Chapter IV: Part 4

"What have I done to aid the missionary cause?" is a question which each should solemnly ask his conscience. We rest in our comfortable homes, on our tables are the honey and the butter, in our barns the barley and the wheat. Have our offerings to our King, in the persons of His servants, been proportioned to the means bestowed upon us by the rich bounty of God?

How much lies in that word "proportioned!" The widow with her two mites gave, we know, more than all the rich who cast into the treasury. What proportion does what we bestow on the cause of missions bear to what we spend on our pleasures? Are there not many who would be startled by the idea of its being their duty to subscribe to missions a sum equal to what they would, without a scruple, lavish on a single entertainment, a picture, or an article of plate?

The question of "systematic beneficence" rises before us. Some urge on us the duty of devoting a tenth of all that we possess to the Lord; others would have us not mete out our charity thus, but would bid us give as we have the power, whenever our help is required. It seems that the adoption of either mode of giving should greatly depend on the character of the individual, and that we should study our own dispositions, to know which we should make our own. There are some Christians whose zeal is so warm, whose hearts so liberal, that the idea of fixing upon any proportion as a rule would only chill and cramp their charity. When St. Paul was delighting to spend and to be spent, who would have suggested to him that he should lay aside a "tenth" of his earnings for God! We do not measure out the waters of the overflowing river that pours its rich treasures through the land; we should but mar its beauty by attempting to curb its windings and bring it to a uniform width. Let it contract here, or expand there; it is ever flowing onward, a type of the "cheerful giver," whom God loveth.

But the bounty of many—perhaps of most men—is not so full or so free. If we have not the river, let us dig the canal,—that is, adopt the rule of systematic beneficence, mete out boundaries and fix embankments, not to prevent the waters of charity from overflowing, but to prevent their being encroached upon by the sand of selfishness, the mud of worldliness. Thus has God walled in His Sabbaths, not to confine devotion to one in seven, but (amongst other reasons) to insure a given space for its exercise, from which earthly concerns should be carefully excluded.

The Christian makes his business arrangements as if the week held but six days, and inconveniences are thus avoided which would otherwise often arise. If he were in like manner to count but nine-tenths of his income as his own, and systematically consider the remaining portion as not his, but God's, he would, in most cases, no more miss the tenth of his earnings than he now does the seventh of his days, and the consecrated gold, like the consecrated Sabbath, would, with God's blessing upon it, yield a rich harvest through ages eternal.

The ease with which systematic beneficence enables us to give, is not the only advantage accruing from it. It necessitates an increase in charity proportioned to increase in our wealth. This is a point too much neglected. It might appear that a man whose income is doubled would naturally also double the amount of his alms; that he who had a thousand a year would give much more largely upon its being increased to two. But it is to be feared that this is seldom "practically" the case. Wants expand in more than equal ratio to the means of satisfying them. The larger residence, the increased establishment, the better style of entertaining, place the richer man still in the position of living quite up to his income; the "stereotyped guinea" in the missionary report has not at the end of the year become two, though systematic beneficence might have raised it to a hundred without any sensible difficulty. The channel of the canal was not deepened and widened "at once," and the new supplies are sunk and lost in daily household expenditure, or evaporate in ostentation.

The Jews were commanded to devote a tenth of their property to God; and it seems clear that a Christian cannot be required to do "less" than a Jews who knew not, as we do, the "grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor, that we through His poverty might be rich." There are many persons, indeed, who cannot maintain even their independence without a painful struggle; to speak of systematic beneficence to such, would appear but mockery; "faith" must be their wealth, their offerings their "prayers;" but we have our Barzillais amongst us, who, having enough and to spare, are bound by every consideration of gratitude and duty to give freely—liberally—joyfully.

The time is coming when our King will return in triumph to His own. Then will the Shimeis who rejected Him and despised His cause fall down in terror before Him; and the wondering Barzillais find that their gifts of love, even to the "lentiles and parched pulse and honey," nay, even to the "cup of cold water" given for the sake of their King, have all been registered, and will be a thousand-fold requited by Him. Then will the deep adoring gratitude of the redeemed far exceed that expressed in the words of the Gileadite: "Why should the king recompense me with such a reward!"

XXV.

Temple Lily Work.

IN the porch of King Solomon's magnificent temple stood two mighty pillars of brass, nearly thirty feet in height: to the one he gave the name Jachin, "He shall establish;" to the other Boaz, "strength." Thus would the royal preacher seem to teach all generations that to the house of prayer we should come to be firmly established in sound doctrine, and to receive strength to stand fast in the faith.

But we are not only told of the size and material of those stately columns, but of their ornaments also: "The chapiters that were upon the top of the pillars were of lily work in the porch." Such details were not deemed too insignificant to find a place in the Word of God. Now, the question of the amount of ornament to be desired in a church is not one into which I desire to enter, believing that where a devout congregation worship God in spirit and in truth, it is of minor importance whether the edifice in which they meet be fair as Solomon's temple, or plain as the "upper room" in which the disciples assembled. Let us rather consider the beautiful lily work on the pillars as a type of that which is lovely crowning that which is lofty; the spirit of kindly sympathy towards our fellow-worshippers forming a complement and addition to exalted devotion towards God.

