{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21024/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21024","id":"gutenberg_21024","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21024","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. Luke II, 14 -- Meditations","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christmas sermons"],"text":"Produced by Mark C. Orton, Sam W. and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n         THE ANGELS' SONG.\n\n\n        ALEXANDER STRAHAN\n148 _Strand_,          London\n178 _Grand Street_,    New York\n\n\n\n\n         THE ANGELS' SONG\n\n\n      BY THOMAS GUTHRIE, D.D.\n\n AUTHOR OF \"MAN AND THE GOSPEL,\" ETC.\n\n\n  [Illustration: Publisher's device]\n\n\n     ALEXANDER STRAHAN, PUBLISHER\n         LONDON AND NEW YORK\n                1866\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\nPART I.,                                                             5\n\n     I. THAT REDEMPTION YIELDS THE\n        HIGHEST GLORY TO GOD,                                       14\n\nPART II.,                                                           23\n\n    II. REDEMPTION GLORIFIES GOD IN\n        THE SIGHT OF HOLY ANGELS,                                   30\n\n   III. REDEMPTION GLORIFIES GOD\n        THROUGHOUT ALL THE UNIVERSE,                                35\n\n    IV. THE REDEEMER AND REDEMPTION\n        ARE WORTHY OF OUR HIGHEST\n        PRAISE,                                                     40\n\nPART III.,                                                          47\n\n     V. THEY WERE MEN OF A PEACEFUL\n        CALLING,                                                    55\n\n    VI. THEY WERE MEN OF HUMBLE\n        RANK,                                                       60\n\n   VII. THEY WERE MEN ENGAGED IN\n        COMMON DUTIES,                                              65\n\nPART IV.,                                                           69\n\n  VIII. JESUS RESTORES PEACE BETWEEN\n        GOD AND MAN,                                                80\n\nPART V.,                                                            93\n\n    IX. JESUS BRINGS PEACE TO THE SOUL,                            102\n\n     X. JESUS SHALL BRING PEACE TO THE\n        WORLD,                                                     110\n\nPART VI.,                                                          117\n\n    XI. THE PERSONS TO WHOM GOOD\n        WILL IS EXPRESSED,                                         126\n\n   XII. THE PERSON WHO EXPRESSES\n        \"GOOD WILL,\"                                               134\n\n\n\n\n_PART I._\n\n\nThe birth of an heir to the throne is usually accompanied by\ncircumstances befitting so great an event. No place is deemed worthy\nof it but a royal palace; and there, at the approach of the expected\nhour, high nobles and the great officers of state assemble, while the\nwhole country, big with hope, waits to welcome a successor to its long\nline of kings. Cannons announce the event; seaward, landward, guns\nflash and roar from floating batteries and rocky battlements; bonfires\nblaze on hill-tops; steeples ring out the news in merry peals; the\nnation holds holiday, giving itself up to banqueting and enjoyments,\nwhile public prayers and thanksgivings rise to Him by whom kings reign\nand princes decree justice. With such pomp and parade do the heirs of\nearthly thrones enter on the stage of life! So came not He who is the\nKing of kings and Lord of lords. On the eve of His birth the world\nwent on its usual round. None were moved for His coming; nor was there\nany preparation for the event--a chamber, or anything else. No fruit\nof unhallowed love, no houseless beggar's child enters life more\nobscurely than the Son of God. The very tokens by which the shepherds\nwere taught to recognise Him were not the majesty but the extreme\nmeanness of his condition: \"This shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall\nfind the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.\" In\nfact, the Lord of heaven was to be recognised by his humiliation, as\nits heirs are by their humility. Yet, as we have seen a black and\nlowering cloud have its edges touched with living gold by the sun\nbehind it, so all the darkest scenes of our Lord's life appear more or\nless irradiated with the splendours of a strange glory. Take that\nnight on Galilee when a storm roared over land and lake, enough to\nwake all but the dead. The boat with Jesus and His disciples tears\nthrough the waves, now whirling on their foaming crests, now plunging\ninto their yawning hollows; the winds rave in His ear; the spray falls\nin cold showers on His naked face; but He sleeps. I have read of a\nsoldier boy who was found buried in sleep beneath his gun, amid the\ncries and carnage of the battle; and the powers of nature in our Lord\nseem to be equally exhausted. His strength is spent with toil; and\nwith wan face and wasted form He lies stretched out on some rude\nboards--the picture of one whose candle is burning away all too fast,\nand whom excess of zeal is hurrying into premature old age and an\nuntimely grave. Was the sight such as to suggest the question, Where\nis now thy God?--how soon it changed into a scene of magnificence and\nomnipotent power! He wakes--as a mother, whom louder sounds would not\nstir, to her infant's feeblest wail, He wakes to the cry of His\nalarmed disciples; and standing up, with the lightning flash\nillumining His calm, divine face, He looks out on the terrific war of\nelements. He speaks; and all is hushed. Obedient to His will, the\nwinds fold their wings, the waves sink to rest; and there is a great\ncalm. \"Glory to God in the highest!\" How may His people catch up and\ncontinue the strain which falls from angels' lips? In disciples\nplucked from the very jaws of death, and pulling their boat shoreward\nwith strong hands and happy hearts over a moonlit glassy sea, Jesus\nshows us how He will make good these sayings, \"Fear not, for I am with\nthee; be not afraid, for I am thy God\"--\"I have given unto them\neternal life, and they shall never perish.\"\n\nThe divine glory of that scene is not peculiar to it. For as an eagle,\nso soon as she has stooped from her realm to the ground, mounts aloft\nagain, soaring into the blue skies of her native heavens, our Lord\nnever descends into the abasement of His meanest circumstances without\nsome act which bespeaks divinity, and bears Him up before our eyes\ninto the regions of Godhead. The grave, where He weeps like a woman,\ngives up its prisoner at His word. Athirst by Jacob's well, like any\nother wayfaring, way-worn traveller, He begs a draught of water from\na woman there, but tells her all she ever did. Houseless and poor, His\nbanquet hall is the open air, His table the green grass, His feast\nfive barley loaves and a few fishes from the neighbouring lake, yet\nthis scanty fare supplies the wants of five thousand guests. His birth\nand life and death, His whole history, in fact, resembles one of those\ntreasure-chests which double locks secure; for as that iron safe\nyields its hoards of gold, silver, pearls, and precious stones to none\nbut Him who brings to each lock its own appropriate key, so the riches\nof divine truth, redeeming love, and saving mercy are open only to\nsuch as come to Jesus with a belief in His divinity on the one hand,\nand a belief in His humanity on the other;--who behold in the child,\nwhose birth was sung by angels, the son of Mary, and worship the only\nbegotten, well beloved, and eternal Son of God.\n\nNow this mingling of divine and human characters distinguished\nChrist's birth as much as His death. The halo of glory that surrounded\nHis dying, crowned His infant head. His sun rose, as it afterwards\nset, behind a heavy bank of clouds; but the divinity they screened,\ntouched their edges alike with burning gold; so that He at whose death\nthe rocks were rent, and the sun eclipsed, and graves deserted of\ntheir dead, no more entered than He left our world as a common son of\nAdam. Not that a world which was to reject Him went out to meet its\nKing with homage and royal honours. Omen of coming events, it received\nHim in sullen silence. But the heavens declared His glory, the skies\nsent out a sound; and the tokens of His first advent--unlike the\nthunders which shall rend the skies when He comes the second time to\njudgment--were all in beautiful harmony with its object. It was love\nand saving mercy; there were light, music, and angel forms. With this\nobject all things indeed were in perfect keeping,--the serene\nnight--the shining stars--the pearly dews glistening on the\ngrass--snowy flocks safely pasturing--and the shepherds themselves, to\nwhom the annunciation was made; men who, whether going before their\ncharge, or carrying the lambs in their arms, or gently leading those\nthat were with young, or standing bravely between their flocks and the\nroaring lion, were the choicest emblems and types of Him who, dying to\nsave us, gave His life for the sheep. To them there suddenly appeared\na multitude of the heavenly host, turning night into day, and shedding\non the soft hills around a bright but gentle radiance. As guard of\nhonour, they had swept in their downward flight by many a sun and\nstar, escorting the Son of God to our nether world. And now--ere they\nleft Him to tread the wine-press alone, and returned on upward wings\nto their native heavens, and their service before the throne of\nGod--these celestials bent their loving eyes on the stable; and in\nanticipation of Jesus' triumphs, of men saved, death conquered, graves\nspoiled, and Satan crushed, they sang \"Glory to God in the highest,\nand on earth peace, good will toward men.\"\n\nThis hymn, sung perhaps in parts by different bands of these heavenly\nchoristers consists of three parts; and we now proceed to the\nillustration of these.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHAT REDEMPTION YIELDS THE HIGHEST GLORY TO GOD.\n\n\nI say the highest; for though His _absolute_ glory, like His eternal\nbeing and infinite perfections, admits of no degrees, and is affected\nby no circumstances whatever, it is otherwise with His _declarative_\nglory, as old theologians called it. This, which I speak of, and which\nangels sung of, consists in the manifestation of His attributes.\nWhatever it be, though only the drop of water, which appears a world\nof wonders to the eyes of a man of science, any work is glorious which\nreflects the divine character in any measure, and still more glorious\nor glorifying which exhibits it in a greater measure. God's glory\nexpands and unfolds itself as we rise upward in the study of His\nworks--from inanimate to living objects; from plants to animals; from\nanimals to man; from man to angels; from these to archangels, upward\nand still upward, to the Being who, bathed in the full blaze of divine\neffulgence, tops the pyramid, and stands on the highest pinnacle of\nCreation. That Being is God manifest in the flesh, our Lord Jesus\nChrist--the redemption which He wrought for us, through blood and\nsuffering and death, being the work which reveals God most fully to\nour eyes, and forming a looking-glass, so to speak, to reflect the\nwhole measure of divinity. This will appear if we look at--\n\nThe Redeemer.--One of His many titles is the _Wonderful_. Anticipating\nthe royal birth at Bethlehem, and speaking of Christ in terms which no\nother key can open but the doctrine of His divinity, Isaiah says,\n\"Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government\nshall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful,\nCounsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of\nPeace.\" With pencils of sunlight God paints the rose; by arts of a\ndivine chemistry He turns foul decay into the snow-white purity and\nfragrant odours of a lily; He fashions the infant in the darkness of\nthe mother's womb; He inspires dead matter with the active principle\nof life; in man He unites an ethereal spirit to a lump of\nclay--wonders these which have perplexed the wisest men, and remain as\nincomprehensible to philosophers as to fools. Yet, as if there was no\nmystery in these but what our understanding could fathom--as if there\nwas nothing in these to teach proud man humility and rouse his\nadmiration--as if there was indeed no wonder but Christ himself in all\nthis great and glorious universe, He is called by way of eminence the\n_Wonderful_. And why? Because, as the stars cease to shine in presence\nof the sun, quenched by the effulgence, and drowned in the flood of\nhis brighter beams, these lose all their wonders beside this little\nChild. To a meditative man it is curious to stand over any cradle\nwhere an infant sleeps; and, as we look on the face so calm, and the\nlittle arms gently folded on the placid breast, to think of the mighty\npowers and passions which are slumbering there; to think that this\nfeeble nursling has heaven or hell before it; that an immortal in a\nmortal form is allied to angels; that the life which it has begun\nshall last when the sun is quenched, enduring throughout all eternity.\nMuch more wonderful the spectacle the manger offers, where shepherds\nbend their knees, and angels bend their eyes! Here is present, not the\nimmortal, but the eternal; here is not one kind of matter united to\nanother, or a spiritual to an earthly element, but the Creator to a\ncreature, divine Omnipotence to human weakness, the Ancient of Days to\nthe infant of a day. What deep secrets of divine wisdom, power, and\nlove lie here, wrapped up in these poor swaddling-clothes! Mary holds\nin her arms, in this manger with its straw, what draws the wondering\neyes, and inspires the loftiest songs of angels. If that be not God's\ngreatest, and therefore most glorifying work, where are we to seek\nit? in what else is it found? \"The depth saith, It is not in me; and\nthe sea saith, It is not in me!\" Were we to range the vast universe to\nfind its rival, we should return, like the dove to its ark, to the\nstable-door, and the swaddled babe, there to mingle human voices with\nthe heavenly choir--singing, Glory to God in the highest!\n\nThe fact that redemption yields God the highest glory will appear also\nif we look at--\n\nThe Redeemed.--It is in them, in sinners saved, not in the happy and\nholy angels, that God stands out fully revealed as in a mirror; long\nand broad enough, if I may say so, to show forth all His attributes.