-7. 
 
 " Remember thy Creator, . . . while the evil days 
 come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, 
 
 I have no pleasure in them." 
 
 ) 
 
 A DISSIPATED youth is sure to be followed 
 by a cross and joyless old age. During the 
 years of his ungodliness, Solomon had been a 
 fast liver, and, most likely, he now felt creep- 
 ing over him the jejune and dreary feelings 
 which foretell a premature decline. No dew 
 of youth survived to create a green old age, 
 and having forestalled the reserve of strength 
 and spirits, lie had failed withal to lay up 
 against this time a good foundation of faithful 
 friends and pleasant memories. The portrait 
 
300 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 is general ; but an old worldling seems to have 
 supplied the original. 
 
 Of his last years this old man says, " I have 
 no pleasure in them." Once on a time exist- 
 ence was a joy, and the exuberant spirits over- 
 flowed in shouts and songs and hilarious ditties. 
 So abundant was the joy of life that, like the 
 sunbeams in a tropic clime, it was needful to 
 shade it, and with a Venetian lattice of ima- 
 gined sorrows and tragic tales the young man 
 assuaged the over-fervid beams of his own fe- 
 licity. 
 
 " In youth he loved the darksome lawn, 
 Brushed by the owlet's wing ; 
 Then twilight was preferred to dawn, 
 And autumn to the spring. 
 
 Sad fancies did he then affect, 
 In luxury of disrespect 
 To his own prodigal excess 
 Of too familiar happiness," * 
 
 Now there is no need of such artificial abate- 
 ments. It is not easy for the old man to get 
 a nook so warm that it will thaw the winter in 
 his veins. To say nothing of a song, it is not 
 * Wordsworth. 
 
OLD AGE. 301 
 
 easy for him to muster up a smile ; and as he 
 listens with languid interest to the news of the 
 day, and, in subtle sympathy with his own 
 failing faculties, as he disparages this modern 
 time and its dwindled men, it is plain that, as 
 for the world, its avocations and amusements, 
 its interests and its inhabitants, he has* little 
 pleasure in them. 
 
 It adds to the evil of such days that the 
 pleasures of expectation are constantly lessen- 
 ing. Old age is a Terra del Fuego, a region 
 where the weather never clears. Once when a 
 trivial ailment came, the hardy youth could 
 outbrave it, and still go on with his daily duties. 
 But now, every ailment is important, and they 
 are never like to end. The cough is cured 
 only to be succeeded by an asthma, and when 
 the tender eyes have ceased to trickle, the ears 
 begin to tingle. Once upon a time a few 
 drops might fall into the brightest day, like a 
 settling shower in June ; and there were apt 
 to be hurricanes, equinoctial gales, great calam- 
 ities, drenching and devastating sorrows. But 
 now, the day is all one drizzle, and life itself the 
 
302 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 chief calamity, and there is little space for hope 
 where the weather is all either clouds or rain. 
 
 Then in the third and three following verses, 
 there is given an allegorical sketch of the in- 
 firmities of age. " The keepers of the house 
 tremble." Those arms once so brawny wither. 
 The Priam who could have cleft a brazen pan- 
 oply, can now fling a spear with scarce an in- 
 fant's force, and the David who could hurl his 
 pebble straight into the centre of Goliath's 
 brow, can scarcely carry to his own lips a cup of 
 water. In either arm the sturdy champion 
 used to feel that he had two stout defenders, 
 two trusty keepers of the castle ; but now 
 that he is old, any one can bind them and 
 carry him whither he would not. " And the 
 strong men bow themselves." Those active 
 limbs can do no more. The pedestrian tells 
 how once on a time he walked his hundred 
 miles in four-and-twenty hours, and then, as 
 he gets up to give a specimen, he stumbles on 
 the carpet. That other disciple who outran 
 Peter can no longer creep from his couch to 
 the sanctuary, but is fain to be carried in his 
 
OLD AGE. 303 
 
 chair. Be thankful, Asahel, that you die so 
 soon, or none would believe that your feet 
 were once swifter than a roe. Be thankful, 
 Samson, that you perish in your prime, or it 
 would not have been easy to believe that these 
 bending legs of yours once bore the gates of 
 Gaza. " The strong men bow themselves, and 
 the grinders cease because they are few." The 
 daily meal is itself a drudgery ; for the teeth 
 have fallen out, and the masticating process 
 is a fatigue and a trouble. And, still sorer 
 privation, the eyes are dim. " Those that 
 look out of the windows are darkened." The 
 landscape is a blot, the very world is misty. 
 The writer's inkhorn is allowed to dry, and 
 the virtuous woman who clothed all her house- 
 hold with scarlet, her needles now rust in 
 the unopened case. And whatever may have 
 been the pleasure derived from works of infor- 
 mation or of fancy, that pleasure has faded ; 
 for, except in the brief winter's noon, the eye 
 can no longer decipher the wavering lines, and 
 even though by reading aloud, friendship en- 
 deavors to supply their failures, the effort is 
 
304 LECTUKE XIX. 
 
 defeated by the dulness of the ear. " The 
 doors are shut in the streets." Soft sounds no 
 longer get in ; and though by bawling lustly, 
 a son or a daughter may ask or answer some 
 occasional question, poor substitute these vol- 
 leyed and intermitting utterances, poor sub- 
 stitute for the whispers of affection, and the 
 sweet accents of familiar voices, and that calm, 
 effortless participation in all the parsing con- 
 verse which were the privilege of happier days. 
 But, not only is the door of audience closed, the 
 door of utterance is also shut. "The grinders 
 have ceased," and with lips collapsed and or- 
 gans all impaired, it is an effort to talk ; and 
 bending silently in on his own solitude, the vet- 
 eran dozes in his elbow-chair the long summer 
 hours when younger folks are busy. But if 
 he dozes in the day, he does not sleep at 
 night. At the voice of the bird, at the crow- 
 ing of the cock, although he does not hear it, 
 he can keep his couch no longer. He rises 
 whilst industry is still locked in needed slum- 
 ber, and even before the sleep-cloud has melted 
 from the eyes of infancy. He rises, but not 
 
OLD AGE. 305 
 
 because he has any work to do, or any pleasure 
 to enjoy. " He is afraid of that which is high, 
 and fears are in the way." He has neither en- 
 terprise nor courage. Once it was a treat to 
 press up the mountain side and enjoy the ma- 
 jestic prospect. Now, there is no high place 
 which is not formidable ; and even to the tem- 
 ple it is a sad drawback that it stands on Zion, 
 and that it is needful to "go up." "The 
 almond-tree flourishes, and the grasshopper is 
 burdensome.' ' Tease him not with your idle 
 affairs. In that load of infirmities he has en- 
 cumbrance enough to carry, and though it be 
 not the weight of a feather, do not augment 
 his burden, who totters under the load of 
 many years. For " desire has failed." You 
 can grapple with heavy tasks, you can sub- 
 mit to severe toil and protracted self-denial, 
 for you have a purpose to serve you have an 
 end in view, you have an inducement which 
 countervails toil and cheats the self-denial. 
 But with him there is no inducement, for there 
 is no ulterior. "Desire has failed." " Barzillai, 
 come and live with me at the palace," says 
 20 
 
306 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 David. And, answers Barzillai, " I am this 
 day fourscore years old ; can I discern between 
 good and evil ? .Can thy servant taste what I 
 eat or what I drink ? Can I hear any more 
 the voice of singing men and singing women ? 
 Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back, that I 
 may die in my own city, and be buried in the 
 grave of my father and of my mother." Yes, 
 that is all of " desire" that now remains, the 
 desire to die at home, and be buried in the 
 family grave. And it is presently fulfilled. 
 For now the old man goes to his long home, 
 and his funeral walks the streets. The other 
 morning his children came and found nothing 
 but the ruin. The silver cord by which it was 
 suspended had worn out at last, and the lamp 
 of life was fallen to the ground, the lights ex- 
 tinguished and the golden bowl which fed 
 them broken.* The pitcher was shattered 
 beside the fountain, and the cistern wheel de- 
 molished. The eye was glass. The heart was 
 still. And now dust goes back to dust, for the 
 soul has already gone to the God who gave it, 
 * Noyes. 
 