Were we to ask the use of churches, we might receive the reply, "They are buildings set apart for prayer, praise, and preaching, and the celebration of the sacraments ordained by our Lord." This might be a correct, but it would not be a complete answer, unless it conveyed the idea of social worship, brethren meeting as brethren in the house of their Father, lovingly uniting their hearts and voices, as they hope to do in their home above. Much is it to be regretted that there is so little of this spirit of religious sympathy; that we have, as it were, the pillars of brass without the lily work round them. There is often a chilling formality in places of worship, that makes us painfully feel that the world has brought its distinctions and its vanities even into the house of prayer. We see, perhaps, the large pew with its solitary occupant, while weary women are standing in the aisle; it is the piece of silver that admits to the seat, and those who are unable to bribe are treated as strangers, almost as intruders, in the place where, beyond all others, they should find themselves welcome. Is it not constantly the man "in goodly apparel," the woman "in gay clothing," to whom it is virtually said, "Sit thou here in a good place;" while the poor must obey the implied though unuttered command, "Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool?"

"Hospitality in church" is not a subject likely to be treated of in either religious or moral essay; the very name might provoke a smile; but I had once a practical sermon preached to me on the subject, which sank deeper into my memory than almost any sermon which I ever heard, which makes me venture to mention the trivial incident.

Many years since, I entered as a stranger a church in Brighton. The preacher was a very popular one, and I knew that I might have difficulty in obtaining a seat, so I took the first which I saw vacant; it was a free seat, close to a wall. I soon found that my position was a very undesirable one as regarded comfort; a large air-hole was directly in front, probably intended to warm the church with hot air, but that which rose up, almost under my feet, was the chilling breath of November.

I merely state the circumstance to introduce mention of the conduct of two ladies, perfect strangers to me, between whom I chanced to be seated. The one on my left hand surprised me by offering to change places with me: as there was no reason why she should be exposed to the chilling draught rather than myself, I of course declined her offer. I know not whether the lady on my right was related to the other, but she was at least her sister in kindness; for she lent to me, an utter stranger, her handsome fur tippet to place over my knees, to protect me from cold.

"A very trivial incident indeed," may be said; but when I consider its effect upon my own mind, I cannot look upon it as so trivial: often and often has the example of those ladies recurred to me in church. I heard an eloquent sermon on that November day in Brighton; but I derived at least as much benefit from the conduct of two of the congregation. I asked myself why they should be so kind to me, a stranger, and concluded that they were not of those who merely attend church to keep up a cold, heartless form of devotion, but that they had felt the "genial" influence of Christianity while uniting in social prayer. With them the pillars of brass lacked not the lily work on the chapiter.

Church is a place that often affords opportunity for the exercise of the little courtesies of life. The proffered scat, the church-book lent, the place in the hymn-book found for the deaf, the guiding hand held out to the blind,—these are trifling things in themselves, but they warm the heart of strangers, and make devotion itself more earnest by contact with Christian kindness. In church, selfishness and pride are peculiarly repulsive; we should feel the connecting link which binds together those who are one in Christ; we should see that our religion is one of humility and love. Solomon's noble pillars would have looked cold and hard but for the graceful lily work which crowned them; it might not, indeed, add to their strength, but it greatly enhanced their beauty.

XXVI.

The Widow's Cruse.

WHO, on first glancing at this homely piece of earthen-ware, an oil-cruse, with nothing to distinguish it from thousands used in the dwellings of the poor, would connect it with a miracle? Yet day after day, for the space of years, was it mysteriously supplied, while the prophet Elijah, the widow and her son, were fed on the store never failing.

We know not whether the oil within multiplied itself like the bread in the hands of the Lord's disciples, or whether an angel, pleased to be employed on such a mission of mercy, each night replenished an empty cruse. How the miracle was wrought matters not to us; the widow who had obeyed the word of the man of God, who had been willing to share her little with him, found that little increased to an inexhaustible supply.

What hallowed meals must have been those partaken of in the cottage at Sarepta, where Elijah was the guest, and where every morsel of the food on the board was a pledge of the peculiar favour of God!

The widow of Sarepta was evidently a woman of faith, and we believe that her grace was renewed day by day, like the oil in her cruse. Yet it is not impossible that her faith, like that of the Israelites when they were fed by manna from Heaven, like our own amid a thousand proofs of the watchful providence of God, may have known times of wavering and weakness. The widow would but have resembled others, if at some time she had looked with anxious fear even at this cruse so constantly supplied, and had thought, "How small it is, how unable to contain more than enough for the wants of a day! It is true that I have never yet found it empty, but what if it should fail at last! The heavens are still like brass, and the earth like iron; no rain has fallen—or is likely to fall; others wealthier far than me are perishing around me! If this oil and meal should fail, whither could I turn, to whom could I go? I should see my only son wasting with hunger before my eyes! Oh, how fearful would be the fate before us if the oil in this cruse should fail!"