\nTo vary the figure; the cross of Christ is the focus in which all the\nbeams of divinity, all the attributes of the Godhead, are gathered\ninto one bright, burning spot, with power to warm the coldest and melt\nthe stoniest heart. No man hath seen God at any time, otherwise than\nin His works; and though created things are immeasurably inferior to\ntheir Creator, they may still help us to form some conception of His\ncharacter. A drop of water is an ocean, a spark of fire is a sun,\nevery grain of sand on the sea-shore is a world, in miniature; and as\nthose who have never seen ocean, or sun, or world, may form some idea\nof their appearance by magnifying these their miniatures millions of\nmillions of times, so, by immensely magnifying the age, the power, the\nwisdom, the holiness of an angel, we could form some dim conception of\nGod. Not that we would not have still to ask, \"Who can by searching\nfind out God? who can find out the Almighty to perfection?\"--not that\nwhen we had exclaimed, in the sublime words of Job, \"Hell is naked\nbefore him, and destruction hath no covering. He stretcheth out the\nnorth over the empty place, and hangeth the earth on nothing. He\nbindeth up the waters in his thick clouds. He holdeth back the face of\nhis throne. The pillars of heaven tremble and are astonished at his\nreproof. He divideth the sea with his power. By his spirit he hath\ngarnished the heavens;\"--we would not have to add with the patriarch,\n\"These are parts of his ways; but how little a portion is heard of\nhim? but the thunder of his power who can understand?\"\n\nStudy Him, for example, in the angels who sung this birth-song! They\nare holy, and we may conclude that their Maker is infinitely holy;\nthey are wise, and He who made them must possess infinite wisdom; they\nare powerful, and He must be omnipotent; the God of good angels must\nbe infinitely good, as the avenger of sin and evil ones must be\ninfinitely just. This is sound reasoning--for, as David says, \"He that\nplanted the ear, shall he not hear? He that formed the eye, shall he\nnot see? He that chastiseth the heathen, shall not he correct? He that\nteacheth man knowledge, shall not he know?\" Still, however lofty and\nworthy were the conceptions which we thus formed of God, He had never\nbeen discovered in the full glory of His gracious character by this or\nany corresponding process. Unspeakable honour to man and unspeakable\ngrace in God, the fulness of His character is revealed, not by seraphs\nbut by saints--in redeemed and ransomed sinners. And so Mary\nMagdalene, as reflecting His attributes more fully than angels, wears\nin heaven a brighter glory than crowns their unfallen heads. She, and\nall with her, who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb,\nare trophies of free, saving mercy; monuments of that love which, when\nstern justice had dragged us to the mouth of the pit, and angels, who\nhad seen their fellows punished by one awful act of vengeance, stood\nin dread and silent expectation of another, graciously interposed,\nsaying, \"Deliver from going down to the pit, I have found a ransom.\"\nThen, blessed Son of God, thou didst step forward to say, And I am\nthat ransom! From that day heaven was happier. It found a new joy.\nAngels tuned their golden harps to higher strains; and now, these\nblessed spirits, above the mean jealousies of earth's elder brothers,\nwhenever they see Christ born anew in a soul--a sinner born again,\ncalled, converted, apparelled in Jesus' righteousness, rejoicing in\nHis arms, or even weeping at His feet, wake up the old, grand\nbirth-song, singing, \"Glory to God in the highest!\" \"There is joy,\"\nsaid Jesus, \"in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that\nrepenteth--joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more\nthan over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.\"\n\n\n\n\n_PART II._\n\n\nNo man hath seen God at any time; so saith the Scriptures. He who is\nconfined to no bounds of space cannot in the nature of things have any\nvisible form. God has however occasionally made revelations of\nHimself; and such are described in language which seems opposed alike\nto the declarations of Scripture and the deductions of reason. It is\nsaid, for instance, of Moses and Aaron, when they ascended Mount\nSinai, that \"they saw the God of Israel;\" and Isaiah tells how he \"saw\nthe Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train\nfilled the temple.\" Believing with the Jews that if any man saw God he\ncould not survive, but would die as by a flash of lightning, the\nprophet was struck with terror, and cried, in expectation of immediate\ndeath, \"I am undone; for mine eyes have seen the Lord of hosts.\"\n\nThe object seen in these and also other cases was no doubt the\nSchekinah--that holy and mysterious flame whereby God made His\npresence known in the days of old. We know little concerning it beyond\nthis, that it was of the nature of light. The fairest, purest, oldest\nof created things, passing untainted through pollution, turning gloomy\nnight into day, and imparting their varied beauties to earth and air\nand ocean, this of all material elements was the fittest symbol of\nGod. A circumstance this to which we probably owe the ancient practice\nof worshipping the Divinity by fire, and certainly such figures as\nthese: \"God is light;\" \"He clothes himself with light as with a\ngarment;\" \"He dwelleth in light that is inaccessible and full of\nglory.\" This light, said to have been intensely luminous, brighter\nthan a hundred suns, was not always nor even usually visible;\nalthough, like a lamp placed behind a curtain, it may have usually\nimparted to the cloud which concealed it a tempered and dusky glow.\nThere were occasions when the veil of this temple was rent asunder;\nand then the light shone out with intense splendour--dazzling all\neyes, and convincing sceptics that this cloud, now resting on the\ntabernacle, and now, signal for the host to march, floating upward in\nthe morning air, was not akin to such as are born of swamps or sea;\nand which, as emblems of our mortality, after changing from rosy\nbeauty into leaden dullness, melt into air, leaving the place that\nonce knew them to know them no more for ever. This symbol and token of\nthe Divine presence was of all the types and figures of Jesus Christ\nin some respects both the most apposite and glorious: a cloud with God\nwithin, and speaking from it--going before to guide the host--placing\nHimself for their protection between them and their enemies--by day\ntheir grateful shade from scorching heat, by night their sun amid\nsurrounding darkness.\n\nIt was one, and not the least singular of its aspects, that this cloud\nalways grew light when the world grew dark--the cloudy pillar of the\nday blazing forth at night as a pillar of fire. So shone the divinity\nin Him who was \"Emmanuel, God with us,\" His darkest circumstances, His\ndeepest humiliations, being the occasions of His greatest glory. He\nwas buried, and being so, was greatly humbled; but angels attended His\nfuneral, and guarded His tomb. He was crucified, condemned to the\ndeath of the vilest criminal, and being so, was greatly humbled; but\nthose heavens and earth which are as little moved by the death of the\ngreatest monarch as by the fall of a withered leaf, expressed their\nsympathy with the august Sufferer--the sun hid his face, and went into\nmourning, the earth trembled with horror at the deed. He was born, and\nin like manner He was greatly humbled, and had been, though His birth\nhad happened in a palace and His mother had been a queen; but with a\npoor woman for His mother, a stable for His birthplace, a manger for\nHis cradle, and straw for His bed, these meannesses, like its spots on\nthe face of the sun, were lost in a blaze of glory. Earth did not\ncelebrate His advent, but Heaven did. Illumining her skies, she sent\nherald angels to proclaim the news, and lighted up a new star to guide\nthe feet which sought the place where man's best hopes were cradled.\nThe most joyful birth that ever happened, it was meet that it should\nbe sung by angel lips,--and all the more because, redemption glorifies\nGod in the sight of holy angels.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nREDEMPTION GLORIFIES GOD IN THE SIGHT OF HOLY ANGELS.\n\n\nThey take a lively interest in the affairs of our world, as the\nScriptures show, and as Jacob saw in his vision; for what else means\nthat ladder where they appeared to his dreaming eye ascending and\ndescending between earth and heaven? To the care of John our dying\nLord committed his mother; but God, when He sent His Son into the\nworld, committed Him to their care,--\"He hath given his angels charge\nover thee, that thou dash not thy foot against a stone.\" The care\nwhich their Head enjoyed is extended to all the members. How happy are\nthe people that are in such a case! Think of the poor saint who has\nnone to wait on him, or the pious domestic who serves a table, and\nhumbly waits on others, having angels to wait on her! Are they not\nsaid in Scripture to be \"ministering spirits sent forth to minister to\nthem who are heirs of salvation?\"--however the world may despise them,\n\"this honour have all his saints.\" However lowly their earthly state,\nthe saints are a kingly race; and as our highest nobles deem it an\nhonour to wait on the princes of the blood, accepting and soliciting\noffices at court, the angels are happy to serve such as, through their\nunion with His incarnate Son, stand nearer the throne of God than\nthemselves. Unseen by him, these celestials guard the good man's bed;\nwatch his progress; wait on his person; guide his steps; and ward off\nmany a blow the devil aims at his head and heart. They are the nurses\nof Christ's babes; the tutors and teachers of His children. A belief\nin guardian saints is a silly Popish superstition; but we have good\nauthority in Scripture for believing that in this our state of\npupilage and probation, along all the way to Sion, in the conflicts\nwith temptation, and amid the thick of battle, God commits His saints\nto angels' care; and that, as it is in their loving arms that the soul\nof an aged saint is borne away to glory, every child of God has its\nown celestial guardian, and sleeps in its little cradle beneath the\nfeathers of an angel's wing. What said our Lord? On setting a child\nbefore the people as a pattern for them to copy, \"Take heed,\" He said,\n\"that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you,\nThat in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father\nwhich is in heaven.\"\n\nBut whether we are, or are not, the happier for angels, there is no\nquestion that they are the happier for us. They always loved God; but\nsince man's redemption they love Him more, and employ higher strains\nand loftier raptures to praise His wisdom, power, holiness, justice,\nand love. It has disclosed to them new views of God, and opened up in\nheaven new springs of pleasure. Heaven has grown more heavenly, and\nthough they might have deemed it impossible to add one drop to their\nhappiness, they are holier and happier angels. There is joy among the\nangels of heaven over every sinner that repenteth; and to the joyful\ncry, My son that was dead is alive again, they respond, as they\nreceive the returned penitent from the Father's arms into their own,\nMy brother that was dead is alive again, that was lost is found! Never\nfrom surf-beaten shore or rocky headland do spectators watch with such\nanxious interest the life-boat, as, now seen and now lost, now\nbreasting the waves and now hurled back on the foaming crest of a\ngiant billow, she makes for the wreck, as they watch those who, with\nthe Bible in their hearts and hands, go forth to save the lost. And\nwhen the poor perishing sinner throws himself into Jesus' arms, what\ngratulations among these happy spirits! \"There is joy in heaven over\none sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just\npersons.\" The event is one which I can fancy was in the prophet's eye,\nwhen, fired with rapture, he cried, \"Sing, O ye heavens; for the Lord\nhath done it: shout, ye lower parts of the earth; break forth into\nsinging, ye mountains, O forest, and every tree therein: for the Lord\nhath redeemed Jacob, and glorified himself in Israel!\" And the heavens\ndo sing. While the saints, descending from their thrones, cast their\nsparkling crowns at Jesus' feet, and ten times ten thousand harps\nsound, and ten times ten thousand angels sing, \"Worthy is the Lamb\nthat was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength,\nand honour, and glory, and blessing.\"\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nREDEMPTION GLORIFIES GOD THROUGHOUT ALL THE UNIVERSE.\n\n\nWith a small band of fishermen at His side, and no place on earth\nwhere to lay His head, Jesus pointed to the sun, riding high in heaven\nor rising over the hill-tops to bathe the scene in golden splendour,\nand said, \"I am the Light of the world.\" A bold saying; yet the day is\ncoming, however distant it appears, when the tidings of salvation\ncarried to the ends of the earth, and Jesus worshipped of all nations,\nshall justify the speech; and the wishes shall be gratified, and the\nprayers answered, and the prophecies fulfilled, so beautifully\nexpressed in these lines of Heber:\n\n    \"Waft, waft, ye winds, His story,\n      And you, ye waters, roll,\n    Till, like a sea of glory,\n      It spreads from pole to pole.\"\n\nBut shall our world be the limits of the wondrous tale? Though ever\nand deeply interesting as the scene of redemption, just as to patriots\nis the barest moor where a people fought and conquered for their\nfreedom, our earth holds in other respects but a very insignificant\nplace in creation. In a space of the sky no larger than a tenth part\nof the moon's disc, the telescope discovers many thousands of stars,\neach a sun, attended probably by a group of planets like our own:\ntheir number indeed is such that many parts of the heavens appear as\nif they were sprinkled with gold-dust; and probably there are as many\nsuns and worlds in the universe as there are leaves in a forest, or\nrather, sands on the ocean shore.