OLD AGE. 307 
 
 This description gives great emphasis to the 
 exhortation of the outset. Remember thy 
 Creator in youth for if you do not remem- 
 ber Him then, your next leisure will be old 
 age, and now you see what sort of leisure that 
 is. How foolish to calculate on a time which 
 not one youth in ten ever sees ! How fatal to 
 calculate on a time which, were it really come, 
 you could turn to no account ! Suppose that 
 by an interposition of Omnipotence, you were 
 lifted over the interval of years. Suppose 
 that you, who are this day fifteen, were to 
 awake to-morrow and find yourself fourscore. 
 You know what it is to be very sleepy, and 
 how tiresome it is to have people talking to 
 you when you can scarcely keep open your 
 eyes. You know what it is to be very sad, 
 and when your heart is breaking, you know 
 how painful it is to be obliged to go about 
 your daily tasks, and how little progress you 
 make in this disconsolate diligence. You 
 know what it is to be very sick ; and if, when 
 you cannot lift your head from the pillow, 
 your little sister were bringing in lilies of the 
 
308 LECTUKE XIX. 
 
 valley or new wall-flowers of the spring, you 
 would look languidly at it, and soon put it 
 away ; or if they asked you to rise and take a 
 ride, you would feel that they were mocking 
 you. So is it with old age. It is drowsy, and 
 sad, and full of infirmity ; and to go to an old 
 man who has never minded religion in his 
 youth to go to him and ask him to mind it 
 now, would be like singing songs to a heavy 
 heart; it would be like telling stories to a 
 sleepy man ; it would be like showing pictures 
 or presenting nosegays to a tortured invalid. 
 And were you now waking up to a sudden old 
 age, you would find all over you a strange stu- 
 por: the windows darkened, and the street- 
 doors closed. And you would find yourself 
 very dull. These are days when you would 
 say, " I have no pleasure in them." And like 
 a man constantly in a dim disease, you would 
 feel as if you never were hale enough to throw 
 all your heart into the subject. And when 
 pious friends pressed you and entreated you 
 to think of your soul, you would pray them, 
 "I cannot attend. Everything fatigues me 
 
OLD AGE. 309 
 
 now. The grasshopper is a burden. I know 
 that the subject is awfully important. So 
 much the worse for me for I cannot take in- 
 terest in anything. Desire has failed. My 
 heart is weary my soul is dim. Oh, leave 
 me, leave me to repose !" my dear young 
 friends, give the Saviour your heart whilst 
 you have a heart to give. Listen to his voice 
 whilst your feelings still are fresh, and give 
 Him your affections before your natures grow 
 dry and arid. 
 
 For this is our next lesson : The Creator 
 remembers in their old age, those who in youth 
 remember Him. This is a woful picture, but 
 some of the features would scarcely be recog- 
 nized in an old disciple. At least it cannot be 
 truly said by an aged Christian, " I have no 
 pleasure ;" and though there may be " clouds, " 
 he has also long and sunny intervals, and be- 
 yond this cloudy region he has blessed pros- 
 pects. The peace which the Saviour gives to 
 his people, is a well of water springing up unto 
 everlasting life; and there is nothing which 
 keeps the feelings so fresh and youthful as a 
 
310 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 perennial piety. " Even the youth shall faint 
 and be weary, and the young men shall ut- 
 terly fall." The young men of this world 
 must grow old; and a few years hence the 
 young man rejoicing in his youth shall be 
 leaning on his staff for very feebleness. " But 
 they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
 strength." And if you want to know the dif- 
 ference between animal and spiritual youth, 
 just compare that young spendthrift who 
 bows his head like a bulrush, because he is 
 conscious of debt and dishonesty and the dis- 
 respect of all around ; compare him with that 
 old, but frugal and contented saint, who carries 
 his head erect as the palm-tree, and who, like 
 the palm-tree, has constant sunshine on it. 
 Compare that young profligate who, after a 
 night of riot, is now dragging his reluctant 
 steps to his hated post, and with bleared eyes 
 and throbbing temples, is yawning forth his 
 vacancy, or ejaculating his chagrin ; compare 
 him with yon serene and cheerful Christian 
 who, now that life's working-day is over, is 
 resting from his labors for a little before he 
 
OLD AGE. 311 
 
 passes to his reward, and whose evening is so 
 bright that the youngest are glad to come forth 
 and bask in its beams. Compare that young 
 skeptic who has half persuaded himself into 
 the disbelief of God and hereafter, and whose 
 forced unbelief is often interrupted by intru- 
 sions of unwelcome conviction, compare him 
 with Paul the aged in prison, writing, "I know 
 whom I have believed. I am now ready to be 
 offered, and the time of my departure is at 
 hand ; I have fought a good fight, I have fin- 
 ished my course, I have kept the faith. 
 Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown 
 of righteousness, which the Lord, the right- 
 eous Judge, shall give me at that day." 
 
 It is not very long ago since the lives of two 
 veterans appeared so simultaneous as almost to 
 compel the contrast. Their declining days 
 were somewhat similar. When getting old 
 and feeling frail, they lost some of their dear- 
 est friends, and each lost his fortune. In these 
 circumstances Sir Walter writes, " I used to 
 think a slight illness was a luxurious thing. 
 It is different in the latter stages the 
 
312 LECTUEE XIX. 
 
 old post-chaise gets more shattered at every 
 turn ; windows will not pull up, doors refuse 
 to open, or being open, will not shut again. 
 There is some new subject of complaint every 
 moment your sicknesses come thicker and 
 thicker; your sympathizing friends fewer and 
 fewer. The recollection of youth, health, and 
 uninterrupted powers of activity, neither im- 
 proved nor enjoyed, is a poor strain of comfort. 
 Death has closed the long dark avenue upon 
 loves and friendships ; and I look at them as 
 through the grated door of a burial-place filled 
 with monuments of those who were once dear 
 to me, with no insincere wish that it may 
 open for me at no distant period, provided such 
 be the will of God. I shall never see the 
 threescore and ten, and shall be summed up at 
 a discount. No help for it, and no matter 
 either."* Recovering from a similar slight 
 illness, Mr. Wilberforce remarked, "I can 
 scarce understand why my life is spared so 
 long, except it be to show that a man can be 
 as happy without a fortune as with one." And 
 
 * " Scott's Life," Second Edition, vol. ix. pp. 60, 61. 
 
OLD AGE. 313 
 
 then, soon after, when his only surviving 
 daughter died, he writes, " I have often heard 
 that sailors on a voyage will drink, l Friends 
 astern,' till they are half-way over, then 
 1 Friends a-head.' With me it has been ' friends 
 a-head' this long time."* 
 
 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the 
 death of his saints ; and God's kindness to his 
 aged servants is often displayed in their gentle 
 dismissal. In view of advancing years it has 
 been sweetly and cheerfully sung by an Eng- 
 lish poetess : f 
 
 " Life ! we've been long together, 
 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather. 
 
 Tis hard to part when friends are dear, 
 Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
 Then steal away, give little warning, 
 
 Choose thine own time ; 
 Say not good night, but in some happier clime, 
 
 Bid me good morning." 
 
 And the boon has oft been vouchsafed to the 
 mature and Simeon-like disciple. Many of 
 you remember "Father" Wilkinson, who 
 preached the Golden Lecture so many years 
 
 * " Wilberforce's Life," vol. v. pp. 326, 328. 
 f Mrs. Barbauld. 
 
314 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 in London. One evening he told his daughter 
 that he had long dreaded dying in his sleep, 
 and that he had nightly prayed that it might 
 not be so : u But this night," he added, " I have 
 withdrawn that petition, and will leave this 
 and all my matters in God's hands." It was 
 the last link of bondage broken : the last fibre 
 of self-will uprooted ; and having thus com- 
 pleted his meetness, the Lord surprised his 
 servant into blessedness that self-same night. 
 Last week we read a similar instance of a 
 veteran's gentle home-going. In the days of 
 Gallican persecution, Pastor Faber sat at the 
 table of the Queen of Navarre one afternoon, 
 when some other Protestant refugees were pres- 
 ent. He was looking sad, and when they 
 asked the reason he replied with tears, "I am 
 now a hundred years old, and when many 
 young men are sealing their testimony with 
 their blood, here have I, the craven, saved 
 myself by flight." The Queen and her friends 
 assured him that in consulting his own safety 
 he had only fulfilled his Lord's command ; 
 and by-and-by he brightened up, and said, 
 
OLD AGE. 315 
 
 " Then nothing remains but that I go back to 
 God ; for I perceive that He calls me. But, 
 first, if you please, I shall make my will." 
 Then turning his eyes on the Queen he said, 
 " I constitute you my executrix and residuary 
 legatee. My books I bequeath to M. Gerard, 
 the Preacher. My clothes and whatever else 
 I have I give to the poor. The rest I commit 
 to God." At which the Queen smiling, asked, 
 " Yes, but, James, what will revert to your re- 
 siduary legatee ?" " The charge of dispensing 
 to the poor," he answered. " And I," ex- 
 claimed her Majesty, " accept it, and I vow 
 that it is to me a more grateful heritage than 
 if my royal brother had bequeathed to me the 
 kingdom of France." Thereupon the old man, 
 saying that he wanted rest, bade the guests 
 a cheerful good-night and retired into an ad- 
 joining chamber. They thought that he was 
 sleeping, and so he was. He had fallen asleep 
 in a palace, and he awoke in heaven.* 
 
 My young friends, let me claim your kind- 
 ness for the old. They are well entitled to 
 
 " Witsii Miscellanea Sacra, torn. ii. p. 184. 
 
316 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 your sympathy. Through this bright world 
 they move mistily, and though they rise as 
 soon as the birds begin to sing, they cannot 
 hear the music. Their limbs are stiff, their 
 senses dull, and that body which was once 
 their beautiful abode and their willing servant, 
 has become a cage and a heavy clog. And 
 they have outlived most of those dear com- 
 panions with whom they once took sweet 
 counsel. 
 
 " One world deceas'd, another born, 
 
 Like Noah they behold, 
 O'er whose white hairs and furrow'd brows 
 Too many suns have roll'd."* 
 
 Make it up to them as well as you can. Be 
 eyes to the blind, and feet to the lame. On 
 their way to the sanctuary be their supporting 
 staff, and though it may need an extra effort 
 to convey your words into their blunted ear, 
 make that effort ; for youth is never so beau- 
 tiful as when it acts as a guardian angel, or a 
 ministering spirit to old age. And should ex- 
 treme infirmity or occasional fretfulness try 
 
 * Young. 
 