We can at once see the unbelief, ingratitude, and folly of such fears, if ever the widow entertained them; but are not such fears common guests within our own bosoms? What had the widow's hopes to rest on? "Experience" and a "promise." And have not we the same? Have we not experienced that God can and will help us; that He has brought us through past troubles; that He has known how to fill the cruse in time of need, though He may not cause it to overflow, nor give more than sufficient for the wants of the day? And have we not His promise, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you. Take no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take care for the things of itself?"

We are slow to trust God's providence and love. We would have visible stores laid up for the future; we are not content with the cruse. While we torture ourselves with the thought, "What if at last it should fail?" We need the Saviour's reproof, "Ye of little faith, wherefore did ye doubt?"

"Give us this day our daily bread." There is a lesson conveyed in these words of the prayer put by our Lord Himself into the mouths of His servants. We ask—not for luxuries—but "bread;" we ask not for stores, but for "this day's" supply. It is more difficult for us, in our artificial state of society, to exercise the simplicity of faith as expressed in this prayer, than it was for the first disciples. We multiply our wants, and are discouraged if they be not abundantly supplied. It is no common attainment to be able from the heart to say with the apostle, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

It is not only for the supply of our earthly need that we should look with calm trust to God. There are those who have never known what it is to want anything that money can buy, who yet require to reflect on the widow's cruse in order to strengthen their faith. We are oppressed with fears for the future: "If that trouble come upon me, how shall I meet it? If that sorrow be sent, how shall I bear it? Will not grace fail under such a temptation?"

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within
me? hope thou in God: far I shall yet praise Him."

Hath He not said, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be?" May we not "come to Him boldly, for grace to help in time of need"? We are indeed but weak and frail, earthly vessels that have held but little; but the blessing of God, if vouchsafed to us, will make us even as the cruse at Sarepta—grace will secretly be supplied, by means of which the world knows nothing.

And let us remember that the famine time will not last for ever; the day draws near when there will be a sound of an abundance of rain. "Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness: let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness spring up together; I the Lord have created it." Grace and peace will not then be meted out, as it were, drop by drop, but flow as the river, and as the waves of the sea; the supply in the cruse will be exchanged for measureless joy, the handful of meal for the banquet prepared in the mansions of bliss!

XXVII.

Elijah's Letter.

OVER this letter a strange mystery hangs, such as is attached to no other writing of man. This is a letter to King Jehoram, a letter of stern rebuke, of terrible denunciation: it stands as a death-warrant issued by the Almighty on the idolater, the oppressor, the murderer, whose hands were stained with the blood of his six brethren, the sons of the noble Jehoshaphat.

But by whom was this letter written? The Bible informs us by Elijah; but—before Jehoram had ascended the throne, or had committed his fearful crime, Elijah the prophet had gone up to Heaven in a chariot of fire! Hence arises a difficulty which has perplexed the minds of the learned, and which has given rise to various conjectures. Some have imagined that for Elijah we should read Elisha; but, as has been forcibly remarked, "we have no evidence whatever that any mistake has been made by the copyists, but all the evidence lies on the other side. The Septuagint version, which was very early made, and very widely spread, has it Elias—that is, according to Greek, 'Elijah'; and not Elisha, which latter word in Greek is 'Eliseus'. Again, the Jewish historian Josephus, referring to this event, has expressly the word Elijah."

Krümmacher appears to hold that the mysterious writing actually came from the world of spirits; that that hand which had never known corruption had traced the letters denouncing judgment upon a most wicked king. There is a third conjecture, which seems to bear with it much of probability; that the prophet, foreknowing both the crimes of Jehoram and their punishment, wrote the letter before his ascension, and left it to be delivered in the ripeness of time. If either of these latter conjectures point to the actual fact, what a solemn interest attaches to this message from the departed, the letter to a monarch of earth from one who dwelt upon earth no more!

It is interesting to reflect on the power and influence which writings may possess after the death of the writer, nay, in consequence of his death. A parent's letter, received after his departure from this state of being, may penetrate a heart that was closed against all the warnings of that parent when alive. We set an especial value upon "last" messages, "last" words; they are like proofs of an engraving made more precious from the plate being broken.

An instance is given by the traveller Palgrave of a writing left as a legacy, in itself so beautiful, and written under circumstances so interesting, that I cannot forbear transcribing the greater part of it. The reader will, I trust, forgive what may appear as a digression.

Palgrave received the following account, on the occasion of his visit to Moharreb, an island on the eastern coast of Arabia, from a learned Arab named Mogheeth, who was scarcely able to finish his recital from the emotion which it caused him.