\n\nBoldly venturing out into the regions of speculation, some have\nthought that, if sin defile any of these worlds, its inhabitants may\nshare in the benefits of the atonement which Christ offered in ours;\nand that beings further removed than we from the scenes of Calvary,\nand differing more from us than we from the Jews of whom the Messiah\ncame, may, as well as we, find a Saviour by faith in Jesus; and that\nfor this end the work of redemption has perhaps been revealed to such\nas, removed from our earth many millions of miles, never even saw the\nplanet that was its theatre and scene. There may be nothing in this. I\ndare not say it is impossible; but these speculations touch the deep\nthings of God, and we would not attempt to be wise above that which is\nwritten. Still, Scripture affords ground for believing, for hoping, at\nleast, that the story of redemption has been told in other worlds than\nours, and that the love of God in Christ--that fairest, fullest\nmanifestation of our Father's heart--links all parts of creation\ntogether, and links all more closely to the throne of God. \"He that\nhath seen me, Philip,\" said our Lord to that disciple, \"hath seen the\nFather also;\" and as I believe that He who delights to bless all His\nunfallen creatures would not withhold from the inhabitants of other\nspheres the happiness of knowing Him in His most adorable, gracious,\nand glorious character, I can fancy them eagerly searching their\nskies for a sight of our world,--the scene of that story which has\nconveyed to them the fullest knowledge of Him they love, their deepest\nsense of His ineffable holiness and unspeakable mercy. Not from pole\nto pole, but from planet to planet, and from star to star, the love of\nChrist deserves to be proclaimed; and it is a thought as grand as it\nis probable, that the story of Calvary, not yet translated into all\nthe tongues of earth, is told in the ten times ten thousand tongues of\nother worlds, and that the Name which is above every name--the blessed\nName which dwells in life in a believer's heart and trembles in death\non his lips--is known in spheres which his foot never trod and his eye\nnever saw. Such honours crown the head man once crowned with thorns;\nand therefore did David, with the eye of a seer and the fire of a\npoet, while calling for praise from kings of the earth and all people,\nprinces and all judges, young men and children, rise to a loftier\nflight, exclaiming: \"Praise Him in the heights. Praise ye Him, all ye\nangels: praise ye Him, all His hosts. Praise ye Him, sun and moon:\npraise Him, all ye stars of light.\"\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE REDEEMER AND REDEMPTION ARE WORTHY OF OUR HIGHEST PRAISE.\n\n\nLet us bend the head, and, in company of the shepherds, enter the\nstable. Heard above the champing of bits, the stroke of hoofs, the\nrattling of chains, and the lowing of oxen, the feeble wail of an\ninfant turns our steps to a particular stall: here a woman lies\nstretched on a bed of straw, and her new-born child, hastily wrapped\nin some part of her dress, finds a cradle in the manger. A pitiful\nsight!--such a fortune as occasionally befalls the Arabs of\nsociety--such an incident as may occur in the history of one of those\nvagrant, vagabond, outcast families who, their country's shame, tent\nin woods and sleep under hedges, when no barn or stable offers a\ncovering to their houseless heads. Yet princes on their way to the\ncrown, brides on their way to the marriage, bannered armies on their\nway to the battle, and highest angels in their flight from star to\nstar, might stop to say of this sight, as Moses of the burning bush,\n\"Let me turn aside, and see this great sight!\"\n\nThe prophet foretells a time when the wolf shall dwell with the lamb,\nand the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and, bound in the same\nstall, and fed at the same manger, the lion shall eat straw with the\nox. Here is a greater wonder! This stable is the house of God, the\nvery gate of heaven: under this dusty roof, inside those narrow walls,\nHe lodges whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain: the tenant of\nthis manger is the Son, who, leaving the bosom of His Father to save\nus, here pillows His head on straw; of this feeble babe the hands are\nto hurl Satan from his throne, and wrench asunder the strong bars of\ndeath; this one tender life, this single corn-seed is to become the\nprolific parent of a thousand harvests, and fill the garners of glory\nwith the fruits of salvation. Mean as it looks, yet more splendid\nthan marble palaces,--more sacred than the most venerable and hallowed\ntemples, here the Son of God was born, and with Him were born Faith,\nHope, and Charity--our Peace, our Liberty, and our Eternal Life. Had\nHe not been born, we had never been born again; had He not lain in a\nmanger, we had never lain in Abraham's bosom; had He not been wrapped\nin swaddling-clothes, we had been wrapped in everlasting flames; had\nHis head in infancy not been pillowed on straw, and in death on\nthorns, ours had never been crowned in glory. But that He was born,\nbetter we had never been; life had been a misfortune to which time had\nbrought no change, and death no relief, and the grave no rest. \"Glory\nto God in the highest\" that He was born: we had otherwise been lifting\nup our eyes in torment with this unavailing, endless cry, \"O that my\nmother had been my grave! Cursed be the day wherein I was born?\"\n\nIf language cannot express the love and gratitude we owe to the\nSaviour, let our lives do so. Shallow streams run brawling over their\npebbly beds, but the broad, deep river pursues its course in silence\nto the sea; and so is it with our strongest, deepest feelings. Great\njoy like great sorrow, great gladness like great grief, great\nadmiration like great detestation, take breath and speech away. On\nfirst seeing Mont Blanc as the sun rose to light up his summit and\nirradiate another and another snow-clad pinnacle, I remember the\nsilent group who had left their couches to witness and watch the\nglorious scene: before its majesty and magnificence all were for\nawhile dumb, opening not the mouth. I have read, when travellers\nreached the crest of the hill, and first looked down on\nJerusalem,--the scene of our Saviour's sorrow, the garden that heard\nHis groans, the city that led Him out to die, the soil that was\nbedewed with His tears and crimsoned with His blood,--how their hearts\nwere too full for utterance. If a sight of the city where He died so\naffects Christians, as the scenes of His last hours rush on their\nmemory and rise vividly to their imagination, how will they look on\nthat scene where, surrounded by ten times ten thousand saints and\nthousands of angels, He reigns in glory! I can fancy the saint who has\nshut his eyes on earth to open them in heaven, standing speechless;\nand as the flood of music fills his ear, and the blaze of glory his\neye, and the thought of what he owes to Jesus his heart,--I can fancy\nhim laying the crown, which he has received from his Saviour's hands,\nin silent gratitude at His feet; and as he recovers speech, and sees\nhell and its torments beneath him, earth and its sorrows behind him,\nan eternity of unchequered, unchanging bliss, before him,--I can fancy\nthe first words that break from his grateful lips will be, \"Glory to\nGod, glory to God in the highest!\" Never till then, nowhere but there,\nwill our praise be worthy of Jesus and His redemption. Meanwhile, let\nHim who demonstrates God's highest glory and fills heaven's highest\nthrone, hold the highest place in our hearts. Let us surround His\nname with the highest honours; and, laying our time and talents, our\nfaculties and our affections, our wealth, and fame, and fortunes at\nHis feet, crown Him Lord of all.\n\n\n\n\n_PART III._\n\n\nSome years ago the question which agitated the heart of Europe was,\nPeace or War? The interests of commerce, the lives of thousands, the\nfate of kingdoms, trembled in the balance. Navies rode at anchor, and\nopposing armies, like two black thunder-clouds, waited for statesmen\nto issue from the council-chamber, bearing the sword or the\nolive-branch. Esteeming the arbitrament of battle one which necessity\nonly could justify, Britain longed for peace; but, with ships ready to\nslip their cables, and soldiers standing by their guns, she was grimly\nprepared for war. Had ambassadors from the nation with which we were\nready to join issue approached our shores at this crisis, what eager\ncrowds would have attended their advent, and how impatiently would\nthey have waited the course of events! And had peace been the result\nof the conference, how would the tidings, as they passed from mouth\nto mouth, and were flashed by the telegraph from town to town, have\nfilled and moved the land! The pale student would have forgot his\nbooks, the anxious merchant his speculations, the trader his shop, the\ntradesman his craft, tired labour her toils, happy children their\ntoys, and even the bereaved their griefs; and like the whirlpool,\nwhich sucks straws and sea-weed, boats and gallant ships--all things,\nbig or small--into its mighty vortex, the news would have absorbed all\nother subjects. The one topic of conversation at churches and\ntheatres, at marriages and funerals, in halls and cottages, in crowded\ncities and in lonely glens; ministers had carried it in their sermons\nto the pulpit, and devout Christians in their thanksgivings to the\nThrone of Grace.\n\nIn a much greater crisis, where the stakes were deeper, the question\nbeing not one of peace or war between man and man, but between man and\nGod, an embassy from heaven reached the borders of our world. Unlike\nElijah, rough in dress, of aspect stern and speech severe, whose\nappearance struck Ahab with terror, and wrung from the pale lips of\nthe conscience-stricken king the cry, \"Hast thou found me, O mine\nenemy?\"--unlike Jonah as he walked the wondering streets, and woke\ntheir echoes with his doleful cry, \"Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall\nbe destroyed,\"--the ambassadors were \"a multitude of shining angels.\"\nLeaving the gates of heaven, they winged their flight down the starry\nsky to descend and hover above the fields of Bethlehem, and in the\nform of a song, as became such joyful tidings, to proclaim news of\nPeace--their song, \"Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace,\ngood-will toward men.\" Nothing presents a more remarkable example of\n\"much in little\" than these few but weighty words. In small crystals,\nthat coat, as with shining frost-work, the sides of a vessel, we have\nall the salts which give perpetual freshness to the ocean, their life\nto the weeds that clothe its rocks, and to the fish that swim its\ndepths and shallows. In some drops of oil distilled from rose-leaves\nof Indian lands, and valued at many times their weight in gold, we\nhave enclosed within one small phial the perfume of a whole field of\nroses--that which, diffused through ten thousand leaves, gave every\nflower its fragrance. Essences, as they are called, present, in a\nconcentrated form, the peculiar properties of leaves or flowers or\nfruits, of the animal, vegetable, or earthly bodies from which they\nare extracted; and, like these, this hymn presents the whole gospel in\na single sentence. Here is the Bible, the scheme of redeeming love,\nthat grand work which saved a lost world, gladdened angels in heaven,\nconfounded devils in hell, and engaged the highest attributes of the\nGodhead, summed up in one short, glorious, glowing paragraph. For what\nso much as the gospel, what, indeed, but the gospel, yields Jehovah\nthe highest glory, blesses our earth with peace, and expresses\nHeaven's good-will to the sons of men? Such were the ambassadors, and\nsuch the embassage!\n\nWhen the king of Babylon, hearing how the shadow had travelled back\nten degrees on the dial of Ahaz, sent ambassadors to Hezekiah to\ninquire about this strange phenomenon, Hezekiah received them with the\ngreatest respect; paid them honours, indeed, which cost both him and\nhis country dear. The news of an embassy having come to Joshua spread\nlike wildfire among the Israelites, moving the whole camp. Seized with\neager curiosity, all ran to hear what the strangers had to say, and\ngaze with wonder on their soiled and ragged dress, their clouted shoes\nand mouldy bread. The herald angels, though arrayed in heavenly\nsplendours, and bringing glad tidings of peace, were received with no\nsuch honours, excited no such interest. Strange and sad omen of the\nindifference with which many would hear the gospel! While angels sung,\nthe world slept; and none but some wakeful watchers heard their voices\nor beheld this splendid vision. They were humble shepherds, to whom\nthe ambassadors of heaven delivered their message; and it may be well\nto pause and look at those who were privileged and honoured to hear\nit. We do not pretend to know certainly the reasons why God, who\ngiveth no account of His ways, conferred an honour so distinguished on\nthem rather than on others. But we may guess; and in any case may find\nthe employment profitable and instructive, if we are wise enough to\nfind \"sermons in stones, books in the running brooks, and good in\neverything.\"\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nTHEY WERE MEN OF A PEACEFUL CALLING.\n\n\nThe highest view of the profession of arms is, that the soldier,\ndeterring evil-doers and maintaining order at home, on the one hand,\nand prepared, on the other, to resist hostile invasion, is in reality,\nnotwithstanding his deadly weapons and warlike garb, an officer or\ninstrument of peace. A day is coming--alas! with the roar of cannon\nbooming across the ocean, how far distant it seems!--when Christianity\nshall exert a paramount influence throughout all the world: then,\ntyrants having ceased to reign, and slaves to groan, and nations to\nsuffer from the lust of gold or power, this beautiful picture of the\nprophet shall become a reality: \"The whole earth,\" said the seer, \"is\nat rest, and is quiet; they break forth into singing.\" Till then,\nparadoxical though it appears, the cause of peace may be pled with\nmost effect by the mouths of cannon. Fitness for war is often the\nstrongest security for peace; and a nation whose wishes and interests\nboth run in the direction of peace, may find no way of warning\nrestless and unprincipled and ambitious neighbours that it is not to\nbe touched with impunity, but by showing itself, thistle-like, all\nbristling over with bayonets. \"Necessity,\" said Paul, \"is laid on me\nto preach.