OLD AGE. 317 
 
 your patience, remember that to all intents 
 you were once the same, and may be the same 
 again ; in second childhood, as in first, the 
 debtor of others 7 patience and tenderness and 
 magnanimity. 
 
 And, my aged friends, let me commend you 
 to the sympathy of the Saviour. The merci- 
 ful High Priest knows your frame. The dull 
 ear and the dim eye are no obstacles to inter- 
 course with Him ; and the frequent infirmities 
 prayer can convert into pleas for his compas- 
 sion. "What are you doing?" said a minister, 
 as he one day visited a feeble old man, who 
 dwelt in a windy hovel. "What are you 
 doing?" as he saw him sitting beneath the 
 dripping rafters in his smoky chamber, with 
 his Bible open on his knee. " Oh, Sir ! I am 
 sitting under his shadow with great delight, 
 and his fruit is sweet to my taste!" That is 
 dainty food which even Barzillai might dis- 
 cern. Feed upon its promises ; draw water 
 from its wells of salvation. And when one 
 sight after another fades away from your dar- 
 kening eyes, look more and more to Jesus ; 
 
318 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 for if He be your joy, your hope, your life, the 
 faster you are clothed with the snows of eld, 
 the sooner will you renew your youth in the 
 realms of immortality. 
 
 " In age and feebleness extreme, 
 Who shall a helpless worm redeem ? 
 Jesus my only hope Thou art, 
 Strength of my failing flesh and heart; 
 O, could I catch a smile from Thee, 
 And drop into eternity 1" 
 
LECTURE XX. 
 
 it I0itht-guti. 
 
 " Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter : Fear 
 God, and keep his commandments : for this is the whole 
 of man." ECOLES. xii. 13. 
 
 GOD is Almighty. Some beings concentrate 
 in themselves a large amount of power. Some 
 of our fellow-mortals have possessed so much 
 vital energy, minds so inventive and vigorous 
 as to leave their impress on a realm or on a 
 continent ; and when you ask, Who engineer- 
 ed this road ? who devised this law ? who 
 erected this monument? you are amazed to 
 find everywhere the trace of one imperial in- 
 tellect. But ascend into Heaven or plunge 
 into Hades, take the wings of the morning 
 and visit the farthest isles of Immensity, and 
 there is one Presence which will still rivet 
 
320 LECTURE XX. 
 
 you, and one great footstep which, still you 
 must fail to measure. "Who made this worm 
 which grovels in the clay? who made yon 
 seraph who hovers round the Light of lights ? 
 Who lit the glow-worm's taper? who filled 
 with bright millenniums the sphery lamp of 
 yonder sun? Who gives this dancing atom 
 its afternoon of life ? who is it that has kindled 
 immortality in the soul of man ? Who is it 
 that fills that hive with industry, that home 
 with peaceful joy, that heaven with adoring 
 ecstasy ? The Alpha and Omega, the first and 
 the last, who is and was and is to come, the 
 Almighty. 
 
 God is all-wise. When as yet nothing ex- 
 isted except the great I Am, to his infinite 
 understanding all combinations of existence 
 were present. They stood forth so many beau- 
 tiful and Divine ideas, and from this panopti- 
 con of all the possible his holy wisdom chose 
 the best, and willed that universe which is. 
 And now that alongside of all the past his 
 boundless comprehension includes the farthest 
 future, each evolving incident owes its being 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 321 
 
 to that Providence which is particular because 
 it is universal ; and nothing comes into exist- 
 ence which is a surprise to Omniscience, 01 
 which does not instantly find its place pre- 
 pared in the glorious whole : so that from the 
 falling sparrow to the dying martyr, and from 
 the fortunes of some poor human family to the 
 events of an incarnation, all history is an an- 
 them ascribing "to the King eternal, immor- 
 tal, invisible, THE ONLY WISE GOD," "honor 
 and glory forever and ever." 
 
 God is all-holy. He is the infinite Excel- 
 lence. That river of pleasures which makes 
 glad the celestial city, is just so much of his 
 goodness as God is pleased to reveal ; but the 
 full fountain remains in Jehovah himself, an 
 ocean which Gabriel's line cannot fathom, and 
 athwart which the archangel's wing cannot 
 traverse, an abyss of brightness of which im- 
 mensity alone is the margin, and of which each 
 holy intelligence is but a sparkling drop. Yet, 
 little as our searching can find out God, we 
 know that his name is just the highest name 
 for goodness and blessedness. We know that 
 21 
 
822 LECTURE XX. 
 
 his is the mind to which evil is the supreme 
 impossibility. "We know that he is the God 
 of truth, and without iniquity : just and right 
 is He. Amidst the multitude of promises 
 which his munificence has prompted him to 
 make, we know that not one good word hath 
 failed, but every yea has found its Amen. 
 Amidst the multitude of creatures over which 
 his sovereignty extends, we know that there 
 exists no instance of unkindness, or neglect, or 
 oppression. And amidst the multitude of 
 thoughts and emotions which make up the 
 joys of Deity, we know that there is not one 
 malevolent affection ; but all is condescension 
 to his creatures, care for their well-being, and 
 delectation in their joy. 
 
 But if God be the only good and the all-in- 
 clusive joy, a creature's blessedness must con- 
 sist in a right relation and a right emotion 
 towards Him. To be separated from the su- 
 preme felicity, must itself be misery; and to 
 entertain unkind or hostile feelings towards 
 infinite excellence, must itself be the deepest 
 depravity. 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 323 
 
 What then is a right relation to God ? It is 
 that coincidence with his good pleasure, and 
 that compliance with his revealed will which 
 Solomon calls " keeping his commandments." 
 He is our Creator, or whether we will or will 
 not, we must be his creatures. But he is also 
 the King of the universe, and we ought to be 
 his loyal subjects. And in Christ Jesus he is 
 prepared to become our Father, and we should 
 reciprocate the matchless condescension, and 
 with wonder and astonishment exclaiming, 
 " Our Father which art in heaven," we should 
 become the sons and daughters of the Lord 
 God Almighty. 
 
 And what is the right feeling towards God ? 
 Almighty and all-wise, we should devoutly 
 adore Him. Our righteous Ruler, we should 
 with cheerful submission acquiesce in his dis- 
 posal, and with strenuous activity should 
 fulfil his commands. Our kind and merciful 
 Father, we should give him unhesitating love 
 and confidence without reserve. And alto- 
 gether, did we realize his perfections and our 
 
324: LECTURE XX. 
 
 own position, it would become our " chief end 
 to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." 
 
 Many, however, will feel that the great dif- 
 ficulty lies in getting into this right relation. 
 Allowing it to be the creature's blessedness to 
 glorify and enjoy the Creator, how shall a 
 sinful creature begin to taste this blessedness ? 
 How shall I assure myself that the Most High 
 is no longer offended with me? And how 
 shall I bring myself to that state in which my 
 Creator shall be able to regard me with habit- 
 ual complacency ? Is the process very ardu- 
 ous and very long? Must I relinquish my 
 present calling and give myself wholly to the 
 business of working out my peace with God ? 
 Had I not better retire into a desert or a hermi- 
 tage ? And how long will the ordeal last ? In 
 how many months or years may I begin to 
 hope that God is propitious, and that heaven 
 will be mine ? 
 
 Some people once lived in a Happy Isle, 
 but for their misdeeds they had been banished. 
 Their place of exile was a cheerless coast ; but 
 it lay within distant sight of their former home. 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 325 
 
 Soon after their expulsion a message had come 
 from their injured Sovereign, offering to all 
 who pleased an amnesty. Few minded it. 
 They had grown sour and sullen, and they 
 tried to persuade themselves that the earth- 
 holes in which they burrowed, were more 
 comfortable than the mansions of his land, and 
 that the mallows among their bushes were 
 more nutritious than all the fruits of his gar- 
 dens. One man, however, was of a different 
 mind. He was a musing, thoughtful person. 
 Often might you have seen him pacing the 
 beach when the rays of evening shone on the 
 Happy Isle, and whilst the sea-bird wailed 
 over his head and the wrack crackled under 
 his feet, from his own dreary prison he wist- 
 fully eyed the forests on its coast, and the 
 mountains of purple streaked with silver 
 which sate enthroned on its interior ; and as 
 he fancied that he could sometimes hear faint 
 murmurs of its joy, he wished that he was 
 there. One morning when he awoke it struck 
 him that the opposite shore was unusually 
 nigh, and so low was the tide that he fancied 
 