The famous Ahmed el Ghazalee, native of Toos in Persia, a poet who lived in the twelfth century, said one day to his disciples, "Go and bring me new and white garments, for the King hath summoned me to his presence."

They obeyed, and on their return they found their master lifeless. By the side of the corpse lay a paper, on which were inscribed the following lines. It is impossible not to be struck with the spirit breathing through the poetry, which appears not to be Mohammedan, but Christian. Some of the ideas seem actually to be gleaned from the writings of the apostles; there is St. Paul's sublime view of death, St. John's lofty revelation of God as love, though there is no allusion to the great doctrine of justification by faith. As the religion of Christ prevailed in early ages in the islands of the Persian Gulf, we cannot but think that it left traces behind, as the "garden flower grows wild" where it once was carefully cultivated, springing up in congenial soil, though no longer tended by man. These are the lines by which the dead Ahmed el Ghazalee spake, as if from the realm of spirits:

"Tell my friends who behold me dead,
Weeping and mourning my loss awhile,
Think not this corpse before you myself;
That corpse is mine, but it is not I.
I am undying life, and this is but my body,
Many years my house, and my garment of change.
I am a bird, and this body was my cage;
I have winged my flight elsewhere, and left it for a token.
I am a pearl, and this my shell
Broken open and abandoned to worthlessness.
I am a treasure; this was a spell
Thrown over me, till the treasure was released in truth.
Thanks be to God who has delivered me,
And has assigned me a lasting abode in the highest.
There am I now the day conversing with the happy,
And beholding face to face unveiled Deity;
Contemplating the Mirror wherein I see and read
Past and present, and whatever remains to be."

* * * *

"I have journeyed on, and left you behind;
How could I make an abode of your halting-place?
Ruin then my house, and break my cage in pieces,
And let the shell go perish with kindred illusions;
Tear my garment, the veil once thrown over me,
Then bury all these, and leave them alike forgotten.

"Deem not death—death, for it is in truth
Life of lives, and goal of all our longings.
Think lovingly of a God whose name is Love,
Who joys in rewarding, and come on secure of fear:
Whence I am I behold you, undying spirits like myself,
And see that our lot is one, and you as I."

XXVIII.

Jonah's Gourd.

WE look on a dry and withered thing, killed by the worm, shrivelled by the heat. Not so appeared the plant when its broad leaves, full of life and beauty, afforded a cool green shade to the prophet Jonah. The gourd formed a kind of bower, under the shadow of which the weary could rest, and was thus a beautiful emblem of that charity which "covereth a multitude of sins."

It was a worm at the root which destroyed it; and when we read in the sacred story how, with Jonah himself, charity was so dried up and withered that God's mercy to thousands could afford him pain instead of joy, we naturally ask,—What was the worm at the root with him? If we search a little under the surface, we shall find that the worm was "pride;" and that, not only with Jonah, but too often with ourselves, hidden pride eats the life out of charity, and leaves but a dry, sapless skeleton, worthless in the sight of God and His angels.

There is something to admire, but little to love, in Jonah, as his portrait stands in the gallery of Scripture, drawn by his own vigorous hand. We admire the straightforward truthfulness of the man who softens not one harsh feature, but represents his own defects with unsparing fidelity. We admire Jonah's calm courage when he bade the mariners fling him into the raging billows, and save their own lives by sacrificing his. We admire the faith which sustained him, and made him look towards God, even When the depth closed him round about, and the weeds were wrapped about his head.

But we shrink from the severity of character which marked this prophet, who could contemplate the destruction of a large heathen city with stern satisfaction, and betray irritation because the mercy of God far exceeded his own. We imagine that, if Jonah had lived in these days, though he would have been a man of spotless integrity and unblemished life, he would probably have appeared as a severe master, or a hard landlord, far more just than merciful; that little ones, who "cannot discern between their right hand and their left," would not have clung to his neck, or smiled up into his face, reading there—as children intuitively do —the impression left there by a spirit of kindliness.

We contrast the character of Jonah with that of St. Paul; the hardness of the prophet with the intense desire of the apostle that sinners might be spared, and his readiness to spend and be spent for others: "To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak. I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." Paul's charity, like the gourd of miraculous growth, spread its glorious branches far and wide; nor did opposition, cruelty, or ingratitude, destroy its vigour or wither its leaf.

Perhaps the chief cause of St. Paul's tender indulgence and yearning sympathy towards sinners, is to be found in his deep sense of personal sin. When he was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, we find in him no trace of mercy towards those who differed from him in religious opinions. We have no reason to suppose that the perishing state of the Gentile world ever then cost him a sigh. Saul might have seen a Nineveh destroyed with as much cold indifference as Jonah himself would have done. But he who deemed himself the least of saints and the chief of sinners, loved much, because he had been forgiven much; he delighted in dwelling on the free grace which had saved his own perishing soul; he felt that that grace alone had made him to differ from others, and his heart's desire was that Jew and Gentile should participate in the blessing.