\" It may be laid on a people to fight. Nor, when the sword\nhas been drawn in a good cause, has God refused His sanction to that\nlast, terrible resort. It was He who imparted strength to the arm\nbefore whose resistless sweep the Philistines fell in swathes, like\ngrass to the mower's scythe. It was He who guided the stone that, shot\nfrom David's sling, buried itself in the giant's brow. It was He who\ngave its earthquake-power to the blast of the horns which levelled the\nwalls of Jericho with the ground. And when night came down to cover\nthe retreat of the Amorites and their allies, it was He who\ninterposed to secure the bloody fruits of victory--saying, as\neloquently put by a rustic preacher, \"'Fight on, my servant Joshua,\nand I will hold the lights;' and 'the sun stood still on Gibeon, and\nthe moon in the valley of Ajalon.'\" Admitting war to be an awful\nscourge, these cases show that the duties of a soldier are not\ninconsistent with the calling of a Christian.\n\nYet it was over no battle-field, the most sacred to truth and liberty,\nthese angels hovered; no blazing homesteads nor burning cities shed\ntheir lurid gleam on the skies they made radiant with light; nor was\nit where their sweet voices strangely mingled with the clash of arms\nand the shouts of charging squadrons that they sang of glory,\ngood-will, and peace. This had been out of keeping with the congruity\nwhich characterises all God's works of nature, and which will be found\nequally characteristic of His works of providence and grace. As was\nmeet, the glad tidings of peace were announced to men who were engaged\nin an eminently peaceful occupation; who passed tranquil lives amid\nthe quietness of the solemn hills, far removed alike from the\nambitious strife of cities and the bloody spectacles of war. Lying\namid the solitudes of the mountains, where no sounds fall on the ear\nbut the bleating of flocks, the lowing of cattle, the hum of bees, the\nbaying of a watch-dog from the lonely homestead, the murmur of hidden\nrills, the everlasting rush of the waterfall as it plunges flashing\ninto its dark, foaming pool, pastoral are eminently peaceful scenes.\nIndeed, the best emblem of peace which a great painter has been able\nto present he owes to them--it is a picture of a quiet glen, with a\nlamb licking the rusty lips of a dismounted gun, while the flocks\naround crop the grass that waves above the slain.\n\nApt scholars of the devil, wicked men have used Holy Scripture to\njustify the most impious crimes. Others, with more fancy than\njudgment, have drawn the most absurd conclusions from its facts; but\nwe seem warranted to conclude, that by selecting shepherds to receive\nthe first tidings of Jesus' birth, apart from the circumstance that\nthey were Christ's own favourite types of Himself, God intended to\nconfer special honour on the cause, and encourage the lovers and\nadvocates of peace. Deer are furnished by nature with horns, dogs with\nteeth, eagles with talons, serpents with poison, and bees with stings;\nbut men have no weapons of offence. Yet, acting under the dominion of\ntheir lusts, men have a passion for fighting, and, easily fired with\nthe spirit, and dazzled with the glory of war, are ready to abandon\narguments for blows; and I cannot but think that He who would not\npermit David, the man after His own heart, to build Him a house\nbecause he had been a man of blood, conferred this honour on these\nhumble shepherds because they were men of peace. Whether it be with\nHimself or our own consciences, in the midst of our families, among\nour neighbours, or between nation and nation, He enjoins us to\ncultivate peace: in His own emphatic words, we are to \"seek peace and\npursue it.\"\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nTHEY WERE MEN OF HUMBLE RANK.\n\n\nMany in humble, as well as in more coveted circumstances, are\ndiscontented with their position. They repine at their lot, and murmur\nagainst the Providence which has assigned it. This is not only wicked\nbut absurd, since true happiness lies much less in changing our\ncondition than in making the best of it, whatever it be. Besides, God\nsays, \"I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than\nthe golden wedge of Ophir;\" and the estimate which He forms of us\nturns in no respect whatever on the place we fill. One artist paints a\ngrand, another a common, or even a mean, subject; but we settle their\ncomparative merits, praising this one and condemning that, not by the\nsubjects they paint, but by the way they paint them. To borrow an\nillustration from the stage, (as Paul did from heathen games,) one\nplayer, tricked out in regal state, with robes, and crown, and\nsceptre, performs the part of a king, and another that only of a\ncommon soldier or country boor; yet the applause of the audience is\nnot given to the parts the actors play, but to the way they play them.\nEven so, it is not the place that man fills, whether high or humble,\nbut the way he fills it to which God has, and we should have, most\nregard.\n\nNot that we would reduce the inequalities of society any more than\nthose of the earth, with its varied features of swelling hill and\nlovely dale, to one dull, long, common level. Death, the great grim\nleveller, does that office both for cottagers and kings. Let it be\nleft to the sexton's spade. The mountains which give shelter to the\nvalleys, and gather the rains that fill their rivers and fertilise\ntheir pastures, have important uses in nature, and so have the\ncorresponding heights of rank and wealth and power in society.\nSetting our affections on things above, let us be content to wait for\nthe honours and rest of heaven; let us seek to be good rather than\ngreat; to be rich in faith rather than in wealth; to stand high in\nGod's esteem rather than in man's; saying, with Paul, \"I have learned\nin whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content;\"--or singing with\nthe boy in the \"Pilgrim's Progress,\" who, meanly clad, but with \"a\nfresh and well-favoured countenance,\" fed his father's sheep,--\n\n    \"He that is down needs fear no fall;\n      He that is low, no pride;\n    He that is humble ever shall\n      Have God to be his guide.\n\n    \"I am content with what I have,\n      Little be it or much;\n    And, Lord, contentment still I crave,\n      Because thou savest such.\"\n\n\"Do you hear him?\" said the guide. \"I will dare to say that this boy\nlives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called heart's-ease\nin his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet.\"\n\nWhy should a man blush for his humble origin? The Saviour's mother was\na poor woman; and no head ever lay in a meaner cradle than the manger\nwhere Mary laid her first-born--the Son of the Most High God. Why\nshould any be ashamed of honest poverty? Men of immortal names, the\napostles, were called from the lowest ranks, and went forth to conquer\nand convert the world without a penny in their purse. Was not our Lord\nhimself poor? He earned His bread, and ate it, with the sweat of His\nbrow, while others lay luxuriously on down; He had often no other roof\nthan the open sky, or warmer bed than the dewy ground; and never had\nelse to entertain His guests than the coarsest and most common\nfare--barley-loaves and a few small fishes. Though rich in the wealth\nof Godhead, with the resources of heaven and of earth at His sovereign\ncommand, poverty attended His steps like His shadow, along the way\nfrom a humble cradle to a bloody grave. He made Himself poor that He\nmight make us rich; and it seemed meet that to poor rather than to\nrich men God should reveal the advent of Him who came to enrich the\npoor, whether kings or beggars, peers or peasants. As if to censure\nthe respect paid to rank apart from merit, or to wealth apart from\nworth, He who has no respect for persons honoured in these shepherds\nhonest poverty and humble virtue. They received ambassadors not\naccredited to sovereigns; as cottages, not palaces, housed Him whom\nthe heavens have received, and the heaven of heavens cannot contain.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nTHEY WERE MEN ENGAGED IN COMMON DUTIES.\n\n\nMothers cumbered with a load of domestic cares, merchants worried with\nbusiness, statesmen charged with their country's affairs, and\nthousands who have a daily fight to keep the wolf from the door, fancy\nthat, if they enjoyed the leisure some have, and could bestow more\ntime on divine things, they would be more religious than they are,\nand, rising to higher, calmer elevations of thought and temper, would\nmaintain a nearer communion with God. It may reconcile such to their\nduties to observe how the men were employed on whom God bestowed this\nunexpected and exalted honour. They were engaged in the ordinary\nbusiness of their earthly calling; of a hard and humble one. Types of\nHim to whose care His people owe their safety amid the temptations,\nand their support amid the trials of life, these shepherds were\nwatching their flocks; peering through the gloom of night; listening\nfor the stealthy step of the robber; ready, starting to their feet, to\nbeat off the sneaking wolf, or bravely battle with the roaring lion.\n\nHe whose sun shines as brightly on the lowliest as on the stateliest\nflower, regards with complacency the humblest man who wins his daily\nbread, and discharges the duties of his station, whatever they be, in\nsuch a way as to glorify God and be of advantage to his\nfellow-creatures. Heaven, as this case brilliantly illustrates, is\nnever nearer men, nor are they ever nearer it, than in those fields or\nworkshops, where, with honest purpose and a good conscience, they are\ndiligently pursuing their ordinary avocations. No doubt--for God does\nnot cast His pearls before swine--these shepherds were pious men. One\npassing a night in their humble dwellings would have seen the father\nwith reverent mien gather his household to prayer; and one passing\nthese uplands, where they held their watch, might have heard their\nvoices swaying on the midnight air, as they sang together the psalms\nof David amid the very scenes where he tuned his harp and fed his\nfather's flocks. But people are too apt to suppose that religion lies\nmainly, if not exclusively, in prayers, reading the Bible, listening\nto sermons, and attending on sacraments; in time spent, or work done,\nor offerings made, or sacrifices endured, for what are called, in\ncommon language, religious objects. These are the means, not the end.\nHe who rises from his knees to his daily task, and, with an eye not so\nmuch to please men as God, does it well, carries divine worship to the\nworkshop, and throws a sacred halo around the ordinary secularities of\nlife. That, indeed, may be the highest expression of religion; just as\nit is the highest expression of devoted loyalty to leave the precincts\nof the court and the presence of the sovereign, to endure the\nhardships of a campaign, and stand in soiled and tattered regimentals\nby the king's colours amid the deadly hail of battle. He who goes to\ncommon duties in a devout and Christian spirit proves his loyalty to\nGod; and, as this case proves, is of all men the most likely to be\nfavoured with tokens of the Divine presence--communications of grace\nwhich will sustain his patience under a life of toil, and fit him for\nthe rest that remaineth for the people of God.\n\n\n\n\n_PART IV._\n\n\nMingled with its rattling shingle, the sea-beach bears hazel-nuts and\nfir-tops--things which once belonged to the blue hills that rise far\ninland on the horizon. Dropped into the brooks of bosky glens, they\nhave been swept into the river, to arrive, after many windings and\nlong wanderings, at the ocean; to be afterwards washed ashore with\nshells and wreck and sea-weed. The Gulf Stream, whose waters by a\nbeautiful arrangement of Providence bring the heat of southern\nlatitudes to temper the wintry rigour of the north, throws objects on\nthe western coasts of Europe which have performed longer\nvoyages--fruits and forest-trees that have travelled the breadth of\nthe Atlantic, casting the productions of the New World on the shores\nof the Old.\n\nLike these, the record of events which happened in the earliest ages\nof the world has been carried along the course of time, and spread by\nthe diverging streams of population over the whole surface of the\nglobe. The facts are, as was to be expected, always more or less\nchanged, and often, indeed, fragmentary. Still, like old coins, which\nretain traces of their original effigies and inscriptions, these\ntraditions possess a high historic value. Their remarkable\ncorrespondence with the statements of the Bible confirms our faith in\nits divinity; and their being common to nations of habits the most\ndiverse, and of habitations separated from each other by the whole\nbreadth of the earth, proves the unity of our race. If they cannot be\nregarded as pillars, they are buttresses of the truth; being\ninexplicable on any theory but that which infidelity has so often, but\nalways vainly, assailed, namely, that all Scripture is given by\ninspiration of God, and that He has made of one blood all the nations\nof the earth.\n\nTo take some examples. Look, for instance, at a custom common among\nthe Red Indians, ages before white men had crossed the sea and carried\nthe Bible to their shores! At the birth of a child, as Humboldt\nrelates, a fire was kindled on the floor of the hut, and a vessel of\nwater placed beside it; but not with the murderous intent of those\nsavage tribes who practise infanticide, and, pressed by hunger,\ndestroy their children to save their food. The infant here was first\nplunged into the water--buried, as we should say, in baptism; and\nafterwards swept rapidly and unharmed through the flaming fire. A very\nremarkable rite; and one that, as we read the story, recalled to mind\nthis double baptism, \"He shall baptize you,\" said Jesus, \"with the\nHoly Ghost and with fire;\" \"Except a man be born of water and of the\nSpirit, he cannot see the kingdom of God.\" Its administration to\ninfants, to such as had committed no sin, nor knew, indeed, their\nright hand from their left, implied a belief in the presence, not of\nacquired, but of original impurity. It is based on that; and without\nit this rite is not only mysterious, but meaningless. Blind is the eye\nwhich does not see in this old pagan ceremony a tradition of the\nprimeval Fall, and dull the ear which does not hear in its voice no\nfaint echo of these words, \"I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did\nmy mother conceive me.... Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew\na right spirit within me.\"\n\nLike the Fall, the Flood also was an event which, though it may have\nworn no channel in the rocks, has left indelible traces of its\npresence on the memory of mankind. The Greeks had strange traditions\nof this awful judgment; so had the Romans; and so had almost all the\nheathen nations of antiquity--strange legends, to which the Bible\nsupplies the only key. Its account of the Deluge explains the\ntraditions, and the traditions corroborate it; and by their general\nmutual correspondence we are confirmed in our belief that its authors\nwere holy men of old, who spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.\nTo evade this argument, infidels may trace these legends to Jews, who,\nled captive of the heathen, related to them the Mosaic story, and took\nadvantage of man's love of the marvellous to practise on his\ncredulity. The attempt is vain; since, on turning from the Old World\nto the New, we find the very same traditions there; and there, long\nages before Jew or Christian knew of its existence, or had landed on\nits shores. Those paintings which were to Mexicans and Peruvians\nsubstitutes for history, for a written or printed language, embody the\nstory of the Flood. One of these pictures, for example, shows us a man\nafloat with his family in a rude boat on a shoreless sea; in another,\nthe raven of Bible story is cleaving on black wing the murky sky; in a\nthird, the heads of the hills appear in the background like islands\nemerging from the waste of waters, while, with such confusion as is\ninseparable from traditionary lore, the raven is substituted for the\ndove, and appears making its way to the lone tenants of the boat with\nevidence of the subsidence of the waters--a fir-cone in its bloody\nbeak. Rolled down the long stream of ages, the true history is more or\nless changed, and even fragmentary, like a water-worn stone. Still,\nbetween these traditionary records and Bible story there is a\nremarkable agreement. They sound like its echo. In them pagan voices\nproclaim the holiness of God. Lest we also should perish with those\nwho, looking on the placid sea and starry sky of the Old World's last\nnight, asked, \"Where is the promise of His coming?\" they warn us to\nflee from wrath to come.\n\nOf all these venerable legends painted in colours or embalmed in\nverse, written in story or sculptured on stone, none are more\nremarkable than those where the serpent appears. Old divines imagined\nthat the creature whose shape Satan borrowed for the temptation had\noriginally no malignant aspect; neither the poisoned fangs, nor eyes\nof fire, nor cold, scaly, wriggling form which man and beast recoil\nfrom with instinctive horror. They fancied that the curse, \"Upon thy\nbelly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat,\" was followed by a\nsudden metamorphosis, and that till then the appearance of the serpent\nwas as lovely as it is now loathsome. They gave the words of the\ncurse a literal interpretation. They bear a deeper meaning, no doubt;\nyet the fancy of these old divines may have approached nearer to fact\nthan many perhaps suppose. Science reads the history of remote ages as\nshe finds it inscribed on the rocks; and, on turning over these stony\nleaves, we find that the earliest form of the serpent was different\nfrom that which, as it crawls and wriggles along the ground, so\nforcibly recalls the very words of the curse. Though they have now\nonly such powers of motion as belong to the meanest worm, those\nskeletons which the rocks entomb show that the serpent tribe had once\nfeet to walk with, and even wings to spurn the ground and cleave the\nair. Such is the testimony of the rocks! And, taking the words of\nScripture in their literal sense, there is, to say the least of it, a\nvery curious coincidence between the voices of the rocks and the voice\nof revelation. But, be that as it may, what else but fragmentary\ntraditions of Eden and the Fall are the forms of serpent worship among\nthe heathen, who acted, as they still often act, on the principle of\npropitiating the powers of evil, the many old monuments on which its\nfigure is sculptured, and the many old legends in which it plays a\nconspicuous part? What else was the belief of our pagan fathers, that\nwithin a dark cave in the bowels of the earth there sat a great scaly\ndragon, brooding on gold? What else was the fabled garden of the\nHesperides, where the trees, guarded by a fierce and formidable\nserpent, bore apples of gold? What else was the tragic story of a\nfather and his sons dying by the bites and crushed within the scaly\nfolds of a coil of serpents; and on which, as touchingly represented\nin the sculptured marble, we have never looked without recalling the\nfate of Adam and his unhappy offspring? And what else is the old\nlegend of him who with rash hand sowed serpent's teeth, and saw spring\nfrom the soil, not clustering vines, or feathery palms, or stalks of\nwaving corn, but a crop of swords, and spears, and armed men? Read\nthat fable by the light of the Bible, and the wild legend stands out\nthe record of an awful fact. To the serpent the world owes it wars,\nand discords, and the sin which is their source. Disguised in its\nform, Satan brought in sin; and when sin entered on the scene, peace\ndeparted--peace between God and man, peace between man and man, peace\nbetween man and himself--the peace which, with all its blessings, He\ndescended from heaven to restore who is our Peace, and whom angels\nushered on the scene of His toils and triumphs, of His atoning death\nand glorious victory, with songs of \"Glory to God in the highest, and\non earth peace, good-will toward men.\"\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nJESUS RESTORES PEACE BETWEEN GOD AND MAN.\n\n\nThere are things which God cannot do--which it were not to honour but\ndishonour Him to believe He could. He can neither tempt, nor be\ntempted, to sin. The sinner He may love, but not his sin; that is\nimpossible; as the prophet expresses it, \"Thou art of purer eyes than\nto behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity.\" Indeed, I would as\nsoon believe that God could condemn a holy spirit to the pains of\nhell, as admit a guilty one, unjustified and unsanctified, to the joys\nof heaven. In that terrible indictment which God thunders out against\nIsrael by the mouth of Ezekiel, He says, \"Thou art the land which is\nnot cleansed. Her princes in the midst thereof are like wolves\nravening the prey, to shed blood, and to destroy souls, to get\ndishonest gain. Her prophets have daubed them with untempered mortar,\nsaying, Thus saith the Lord God, when the Lord hath not spoken. The\npeople of the land have used oppression, and exercised robbery, and\nhave vexed the poor and needy; therefore have I poured out mine\nindignation upon them; I have consumed them with the fire of my wrath:\ntheir own way have I recompensed upon their heads, saith the Lord.\" So\nhe arraigns this and the other class. And how of the priests? \"Her\npriests have violated my law, and have profaned mine holy things: they\nhave put no difference between the holy and profane, neither have they\nshowed difference between the unclean and the clean.\" He censures His\nservants for not separating between the clean and unclean; and it\ninsults Him to suppose that He could do in His own practice what He\ncondemns in theirs. Events, such as old murders brought to light, ever\nand anon occur to show that God's mill, as runs the proverb, though\nit grinds slow, grinds sure; yet because He does not execute judgment\nspeedily on workers of iniquity--giving them space to repent; because\nHe often seems, like one far remote from earth, to treat its crimes\nand virtues with equal indifference, men have not believed these\nsolemn words, \"There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.\" But\nlet the wicked hear His words, and take the warning, \"Thou hatest\ninstruction; thou castest My words behind thee. When thou sawest a\nthief, then thou consentedst with him. Thou hast been partaker with\nadulterers. Thou givest thy mouth to evil, and thy tongue practiseth\ndeceit. Thou sittest and speakest against thy brother; thou slanderest\nthine own mother's son. These things hast thou done, and I kept\nsilence; thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an one as thyself:\nbut I will reprove thee, and set them in order before thine eyes.\nConsider this, ye that forget God, lest I tear you in pieces, and\nthere be none to deliver.\"\n\nThe universal conscience of mankind is stricken with a sense of\nguilt. Alarmed by an instinctive sense of danger, men have felt the\nneed of reconciliation; and, under a sense of His displeasure, have\neverywhere, and in all ages, sought to make their peace with God. For\nthis end altars were raised and temples built; sacrifices offered, and\npenances endured. If the colossal structures of Egypt, and the lovely\ntemples of Greece and Rome, were erected, as well to adorn the state\nas to please the gods, it was less to please approving, than to\nappease angry divinities, that their courts resounded with the cries\nof victims, and smoking altars ran red with blood. So much did the\nheathen feel their need of peace, such store did they set by it, that\nmany of them sought it at any price. They would buy peace at any cost;\nnor did they shrink from giving all their fortune, even the fruit of\ntheir body, for the sin of their souls. For peace with God the Hindoo\nwalked to his distant temples in sandals that, set with spikes,\npierced his flesh at every step, and marked all the long, slow,\npainful journey with a track of blood; for peace with God the Syrian\nled his sweet boy up to the fires of Moloch, and, unmoved in purpose\nby cries, or curses, or passionate entreaties, cast him shrieking on\nthe burning pile; for peace with God the Indian mother approached the\nriver's brink with streaming tears and trembling steps, and, tearing\nthe suckling from her bursting heart, kissed it, to turn away her\neyes, and fling it into the flood. We pity their ignorance. But how do\nthey rebuke the indifference of many; their unwillingness to submit to\nany sacrifice whatever for the honour of Jesus and the interests of\ntheir souls? These heathens may pity thousands whom they shall rise up\nin judgment to condemn. Neglecting the great salvation, preferring the\npleasures of sin, what a contrast do these offer to a poor Hindoo,\nwho, hearing a missionary tell of the blood of Christ, sprang from the\nground, and, loosing his bloody sandals, flung them away to exclaim,\n\"Now, now I have found what I want!\"\n\nThe peace which he found all men want, and shall find in Jesus, if\nthey seek it honestly, earnestly. God has no pleasure in the death of\nthe wicked. He never had. We pronounce him an unnatural father, who,\non a breach occurring between him and his child, though he is the\ninjured and not the injurer, does not long to be reconciled--is not\nthe first to make advances and overtures of peace. In this feature of\nthe parental character God has stamped upon our hearts the beautiful\nimage of His own. Yearning over them as the kind old man over his\nwayward prodigal, his exiled child, God was willing to receive back\nsinners to His arms; to reinstate them in His family, and restore them\nto His favour. But how was this to be done?--done without dishonour to\nHis holy law, and with due regard to His character as a God of truth.\nHe had said, \"The soul that sinneth shall die;\" nor could peace be\nrestored between Him and man but on such terms as maintained His\ntruth. A father or mother punishes one child, and allows another,\nguilty of the same offence, to go free. But had God cast fallen angels\ninto hell, and, without any regard to His word, admitted fallen men\nto heaven, what had angels, what had devils, what had men themselves\nthought of a God who conducted his government with such\ncaprice--playing fast and loose with His most solemn words? \"The way\nof the Lord,\" said ancient Israel, \"is not equal;\" and in such a case\nthere had been ground for the charge, and none for the indignation\nwith which He repels it, saying, \"Hear now, O Israel, is not my way\nequal? are not yours unequal?\"\n\nThere was only one way of restoring peace; but it involved a sacrifice\non God's part which the most sanguine had never dared to hope for. If\nthe Lord of heaven and earth, veiling His glory, would assume our\nnature, would take the form of a servant, would stoop to the work of a\nsubject, would die the death of a sinner, we might be saved--not\notherwise; if He would leave heaven, we might enter it--not otherwise;\nif He would die, we might live--not otherwise; if He would enter the\ngrave its captor, we might leave it its conquerors--not otherwise; if\nHe, as our substitute, would fulfil the requirements of the law, both\nin doing our work and discharging our debt, both obeying and suffering\nin our stead, peace could be restored--not otherwise. For these ends\nGod did not spare His Son, but gave Him up to death, \"that whosoever\nbelieveth in him might not perish, but have everlasting life;\" and the\n\"set time\" having come at length, Jesus descended on our world, to\nmake peace through the blood of His cross--His angel-train, ere they\nreturned to heaven, holding a concert in the skies.\n\nDying, the just for the unjust, He has made peace; and these are the\neasy terms, \"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be\nsaved.\" How gladly should we accept them? If men reject peace, what\nchance for them in war? \"Hast thou an arm like God? Canst thou thunder\nwith a voice like him?\" \"Let the potsherds strive with the potsherds\nof the earth; but woe to the man who striveth with his Maker!\" He has\nproclaimed a truce--granting a suspension of arms, and offering most\ngenerous proposals of peace. How should men improve the pause, and\naccept the overtures!--as eagerly seizing salvation through the cross\nof Christ as a drowning man life through the rope some kind hand\nflings within his reach. In warfare patriots have stood up gallantly\nagainst overwhelming odds, and, closing their broken ranks, have said,\n\"Better fall on the field, better lose life than honour;\" but when\nsinners, dropping the weapons of rebellion, yield themselves up to\nGod, honour is not lost, but won, in a crown that fadeth not away.