326 LECTURE XX. 
 
 he might easily ford it, or swim across. And 
 so he hastened forth. First over the dry 
 shingle, then over the sad and solid sand from 
 which, with scarce a ripple, the sea had 
 smoothly folded down, he hurried on till he 
 reached the damper strand, where streams of 
 laggard water still were trickling, and then 
 was astonished at his own delusion ; for it was 
 still a mighty gulf, and even whilst he gazed 
 the tide was rising. But another time he tried 
 another plan. To the right of his dwelling the 
 line of coast stretched away in a succession of 
 cliffs and headlands, till the view was bounded 
 by a lofty promontory which seemed to touct 
 the farther side. To this promontory he re- 
 solved to take a pilgrimage, in the hope that it 
 would transport him to the long-sought realm. 
 The road was often a steep clamber, and for 
 many an hour the headland seemed only to flee 
 away. But after surmounting many a slope 
 and swell, at last he reached it. With eager 
 steps he ran along the ridge, half hoping that 
 it was the isthmus which would bear him to 
 the blessed isle. Ah, no ! He has reached its 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 327 
 
 extremest verge, and here is that inexorable 
 ocean still weltering at its base. Baffled in 
 this last hope, and faint with his ineffectual 
 toil, he flung himself on the stones and wept. 
 But, by-and-by, he noticed off the shore a little 
 boat with whose appearance he was quite 
 familiar. It used to ride at anchor opposite 
 his own abode, and had done so for ever so 
 long; but, like his neighbors, he had got so 
 used to it that it never drew his notice. Now, 
 however, seeing it there, he looked at it, and 
 as he looked it neared him. It came close up 
 to the rocks where he was seated. It was a 
 beautiful boat with snowy sails and golden 
 prow, and a red cross was its waving pennon. 
 There was one on board, and only one. His 
 raiment was white and glistening, and his 
 features betokened whence he came. " Son of 
 man," he said, "why weepest thou?" "Be- 
 cause I cannot reach the blessed Isle. n " Canst 
 thou trust thyself with me?" the stranger 
 asked. The poor wayfarer looked at the little 
 skiff leaping lightly on the waves, and won 
 dered, till he looked again at the pilot's kind 
 
328 LECTURE XX. 
 
 and assuring countenance, and then he said, 
 " I can." And no sooner had he stepped on 
 board than, swift as a sunbeam, it bore him to 
 the land of light ; and, with many a welcome 
 from the pilot's friends, he found himself 
 among its happy citizens, clothed in their 
 bright raiment, and free to all their privileges 
 as now a subject of their King. 
 
 The happy isle is peace with God, that 
 position which man occupied whilst innocent. 
 The dreary land is that state of alienation and 
 misery into which fallen man is banished. The 
 little skiff denotes the only means by which 
 the sinner may pass from nature's alienation 
 over into the peace of God. It is a means not 
 of the sinners devising, but of God's provid- 
 ing. It is the ATONEMENT, and He who so 
 kindly invites sinner's to avail themselves of 
 it is the Lord Jesus Himself. 
 
 I may suppose the case of a hearer who 
 longs for acceptance with God. At present 
 you feel like an exile looking at a distant Eden 
 with a gulf between. You feel that between 
 you and God's favor there rolls a tide of tres- 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 329 
 
 passes and sins which all your efforts cannot 
 get over. Sometimes, like the poor outcast on 
 that bright morning, you have flattered your- 
 self that the separating interval had narrowed, 
 and if all went favorably you did not despair 
 of finding yourself ere long in the climes of 
 ascertained salvation. But even then, like a 
 broad and powerful tide, the current of world- 
 liness set in again, and the interval betwixt 
 God and your own soul again grew vast as 
 ever ; or, the dark stream of guilt began once 
 more to roar and deepen. Therefore, ceasing 
 to hope that your soul's salvation would come 
 about spontaneously, you set to work on pur- 
 pose to achieve it. Like one who would 
 bridge across the mighty channel ; or rather, 
 like one who sets out on pilgrimage to yon in- 
 viting promontory, you go about to establish 
 a righteousness of your own. You resolve to 
 read so many chapters and to pray so many 
 times a-day. You determine that you will 
 henceforth never more be angry, nor deceitful, 
 nor neglectful of your trust. You try to think 
 holy thoughts and make your own mind spir- 
 
330 LECTURE XX. 
 
 itual. And in this way you hope to go on by 
 degrees till you are really good, so good that 
 you may be at last forgiven. But how far must 
 the traveller march round the coast of Europe 
 before he arrives in Britain ? And how many 
 things must the sinner do in a state of nature 
 before he finds himself in a state of grace ? 
 They that are in the flesh cannot please God, 
 and instead of being good in order to be for- 
 given, you had need to be forgiven as the first 
 movement towards becoming good. The sepa- 
 rating gulf is too deep for the tallest specimen 
 of human virtue to ford, and too wide for the 
 sincerest repentance or the most faultless mo- 
 rality to bridge over ; and were you confront- 
 ing the realities of the case you would find that 
 Christless painstaking is only a pilgrimage 
 along a sea-girt promontory. Peace with God 
 is not a boon which it requires good deeds to 
 purchase or prayers to ensure ; but peace with 
 God is a gift from God, already come from 
 heaven and awaiting your acceptance. And, 
 just as the vexed wanderer lifted up his eyes, 
 and in the boat, with its benignant pilot, rec- 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 331 
 
 ognized the little skiff which had so long 
 hovered unheeded near his own abode ; so, 
 were the Spirit of God to make you earnest 
 now, were He convincing you of sin or of the 
 futility of your own exertions, you would see 
 your salvation in some thrice-told tale, some 
 text with which you have been familiar long 
 ago. " Eternal life is the gift of God." " God 
 hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in 
 his Son. 77 "To as many as received Him 
 Jesus gave power to become the sons of God, 
 even to them that believe on his name." " The 
 Son of man must be lifted up, that whosoever 
 believeth in Him may not perish, but have 
 eternal life." " Look unto me and be ye saved 
 all the ends of the earth." Like some dim ob- 
 ject anchored near your dwelling, texts like 
 these are associated with your earliest memory. 
 These texts are gospels. Any one of them is 
 such *a faithful saying," that fully realized 
 and implicitly credited it would carry your 
 soul to heaven. Any one of them is an ark 
 of salvation with none less than the Friend of 
 sinners in it ; and you have only to be per- 
 
332 LECTURE XX. 
 
 suaded of its good- will and its trustworthiness, 
 so as to transfer your immortal interests to the 
 Saviour's keeping, and you will soon discover 
 that TRUST IN CHRIST is PEACE WITH GOD. 
 
 A justifying righteousness is not a privi- 
 lege which you buy, but a present which you 
 receive. It is not a result which you accom- 
 plish, nor a reward which you earn, but it is a 
 gratuity which you accept. It is the u gift 
 of righteousness," a gift promiscuous to sin- 
 ners of our race, a gift as wide as the human 
 "whosoever;" a gift outstanding which was 
 within the reach of your earliest intelligence 
 had you been so disposed, and which is not 
 yet withdrawn, a gift which it needs neither 
 prayer to bring nearer nor a price before or 
 after to make surer, but which it only needs 
 your open hand, your open heart to make 
 your personal possession ; not a bargain, but 
 a boon ; not an achievement, but an acquies- 
 cence ; the gift of righteousness ; the right- 
 eousness of God which seeks, not that we 
 deserve it, but that we " submit" to it. Being 
 justified freely by his grace through the re- 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 333 
 
 demption that is in Christ, God's righteous- 
 ness is declared through the remission of sins 
 that are past. And being justified by faith 
 we have peace with God, through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God for his un- 
 speakable gift ! 
 
 Thus is it that the right relation between 
 God and the sinner is established; a relation 
 which borrows all its security and blessedness 
 from the sinner's substitute, God's own Son. 
 Our redemption is in Christ, and it is in the 
 Beloved that we are accepted. Our safety is 
 all in the Saviour whom we trust. He is our 
 peace. Immanuel is the door. It is by Him 
 that we enter into the fold and become the 
 sheep of his Father. 
 
 And when once the right relation is brought 
 about, the right affection must follow. It 
 could not come before. It did not come whilst 
 the portion of goods held out, and amidst his 
 riotous living the prodigal was jeering at the 
 decorum and dulness of his Father's house. 
 And it did not come when the penniless out- 
 cast was envying the swine, and yet was too 
 
334 LECTURE XX. 
 
 proud to go home. And it did not come when 
 crushed and crest-fallen the runaway bent his 
 steps towards the forsaken threshold, and all 
 his thought was how to propitiate an angry 
 father, and how, if he could only get a hear- 
 ing, he might get leave to labor for his food, 
 and so, from an out-door menial, gradually 
 work his way back to the hearth and the fam- 
 ily board. But when, instead of an angry and 
 upbraiding stranger, he found a yearning pa- 
 rent ; and, instead of the menial's garb, saw 
 himself invested in the honored guest's best 
 robe ; and instead of the meanest hireling's 
 place, was installed at a sumptuous festival; 
 when he saw these eyes suffused with all the 
 love of delighted fatherhood, and still felt on 
 his neck where that father's tears had fallen, 
 then it came the filial affection came; the 
 long dormant instinct of sonship revived, and 
 the love of a fervent gratitude mingled, so 
 that in all the Holy Land the fullest heart 
 that night was the restored and forgiven 
 prodigal. 
 
 And even so, that filial emotion which here 
 
THE WICKET-GATE. 335 
 
 and throughout the Old Testament, is often 
 called "fear;" that blended emotion of reve- 
 rence, trust, and affection, can only arise where 
 the spirit of sonship reciprocates God's re- 
 vealed aspect of compassionate and forth- 
 going fatherliness. It matters little whether 
 we call the affection fear, or, with the first and 
 great commandment, call it love. In that fear 
 which realizes God's fatherliness, there cannot 
 be terror; and in the love which recollects 
 that its father is GOD there cannot be petulant 
 boldness. 
 