Now, this deep sense of sin does not appear in Jonah. He confessed, indeed, to the sailors, that the storm was a judgment upon his flight from duty; but we discover in him none of the lowly humiliation on account of sin which marked a David, a Peter, or even a righteous Job. Perhaps the very nature of his punishment rather fostered the pride than abased the spirit of the prophet. The elements were moved on his account; his transgression had raised a storm—his generous sacrifice quelled it. God wrought a special miracle for his preservation from death. Then, scarcely had Jonah declared the Almighty's message to Nineveh, than the whole mighty city repented in dust and ashes. When did the voice of preacher ever command more sudden, more marvellous success? Truly, Jonah was set on a very high pinnacle indeed! He was reverenced by monarch and people as the inspired oracle of God. We cannot marvel that pride was fostered in the heart of Jonah; and are less surprised that it had such an effect upon his charity—that, to maintain his lofty position as a prophet, he would have been content that the judgments which he had threatened should all be terribly fulfilled.

How gently did God, in His love and wisdom, deal with the haughty Jonah! He who had seemed to grasp the thunderbolt was taught that he was but man—but a weak, sinful man. The bodily frame, once miraculously preserved, was shown to be subject to pain and fatigue, even like those of others; the mere force of the wind, the mere heat of the sun, were sufficient to exhaust its strength. Jonah was ready to faint. The soul that had been so lofty and firm in the prospect of instant death, was prostrated and brought to despair by the withering of a gourd!

Where was his courage—where his power of endurance? Jonah, under a common form of trial, shows, not the dignity of a prophet, but the impatient querulousness of a child. It must have been with shame that he afterwards recorded the almost impious complaints which bodily discomfort drew from his lips.

The story is abruptly ended. Jonah tells not the effect on his own mind of the gentle rebuke of the Lord; but we may trust that it caused him to bow down in shame, and search for the worm at the root, and learn to extend to others that mercy which he found that he so greatly needed himself.

What are our feelings towards "them that are without," those whom we deem grievous sinners, like the men of Nineveh? Is there a cold, self-righteous complacency, in the thought that we are not as they are-something of satisfaction in the belief, that, though they may revel in prosperity now, judgment will ere long overtake them? When the tower of Siloam falls, are we eager to show that those crushed beneath it were sinners above all that dwell at Jerusalem?

Let us beware of a censorious spirit, ready to judge and to condemn. If we see the leaf of our charity shrivelling, let us search for the worm at the root. Many a sorrow and many a fall may God permit His servants to suffer, in order to humble and to prove them, and to teach them, as He taught Jonah, that they are but dust. The most exalted saints have nothing wherein to glory but the Cross of Christ; through which alone they, as well as the lowest and worst of transgressors, can be delivered from the righteous judgments of God.

XXIX.

The Fetters of Manasseh.

WE bless the Lord for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but how strange are some of the things which the white-robed saints on high will number amongst these blessings! There may be heard a Nebuchadnezzar praising for the blessing of madness; a pardoned thief for the torments of a cross; and a Manasseh, remembering, in a song of loud thanksgiving, those Babylonish fetters of which the iron entered into his soul!

Manasseh, King of Judah, had perhaps descended into lower depths of depravity than any other sinner of whose conversion we read in the Bible. He might have been thought beyond reach even of the mercy of God, so deep had he sunk in the pit of iniquity. Dr. Kitto thus sums up the list of the transgressions of this most wicked man: "The crimes of all former kings seem light in comparison with those which disgraced his reign. He upheld idolatry with all the influence of the regal power, and with such inconceivable boldness, that the pure and holy ceremonies of the temple were superseded by rites of an idol image, set up in the very sanctuary . . . The practice which was, of all others, the most abhorrent to Jehovah, the king sanctioned by his own atrocious example, for he devoted his own children by fire to strange gods, in the blood-stained valley of Ben Hinnom. Wickedness reigned on high, and, as usual, persecuted righteousness and truth; so that, by a strong but significant hyperbole, we are told that innocent blood flowed in the streets of Jerusalem." It is said that the prophet Isaiah was martyred by the command of Manasseh, and underwent a terrible death, by being sawn asunder!

"God spoke unto Manasseh, and to his people, but they would not hearken." Who could have marvelled, then, if the sentence had gone forth, "Manasseh is joined to idols—let him alone?" "He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy."

But Manasseh, son of Hezekiah, had doubtless been the child of many prayers, and the Spirit of his heavenly Father yearned still over this worse than prodigal son. God sent other messengers, to whom Manasseh could not choose but hearken. The Lord brought on him "the captains of the King of Assyria, which took Manasseh among the thorns, and bound him with fetters, and carried him to Babylon." Those chains were as the cords of love, with which mercy would draw the wretched sinner back from the gulf of destruction into which he was plunging.