\nBrave men have said, \"Better fight to the last, die with our swords in\nour hands, than become captives to pine away a weary, ignoble life\nwithin the walls of a prison;\" but when the sinner gives himself up to\nGod, he goes not to exile but home; not to chains and a dungeon, but\nto glorious freedom, a palace, and a throne. God asks you to give up\nyour sins that they, not you, may be slain. It is of them, not of you,\nHe says, \"But those mine enemies which would not that I should reign\nover them, bring hither, and slay them before me!\"\n\nIn these circumstances, oh for the wisdom of her who showed herself on\nthe city walls in the thick of the assault, crying to Joab, \"Hear,\nhear, come near hither, I pray you, that I may speak with thee!\" A\nwoman's figure there, her voice sounding above the thunder of the\ncaptains and the shouting, suspends the attack. Assailants and\nassailed alike rest on their arms; and as one marked as a leader by\nhis plume and bearing, covered with the dust and blood of battle,\nsteps forward, she bends over the battlements to ask, \"Art thou Joab?\"\n\"I am he,\" is the reply. \"Then hear the words of thy handmaid,\" she\ncries; \"I am one of them that are peaceable and faithful in Israel:\nthou seekest to destroy a city and a mother in Israel!\" He solemnly\nrepudiates the charge. \"Far be it from me,\" he answers, \"that I should\nswallow up and destroy. The matter is not so: but a man of Mount\nEphraim, Sheba, the son of Bichri, hath lifted up his hand against\nthe king, against David: deliver him only, and I will depart from the\ncity.\" She accepts the terms; and saying \"Behold, his head shall be\nthrown to thee over the wall\"--vanishes. Prompt in action as wise in\ncounsel, she goes to the people, deals with them, sways the multitude\nto her will; and ere the last hour of the brief truce has closed, a\nbloody head goes bounding over the wall. It rolls like a ball to the\nfeet of Joab; and in its grim and ghastly features they recognise the\nface of the son of Bichri. So Joab blows the trumpet, and the host\nretires from the walls, every man to his own tent. So let men deal\nwith their sins. Let them die with the son of Bichri: they have\n\"lifted up their hand against the King.\" Why should we spare them, and\nlose our souls? By His precious blood Jesus has opened up a way to\npeace. He has come, but not \"to swallow up and destroy.\" Blessed Lord,\nHe came to save, not to destroy. \"O earth, earth, earth,\" cried the\nprophet, \"hear the word of the Lord;\" and be it known to the world's\nutmost bounds that God willeth not the death of the sinner, but\nrather that he would turn to Him and live. With her flaming sword, red\nwith the blood of men and angels, Justice holds to us no other\nlanguage but that of Joab, \"Deliver up your sins only, and I will\ndepart!\" and, inspired of God with the wisdom that chooseth the better\npart, and maketh wise unto salvation, let us say, \"Better my sins die\nthan I; better Satan be cast, than Jesus be kept out of it; better\nstrike off the heads of a thousand sins that have lifted up their\nhands against the King, than that I should fall--sparing my sins to\nlose my soul!\"\n\n\n\n\n_PART V._\n\n\nAhab and Jezebel, two of the worst characters in sacred story, had a\nson; and with such blood as theirs in his veins, no wonder that Joram,\non succeeding to the throne of one parent, exhibited the vices of\nboth. His mother does not seem to have had a drop of human-kindness in\nher breast. Yet he was not altogether dead to humanity, as appears by\nan incident which occurred during the siege that reduced his capital\nto the direst extremities. The ghastly aspect of a famished woman who\nthrows herself in his way with a wild, impassioned, wailing cry of\n\"Help, my lord, O king!\" touches him; and he asks, \"What aileth thee?\"\nStretching out a skinny arm to one pale and haggard as herself, she\nreplies, with hollow voice, \"This woman said unto me, Give thy son,\nthat we may eat him to-day, and we will eat my son to-morrow. So we\nboiled my son, and did eat him: and I said unto her on the next day,\nGive thy son, that we may eat him; and she hath hid her son.\" Struck\nwith horror at the story, Joram rent his clothes. He had pity, but no\npiety.\n\n\"Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will but revolt more and\nmore.\" Never were these words, never was the fact that unsanctified\nafflictions have the same hardening effect on men which fire, that\nmelts gold, has on clay, more strikingly illustrated than on this\noccasion. So far from rending his heart with his garment, and humbling\nhimself before the Lord, Joram flares up into fiercer rebellion; and\nturning from these victims of the famine to his courtiers, he grinds\nhis teeth to profane God's name and vow vengeance on his prophet,\nsaying, \"God do so and more also to me, if the head of Elisha the son\nof Shaphat shall stand on him this day.\" Impotent rage against the\nonly man who could have weathered the storm, and saved the state! The\nprophet's head stood on his shoulders when that of this son of a\nmurderer--as Elisha called him--lay low in death in the dust of\nNaboth's vineyard. The day arrives which sees the cup of Joram's\niniquity full, and that of God's patience empty--drained to the last\ndrop. The chief officers of the army are sitting outside their\nbarrack, when one wearing a prophet's livery approaches them. Singling\nout Jehu from the group, he says, I have an errand to thee, O captain!\nThe captain rises; they pass in alone; the door is shut; and now this\nstrange, unknown man, drawing a horn of oil from his shaggy cloak,\npours it on Jehu's head. As if it had fallen on fire, it kindled up\nhis smouldering ambition--so soon at least as this speech interpreted\nthe act, \"Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I have anointed thee king\nover the people of this land. Thou shall smite the house of Ahab thy\nmaster; dogs shall eat Jezebel in the portion of Jezreel, and there\nshall be none to bury her.\" Having spoken so, the stranger opens the\ndoor, and flies. But faster flies God's vengeance. Ere his feet have\nborne the servant to Elisha's door, the banner of revolt is up,\nunfurled; troops are gathering to the sound of trumpets; and soldiers,\neager for change and plunder, are making the air ring to the cry, Jehu\nis king!\n\nLaunched like a thunderbolt at the house of Ahab, Jehu makes right for\nJezreel with impetuous, impatient speed. A watchman on the palace\ntower catches afar the dust of the advancing cavalcade, and cries, I\nsee a company! Guilt, which sleeps uneasy even on downy pillows,\nawakens, on the circumstance being reported to him, the monarch's\nfears. A horseman is quickly despatched with the question, Is it\npeace? Thus, pulling up his steed, he accosts the leader of the\ncompany, who, drawing no rein, replies, in a tone neither to be\nchallenged nor disobeyed, What hast thou to do with peace? Get thee\nbehind me! Failing the first's return, a second horseman gallops forth\nto carry the same question and meet the same reception. Sweeping on\nlike a hurricane, the band is now near enough for the watchman to\ntell, \"He came near unto them, and cometh not again;\" and also to\nadd, as he marks how their leader is shaking the reins and lashing the\nsteeds of his bounding chariot, \"The driving is like the driving of\nJehu, the son of Nimshi; for he driveth furiously.\" Displaying a\ncourage that seemed his only redeeming quality, or bereaved of sense,\naccording to the saying, Whom God intends to destroy He first makes\nmad, Joram instantly throws himself into his chariot, advances to meet\nthe band, and demands of its leader, Is it peace, Jehu? What peace, is\nthe other's answer, so long as the whoredoms of thy mother and her\nwitchcrafts are so many? With the words that leave his lips an arrow\nleaves his bow to transfix the flying king--entering in at his back\nand passing out at his breast; and when he is cast, a bloody corpse,\ninto Naboth's vineyard, and dogs are crunching his mother's bones, and\nJehu has climbed the throne, and Elisha walks abroad with his head\nsafe on his shoulders, and the curtain falls on the stage of these\ntragic and righteous scenes, it was a time for the few pious men of\nthat guilty land to sing, \"Lo thine enemies, O Lord, lo thine enemies\nshall perish; but the righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree:\nthey shall grow like a cedar of Lebanon.\"\n\nSuch was the mission of Jehu, the son of Nimshi. How different that of\nJesus, the Son of God! They might have been identical; presented at\nleast grounds of comparison rather than grounds of striking contrast.\nYet so remarkable is the contrast that Jehu's mission--and therefore\nhave we related the story--forms as effective a background to\nChrist's, as the black rain-cloud to the bright bow which spans it.\nThe cause of the difference lies in God's free, gracious, sovereign\nmercy--in nothing else; for had mankind, at the tidings that the Son\nof God, attended by a train of holy angels, was approaching, met Him\non the confines of our world with Joram's question, \"Is it peace?\"\nthat question might justly have met with Jehu's answer, \"What hast\nthou to do with peace?\"--what have you done to obtain it, or to\ndeserve it? Yet, glory be to God in the highest, it is peace--peace\nmore plainly and fully announced in these most gracious words, \"It\npleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell; and, having\nmade peace through the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all\nthings to himself, whether they be things on earth, or things in\nheaven.\"\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nJESUS BRINGS PEACE TO THE SOUL.\n\n\nHaving reconciled us to God by the blood of His cross, Christ is \"our\nPeace,\" as the apostle says. He is called so, first, because He\nrestores us to a state of friendship with God; and, secondly, because\na sense of that fills the whole soul with a peace which passeth\nunderstanding. So, speaking of the righteousness which Christ wrought\nout for us, the prophet says, \"The work of righteousness is\npeace\"--His righteousness being the root, and our peace the\nfruit--that the spring, and this the stream. To describe for the\ncomfort of the Church the constancy of the last and the fulness of the\nfirst, another prophet borrows two of nature's grandest images, \"Thy\npeace shall be like a river, and thy righteousness like the waves of\nthe sea\"--the believer's peace flowing like a broad, deep stream, with\nlife in its waters and smiling verdure on its banks; and a Saviour's\nrighteousness covering all his sins, as the waves do the countless\nsands of their shore, when, burying them out of sight, the tide\nconverts the whole reach of dull, dreary sand into a broad liquid\nmirror, to reflect the light of the sky and the beams of the sun.\n\nChrist's imputed righteousness is bestowed equally on all\nbelievers--none, the least any more than the greatest sinner, being\nmore justified than another. Feeling assured or not of their\nsalvation, all His are equally safe--\"those whom Thou hast given me I\nhave kept, and none of them are lost.\" There is no such equal\nenjoyment among believers of peace in believing; some walking all\ntheir days under a cloud, and some who walk in darkness and have no\nlight, only reaching heaven, like a blind man guided homewards by the\nhand of his child, by their hold of the promise, Who is he that\nfeareth the Lord and obeyeth the voice of His servant, that walketh\nin darkness and hath no light; let him trust in the name of the Lord,\nand stay himself in his God. But where there is peace springing from a\nsense of forgiveness, of all the fruits of the Spirit that grow in\nChrist's fair garden, this is sweetest. Among the blessings enjoyed on\nearth, it has no superior, or rival even. It passeth understanding,\nsays an apostle. Nor did David regard any as happy but those who\nenjoyed it--pronouncing \"blessed,\" not the great, or rich, or noble,\nor famous, but \"the man,\" whatever his condition, \"whose transgression\nis forgiven, whose sin is covered.\" And so he might. With this peace\nthe believer regards death as the gate of life: enters the grave as a\nquiet anchorage from seas and storms; and looks forward to the scene\nof final judgment as a prince to his coronation, or a happy bride to\nher marriage day. A sense of forgiveness lays the sick head on a\npillow softer than downs; lightens sorrow's heaviest burdens; makes\npoverty rich beyond the wealth of banks; spoils death of his sting;\narms the child of God against the ills of life; and, lifting him up\nabove its trials, makes him like some lofty mountain, at whose feet\nthe lake may be lashed into foaming billows, and adown whose seamed\nand rugged sides clouds may fall in gloomy folds, but whose head,\nshooting up into the calm blue heavens, reposes in unbroken peace,\nrejoices in perpetual sunshine.\n\nHappy such as obtain a firm hold of Christ, and, having made their\ncalling and election sure, enjoy unclouded peace! Feeling that there\nis now no more condemnation for them, because they believe in Jesus,\nand walk not after the flesh but after the spirit, they see a change\ncome on objects such as imparts pleasure and surprise in what are\ncalled dissolving views. Where death, with grim and grisly aspect,\nstood by the mouth of an open grave, shaking his fatal dart, we see an\nangel form opening with one hand the gate of heaven, and holding in\nthe other a shining crown--from the face of God we see the features\nof an angry, stern, inexorable judge melt all away, and in room of an\nobject of terror we behold the face and form of a kind, loving,\nforgiving Father, with open arms hastening to embrace us. The God of\nhope give you joy and peace in believing, is the prayer of the\napostle--a prayer in many cases so fully answered that the dying saint\nhas been borne away from all his earthly moorings; and, ready to part\nfrom wife and children, has exclaimed with Simeon when he held the\ninfant Saviour in his joyful arms, \"Now, Lord, lettest thou thy\nservant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.