 Fear God, therefore, for this is the great 
 duty of man. To love Him with all the heart 
 and soul and strength and mind, is the first 
 and great commandment ; and till once Jeho- 
 vah is supreme, an orderly and respectable life 
 is only rebellion without violence, and even 
 benevolence without godliness is only a beau- 
 tiful impiety. 
 
LECTURE XXI. 
 
 'Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Feaf 
 God, and keep his commandments : for this is the whole 
 of man." ECCLES. xn. 13. 
 
 "THIS is life eternal, to know Thee, the 
 only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou 
 hast sent." To get this knowledge is to enter 
 into blessedness. Reconciliation to God is like 
 entering the gate of a beautiful avenue, which 
 conducts to a splendid mansion. But that 
 avenue is long, and in some places it skirts 
 the edge of dangerous cliffs ; and therefore, to 
 save the traveller from falling over and being 
 dashed to pieces, it is fenced all the way by a 
 quick-set hedge. That hedge is the command- 
 ments. They are planted there that we may 
 do ourselves no harm. But, like a fence of the 
 fragrant brier, they regale the pilgrim who 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 337 
 
 keeps the path, and they only hurt him when 
 he tries to break through. Temperance, jus- 
 tice, truthfulness ; purity of speech and beha- 
 vior ; obedience to parents ; mutual affection ; 
 sanctification of the Sabbath; the reverent 
 worship of God ; all these are righteous re- 
 quirements, and in keeping them there is a 
 great reward. Happy he who only knows the 
 precept in the perfume which it sheds, and 
 who, never having kicked against the pricks, 
 has never proved the sharpness of its thorns ! 
 
 In its happy influence, religion, or a filial 
 compliance with the will of God, includes 
 "the whole of man." It is self-contained feli- 
 city. 
 
 A new heart itself is happiness. The rain 
 as it falls from the firmament is never poison- 
 ous ; but by the time it filters through strata 
 filled with lead or copper, it may become so 
 pernicious that whosoever drinks of the water 
 dies. The juice of the grape, as it flows from 
 the fermenting vat, is generous wine ; but if 
 the wine-skin which receives it is old and 
 musty, or if it be poured into a jar of acidu- 
 22 
 
338 LECTURE XXL 
 
 lous pottery, it soon grows sour and vapid. 
 Gifts as they come from God are always good 
 and perfect ; but by the time that they have 
 distilled through our murmuring spirits, they 
 assume a different character. From the way 
 he speaks of them, you would fancy that the 
 worldling's joy had all been drawn from 
 Marah ; or that, however carefully he had cov- 
 ered over his own cistern, the star Wormwood 
 had dropped into it, and changed the whole to 
 a deadly bitter. The truth is, his mind is its 
 own Marah, and his morose and murmuring 
 nature is the wormwood which renders acrid 
 to the taste the mercies of God. But Christi- 
 anity is a new creation. The Gospel renovates 
 the soul; and, putting a right spirit in the 
 man, it makes him a blessed being by making 
 him a RIGHT RECIPIENT. When the water is 
 as clear as was the well of Bethlehem; or 
 when the wine flows as rich as the vintage of 
 Lebanon, all that is needful is a pitcher of 
 crystal or a goblet of silver, which by infusing 
 no new element, will preserve its freshness and 
 purity. And when gifts are so good as the 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 389 
 
 Gospel and the promises; so good as our 
 kindred and friends ; so good as the flowers 
 of the field and the breath of the new sum- 
 mer, it only needs an honest heart which 
 takes them as they come, and which tastes un- 
 altered the goodness of God that is in them. 
 This is what the worldling wants ; this new 
 heart is what the God and Father of our Lord 
 Jesus offers to you, to me. 
 
 The very faculty of joy is the gift of the 
 Holy Ghost. There is a canker in the heart 
 of man which hinders happiness even when 
 the materials are most abundant; and it is 
 mournful to observe how little gladness is felt 
 even when corn and wine most abound. In 
 the midst of affluence still anxious, the munifi- 
 cence of the Creator cannot give contentment 
 to worldlings and worldly professors ; but whilst 
 the green pastures re-echo their grumblings, 
 they may see their peevish faces reflected in 
 those quiet waters to which their kind Shep- 
 herd has led them. It needs more than good 
 and perfect gifts to awaken melody and praise : 
 and unless the Spirit of God made it a thank- 
 
340 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 ful heart, the providence of God cannot make 
 it a happy existence. But when the Comforter 
 is come, he gives a new heart, and creates a 
 right spirit. He heals the canker of the churl 
 and sweetens the bitterness of the misanthrope ; 
 and, by imparting the faculty of joy, he has 
 often exalted life into a jubilee and made a 
 very humble dwelling ring with hallelujahs. 
 Ever since it was broken at the fall, the heart 
 of man is a cracked pitcher from which happi- 
 ness runs out with amazing rapidity ; and the 
 finer the fluid the more subtle the element 
 of joy the faster does it trickle through ; and 
 often it is not till the last drop is oozing, it is 
 not till the latest film is regretfully vanishing, 
 that the soul knows it ought to have been 
 happy, and is sorry for not knowing it sooner.* 
 Far otherwise is it with the Christian's pleas- 
 ures. He who has made him a new creature, 
 has given him a new capacity of receiving 
 
 * " The sweetness that pleasure has in it 
 
 Is always so slow to come forth, 
 That seldom, alas, till the minute 
 It dies, do we know half its worth." 
 
 MoorJs Melodies. 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 341 
 
 and retaining joy. The new heart does not 
 leak ; at least, there is one gladness there 
 which will abide to all eternity, and which, 
 even when it has for a season disappeared, 
 needs nothing but the jolts of sorrow to shake 
 it up again in all its sparkling zest and fragrant 
 exhilaration. The soul into which God has 
 put the gladness can never be empty of all 
 joy; for the "joy of salvation" heals the bro- 
 ken heart, and so long as itself remains it 
 makes it possible for other joys to stay. 
 
 A devout disposition is happiness. It is 
 happiness, whether outward things go well 
 or ill. A comfortable home, fond kindred, 
 health, a successful calling, are sweet mercies 
 when you accept them direct from God, thus 
 rendering dearer to yourself, at once the giver 
 and the gifts. But these mercies may, one by 
 one, withdraw. Lover and friend may be put 
 far from you, and your acquaintance may van- 
 ish into secret ; your house may dilapidate ; 
 your industrious efforts may be defeated ; and 
 your prosperous state may be exchanged for 
 penury. But " although the fig-tree shall not 
 
342 LECTUKE XXI. 
 
 blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the 
 labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall 
 yield no meat ; the flock shall be cut off from 
 the fold, and there shall be no herds in the 
 stalls; yet you will rejoice in the Lord, and 
 will joy in the God of your salvation." With 
 shattered constitution you may find yourself 
 confined to your couch or your chamber, and 
 in pain and depression you may miss that 
 presence which would have been a " sunshine 
 in this shady place." But lonely and languid 
 you can say, "Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee ? and there is none upon earth that I de- 
 sire beside thee. My flesh and my heart 
 faileth ; but God is the strength of my heart, 
 and my portion forever." Public affairs may 
 take a sombre turn, and in the growth of pau- 
 perism, or in the wider gulf that sunders the 
 classes, there may be prognostics of uproar 
 and anarchy ; or in one of those fits of infatu- 
 ation which occasionally seize society, you 
 may stand aghast at educated men flinging 
 away their human rights and their reason, and 
 surrendering to a grim superstition which puts 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 343 
 
 out their eyes and binds them in the fetters of 
 Babylon ;* or under the spurring hoof of some 
 colossal despotism, you may hear human hearts 
 crushing, as the sea-weed crackles under the 
 school-boy's wanton heel, and in vain sym- 
 pathy you may burst your own ; or, as in vol- 
 canic reaction, pent-up indignation at last 
 explodes, and thrones and altars are hurled 
 through mid-heaven, whilst civilization is 
 overwhelmed beneath the fiery tide, like grass 
 under lava, and as it spirts into the air, the 
 gory geyser tells where the earth has opened 
 her mouth, and swallowed alive a weltering 
 multitude ; in moments like these, when the 
 most hopeful philanthrophy is paralyzed, and 
 "men's hearts fail them for fear," the believer 
 can sing, u God is our refuge and strength, a 
 very present help in trouble. Therefore will 
 not we fear, though the earth be removed, and 
 the mountains be carried into the midst of the 
 sea: n and beyond all the crash and the tur- 
 moil, his purer ear can catch the cadence of 
 heavenly harpers, and through all the smoke 
 
 * 2 Kings xxv. T. 
 
344 LECTUEE XXI. 
 
 of burning mountains quenched in boiling 
 seas, his penetrating eye can glimpse the tok- 
 ens of a bright Epiphany : and from the reel- 
 ing soil, he lifts up his head, knowing that re- 
 demption draweth nigh. Oh brethren! in 
 those solemn conjunctures which prefigure 
 final judgment ; in those awful conflicts where 
 man appears not so much the combatant as the 
 arena ; in those Armageddons where man can- 
 not look to man, for the contending powers 
 are Jehovah and Apollyon, how blessed to 
 have a friend in Omnipotence, and a citadel 
 within the tabernacle of the Most High ! 
 