"When he was in affliction, he besought the Lord his God, and humbled himself greatly before the God of his fathers." The prayer attributed to Manasseh, though not contained in the inspired record, nor perhaps written by Manasseh himself, well expresses what must have been the feeling of his broken and contrite heart. "I have sinned above the number of the sands of the sea. My transgressions, O Lord, are multiplied, my transgressions are multiplied, and I am not worthy to behold and see the height of heaven, for the multitude of my iniquities. I am bowed down with many iron bands, that I cannot lift up my head, neither have any release; for I have provoked Thy wrath, and done evil before Thee. I did not Thy will, neither kept I Thy commandments. I have set up abominations, and have multiplied offences. Now, therefore, I bow the knee of my heart, beseeching Thee of grace. I have sinned, O Lord, I have sinned, and I acknowledge my iniquities. Wherefore, I humbly beseech Thee, forgive me, O Lord, forgive me, and destroy me not with mine iniquities . . . For Thou art the God, even the God of them that repent; and in me Thou wilt show all Thy goodness, for Thou wilt save me, that am unworthy, according to Thy great mercy."

"The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." The history of Manasseh is a most striking comment upon such a text as this. If "he" was saved, who need despair? If "he" was granted true repentance, what heart so dead in sin that it cannot be quickened by the Spirit of Life!

When God released the prisoner from captivity, and brought him again to Jerusalem to reign on the throne of his fathers, Manasseh proved the sincerity of his contrition by the change in his life. "He took away the strange gods, and the idol out of the house of the Lord, and all the altars that he had built, and cast them out of the city. And he repaired the altar of the Lord, and sacrificed thereon peace-offerings and thank-offerings, and commanded Judah to serve the Lord God of Israel."

We believe that amongst the ransomed of Christ, Manasseh will at the last day be found with the pious Hezekiah his father, and the holy prophet Isaiah, whose inspired words were so touchingly fulfilled in the case of his own cruel murderer. "Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool."

The history of Manasseh is fraught with hope and comfort, not only for those bowed down under the weight of manifold sins, but for parents enduring that anguish which is only second to that of remorse, grief for the wickedness of a child. Hezekiah was a man of prayer; he had, we doubt not, often fervently prayed for his boy, and long after his own decease his prayers were abundantly answered. The supplications of Hezekiah may have helped to forge these fetters for Manasseh, they may have helped to draw the Assyrians upon him.

Let us close our meditations upon this most striking history of God's abounding grace, in the words of one who was himself a miracle of pardoning love,—"Godly sorrow worketh repentance not to be repented of. The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

XXX.

The Deed of Purchase.

A LIFE of bitter trial was that of Jeremiah, the messenger of wrath and of woe, the prophet who announced evil tidings of disgrace and ruin to a profligate court and a wicked people. Jeremiah stood like a light-house on a desolate rock, exposed to the fury of the blast of calumny, the fierce billows of persecution. What would be the position of a seer, even in these days, who should announce the utter devastation of our land by famine and sword, who should declare amongst us that we should become "an execration and an astonishment, a curse and a reproach," who should pronounce a sentence of death upon monarch and noble, bid our soldiers sheath their swords, and our volunteers submit to a foreign foe without so much as a struggle? Jeremiah has recorded his own sufferings in language which shows how deeply he felt them. "I am the man that hath seen affliction. He hath made me desolate. I was a derision to all my people, and their song all the day."

Nor were hatred and mockery all that the prophet had to endure. His liberty was taken away; his life was in imminent peril;—it is said that he fell at last a victim to his countrymen's hatred. When we consider also that the ruin of his nation was the source of deep affliction to one who was a patriot as well as a prophet, that—like the blessed Saviour—Jeremiah wept over Jerusalem while he foretold her destruction, we shall conclude that amongst God's saints few drank more deeply of the cup of sorrow and will scarcely wonder that in his anguish Jeremiah cursed the day of his birth.

But the deed of purchase which we are now contemplating reminds us of an occasion when a gleam of joy may have shone on the darkened path of the prophet, a drop of sweetness have been mixed in his cup. The whole transaction connected with it is very remarkable.

When Jeremiah was shut up in the court of the prison at Jerusalem,—when the Chaldeans were investing the doomed city which he knew must fall into their hands—then received he an intimation from God that he should purchase a field in his native place Anathoth, of which the right of redemption was his.

"What have I to do with buying land!" may have been the first thought of the wondering seer; "is this a time to receive olive-yards and vineyards? I am a prisoner and cannot get forth; Anathoth is now in the hands of the enemy, and soon will Jerusalem be so also. My people will be led into captivity; the Gentiles will rule in the land: what profit can there be in this field to me or to mine!"