\"\n\n\"Be at peace among yourselves,\" is a blessed injunction which an\napostle lays on families, on friends, and on churches. In happy\ncontrast to the storm which, hurtling through the troubled air, and\nshaking doors and windows, goes raving round every corner of the\nhouse, let peace reign on the domestic hearth, and also within the\nchurch, when, like the ark of old, she drifts on the billows of a\nshoreless sea--God only at the helm.\n\nIt is good to be at peace with our brethren, but to be at peace with\none's-self is better. At peace with conscience, one can afford, if God\nwill have it so, to be at war with all men. It is painful, when we\ncannot be at peace with all men--to have enemies without; but his case\nis infinitely worse who lodges an enemy in his own breast--in a\nguilty, uneasy conscience, in self-reproaches, in terror of death, in\nthe knowledge that God and he are not friends, nor can be so, so long\nas he cherishes his sins. There is no peace, saith my God, to the\nwicked. There cannot be. Drugged with narcotics, you may sleep as\nquietly on a bed of thorns as of roses. Drugged with narcotics, you\nmay lie down on the cold pavement, and fancy as you throw your arms\naround the curbstone that it is the wife of your bosom. Drugged with\nnarcotics, you may go to sleep in a cell with visions of home playing\nround the head that shall be capped for hanging to-morrow. But no more\nthan I call these peaceful sights, can I apply the name of peace to\nthe insensibility of a conscience seared by sin; to the calmness, or\nrather callousness of one who has allowed the devil to persuade him\nthat God is too merciful to reckon with us for our transgressions. The\npeace we are to seek, and, seeking to pursue, is not that of death,\nbut life,--not that the lake presents in winter, when no life appears\non its shores, nor sound breaks the silence of its frozen waters; but\nthat of a lake which, protected from tempests by lofty mountains,\ncarries life in its waters, beauty on its banks, and heaven mirrored\nin its unruffled bosom. Being justified by faith we have peace with\nGod through our Lord Jesus Christ. Such is the peace which we are to\nseek--a peace which, springing from a sense of reconciliation through\nthe blood of the Lamb and wrought within the soul by the in-dwelling\nof the Holy Spirit, has so raised the saint above all fears of death,\nand shed such a flood of glory around his dying head, that wicked men\nhave turned from the scene to exclaim, May I die the death of the\nrighteous, and may my last end be like his!\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nJESUS SHALL BRING PEACE TO THE WORLD.\n\n\nHow many pages of history are written with the point of the sword--not\nwith ink, but tears and blood? It is chiefly taken up with the recital\nof wars. What age has not been the era, what country the scene of\nbloody strifes? What soil does not hold the dust of thousands that\nhave fallen by brothers' hands? Our glebes have been fattened with the\nbodies of the slain? On those fields where, with the lark carolling\noverhead, the peasant drives his ploughshare, other steel than the\nsickle has glanced, and other shouts have risen than those of happy\nreapers bearing some blushing, sun-browned maid on their broad\nshoulders at the Harvest Home. The tall gray stones, the hoary cairns,\ntell how on other days these quiet scenes were disturbed by the roar\nof battle, and lay red with another dye than that of heath or purple\nwild flowers. Go wherever our foot may wander, we find tokens of war;\nand select what age soever we may, since Abel fell beneath a brother's\nhand, we find in man's first death, and the earth's first lone grave,\na bloody omen of future and frequent crimes. What a commentary is\nhuman history on these words of Holy Scripture, \"The whole creation\ngroaneth, and travaileth in pain till now!--nor shall it cease to\ngroan, or hail the day of its redemption, till the Prince of Peace is\nenthroned in the heart of all nations, and the labours of missionaries\nhave extended that kingdom to the ends of the earth, whose triumphs\nare bloodless--whose walls are Salvation and her gates Praise.\"\n\nWithout disparagement to the happy influence of education, the\nextension of commerce, and the efforts of benevolent men, the real\nPeace Society is the Church of God; the olive branch which the Spirit,\ndove-like, is bearing on blessed wing to a troubled world, is the\nWord of God; and the gospel's is the voice which, like Christ's on\nGalilee's waves, shall speak peace to a distracted earth, and change\nits wildest passions into a holy calm. Till all nations receive the\nBible in its integrity and own it as their only rule of policy, till\nkings reign for Christ and lay their crowns at His feet, a lasting\npeace is an idle dream. Treaties will no more bind nations that lie\nunder the influence of unsanctified passions, that chains him who\ndwelt among the tombs, and within whom dwelt a legion of devils. Till\nother and better days come, the best cemented peace is only a pause--a\ntruce--an armistice; the breathing-time of exhausted combatants. Alas,\nthat it should be so: yet true it is, that that nation dooms itself to\ndisaster, if not destruction, which, pursuing only the arts of peace,\nleaves its swords to rust, and its navies to rot, and forts with empty\nembrasures to moulder into ruins. The trumpet of the world's Jubilee\nhas not yet sounded, nor have all the vials of the Apocalypse been\nemptied of the wrath of God. And so, till the nations have emerged\nfrom spiritual darkness; till God's Word is an open book, and duly\nhonoured in all lands; till immorality has ceased to weaken the bonds\nof social happiness, discontent to rankle in the bosom of the people,\nand ambition to fire the breasts of kings, the world may expect ever\nand anon to hear the voice of Joel sounding out this trumpet call,\n\"Prepare ye war; wake up the mighty men; let all the men of war draw\nnear--beat your ploughshares into swords and your pruning-hooks into\nspears--put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe.\"\n\nBetter days are coming--some think near at hand. Turning a seer's eye on\nfuturity, Isaiah descried them in the far distance--saw the reign of the\nPrince of Peace--Jesus crowned King of kings and Lord of lords--swords\nbeaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning-hooks--every man,\nwhether at hall or cottage door, sitting under the shade of his vine\nand fig-tree--the whole earth quiet, and at rest. And glad is the\nChurch, as, weary of strife and sin and sorrow, she looks up into the\ndarksome sky, and cries, Watchman, what of the night? to get a hopeful\nresponse,--to catch any sign, in break, or blush, or gray gleam however\nfeeble, that seems to reply, The morning cometh! Come blessed morn,\ncome Prince of Peace--come Lord Jesus--come quickly! Let wars cease\nunto the ends of the earth! Scatter Thou the people that delight in war.\n\nThe vision tarries, but come it shall. In answer to the cry of blood\nthat rises to heaven with a different voice from that of Abel's, peace\nshall reign and wars shall cease. By the hands that men nailed to a\ncross God will break the bow, the battle, and the spear--burning the\nchariot in the fire. And though any peace which our age may enjoy\nshould be only a breathing-time, but a pause in the roar of the bloody\ntempest, let us improve it to remedy all wrongs at home; to educate\nour ignorant and neglected masses; to eradicate the vices that\ndisgrace and degrade our nation; to build up the Church wherever it\nlies in ruins; to extend not so much Britain's empire as Christ's\nkingdom abroad, and so hasten forward the happy time when the Song of\nthe Angels shall be echoed from every land, and the voices of the\nskies of Bethlehem shall be lost in the grander, fuller, nobler chorus\nof all nations, singing, Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth,\ngood will toward men!\n\n\n\n\n_PART VI._\n\n\nThough the last to be dropped into its place, the keystone is of all\nthe stones of an arch the first in importance; the others span no\nflood, carry no weight, are of no value, without it. It gives unity to\nthe separate parts, and locking all together, makes them one. Of such\nconsequence to the other parts of the Angels' Song is its last clause.\nIt was not simply Glory to God, nor peace on earth, but good will\ntoward men, which made the angels messengers of mercy, and the news\nthey brought tidings of great joy. Glory to God! Amid the rush of the\nwaters that drowned the world, and the roar of the flames that laid\nSodom in ashes, they sang glory to God. God is glorious in acts of\njudgment as well as in acts of mercy--\"the God of Glory thundereth.\"\nSo on shores strewn with the corpses of the dead, beside a sea which\nopened its gates for the escape of Israel and closed them on Egypt,\nburying king and bannered host beneath its whirling waves, Moses and\nMiriam cried, Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously;\nthe horse and his rider hath He cast into the sea! Then the deep\nlifted up its voice, and all the waves of the sea sang Glory to God!\nas, bearing the dead in on their foaming crests, they laid them at\nMoses' feet. And when that judgment comes to which these are but as\nthe big drops that prepare us for a burst of thunder and the rushing\nrain, when the great white throne is set, and the books are opened,\nand the Judge rises in awful majesty to pronounce words of doom, the\nvoices of ten times ten thousand saints shall add, Amen; and in an\noutburst of praise that drowns the wail of the lost, the whole host of\nangels shall sing, Glory to God! With such ascription of praise\nChrist's heralds would have announced His advent, had He come not to\nsave, but to destroy.\n\n\"Glory to God,\" the first clause of this song, does not, therefore,\nnecessarily involve good will towards men; and no more does the\nsecond, \"peace on earth.\" Peace! Peace was in the valley where the\nprophet stood with the grim wrecks of war around him,--friend and foe\nsleeping side by side, skeletons silently turning to dust, and swords\nto rust. Peace is in the battle-field when the last gun is fired, and,\nthe last of the dying having groaned out his soul in a gush of blood,\nthe heaving mass is still. Peace was on the sea and the storm suddenly\nbecame a calm, when the waves leaping up against the flying ship\nobtained their prey, and from the deck where he stood summoned by the\nvoice, Arise, O thou that sleepest, and call upon thy God, Jonah was\nflung into the jaws of death. Peace was in that land he had ravaged of\nwhom men said, \"He made a solitude, and called it peace,\"--all its\nhomesteads lay in ashes, and its cities stood in silent ruins. Peace\nwas in Israel, when, provoked by their sins, God cast His people out:\nswept them all into captivity. The land had its Sabbaths then. The\nAngels' Song might have announced a similar, but greater,\njudgment--that, as a landlord clears his estate of turbulent, lawless,\nbankrupt tenants, God, who had repented long ago that He had made man,\nwas at length coming to clear the earth of his guilty presence, and\nmake room for better tenants; a purer, holier race. It is the last\nclause of this hymn, therefore, that gives it an aspect of mercy--the\nrevenue of glory which God was to receive, and the peace which earth\nwas to enjoy, flowing from that fountain of redeeming love which had\nits spring in God's good will. Of this Christ was the divine\nexpression, and angels were the happy messengers.\n\nHappy messengers indeed! No wonder they hastened their flight to\nearth, and having announced the good tidings, lingered over the fields\nof Bethlehem, singing as they hovered on the wing. To announce bad\nnews is the unenviable office often imposed on ministers of the\ngospel; and recollecting with what slow, reluctant steps my feet\napproached the house where I had to break to a mother the tidings of\nthe wreck, and how her sailor boy with all hands had perished; or, in\nthe news of a husband's sudden death, I had to plant a dagger in the\nheart of a young, bright, happy wife. I never have read the story of\nAbsalom's tragic end, without wondering at the race between Ahimaaz\nand Cushi who should first carry the tidings to David. It had been\neasier, I think, to look the foe in the face and hear the roar of\nbattle than see the old man's grief, and hear that heart-broken cry,\n\"O Absalom, my son, my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee, O\nAbsalom, my son, my son!\" I can enter into the feelings of the two\nMarys, when, to quote the words of Holy Scripture, \"they departed\nquickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, and did run to\nbring the disciples word.\" I see them, as, regardless of appearances,\nand saluting no one, they press on, along the road, through the\nstreets, with panting breath and gleaming eye and streaming hair and\nflying feet, striving who shall be first to proclaim the resurrection,\nand burst in on the disciples with the glad tidings, crying, \"The Lord\nis risen!\" Teaching the Churches how to strive, their only rivalry who\nshall first carry the tidings of salvation to heathen lands, I dare to\nsay those holy women never took such bounding steps, nor sped on their\nway with such haste before. And never, I fancy, did angels leave the\ngates of heaven so fast behind them, pass suns and stars in downward\nflight on such rapid wing, as when they hasted to earth with the\ntidings of great joy. May we be as eager to accept salvation as they\nwere to announce it! May the love of God find a responsive echo within\nour bosoms! Would that our wishes for His glory corresponded to His\nfor our good, and that His good will toward us awoke a corresponding\ngood will toward Him--felt in hearts glowing with zeal for Christ's\ncause, and expressed in lives wholly consecrated to His service.\n\nIn studying this, we shall now consider the persons to whom good will\nis expressed.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nTHE PERSONS TO WHOM GOOD WILL IS EXPRESSED.\n\n\nIt is expressed to men--to all men; so that if we are finally lost,\nthe blame as well as the bane is ours. God has no ill will to us, or\nto any. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked; nor is He\nwilling that any should perish, but that all should come to Him, and\nlive. His good will embraces the world.\n\n\"When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and\nthe stars which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful\nof him? and the Son of man, that thou visitest him?