 A benevolent disposition is happiness. The 
 first and great commandment is, " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy soul ; and 
 the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy 
 neighbor as thyself." To keep these two com- 
 mandments is the whole of man. The two 
 feelings are very different. It is with an 
 adorning complacency that you love the ever- 
 blessed, desiring that his glory should be ad- 
 vanced, and that his will should be the mind 
 of the universe. It is with an affectionate 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 345 
 
 good- will that you love your fellow-creatures, 
 desiring that they should be happy in loyalty 
 to God. The one love is simply outgoing ; 
 the other ascends. The one is kindness ; the 
 other is full of worship. The one is filial de- 
 votion ; the other is paternal fondness. 
 
 When a rose-bud is formed, if the soil is soft 
 and the sky is genial, it is not long before it 
 bursts ; for the life within is so abundant that 
 it can no longer contain it all, but in blos- 
 somed brightness and swimming fragrance it 
 must needs let forth its joy, and gladden all 
 the air. And if, when thus ripe, it refused to 
 expand, it would quickly rot at heart, and die. 
 And Christian charity is just piety with its 
 petals fully spread, developing itself, and mak- 
 ing it a happier world. The religion which 
 fancies that it loves God, when it never evinces 
 love to its brother, is not piety but a poor mil- 
 dewed theology, a dogma with a worm iji its 
 heart. 
 
 Benevolence is blessedness. It is God's life 
 in the soul, diffusing in kind emotions, and 
 good offices, and friendly intercessions; but, 
 
346 LECTUEE XXI. 
 
 unlike other expenditures, the more it is dif- 
 fused, the more that life increases of which it 
 is the sign, and to abound in love one towards 
 another, is'to abound in hope towards God. 
 
 This was Solomon's calamity. In his aus- 
 picious outset he lived for others. To make 
 Jehovah's temple exceedingly magnificent and 
 to see his people prosperous, were the great 
 desires of his forthgoing patriotism and piety. 
 But in a mysterious moment he was forsaken 
 by God's Spirit. To his introverted egotism 
 his own interest became more urgent than all 
 the universe, and the saint and the patriot be- 
 came a selfist. The lily crept back into its 
 bulb. It said, I am myself the summer. Yon 
 sun shines, because I am to be seen. This air 
 is balm, because it encircles me. I will go 
 down into myself, and what a self-contained 
 Eden it will be when all my glory is reserved 
 for Solomon ! And down it went ; but though 
 its disappearance left less of summer in the 
 world, nothing but winter was found below. 
 And it was not till he took another thought, 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 347 
 
 and resolved once more to keep these two com- 
 mands that aught of his old glory came again. 
 Benevolence is blessedness ; and if the pres- 
 ent age is happier than some that have gone 
 before it, a chief reason is because its heart is 
 kinder. Doubtless, the amount of material 
 comfort is amazingly increased; but this is not 
 enough. Man is not a dormouse; and how- 
 ever warmly he lines his nest, and however 
 snug the pose of orbicular self-complacency 
 into which he rolls himself, he cannot become 
 his own all-in-all. Material comforts multiply ; 
 but these alone have not made it a happier 
 age. It is happier because it is kinder. We 
 would rather convert the Turks than kill 
 them. We would rather see France virtuous 
 and God-fearing, than see it subject to Britain. 
 We would rather teach the Jews the Gospel 
 than torture from them their money hoards. 
 This is the age which wishes well to the slave, 
 and has paid a great price for his freedom. 
 This is the age whieh wishes well to the 
 Heathen, and is paying, if not a great price, 
 yet a greater than was ever paid before, for 
 
348 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 his Christian civilization. This is the age 
 which wishes well to the poor and the outcast, 
 and which is taking great pains to enlighten 
 his mind and exalt his condition. God forbid 
 that we should boast. Human nature is the 
 same now as ever ; but if the Father of mercies 
 has somewhat softened the spirit of this age, 
 let us not forget to bless his holy name. We 
 think he has. We think on the whole that 
 the world is happier, because of late the Lord 
 has made it somewhat kinder. And its hap- 
 piness will advance in proportion as it learns 
 to realize that object of the advent, " on 
 earth peace; good-will towards men." 
 
 Malevolence is misery. It is the mind of 
 Satan. He is the great enemy, an outcast 
 from all joy, and an opponent of all good- 
 ness and all blessedness. His mind is enmity 
 against God ; enmity against angels fallen and 
 unfallen ; enmity against man both redeemed 
 and reprobate ; and, because thus hateful and 
 hating, utterly unhappy. And the carnal 
 mind is so far Satanic because it is enmity 
 against God ; just as the misanthrope is so far 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 349 
 
 Satanic because he is enmity against his fel- 
 lows. On the other hand, benevolence is hap- 
 piness. It is the mind of God, whose tender 
 mercies are over all his works, and who joys 
 in the joy of his creation. And hence it 
 comes 1 > pass that some who have never 
 tasted i ae full blessedness of piety, have en- 
 joyed many sweet satisfactions in the exercise 
 of benevolence. " Oh world," says the Em- 
 peror Antoninus, " all things are suitable to 
 me which are suitable to thee. Nothing is too 
 early or too late for me which is seasonable for 
 thee. All is fruit to me which thy seasons 
 bring forth. Shall any man say, O beloved 
 city of Cecrops ! and wilt not thou say, be- 
 loved city of God." "And you, my brothers," 
 exclaimed the German Eichter, after he had 
 spent some years in severely satirizing men 
 and manners : seized with a sudden compunc- 
 tion, or rather yielding to a genial visitation, 
 " And you, my brothers, I will love you more. 
 I will create for you more joy. I will no 
 longer turn my comic powers to torment you ; 
 but antasy and wit shall be united to find con- 
 
350 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 solation and cheerfulness for the most limited 
 of life's relations."* He kept his word. Mo- 
 roseness and moodiness fled away, and from 
 that period onward, there are few lives not 
 saintly, on which care's shadow sits more 
 lightly. But if there be such a solact in mere 
 benevolence; if there be such a Divdne de- 
 lightsorneness in drying tears and diffusing 
 happiness; if some have passed a very pleasant 
 life who were only kind-hearted without being 
 Christian ; how incomparably more blessed 
 are those who unite the two, whose brotherly 
 kindness is the fruit of faith, and whose charity 
 is a devout benevolence ! the John who, bask- 
 ing in the rays of uncreated love, returns into 
 the midst of our mortality with a glow which 
 ever since has raised the temperature of time ! 
 the Paul who ; catching the spirit of his Mas- 
 ter, in the daily medium through which 
 heaven's kindness finds its way to the heart 
 of our humanity, and whose very soul, like a 
 libation on a sacrifice, goes up a sweet savor 
 to God, and leaves on earth a grateful memory ! 
 
 * Richter's Autobiography, vol. ii. 196. 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 351 
 
 Brethren, seek loving thoughts of God. 
 Pray for them. Cherish them. Strive to re- 
 alize his true character. Look not at the 
 distortions drawn by the lurid fancy of super- 
 stition ; look not at the dark pictures sketched 
 by your own guilty conscience. But look at 
 the Bible revelation. Look at Immanuel. Be- 
 hold the brightness of the Father's glory 
 behold the word incarnate, full of grace and 
 truth. Surrender to the manifestation. Let 
 your aspect towards Jehovah be the reciprocal 
 of his aspect towards you. Look towards 
 Jesus, and with the pleasant countenance 
 wherewith he views his beloved Son, he will 
 behold you, oh looking transgressor ! I should 
 rather say, oh justified believer ! And by 
 praise, and by bright obedience, and cheerful 
 trust, seek to augment your love to your 
 heavenly Father. "When happy thoughts 
 come into your mind, let the thought of God 
 come with them ; and when you go into beau- 
 tiful or attractive scenes, let the reconciled 
 Presence go with you ; till at last earth is suf- 
 fused with heaven, and with the immortal 
 
352 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 morning spread upon the mountains death is 
 done away and the oak valley superseded. 
 
 And seek, as a fruit of the Spirit, love. As 
 a Christian principle cultivate a broad benev- 
 olence, and by-and-by you will" come to feel 
 it as a delightful and spontaneous instinct. 
 Having, in virtue of your redeemed relation, 
 "a covenant with the beasts of the field and 
 with the creeping things of the ground," you 
 will come to share the creature- ward compla- 
 cency of that kind Creator whose tender mer- 
 cies are over all his works, and perhaps may 
 realize the description with which you have 
 sometimes been charmed : 
 
 " In the silence of his face I read 
 His overflowing spirit. Birds and beasts, 
 And the mute fish that glances in the stream, 
 And harmless reptile coiling in the sun, 
 And gorgeous insect moving in the air, 
 The fowl domestic, and the household dog 
 In his capacious mind he loved them all. 
 
 Rich in love 
 
 And sweet humanity, he was himself, 
 To the degree that he desired, beloved."* 
 
 But even this creature-ward kindliness will 
 
 * Wordsworth's " Excursion," book 2. 
 