But if such a thought arose, Jeremiah's faith suffered it not to influence his conduct. The purchase was to be made as a pledge and token that the captivity of Judah was not to last for ever; that the ransomed of the Lord should return to Zion; that Anathoth of Benjamin should again belong to the chosen race. Jeremiah would not live to see the return of his people, but he foresaw it by faith, and in faith bought the field as the Lord had appointed. We see the prisoner with calm thankfulness weighing out the seventeen shekels * of silver in the balances; a small sum, and yet probably deemed by many a desponding Jew too large to be thrown away upon what might seem to be a worthless claim. Mocking smiles may have been interchanged between the witnesses to so strange a transaction, when the prisoner subscribed and sealed the deed, and gave it to the faithful Baruch to be carefully preserved for a time yet remote. But Jeremiah had full assurance that such a time would arrive; for thus said the Lord of hosts to His prophet: "Houses and fields and vineyards shall be possessed again in this land . . . for I will cause their captivity to return."

* Not much above forty shillings. See note in D'Oyly and Mant's Bible.

We look upon Jeremiah's deed of purchase as a type of that claim which both Israel and Judah hold still on the land of their fathers. Jerusalem, with all the inheritance bestowed by God upon Abraham, is now in the possession of the followers of the false prophet; Judea, for the sins of her people is again in captivity, and her sons are scattered abroad amongst the Gentiles. The olive-yards and vineyards of Palestine are now—and for many ages have been the spoil of strangers. But it shall not be so for ever. Not by purchase but by promise is the whole land reserved for the sons of Abraham. The deed has been carefully preserved, not—as Jeremiah's—in an earthen vessel, but in God's own Book. The whole deed is too long for transference to these pages, but a portion may be transcribed, gathered from various books of the Old Testament Scriptures; each prophet, as it were, setting his seal to the precious document.

"I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and of supplications: and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for Him, as one mourneth for his only son, and shall be in bitterness for Him, as one that is in bitterness for his firstborn." *

"Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice with all the heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. The Lord hath taken away thy judgments, He hath cast out thine enemy: the king of Israel, even the Lord, is in the midst of thee: thou shalt not see evil any more." †

"At that time will I bring you again, even in the time that I gather you: for I will make you a name and a praise among all people of the earth." ‡

"All nations shall call you blessed: for ye shall be a delightsome
land, saith the Lord of Hosts." §

"For, lo, I will command, and I will sift the house of Israel among all nations, like as corn is sifted in a sieve, yet shall not the least grain fall upon the earth. And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be pulled up out of their land which I have given them, saith the Lord thy God." ¶

* Zech. xii. 10. † Zeph. iii. 14, 15. ‡ Zeph. iii.20
§ Mal. iii. 12. ¶ Amos ix. 9, 15.

"And the heathen shall know that I the Lord do sanctify Israel, when
My sanctuary shall be in the midst of them for evermore." *

"At that time they shall call Jerusalem the throne of the Lord; and
all the nations shall be gathered unto it." †

"He shall cause them that come of Jacob to take root: Israel shall
blossom and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit." ‡

* Ezek. xxxvii. 28. † Jer. iii. 17. ‡ Isa. xxvii. 6.

St. Paul, himself a Hebrew of the Hebrews, looked with faith and hope on this deed, and thus subscribed himself as a witness: "Blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in. And so all Israel shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Sion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob: for this is my covenant unto them, when I shall take away their sins." §

Yes, the time is coming, and now may be near, when it shall be said, "Rejoice ye with Jerusalem, and be glad with her, all ye that love her: rejoice for joy with her, all ye that mourn for her"; ¶ when the gathering of her people shall be "as life from the dead." ║

§ Rom. xi. 25-27. ¶ Isa. lxvi. 10. ║ Rom. xi. 15.

Christian brethren, is this nothing to us? Shall we be cold and indifferent, nor strive to hasten the time of Israel's restoration by our prayers, and by such efforts as God may enable us to make? Oh! "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem, they shall prosper that love thee." The word of the Lord to Israel still standeth firm, "blessed is he that blesseth thee!"

XXXI.

Jehoiakim's Knife.

IF the shadow of a curse could ever be said to lie on the inanimate instrument employed by man to work his evil will, surely it lies upon this, the first, as far as we know, ever used in the attempt to destroy a portion of God's holy Word.

On the dethronement of his brother by the King of Egypt, Jehoiakim had mounted the throne of his father Josiah, and for eleven years he reigned in Jerusalem. The sins of this wicked monarch drew down upon himself and his people the wrath of the Lord. For many years had the Prophet Jeremiah uttered the voice of solemn warning; sadly had he foretold the coming desolation. "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of my people! This whole land shall be a desolation and an astonishment, and these nations shall serve the King of Babylon seventy years."

At the command of the Lord the prophet dictated to Baruch the scribe all the words of his prophecies against Israel and Judah, and they were written down upon a roll. The prophet confided the roll to Baruch, and bade him read it aloud in the ears of the people in the house of the Lord.

"It may be," said Jeremiah, "they will present their supplication before the Lord, and will return every one from his evil way: for great is the anger and the fury that the Lord hath pronounced against this people."