\" So said the royal\npsalmist. And, in a sense, time should only have deepened the\nastonishment which this question expresses. For man's ideas of the\nmagnificence of the heavens have grown with the course of ages; and\nthough the stars in the transparent atmosphere of Palestine shone with\na brilliancy unknown to us, our conceptions of the heavens are grander\nand more true than David's--thanks to the discoveries of modern\nscience. As navigators, so soon as by help of the mariner's compass\nthey could push their bold prows into untravelled seas, were ever\nadding new continents to the land and new islands to the ocean, so,\nsince the invention of the telescope, science has been discovering new\nstars in the heavens; filling up their empty spaces with stellar\nsystems, and vastly enlarging the limits of creation. And since every\nnew orb has added to the lustre of Jehovah's glory, another world to\nHis kingdom, another jewel to His crown, these discoveries, by\nexalting God still higher, have added point and power to the old\nquestion, \"What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the Son of\nman, that thou visitest him?\"\n\nYet, apart from man's sinfulness, I cannot feel that he is beneath\nthe regards of the Maker and Monarch of the starry heavens. I can\nfancy that an earthly sovereign who, dwelling apart from his people,\nis jealous of their intrusion within his palace gates, and sits\nenthroned amid an exclusive though brilliant circle of proud and\npowerful barons, may neither know nor care about the fortunes of lowly\ncottagers; but there could be no greater mistake than out of such a\nman's character to weave our conceptions of God, or fancy that because\nwe are infinitely beneath His rank, we are therefore beneath His\nnotice. A glance at the meanest of His creatures refutes and rebukes\nthe unworthy thought. It needs no angels from heaven to inform us that\nGod cherishes good will to all the creatures of His hand, nor deems\nthe least of them beneath His kind regards. Look at bird, or\nbutterfly, or beetle! Observe the lavish beauty that adorns His\ncreatures, the bounty that supplies their wants, the care taken of\ntheir lives, the happiness, expressed in songs or merry gambols or\nmazy dances, which He has poured into their hearts. The whole earth is\nfull of the glory of God's infinite benignity and good will.\nInsignificant as I--a speck on earth, and earth itself but a speck in\ncreation--seem to myself when, standing below the starry vault, I look\nup into the heavens, yet, apart from the thought that I am a sinner, I\ncannot say, What is man, that thou art mindful of him? How can I, when\nI see Him mindful of the brood that sleep in their rocking nest, of\nthe moth that flits by my face on muffled wing, of the fox that howls\non the hill, of the owl that hoots to the pale moon from ivy tower or\nhollow tree? Are you not of more value than many sparrows? said our\nLord. Fashioned originally after the divine image, with a soul\noutweighing in value the rude matter of a thousand worlds, able to\nrise on the wings of contemplation above the highest stars and hold\ncommunion with God himself, man, apart from his sinfulness, was every\nway worthy of divine good will; that God should be mindful of him.\n\nBut we are sinners--sinners by nature as well as practice; polluted;\nunholy; so unclean that our emblem is that hideous form which, from\nthe crown of the head to the soles of the feet, is wounds and bruises\nand putrifying sores; and the news that God cherishes good will to\nsuch guilty creatures may well evoke the old, wondering cry, Hear, O\nheavens; be astonished, O earth! On recalling the happy days of early\nlife, when, a child, he lay in his father's arms; a boy, he sat on his\nknee; a youth, he walked by his side--the tears that at parting\nstreamed over the old man's cheeks--his kind counsels, his tender\nwarnings, his warm kisses, and how he had stood and watched his\ndeparting steps till the brow of a hill or a turn of the road hid him\nfrom view, the poor prodigal ventured to hope that his father would\nnot turn him from his door; for the sake of the past and of his mother\nin the grave, would grant him at least a servant's place. Weighed down\nby a sense of guilt, his hopes rose to no higher flight--expected\nnothing beyond a menial's office. To be received with open arms, to\nbe welcomed back again like some youth who has gone abroad to win a\nfortune or be crowned with laurels--that his should be the fairest\nrobe, the finest ring, the fatted calf--that instead of stealing in\nunder the cloud of night to be concealed from strangers' eyes, the old\nhouse on his return should ring to the sound of music, and floors\nshould shake to the dancers' feet, and the whole neighbourhood should\nbe called to rejoice with a father whose shame and sorrow he had been,\nwas a turn of fortune he never dreamt of; never dared to hope for. On\nthe part of that loving, forgiving father, what amazing good will! But\nhow much more amazing this which God proclaimed by the lips of angels,\nand proved by the death of His beloved Son!\n\nI have known fathers and mothers who were sorely tried by wayward,\nwicked children--I have seen their gray hairs go down with sorrow to\nthe grave. With hearts bleeding under wounds from the hands of one\nthey loved, I have seen them welcome the grave; saying as they\ndescended into its quiet rest, \"the days of my mourning are ended.\" It\nis a horrid crime to wring tears from such eyes, to crush such hearts:\nbut was ever patient, hoping, loving parent tried as we have tried our\nFather in heaven? Not without reason does He ask, \"If I be a father,\nwhere is mine honour? if I be a master, where is my fear?\" And who\nthat thinks of his sins, their guilt, their number, and, as committed\nagainst infinite love and tender mercy, their unspeakable atrocity,\nbut will acknowledge the truth of these words, \"Because I am God, and\nnot man, therefore the children of men are not consumed\"--just as it\nis because the ship rides by a cable, and not a cobweb, that, when\nsails are rent, and yards are gone, and breakers are foaming on the\nreef, she mounts the billows and survives the storm. That we are not\nsuffering the pains of hell, that we have hopes of heaven and ever\nshall be there, we owe not to our good works, but to God's good will;\nto that only. Till converted, man does not desire this good will; and\nnever deserves it. We have no claim to it whatever. It is \"not by\nworks of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy\nGod saves us, by the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the\nHoly Ghost\"--therefore His good will has no root in any good works of\nours. A sacred mystery, we may apply to it the words which Job,\ncontemplating the grand mysteries of nature, applied to our earth\nwhen, seeing this great globe floating in ethereal space, sustained by\nno pillars, nor suspended by any chain that linked it to the skies, he\nsaid, Thou hast hung it upon nothing!\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nTHE PERSON WHO EXPRESSES \"GOOD WILL.\"\n\n\nThe person is God--He who spake by holy men of old, speaking here by\nthe lips of angels. Where there is a will, there is a way, is a brave\nand admirable proverb. Yet, though comparatively true in most cases,\nto some it is altogether inapplicable. Look, for example, at the women\nwho, when the men had turned cowards, boldly follow our Lord to\nCalvary, bewailing and lamenting Him! What tears they shed, what a\nwail they raise, when the door opens, and, surrounded by armed guards,\nJesus comes forth from the Judgment Hall, bleeding, bound, crowned\nwith thorns. When He sank down on the street under the weight of the\ncross, and His blessed head lay low in the dust, had there been a\nchance of saving Him, how had they rushed to His help; and, giving\ntheir naked breasts to the Roman spears, burst through the circle to\nrescue Him; to die with Him rather than desert Him. But they were\nhelpless. Their good will availed the loved object nothing--beyond\nthis, that the sympathy flowing in their tears and expressed in their\nlooks, somewhat soothed the sorrows of His heart, and fell like balm\ndrops on His smarting wounds.\n\nAgain, what good will did David bear to Jonathan! Did Jonathan love\nDavid as his own soul? and under circumstances calculated to dissolve\nall common friendships, and work such change on the heart as wine\nsuffers when it turns into vinegar, did Jonathan's sentiments continue\nunchanged, his affection unabated to the last? His love was strong as\ndeath; many waters could not quench it. But it was amply requited.\nDavid proved that with his harp; had he been present on that fatal\nfield where the bow of Jonathan was broken, he had proved it with his\nsword. With what a lion spring had he answered Jonathan's cry for\nhelp; how had he bestrode his fallen friend, covering him with his\nbattered shield; mowing a way through the ranks of the Philistines,\nhow had he borne him off to a place of safety, or falling in the\nattempt, left others to compose their elegy, and sing, They were\npleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided! God is a\nvery present help in time of trouble; but there was no help for\nJonathan in David. Far away from that bloody field, his good will\navailed Jonathan nothing--beyond embalming his rare virtues in\nimmortal song, and in an imperishable lament raising an imperishable\nmonument to the memory of a man whose love to him was wonderful,\npassing the love of women.\n\nAgain, what good will in his father's heart to Esau? But the old man's\nhands are tied. Fresh from the chase, and ignorant of what has\nhappened in his absence, Esau approaches Isaac, saying, Let my father\narise and eat of his son's venison, that thy soul may bless me! Who\nart thou? says the blind old man--astonished that any should ask what\nhe has already given away. Recognising the beloved voice which\nreplied, I am thy son, thy first-born Esau, and dreading some dire\ncalamity, Isaac trembled exceedingly, crying, \"Who? where is he that\nhath taken venison and brought it me; and I have eaten of all before\nthou camest, and have blessed him? yea, and he shall be blessed.\" By\nthe basest, cruelest fraud, Jacob has possessed himself of the\nblessing; and if their mother, his own partner in guilt, was watching\nthe issue of this perfidious plot, how had it pierced her heart to\nhear Esau, when the truth flashed on his mind and he saw the treasure\nstolen, cry, \"with a great and exceeding bitter cry, Bless me, even me\nalso, O my father!\" The strong man, the bold hardy hunter, lifted up\nhis voice and wept; seeking repentance, as the apostle says--to get\nIsaac to undo the deed--with tears but found it not. What availed his\nfather's good will to him, his favourite son? What was done must\nstand. The blessing was gone; and Isaac, though he had the will, had\nno way to recall it.\n\nBut what need to ransack old history for examples? How often have our\nhearts overflowed with good will, yet we could only weep with them\nthat wept--pity sorrows we could not soothe, wants we were powerless\nto relieve? Tears we might give, but they could not clothe the naked,\nor feed the hungry, or save the dying, or recall the dead, or close\nthe wounds which death had made. In dying chambers how are we made\npainfully, bitterly to feel that man's power is not commensurate with\nhis will? What good will, what tender affection toward some dear,\nbeloved object! yet, as we hung over the dying couch, all we could do\nwas to moisten the speechless lips, to wipe the clammy sweat from\ndeath's cold brow and watch the sinking pulses of life's ebbing tide.\nWhat would we not have done to meet the wishes of the eye that, when\nspeech was gone, turned on us imploring, never-to-be-forgotten looks!\nAlas, our good will availed them nothing!\n\nSuch recollections, by the contrast which they present to God's good\nwill, greatly enhance its preciousness. \"His favour is life, his\nloving-kindness is better than life.\" Where God has a will, God always\nhas a way. At the throne of divine grace, none had ever to shed Esau's\ntears, or cry with him, Hast thou but one blessing, O my father? Our\nfather in heaven is affluent in blessings, plenteous in redemption,\nabundant in goodness and in truth. Who ever turned an imploring eye on\nGod, and brought to prayer the earnestness of him that bends the knee\nto yon blind old man, but became in time the happy object of God's\nloving, saving mercy. Let men trust in the Lord. In the name of Christ\nlet them throw themselves on His mercy. What though they cannot see\nit? It is around them, like the invisible but ambient air on which the\neagle, with an awful gulf below, throws herself from her rocky nest in\nfearless freedom, and with expanded wings. So let men, trusting in\nGod's faithful word, spread out the wings of faith, and cast them on\nHis good will. Wrapping the world round in an atmosphere of mercy, it\nshall sustain their weight, and bear them aloft, till, ascending into\nthe calm regions of Christian hope, they bathe their eyes in the beams\nof the Sun of Righteousness, and feel their feet firmly planted on the\nRock of Ages.\n\nBut let one thing be remembered, this, namely, that God will not save\nany against their will. Let us therefore seek, and seek till we\nobtain, a change of heart. He draws, not drives--will not force any\ninto heaven--nor be served by the hands of a slave. If I would not\nhave a sullen, crouching slave wait at my table, work in my house,\nstand in my poor presence, much less He who says, Give me thy heart,\nmy son! He makes His people willing in the day of His power. Softened\nin the flames of Divine love, their stubborn wills yield to His, and,\nunder the hand of His Holy Spirit and the hammer of His mighty word,\ntake the fashion and form of His own. Thus, His will and their wills\nbeing brought into perfect harmony, His people feel their duty to be\ntheir delight, and regard His holy service as no irksome bondage, but\nthe truest liberty and highest honour.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n_Ballantyne, Roberts, & Co., Printers, Edinburgh._\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\nMinor printer errors (omitted letters or punctuation) have been\ncorrected without note. Any variations in spelling or hyphenation have\nbeen left as they appeared in the original.","title":"The Angels' Song","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":20129}