GREEN PASTURES. 353 
 
 profit you little unless it be combined with 
 that sublime love towards your immortal fel- 
 lows which constitutes Christian charity. Love 
 man as man. Fallen and sinful, he is still your 
 brother. Pity the sinner even whilst you 
 abhor the sin; and, in order to deepen and 
 purify your compassion, let it assume a practi- 
 cal form. Ask yourself, what am I doing to 
 make it a holier and so a happier world? 
 And if you find that you are doing nothing in 
 this Divine direction, be not surprised that 
 there is still a crook in your lot and a discom- 
 fort in your spirit. Existence will only run 
 smooth when you learn to be a fellow- worker 
 with God. And love the believing brethren. 
 Eejoice in their increase. Rejoice in their 
 prosperity. Glorify the grace of God in them, 
 and be so heartily solicitous for their progress 
 and improvement as really to help them for- 
 ward. And loving without dissimulation, you 
 will soon find yourself the centre of much 
 affection in return, and whatever joy you dif- 
 fuse you will find it aU returning with increase 
 into your own bosom. 
 
BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 JUhrt Carter % $rntjrer0, 
 
 285 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 
 
 ABEEL'S (Rev. David) Life. By his Nephew. 8mo $ 50 
 
 ABEROROMBIE'S Contest and The Armour. 32mo, gilt.... 25 
 
 ADAM'S Three Divine Sisters Faith, Hope and Charity 60 
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 18mo 30 
 
 ALLEDNE'S Gospel Promises. 18mo 30 
 
 Life and Letters. 12mo 60 
 
 ALEXANDER'S Counsels to the Young. 32mo, gilt 25 
 
 ANCEBNT HISTORY of the Egyptians, Syrians, &c., 4 vols. . 2 00 
 
 ANDERSON'S Annals of the English Bible. 8vo 1 75 
 
 Family Book. 12mo 75 
 
 AUSTRALIA, tho Loss of the Brig, by Fire. 18mo 25 
 
 BAGSTER The Authenticity and Inspiration of the Bible 60 
 
 BAXTER'S Saint's Rest. Large type. 12mo 60 
 
 Call to the Unconverted. 18mo 30 
 
 Choice Works. 12mo 60 
 
 BIBLE EXPOSITOR. Illustrated. 18mo 50 
 
 BICKERSTETH'S Treatise on Prayer. 18mo 40 
 
 Treatise on the Lord's Supper. 18mo 30 
 
 BLOSSOMS OF CHILDHOOD. By the author of the " Broken 
 
 Bud." 16mo 75 
 
 BLUNT'S Undesigned Coincidences, and Paley's Hone Paulinae. 
 
 In one volume, 8vo 2 00 
 
 BOG ATZK Y' S Golden Treasury. 24mo, gilt SQ 
 
BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 JUhert Carttr fc $rntjrtr0, 
 
 285 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 
 
 ABEEL'S (Rev, David) Life. By his Nephew. 8mo $ 50 
 
 ABEROROMBIE'S Contest and The Armour. 32mo, gilt 25 
 
 ADAM'S Three Divine Sisters Faith, Hope and Charity 60 
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 18mo 30 
 
 ALLEINE'S Gospel Promises. 18mo 30 
 
 Life and Letters. 12mo 60 
 
 ALEXANDER'S Counsels to the Young. 32mo, gilt 25 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY of the Egyptians, Syrians, &c., 4 vols. . 2 00 
 
 ANDERSON'S Annals of the English Bible. 8vo 1 75 
 
 Family Book. 12mo 75 
 
 AUSTRALIA, tho Loss of the Brig, by Fire. 18mo 25 
 
 BAGSTER The Authenticity and Inspiration of the Bible 60 
 
 BAXTER'S Saint's Rest. Large type. 12mo 60 
 
 Call to the Unconverted. 18mo 30 
 
 Choice Works. 12mo 60 
 
 BD3LE EXPOSITOR. Illustrated. 18mo 50 
 
 BICKERSTETH'S Treatise on Prayer. 18mo 40 
 
 Treatise on the Lord's Supper. 18mo 30 
 
 BLOSSOMS OF CHDLDHOOD. By the author of the Broken 
 
 Bud." 16mo 75 
 
 BLUNT'S Undesigned Coincidences, and Paley's florae Paulinas. 
 
 In one volume, 8 vo 2 00 
 
 BOG ATZK Y' S Golden Treasury. 24mo, gilt 5Q 
 
CARTERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BONAR'S (Rev. Horatius) Night of Weeping 30 
 
 Morning of Joy, a sequel to the above 40 
 
 Story of Grace 30 
 
 Truth and Error. 18mo 40 
 
 Man, his Religion and his World 40 
 
 BONAR'S (Rev. Andrew) Commentary on Leviticus. 8vo 150 
 
 BONNET'S Family of Bethany. 18mo 40 
 
 Meditations on the Lord's Prayer. 18mo 40 
 
 BOOTH'S Reign of Grace. 12mo 75 
 
 BORROWS Bible and Gipsies of Spain. 8vo, cloth 1 00 
 
 BOSTON'S Four-fold State. 18mo 50 
 
 Crook in the Lot. 18mo 30 
 
 BRETT (Rev. W. H.) The Indian Tribes of Guiana. Illus- 
 trated. 16mo 
 
 BROKEN BUD ; or, the Reminiscences of a Bereaved Mother. 
 
 With steel Frontispiece. 16mo 75 
 
 BROWN'S (Rev. John, D.D.) Exposition of First Peter. 8vo. . 2 50 
 
 On the Sayings and Discourses of Christ. 3 vols. 8vo 
 
 BROWN'S Explication of the Assembly's Catechism. 12mo. . . 60 
 
 BROWN (Rev. David) on tho Second Advent. 12mo 1 25 
 
 BRIDGES on the Christian Ministry. 8vo 1 50 
 
 On the Proverbs. 8vo 200 
 
 On the CXIX. Psalm. New edition. 8vo 1 00 
 
 Memoir of Mary Jane Graham. 8vo 100 
 
 Works. 3 vols. 8vo, containing the above 5 00 
 
 BROWN'S Concordance. New and neat edition. 24mo* 20 
 
 Do. Gilt edge 30 
 
 BUCHANAN'S Comfort in Affliction. 18mo 40 
 
 On the Holy Spirit. J 8mo. Second edition 50 
 
 BUNBURY'S Glory, Glory, Glory, and other Narratives 25 
 
 BUTLER'S (Bishop) Complete Works. 8vo 1 50 
 
 Sermons, alone. 8vo 100 
 
 Analogy, alone. 8vo 75 
 
 and Wilson's Analogy. 8vo 1 25 
 
 BUNYAN'S Pilgrim's Progress, fine edition, large type. 12mo. . 1 00 
 
 Do. Gilt 150 
 
 Do. 18mo, close type 50 
 
 Jerusalem Sinner Saved. 18mo 50 
 
 Greatness of the Soul. 18mo 50 
 
 BURN' S (John) Christian Fragments. 18mo 40 
 
 BURNS' (Rev. Jabez) Parables and Miracles of Christ. 12mo. . *5 
 CALVIN The Life and Times of John Calvin, tho Great Re- 
 former. By Paul Henry, D.D. 2 vols. 8vo, Porrait 3 00 
 
 CAMERON'S (Mrs.) Farmer's Daughter. Illustrated 3f 
 
CARTERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 CATECHISMS The Assembly's Catechism. Per hundred .... 1 25 
 
 with Proofs 3 00 
 
 Brown's Short Catechism. Per hundred 1 25 
 
 Brown on the Assembly's Catechism. 18mo 10 
 
 CECIL'S WORKS. 3 vols. 12mo, with Portrait 3 00 
 
 Sermons, separate 1 00 
 
 Miscellanies and Remains, separate 100 
 
 Original Thoughts, separate 1 00 
 
 (Catharine; Memoir of Mrs. Hawks, with Portrait 1 00 
 
 CHARNOCK'S Choice Works 60 
 
 CHALMERS' Sermons. 2 vols. 8vo. With a fine Portrait 3 00 
 
 Lectures on Romans. 8 vo. * " " 1 50 
 
 Miscellanies. 8vo. 150 
 
 Select Works ; comprising the above. 4 vols. 8vo 6 00 
 
 Evidences of Christian Revelation. 2 vols 1 25 
 
 Natural Theology. 2 vols 125 
 
 Moral Philosophy 60 
 
 Commercial Discourses 60 
 
 Astronomical Discourses 60 
 
 CHEEVER'S Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress. Illus. 12mo. . 1 00 
 
 CHRISTIAN RETIREMENT. 12mo 75 
 
 EXPERIENCE. By the same author. 12mo 75 
 
 CLARK'S (Rev. John A.,) Walk about Zion. 12mo 75 
 
 Pastor's Testimony 75 
 
 Awake, Thou Sleeper 75 
 
 Young Disciple 88 
 
 Gathered Fragments 1 00 
 
 CLARKE'S Daily Scripture Promises. 32mo, gilt 30 
 
 COLQUHOUN'S (Lady) World's Religion. New ed., 16mo. ... 50 
 COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. By the Author of 
 
 44 The Week," &c. Illustrated by Rowland. 16mo 75 
 
 COWPER The Works of William Cowper; comprising his 
 Life, Letters and Poems, now first collected by the introduction 
 of Cowper's Private Correspondence. Edited by the Rev. T. S. 
 Grimshaw. With numerous illustrations on steel, and a fine 
 