The solemn announcement of coming ruin, though it led not, as in the case of Nineveh, to national repentance, yet excited interest and alarm. The princes of Judah sent for Baruch, and at their desire, he again, in their presence, read aloud the prophecies of Jeremiah. Fear fell on the nobles; "we will surely tell the king of all these words," said they unto Baruch. But aware of the storm of anger which might be roused in the monarch's breast, the princes counselled that both the prophet and the scribe should conceal themselves, and let no man know their hiding-place.

Then was Jehoiakim informed of the prophecies written against himself and his guilty land; and he sent Jehudi to fetch the roll, and read it in his presence where he sat in his winter palace, with all his princes assembled around.

Striking and solemn must that scene have been! There would be deep stillness in the royal chamber, broken only by the voice of the reader, uttering words of living power, which would fall on the ears of such of the silent listeners as had faith in prophecy, much as the voice of the judge pronouncing sentence of death falls on the ear of the criminal.

The nobles would watch the effect of the reading on the countenance of their king; would he, like Ahab, rend his clothes and put sackcloth on his flesh, and by humbling himself before God avert the threatened judgments at least for a time? Would he, like Josiah his father, go up into the house of God, call around him the priests and the people, both small and great, and read to them the Word of the Lord, honouring it, and mourning because of the curses written in the Book?

To Josiah a message had been sent, "Because thine heart was tender, and thou didst humble thyself before God, when thou heardest His words against this place . . . behold, I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be gathered to thy grave in peace, neither shall thine eyes see all the evil that I will bring upon this place."

But the spirit of Josiah was not in his son. Instead of repentance and humiliation, anger and stubborn resistance to the will of the Almighty might be read on the darkening countenance of the King of Judea. He would not even suffer Jehudi to read to the end of the roll; Jehoiakim grasped it, and cut it with his knife, and not satisfied with this open insult to the Word of God, this defiance of the terrors of the Almighty, the king flung the mutilated roll into the fire which was burning before him, as if with the blackening parchment he could destroy that Word which abideth for ever! In vain two of the nobles present endeavoured to stay the rash hand of the king, entreating him not to burn the prophetic roll; the rage of Jehoiakim was not satisfied by the crime which he had committed, he wished to wreak his fury on the living witnesses for God, as well as upon His inspired Word; he commanded the seizure of both Jeremiah and Baruch, but the Lord hid them from the anger of the king.

What availed it to the wretched Jehoiakim that he had consumed to ashes the writing of the prophet against him? The Word of the Lord came to Jeremiah, saying, "Take thee again another roll, and write in it all the former words that were in the first roll, which Jehoiakim the King of Judah hath burned, and thou shalt say to Jehoiakim, King of Judah, 'Thus saith the Lord; thou hast burned this roll . . . therefore thus saith the Lord of Jehoiakim, King of Judah, he shall have none to sit upon the throne of David; and his dead body shall be cast out in the day to the heat, and in the night to the frost.' Then took Jeremiah another roll, and gave it to Baruch, who wrote therein from the mouth of Jeremiah all the words of the Book which Jehoiakim had burned in the fire, and there were added unto them many like words."

Such was the result of this first attempt to mutilate the Scriptures, and stop the free course of the Word of God. It may have been the first, but it assuredly was not the last effort of that kind. Jehoiakim's knife and Jehoiakim's fire have but been precursors of other instruments used for the same unhallowed purpose, notwithstanding the awful warning which is found almost at the close of the Revelation. "If any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life."

Superstition has been actively employed from early ages in using the knife to mar and mutilate the Scriptures; she has tried to cut away the Second Commandment, to rend from the roll all the texts on which, as emblazoned in light, are written the doctrine of justification by faith. Nay, when she has found, like Jehoiakim, the knife insufficient for the work, she has literally cast the Bible into the flames, and not only the Book, but the bodies of many of those who counted its doctrines more precious than life! But superstition has had no power to destroy one inspired sentence, "The Word of the Lord endureth for ever."

Heresy, also, has diligently plied the knife on various parts of the sacred roll. Here one would cut away the testimony to the Divinity of Him "whose goings forth are from everlasting," here another would deprive us of the consolation to be derived from the truth that Christ "was in all points tempted as we are" though "without sin." But vain has been every wild attempt to destroy any part of the sacred Book, let man or Satan do what they may, "The Word of the Lord abideth for ever!"

In the present day many an eager hand is stretched out to grasp the knife. Now this part—now that part—of God's truth is fiercely assailed. Unbelief would cut away the record of miracles, would cast aside much of those sacred writings of which He who is the Truth itself said, "Search the Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of Me." Sceptics and unbelievers may, like Jehoiakim, draw down on themselves a heavy doom; but they will find at last that the so-called wisdom of man is foolishness with God, and that they have no more power to destroy His Scriptures than passing clouds have to extinguish the sun which shineth in glory far far above them! "The Word of the Lord endureth for ever!"