 Portrait by Ritchie. 1 vol. royal 8vo 3 00 
 
 Do. do. cloth, extra gilt 400 
 
 Do. do. morocco extra 500 
 
 Poetical Works, complete, separate. 2 vols. 16mo. Illus. 1 50 
 
 CUMMIN G-'S (Rev. John, D.D.) Message from God. 18mo 30 
 
 Christ Receiving Sinners 30 
 
 GUNNING-HAM'S World without Souls. 18mo 30 
 
 OUYLER'S (Rev. T. L.) Stray Arrows 30 
 
 DALE (Rev. Thomas) The Golden Pialm. 16mo 60 
 
CARTERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 DAVTES' Sermons. 3 volj. 12mo 200 
 
 DAVIDSON'S (Dr.) Connexions. New edition. 8vo 1 50 
 
 Do. do. 3vols. 12mo 150 
 
 DAVID'S PSALMS, in metre. Large type. 12mo, embossed. . 75 
 
 Do. do. gilt edge 100 
 
 Do. do. Turkey morocco 2 00 
 
 Do. 18mo, good type, plain sheep 38 
 
 Do. 48mo, very neat pocket edition, sheep 20 
 
 Do. " " " morocco 25 
 
 Do. c * ' " gilt edge 31 
 
 Do. " " ** tucks 50 
 
 Do. with Brown's Notes. .18mo 50 
 
 Do. " " morocco gilt 1 00 
 
 D'ATTBiaNE'S History of the Reformation. Carefully Revised, 
 with various additions not hitherto published. 4 vols. in two. 
 
 12mo, cloth 1 50 
 
 Do. do. 8vo, complete in 1 vol 1 00 
 
 Life of Cromwell the Protector. ]2mo 50 
 
 . Germany, England and Scotland . 12mo 75 
 
 Luther and Calvin. 18mo 25 
 
 The Authority of God the true Barrier against Infidel and 
 
 Romish Aggression 75 
 
 DICK'S (John, D.D.) Lectures on Theology, tine edition, with 
 
 Portrait. 2 vols. in one. Cloth 250 
 
 Do. do sheep 300 
 
 Do. do. in 2 vols. Cloth 3 00 
 
 Lectures on Acts. 8vo 1 50 
 
 DICKINSON'S (Rer. R. W.) Scenes from Sacred History 1 00 
 
 Responses from the Sacred Oracles 100 
 
 DODDRIDGE'S Rise and Progress. 18mo 40 
 
 Life of Col. Gardiner. 18mo 30 
 
 DUNCAN'S Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons. 4 vols 3 00 
 
 Life. By his Son. With Portrait. 12mo 75 
 
 Tales of the Scottish Peasantry. 18mo. Illustrated 50 
 
 Cottage Fireside. 18mo. Illustrated 40 
 
 (Mrs.) Life of Mary Lundie Duncan. 16mo 75 
 
 Life of George A. Lundie. 18mo 50 
 
 Memoir of George B . Phillips. 18mo 25 
 
 Children of the Manse 1 00 
 
 America as I saw it 
 
 (Mary Lundie) Rhymes for my Children. Illustrated. . . . 25 
 
 EDO- AR'S Variations of Popery. 8vo 100 
 
 EDWARD'S (Jonathan, D.D.) Charity and its Fruits. Never 
 
 before published. 16mo 1 00 
 
CARTERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ERSKINE'S Gospel Sonnets. 18mo. Portrait 50 
 
 ENGLISH PULPIT. 8vo 150 
 
 EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. A Course of Lectures 
 
 delivered before, the University of Virginia. Svo 2 50 
 
 Araong the Lecturers are Drs. Alexander, Rice, Breckenridge, 
 
 Plumer, Green, McGill, Sampson, &c. 
 FAR OFF ; or, Asia and Australia Described. By the Author of 
 
 the tfc feep of Day," &c. Illustrated. IGmo 75 
 
 FAMILY WORSHIP. A Series of Prayers for every Morning 
 and Evening throughout the year, adapted to Domestic Wor- 
 ship. By ne hundred and eighty clergymen of Scotland. 8 vo. . 300 
 
 Do. do. do. half morocco 4 00 
 
 Do. do. do. morocco 500 
 
 FERG-USON'S Roman Republic. 8vo 1 50 
 
 FISK'S Memorial of the Holy Land. With steel plates 1 00 
 
 FLEURY'S Life of David. l-2mo 60 
 
 FOSTER'S ssays on Decision of Character, &c. Largo type.. 75 
 
 Do. do. close type, 18mo.. 50 
 
 : Essay on the Evils of Popular Ignorance. 12mo 75 
 
 FORD'S Decapolis. 18mo 25 
 
 FOX Memoir of the Rev. Henry Watson Fox, Missionary to the 
 
 Teloogoos. Illustrated. 12mo 1 00 
 
 FRANK NETHERTON ; or, The Talisman. Illustrated. 16mo. 60 
 
 FRY (Caroline) The Listener. Illustrated edition. IGmo 100 
 
 Christ on Law. 12rno 60 
 
 Sabbath Musings. ]8mo 40 
 
 The Scripture Reader's Guide. 18rno 30 
 
 Christ our Example, and Autobiography. IGmo 
 
 GEOLOGICAL COSMOGONY. By a Layman. 18mo 30 
 
 GOD IN THE STORM. 18mo 25 
 
 GOODE'S Better Covenant. J2mo 60 
 
 GRAHAM'S Test of Truth. 18mo 30 
 
 GREEN The Life of the Rev. Ashbel Green, D.D. 8vo 2 00 
 
 GRIFFITH'S Live while you Live. 18mo 30 
 
 HALDANE'S Exposition of Romans. 8vo 250 
 
 HALL'S (Bishop) Select Works. IGmo 75 
 
 HAMILTON'S (Rev. James, D.D.) Life in Earnest. 18mo 30 
 
 Mount of Olives. 18mo 30 
 
 - Harp on the Willows. 18mo 30 
 
 Thankfulness. 18mo 30 
 
 Life of Hall. 24mo, gilt 30 
 
 Happy Home. Illustrated. 18mo 50 
 
 Life of Lady Colquhoun. 16mo 75 
 
 The Royal Preacher. With Portrait. 16mo 85 
 
CARTERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HAWKER'S Poor Man's Morning Portion. 12tno 60 
 
 Do. do. Evening Portion. " 60 
 
 Zion's Pilgrim. ISmo 30 
 
 HERVEY'S Meditations. 18mo 40 
 
 HETHERING-TON'S History of the Church of Scotland 1 50 
 
 HENGSTENBEI?G on the Apocalypse. 2 vols. 8vo 
 
 HENRY'S (Matt.) Method for Prayer 40 
 
 Communicant's Companion. 18mo 40 
 
 Daily Communion with God. " 30 
 
 Pleasantness of a Religious Life. 24mo, gilt 30 
 
 Choice Works. 12mo 60 
 
 HENRY, Philip, Life of. 18mo 50 
 
 HE WITS ON Memoir of the Rev. W. H. Hewitson, Free Church 
 
 Minister at Dirleton, Scotland, with Portrait. 12mo 85 
 
 HILL'S (George) Lectures on Divinity. 8vo 2 00 
 
 (Rowland) Life. By Sidney. 12mo 75 
 
 HISTORY OF THE PURITANS IN ENGLAND, AND 
 
 THE PILGRIM FATHERS. By Stowell and Wilson. 12mo. 1 00 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION IN EUROPE 40 
 
 HOUSMAN'S Life and Remains. ]2mo 75 
 
 HORNE'S Introduction. 2 vols. royal 8vo, half cloth 3 50 
 
 Do. do. 1 vol. sheep 400 
 
 Do. do. 2vols.cloth 400 
 
 Do. do. 2 vols. library style 500 
 
 (Bishop,) Commentary on the Book of Psalms 1 50 
 
 HO WELL'S LIFE Perfect Peace. 18mo 30 
 
 HOWE'S Redeemer's Tears, and other Essays. 18mo 50 
 
 HOWARD, (John,) or the Prison World of Europe. 12mo 1 00 
 
 HOOKER, (Rev. H.,) The Uses of Adversity. ]8mo 30 
 
 Philosophy of Unbelief 75 
 
 HUSS, (Job n ,) Life of. Translated from the German 25 
 
 INFANT'S PROGRESS. By the Author of " Little Henry and 
 
 his Bearer." Illustrated. IGmo 75 
 
 JACOBUS on Matthew. With a Harmony. Illustrated 75 
 
 Questions on do. 18rno 15 
 
 On Mark, Luko and John, (preparing,) 
 
 JAMES' Anxious Inquirer. ISmo 30 
 
 True Christian. 18rno 30 
 
 Widow Directed. 18mo 30 
 
 Young Man from Home 30 
 
 Christian Professor. New edition. 12mo 75 
 
 Christian Duty. IGmo 75 
 
 JAMD3 GORDON; or, The Orphan. Illustrated. IGmo 75 
 
 JANE WAY'S Heaven upon Earth. JSmo 30 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 I 
 
 290ct'51LU 
 
 OCT 
 
 REC'D LD 
 
 )EC30'63-1P 
 
 
 PK is 
 DEAD 
 
 CO 
 
 
 LD 21-95?^ll,'50(2877sl6)476 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 u.c. 
 

 !-!il|li 
 
 .'-!> -V ; - ; ' *-. v ( jf J 
 
 M